Stories From a Father to a Son

By R. Jeffrey Garling

After Moses led the children of Israel out of Egypt, God instructed him to tell the people to tell their children the stories of the miracles that he had performed and also all of the great works he did to lead them to the Promised Land and for them to tell their children and so on. I've written this collection of stories based on Bible verses from the Old and New Testaments and parables from the New Testament told by Jesus. After the title of each story, I have given the Bible verse on which it was based. The purpose of which is to give the reader the option of either reading the story first and then the Bible verse or reading the Bible verse first and then the story next. Either way, the intent is to encourage the reading of Scripture. With this knowledge, the reader will be better equipped to tell these stories to their children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888516263

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Gittin' Mine's for Me

Be the Man God Wants You to Be or Are You the Man You Want to Be?

How the Book of Judges Came to Be

Job's Kids

Thou Shalt Not Covet

God Ain't Here No More

Did I Do That?

Why Me, Lord?

Say You Want to Lead a Coupe

Say Ya Want to Be a Reverend!

Bad Guys

It's Still a Golden Calf

Soils of the Heart

About the Author

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Stories From a Father to a Son

R. Jeffrey Garling

ISBN 979-8-88851-625-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88851-627-0 (Hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88851-626-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 R. Jeffrey Garling

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen. Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.

—Deuteronomy 4:9 Tyndale Life Application Study Bible, NLT

This is a collection of stories I've written based on verses taken from the Old Testament of the Bible and Jesus's parables. These are stories of the lessons God intends for us to know so that we may live better lives for ourselves and provide better lives for our children and both our futures. The biblical stories are based on actual happenings revealed in the Scripture.

Personally, I believe that every day somewhere in the world, the stories in the scriptures are being relived. I have taken the liberty of writing fictional stories from these same verses using possible modern-day situations. The possibility exists that maybe someone who reads these stories may have lived one, had a similar experience, or know someone who has. And as far as Jesus's parables go, who's to say if these stories were made up for instructional purposes or the actual tales of actions from past lives? Since Jesus led a perfect life, I prefer to believe the latter. As the old folks say, There's nothing new under the sun!

After the title of each story, I have given the Bible verses on which the story is based. The purpose is to give the reader the choice of either reading the story first and then the scripture or reading the scripture first and then the story. The overall intent is to encourage the reading of Scripture. If you like these stories, God has more than I can tell. My stories are but seeds cast upon the soil of the readers' hearts, but God gives the increase!

Gittin' Mine's for Me

(Mathew 18:21–35

LaMarcus Merriweather drove along Chicken Run with both sections of the roof of his late-model GMC Hummer open, radio blaring, and a box of six lemon pepper hot wings and fries on the passenger seat. The sky was bright blue and cloudless. He was on his way home from DFW International Airport. He had flown back to Dallas after a meeting with Fritz Ransome, owner of a management firm named Just Jokin' in Philadelphia. The firm has opened over fifteen comedy clubs around the country. Most were owned by the corporation, but a select few were franchised out on a percentage basis.

Fritz started the firm with $27,000 that he had won playing the three-digit lottery and turned it over several times by buying, fixing, and selling first small homes, then small apartment buildings, and finally medium-sized commercial properties.

LaMarcus's parents had practically done the same thing. Rather than initially being financed with lottery winnings, LaMarcus's parents bought an old home and moved in. His father was a construction jack-of-all-trades and made improvements to the home and then sold it to buy a bigger home. They repeated the process, saving more after each transaction until they had several rental properties and a small construction business.

David Merriweather had passed on ten years ago and left the business and property to his wife and son. Since that time, LaMarcus has continued to buy, remodel, and sell properties as he had been taught. His latest and greatest project would serve as the club, an old shopping center that he had remodeled. It was the crown jewel of all the buildings that he had reconstructed, and with the signing of the papers for the Just Jokin' franchise, he was 70 percent owner. This deal could not lose. The only problem was that he had used the construction business, along with $725,000, from his mother's home and rental properties as collateral to secure a loan of three million dollars. Mama had given him power of attorney a few years ago when her glaucoma flared up and damaged her eyesight. He had managed her finances as she directed, but this opportunity had popped up, and now it was his time to show what he could do.

LaMarcus was an only child, spoiled, rotten, and flashy. Old folks, if they knew him, would say that he had a haughty spirit. In short, Mama didn't know about this deal. He didn't want to take any chances that she would say no and mess this up. Besides, once the money started to come in, she would be all in and so happy!

This was not the first time that he had taken liberties with other people's money. All his adult life, he would do little scams like go to lunch with a group of people, find someone, and say, Can you loan me $20? All I have are hundreds, and never pay the person back, or he would go stop at the bank and get $200 in singles and go to the strip club, trying to show out with the drug dealers. But now he was playing in the big leagues for big stakes.

The first rule of business is to do your homework. Know who you're getting into business with. If LaMarcus had done a little research about Fritz, he would have learned that Fritz had some help financing his empire, his older brother, Cutler. Cutler was a drug dealer. He had done time in prison. Even though he didn't commit the crime, he pleaded guilty as a favor for an old army buddy, who was already in the game. As payment, Cutler was compensated, given territory, and able to build up a nest of resources. Helping his legitimate brother's enterprises helped clean his money.

Owning 70 percent of a business not only means getting 70 percent of the profits but also means owing 70 percent of the bills: building mortgage, light bill, water bill, payroll, and, oh, yeah, taxes, both profit and payroll. To do this, you must have dollars coming in the door. In short, patrons. To get patrons, a business must get the word out. Getting the word out means advertising. And advertising costs money. LaMarcus had leveraged 95 percent of his mother's properties. But he reasoned that these were startup costs, and he would get the money back when the profits started coming in.

Two months later, after getting the word out, hiring the staff, and negotiating the contracts for the talent, the club was starting to pay off. The crowds were growing, even shows during the week. What was surprising was the money coming in for parking. Being in downtown Dallas, where space was at a premium, $7 per car per show per hour was pure gravy. On top of that was the valet parking, at $20 per car per show per hour.

By month five, the crowds were great, and the bar was doing great. Had LaMarcus hired a lawyer to negotiate the fine print, he would have been informed of the franchise fees. Why waste money on somebody to do what I can do myself? I have a business degree, had been his reasoning. If he had, he would have had someone to negotiate the fees to a lower flat monthly fee and not as a percentage of the gross of the show receipts. LaMarcus was past due on his share of the mortgage payments for two months. Fritz had called and talked to him by Skype and told him that he needed to catch up or give up the franchise.

Over the next eight months, LaMarcus continued to borrow from the bank by leveraging more of his mother's properties and his personal holdings. He even took out a loan on his Hummer. But he was still falling increasingly behind on the payments. LaMarcus was desperate. He couldn't lose all Mama's properties, including the house she was living in. He was now so far in debt between his obligations to the club and his loan payments that he was close to panic. He needed more money fast. But where could he go? He had loans from every bank, and quite frankly, he had leveraged every property that both he and his mother possessed. Then it finally came to him—see Fritz and have a face-to-face.

The club was doing well. All the up-and-coming comedians' agents were constantly calling, trying to get him to book their clients. It was those pesky franchise fees that were killing him and any large profits he thought he was going to see.

LaMarcus pulled out his cell phone, went to his directory, looked up the number, and tapped his phone.

Just Jokin' enterprises, how may I direct your call? cooed a sultry female voice.

Mr. Ransome, please. This is LaMarcus Merriweather.

One minute please.

A few seconds later, an east coast–accented voice came on the line. LaMarcus, what's up! Good to hear from you. I was just looking over the franchise numbers, and yours are looking good. That's what I like to see. What can I do for you?

Well, Mr. Ransome—

Call me Fritz. A club owner with your kind of numbers is like family.

Well, Fritz, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but it's been over a year now since we opened the club, and…and, well, I need…well, can we sit down face-to-face and work out a new deal on the franchise fees? They're killing me. I'm not seeing the kind of personal income I expected.

What? You want a new deal? LaMarcus, I'm hurt. You make it sound like I took advantage of you somehow. You signed the contract.

Yes, I know, but if we could eliminate the franchise fee percentages to a flat fee, I could get into the black personally.

Now that sounds like a ‘personal problem.'

Fritz, I need a break. What can the company do to help?

I'll tell you what. Fly up here to Philly on Friday. We'll have lunch and discuss it.

Thanks, Fritz. A flat fee could solve all my problems. See you Friday.

Fritz hung up, looked across his desk at his brother, and said, Got him! What a chump. He was so greedy and arrogant that he signed up without any hesitation. With the other franchise owners, we had to use whores, strippers, or gambling debts to get into the clubs. Who goes into a multimillion-dollar deal without an attorney?

But most importantly, now we have a washing spot in Dallas and a new place to market our product, reasoned Cutler.

That Friday at exactly noon, LaMarcus was sitting in downtown Philadelphia at the hofbrau at a neat booth across the table from Fritz.

Alright, LaMarcus, what can I do for you?

Well, the club has been, like you have said in the past, a top-revenue producer, but I'm not seeing much benefit from it.

How can I help?

First, I'd like to change the franchise fees from a percentage of the show gross to a flat fee.

According to the record, began Fritz, you owe the firm $534,000.

Half a mill? Really? I thought it was only maybe $320,000, $370,000 at the most, croaked LaMarcus. Why is there such a significant difference between my figures and yours?

Late fees compounded, Fritz said simply, along with the fact that we continued to pay you your monthly salary as manager of the club.

If that's the case, I need to reduce those fees drastically. How can we make this happen, and I still maintain my share of the club?

You can't, Fritz said dryly. Unless you come up with the back fees you owe, the corporation will be forced to repossess the total franchise and sell it to some other entity so that we can regain our investment.

How long do I have?

I'll give you six months. If you haven't brought things out of arrears by that time, the corporation will attach those assets.

*****

Deacon Jeffries was on his knees in his front yard, tending to his freesia plants in the flower bed he had created under his flowering red crepe myrtle. His good friend and pastor Reverend Johnson sat in a chair, watching him work.

The pair looked up when they heard automobile tires rolling to a stop at the curb in front of them.

Hello, Deacon, Reverend Johnson, said LaMarcus getting out of his car.

Hello, LaMarcus, the deacon finally said