It was green and gray and the air hung heavy with the remnants of rainfall. The last shimmering rays of day were succumbing to dusk as the unbeliever drove across North Carolina’s middle land. This was a trip from the cramped city to the rolling serenity of the beach, and getting there required passage through mile after mile of dense woods and wide open tobacco fields. Along the way there was very little to be found expect gas stations and a varied profusion of churches. Texaco and Cross and Crown Methodist, $3.23 a gallon and John 3:14. The unbeliever still had a half tank of gas and so had use for neither of these.

It was now quite dark and there was nothing to be seen except the small patch of road that was illuminated by his headlights. He passed mile after mile, feeling a little drowsy, but content in the knowledge that before too long he would arrive at his destination. Then quite suddenly his headlights extinguished and he found himself hurtling around a corner unable to see anything. In the half second of darkness that followed he made up his mind quite definitively that he was going to die. And then, he saw a great wooden cross lit up in the sky. He would later notice that across the horizontal part it read “He Died” and down the vertical part it continued, “For Your Sins,” but right now the light allowed him to realize that he had lost the road and was headed for a large tree. He swerved, and with the sickening sound of metallic scraping, came to a stop.

After a good deal of waiting and pleading on the phone the unbeliever was able to get a tow truck dispatched to his car. But the truck that came to his salvation was no ordinary one. In the orange dim of the emergency lights he could see that the truck had an extensive custom paint job. The artist had evidently begin something along the lines of the Sistine Chapel in mind. There was Jesus bringing up the righteous with his right hand and pushing the sinners into hell with his sinister one. The mural spread outward exploring a variety of biblical themes. There was the red dragon, the judgment, and the lake of fire, complete with an excessively muscular Satan. But more cheerful chords were also struck including the distributing of the loaves and fishes and the parable of the prodigal son. And there on the cab door, barely noticeable in block lettering: “Carl’s Towing and Repair.” And here was Carl himself.

“It looks like you did a number on your car there.” The unbeliever agreed.

Carl attached the car to the tow truck and hoisted it up and soon the two of them were heading back to town. Carl was quite friendly and told him that though there weren’t any motels nearby he was quite welcome to stay at Carl’s house. The unbeliever was warming up to this fellow and recounted to him what happened to his car.

“You know I always told James that cross was too much, not to mention a right waste of electricity,” Carl said. “But he always had a stubborn holier-than-thou way about him.”

The next morning Carl’s wife fixed a really delicious breakfast with warm biscuits and jam.

“This being Sunday, I won’t be able to start on your car till after church is done, but I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Mrs. Pinkston at worship services,” Carl asked. “Our church ain’t much to look at at, but the Reverend knows his Good Book.” The unbeliever wasn’t much for church going. However, given the position he found himself in, he thought that it probably wouldn’t hurt to go along with them.

The sanctuary couldn’t have had more than a dozen rows of pews but there were high arched ceilings and stained glass windows. Light streamed in on all sides and illuminated floating particles in the air, lending the room a dusty grandeur. The service was more antiquated and rough than those his mother had brought him to growing up, but the familiar themes and word repetitions brought him back to those childhood days. As the reverend delved into his sermon it began to develop an appealing cadence. His cheeks became flushed and a rivulet of sweat ran down his forehead as he worked to engulf the room in the boom of his voice.

“This is the promise that the Lord makes to us. It doesn’t matter that you and I are sinners. Every single last person born unto this world is marked by the stain of original sin. It doesn’t matter what act of vileness we wretched beings have taken upon ourselves to do, what commandments we have broken, what perversions of God’s holiness we have committed. If we accept the gift that Christ has given us all can be forgiven. There is only one unforgivable sin, and that is to have God’s spirit shine down upon you and to turn away from it. To be confronted face-to-face with His glory and still deny Him. For he that blasphemes against the Holy Ghost shall never be forgiven.”

After church, it only took Carl a few hours to finish repairing the car. The unbeliever thanked him warmly for his hospitality and his speedy work. He got back in his car and once again took up his journey. As he hurtled down the road the unbeliever smiled, glad to be back on the way to the beach.