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Harvest Moon: Revival in Flowerbud

Chapter 1: The Blame Game

A lamb being led to the slaughter. A strong lion. The Good Shepherd. The Way, the Truth, and the Life. The Door. These things and more all defined one person. Only one person. One person who, by his acts of righteousness, love, and all around selflessness, saved the entire world. He didn't save the world from conventional destruction though. No. It went so much deeper than that. He saved not the body but the soul! Through his death at the hands of his own people, his resurrection from death three days later, and finally his ascension to his Father's right hand in heaven, permitted the people of Earth a chance to reach the heavens and, therefore, prevent their souls from going to the fiery pits of Hell. This person's name was Jesus Christ.

The only thing that a person would have to do to receive this unbelievable gift was to believe that Jesus died for the sins of this world and, after three days, rose from the dead. Is that so hard to ask? It shouldn't be. But, for some reason, people won't accept it. Maybe it's because it's too easy. Maybe it's because they'd have to be willing to give everything up for Him. What's so hard about that? After all, He is the Son of God and He does save you from burning eternally in Hell!

Maybe it's because they think He's arrogant. "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Light." And, "I am the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and End." It's not arrogance! Does a king let you follow another? No! If you follow another, it's treason! That's how it is in this case too! Jesus is the King and the people of this planet are his subjects! If you treason against Him, then you will be punished. Period. Jesus is a patient King though. If that person treasons and then asks for forgiveness, Jesus will give it! That's why he died in the first place! To bring forgiveness to this planet! He's already paid the price for this world's sins. All they have to do is accept it! But still, this world denies it. And unless you repent of this treason, you will pay dearly!

Fifteen-year-old Jack Williams stood on a wooden picnic table in the middle of a public park while preaching this and much more. He, unlike a lot of hypocritical Christians, really did believe the things he was saying too.

After a while a small crowd had gathered around him. Most of them were yelling and jeering at him, but there were a small few that were listening. When Jack saw the few, he was encouraged to say the things that he was saying even more. His encouragement was short-lived though, because as he was preaching these things, a single police car pulled into the park. Jack's face visibly paled when he saw it. He began stumbling over his words when two police officers stepped out it. He nearly stopped when he saw that one of the officers was his mother, Chloe. But instead of a sharp glare from her, Jack received a loving and proud look from his mother. She shared Jack's beliefs. The other officer wasn't nearly as kind. This was an older man, maybe in his fifty's, who obviously didn't like what he was saying. When the crowd saw the two police officers, they dispersed. Jack sighed and stepped down from the table. "Hey, Mom." He looked at the middle-aged man, his mother's partner, "Hey, Joe." His mother was about to speak, but Joe beat her to it, "Son, you're in a lot of trouble. This is the second time this week! Fourth time this month! If you weren't related to Chloe, you would've already been taken in! This time, though, I'm not going to take 'no' for an answer. I have to file a report." Jack's mother didn't say anything, although she did have a large smile on her face. Jack chuckled softly and nodded to Joe, "Okay. Take me in." Jack stuck both hands out to indicate he was willing to be cuffed. His mother laughed and Joe rolled his eyes. "Just get in the car." He said. Jack complied happily.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack stepped out of the squad car and walked onto the front porch of his house. "Next time! No more second chances!" Joe yelled at him. "Be good! You can make some pizza for dinner!" His mother, Chloe, called out afterwards. Jack turned around and waved as the blue and white car drove off.

Jack loved God so much at that age. So did his mother. His father, on the other hand, did not. Jack's father, Peter, hated Christianity with all of his heart. He understood it and all, but for some reason, he was just completely close-minded to it. And worse, his father was an alcoholic.

As Jack stepped into his humble abode, the smell of alcohol immediately invaded his nostrils. Jack sighed sadly and walked up the staircase to his room. He was going to pray. He prayed for two hours straight. Until his mother was supposed to get home from her shift. When she didn't show, Jack simply figured she had been held up. If only he knew how right he was . . .

He prayed for another hour. It was dark outside now. By now he was getting curious. Where is she? He asked himself. After thinking about it for a few moments, he began praying again. Not for anything particular, just for whatever came to his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang. Jack just decided to let his father get it. Less than a minute, his father burst into Jack's room, worry written all over his face. In a half-slurred voice, he said, "Jack. Your mother's been shot! We have to go to the hospital now!" Jack's eyes widened and fear gripped his heart. "What?!" It can't be true! It just can't be! "Let's go, Jack!" The rest was a blur to Jack. He remembered beating his father to the driver's seat of their old station wagon. His father was drunk.  He wasn't about to let him drive. He began praying. After that, he couldn't remember anything until he reached the hospital.

What he saw and heard when he got to his mother's hospital room would be the one thing strong enough to shake his faith. The first thing he noticed was the twin paddles. Then the loud, "Clear!" Yelled by the doctor. Then he saw his mother's body convulse as volts of electricity surged through her body. Then he heard a long, steady beep. There were tears streaming down his face.

Three minutes later, the doctor stopped applying electricity to Jack's mother's body. It was over. "Time of death, 7:12." Jack's howl ripped through the hallways. The entire hospital floor could hear it.

They never caught the shooter. Joe hadn't seen the man very well either. He was only able to see that he was a teenager, about Jack's age, of African-American descent. Jack blamed it completely on God. In his opinion, God could've saved his mother, He would have saved her if He was anything like the God that Jack thought He was. Three weeks later, Jack was in complete denial that God ever existed. A month later, he got his first taste of alcohol. He liked it, but not enough to become an alcoholic. To top it off, only a few weeks after, his grandmother, on his father's side, died in her sleep.

In light of all these events, there was no more preaching on picnic tables. No more praying and, especially, no more reading of the Bible…