The Trinity Game

and a clear Plexiglas lectern, downstage-center. Trinity wore a royal blue silk suit, white leather cowboy boots and matching belt. On his left wrist, a chunky gold Rolex, its face wall-to-wall diamonds. A wireless microphone curved around from his right ear, like he was God’s own telemarketer. On his right hand he balanced an open Bible, its pages edged in silver, its cover made of fine leather, dyed blue, the same bright shade as his suit.

Daniel wondered if the suit had been selected to match the Bible or the Bible to match the suit.

Trinity spoke with a pronounced New Orleans accent, and his patter flowed like brandy, perfected over more than twenty-five years on the tent revival circuit and in churches, then on television for the last fourteen. The man had his act down cold—didn’t even need the Bible, but for its value as a prop. And that was no small value. He brandished his blue Bible to maximum effect, flipped pages with a flourish, and punctuated important words by thwacking the pages with his left hand, calling attention to the bling on his wrist with each thwack.

“Friends, I have some very bad news for you,” said Trinity, still smiling. “I’ve been called upon this day to reveal a hard truth. And I ain’t gonna sugar-coat it—thwack—NO, sir! I’m here today to tell you, most people who call themselves Christians have a fundamental mis- understanding of the nature of sin.” He stretched it into a two-syllable word.

Trinity stopped at the lectern. His eyes fell shut and he pulled his chin to the right, offering his profile as the camera cut to a close-up. He held the Bible to his forehead for a few seconds, then lowered it, faced forward, and opened his now watery eyes, blinking rapidly. A man of God, on the verge of tears.

“Forgive me. I must share with you what happened last night as I prepared today’s sermon. I was sitting in my study, pen in hand, and the Devil came calling. Yes, the—thwack—Devil! The Devil came to me last night and said, ‘Reverend Tim, stop what you’re doing.’ He said, ‘The people are not ready for this, you must not reveal it. Seal up these things and do not write them.’ Oh yes, and he presented himself to me as an angel of the Lord…but you and I know that the Lord would never stop a prophet from speaking the truth. So I said, ‘Get behind me, Satan!’ and his white robes fell away and he stood before me as a naked beast.” Trinity blew out a long breath. “Was I afraid? You know it, brother! You bet I was. But more than afraid, I was—and I know that it wasn’t me speaking, but for the power of Christ, I know it was God speaking through me—I stood up from my desk and I shouted, ‘You Devil, go straight back to Hell! Take one step closer and I will strike you down—” Trinity slashed at an imaginary devil with his Bible “—and I will kick you down—” he stomped hard on the stage “—and I will beat you like a redheaded stepchild!”

Daniel had seen his uncle’s act thousands of times and had hoped never to see it again. “What’s the point of this, Nick?”

Nick kept his eyes on the television. “Keep watching.”

Trinity held the Bible to his chest. “And just like that—glory be to God—the Devil disappeared, leaving behind only the stench of a goat.” He smiled and waved away the stench with the Good Book, and the camera cut away to the congregation as they laughed on cue.

It was not the megachurch of a Joel Osteen or Creflo Dollar, but Trinity’s flock was not small. Daniel estimated about five thousand in attendance, give or take a few lost souls.

Trinity let the laughter play out just the right length of time, then turned serious. “I know in my heart, my life was saved last night. Saved by God, so I could bring you this truth about sin. See, most folks think sin is bad behavior. You break God’s laws, and you have committed sin. But that is a mis-understanding of sin’s true nature. Those bad behaviors are not sin, not in the true sense. They are the result of sin. Sin is not something you do. In reality, sin is a demonic force that acts upon you, causing you to break God’s laws.”

Trinity flipped a few pages and glanced at his Bible. “Romans 3:9—we are under the power of sin, 6:6 and 6:17—we are enslaved by sin, and 5:13—‘sin was in the world before the law.’” He waved a finger in the air and grinned like Clarence Darrow on closing summation to the jury, knowing he’d proved his case. “In the world, before the law. If sin was in the world before the law, then it is not caused by breaking the law, it precedes the law. You see? Sin is a demonic force that has power over us, enslaves us, and causes us to break God’s laws. Get back, Devil! Powers and principalities!” Trinity swatted the air again with his Bible. “Glory to God, I am telling the truth today! Sin is a demonic force that causes all our suffering.”

Pacing the stage again. “People ask me, they say, ‘Reverend Tim, do you mean that poverty is a sin?’— thwack—YES! Poverty is a sin. God don’t want you to be poor of spirit, and He don’t want you to be poor of material comforts. God loves you—why would He want you to suffer? And poverty is suffering. Only the Devil wants you to be poor.” The toothy smile flooded his face once more. “But here is the good news: If you really want to live in abundance—abundance is yours for the taking! Word of God. All you have to do is act in faith. When you act in faith, God will return it to you one-hundred-fold. But you must sow your seed, or you cannot expect to reap the harvest of God’s riches.”

Trinity stopped pacing, dropped the smile, looked straight into the camera lens. “I’m calling on you, right now, to make a thousand-dollar vow of faith to this television ministry. You know who you are—I’m talking to you. You don’t have a thousand dollars right now, in the material world, but that’s OK—you vow it, and you start paying on it, in faith, fifty dollars, a hundred dollars, two hundred dollars, five hundred dollars at a time…and as you pay on your vow, God will take the measure of your faith, and He will begin to work miracles in your life! Word of God! Hallelujah!”

Father Nick lowered the volume as Trinity assured viewers they could use any major credit card to sow their seeds of faith. “You know him better than anyone,” he said and gestured at the screen.

“Knew him,” said Daniel. “Twenty years ago.”

“Just tell me what you see.”

“I don’t see anything. It’s the same old snake oil, and he still sells the crap out of it. Just a fancier package…nicer suit, bigger watch, better hairdo. The man knows his scripture, and the way he twists it, it always comes out Send Me Money. That’s all I see.” He searched for something else to say. What did he see? “He’s got a lot more followers now. Oh, and he’s had a facelift.”

“Really?”

“He’s sixty-four, and he’s a drinker. He’s had a facelift.”

“What else?”

Then it hit him. “Ah, he’s not speaking in tongues anymore. He used to sprinkle a lot of gibberish in with the rest of the pitch.”

“Watch.” Nick paused the video. “He still does the tongues routine, but not as often. And it’s different now.” He hit play.

Trinity continued his money pitch for another minute or two. Then he froze, mid-sentence, like an epileptic having a petit mal seizure. He stood stock-still for a few seconds. Then his lips began to twitch. His entire body lurched to the left. Then jerked again, harder, like he’d just stuck his finger in a light socket.

And the tongues began. It was still gibberish, but Nick was right—it had changed. The tongues that Trinity used to speak sounded like a bad parody of some West African language, spiced with a little Japanese inflection. But what Daniel heard now was very different. The sounds coming from Trinity’s mouth were not like any language Daniel had ever heard. In fact, like nothing he’d ever heard. He couldn’t even imagine how to make them.

Father Nick shut off the television. “What do you think?”

“It’s different, all right,” said Daniel. “Very dramatic. Weird. I don’t know how he does it.”

“It goes way beyond just sounding weird,” said Father Nick. He put on his reading glasses and moved a thick file folder to the center of his desk blotter, then reached for the telephone. “Here’s where it gets really weird.”