It started in the countryside. Rural areas. Where the immigrants lived. The cheap houses, and cheap trailers, by the side of the road. The first reports came from outside Lucedale, Mississippi. It was a fire, and it burned out a trailer park filled with immigrant farm workers.
Those fires spread, quickly, through Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Texas, Georgia, then the Carolinas, and beyond. John Paul and Matthew praised God their Father with each fire report they heard. The fires spread from the rural areas, to the suburbs, to the towns and cities.
It was glorious.
And it was only part of the solution, John Paul knew that. He spoke with Matthew and his brothers in God’s Army about that many times. What the next step in the war against the demons was. As their houses burned, the demons began to collect in groups, in safe houses, with friends, and family members. They gathered in the towns and cities, and the fires followed them.
It was when they started sleeping and living on the streets that things got difficult.
John Paul remembered countless fires set by him and his brothers. The greatest being the homeless center in Clinton. A shelter set up by the town for the displaced, those whose homes had been burned. It was perfect. A building filled with Satan’s demons, packed in like sardines. John Paul remembered pouring twenty gallons of gasoline on the exterior of that building. The walls, the doors, the windows. They’d been quiet, God’s soldiers. They’d blocked off the streets leading to the building, then poured gasoline on the building, and the ground around it.
Matthew had lit the acetylene torch, stretched his arms to heaven, closed his eyes, and declared, “For the glory of God the Father!”, then leaned down, and touched the blue and orange flame to the gasoline soaked ground. John Paul and his brothers also bellowed out, “For the glory of God the Father!”
They sang Onward Christian Soldiers as they watched the fire consume the den of the demons. John Paul guarded the back exit from the building. He watched as that door opened, and three demons tried to run through the fire to escape God’s judgment. Just to make certain they didn’t escape, he shot them. His brothers did the same at the other exits of the building, and at the windows. Bodies littered the burning ground. Demons burned like the little piles of filth they were.
The building burned to the ground. Not one demon escaped.
That night, John Paul explained to his brothers it was like pulling weeds from an unkept flower garden. Sometimes, as you pulled the weeds from the ground, you pulled out a flower or two. It was sad. But it was needed. The entire flower bed was better for having the weeds removed. “We’re just gardeners, brothers. Caring for the flower bed of life, pulling out the weeds, planting flower bulbs, and putting down the mulch, so that in the spring, flowers will return to a place the weeds had taken over.”
Half the country had followed suit. Half the country was engulfed in flames, the darkness of the night filled with the sound of God’s holy army at war with Satan’s demons. Isn’t that what the book of Revelations said? There would be war between God’s angels, and Satan’s demons? And it would last a long time. What was it, twelve times 144 days? Something like that. John Paul knew that was the Bible way of saying something that lasted a long time.
Sometimes, at nights, he heard the voices of Satan’s demons, crying in fear at the thought of being cleansed from the Earth. He heard their cries of agony and pain, and remembered all the agony and pain they’d put God’s people through. The drug addictions. Gang violence. The loss of jobs and income. The list went on and on.
Satan’s demons had confused so many people, and led so many people astray. But they wouldn’t lead John Paul and his brothers astray. Hearing their pleas for mercy in his dreams, hearing their demon children cry in terror in his dreams. That was a small price to pay for doing the work of God the Father.
John Paul wanted to do more. To help more. To do more of God’s work.