In my dreams I faced a volcano.

It had the serene look and beauty of Popocatpetl in

Mexico. A soft sea of green fields and forest rose gently up the slopes before turning into hard

gray rock and, eventually, gleaming white snow. I gazed upon the mountain countless times as I

slept, but one night, I noticed something new. A bulge had begun to form on the side of the

mountain and it worried me. I was afraid to acknowledge it, but it didn't matter, because the

volcano would acknowledge me. In the eerie silence, I heard a voice from somewhere near the

mountain, soft and still, telling me something terrifying: that I was okay. I was awakening.

Growing up I'd been told of the dark past of my people, how they had once lived in a

world dominated by sacrifice and blood, and a failure to adhere meant death. I had been told that

when God had finally come to earth, he set everyone free by abolishing the old sacrificial

system, leaving nothing for anyone to fear. And I had worshipped this God my whole life.

But one Sunday morning, I encountered a strange new god on my way to church. This

god appeared as a hitchhiker along the side of the road I took every Sunday. I never pick up

hitchhikers, but I found myself pulling over before I realized what was happening. He looked at

me with a sly smile through the passenger-side window as he opened the door and got in.

I scanned him carefully, trying to find something I should be suspicious about, but all I

could see was a man with very stylish hair, an undercut, and bright green eyes. His teeth were

straight and white and his clothes were clean. He wore narrow-fitting orange shorts with a bright

floral aloha shirt. On his feet were flip flops.

He immediately held his hand out to me, smiling.

Nice to meet you, he said.

Likewise, I said, barely managing a smile. So where are you headed? I asked.
 Wherever youre headed, he said.

I smirked. Checking the road for oncoming traffic, I pulled back onto the highway and

continued towards church.

I drove a short way without saying anything, which was awkward, but I had no idea what

I should say.

Where are you heading? he suddenly asked me.

Me? Church, I said.

Ill come with, he replied.

I laughed. Really, where do you need to go?

Im telling you like it is. Im going to church with you, he said.

I nodded, still incredulous but not interested in arguing. All right. Lets go.

As we drove over the green mountains, I began to focus less on this strange hitchhiker

and more on my own feelings, particularly a feeling of dread and anxiety that was beginning to

grow in my gut. It was a familiar feeling, one I felt every Sunday. I wanted to distract myself

from it, so I tried to make small talk.

Whats your na?

How is your anxiety? he interrupted. I was taken aback. Silence ensued.

What? I finally spoke up.

You're feeling anxious, aren't you? he asked.

 I had no answer other than the truth, so I told him: Yes. Im anxious. But why would

you ask me that?

I looked at the man sitting next to me. His face and his eyes were attractive, beautiful

even, and when I looked at him I had this momentary sense that I knew him, but at the same

time, I didnt know him. He was an absolute stranger. Yet something nagged at me, or maybe it

was a feeling of dj vu. I couldnt tell. In any case, I knew there were people out there who were

intuitive, and I believe psychic abilities exist, so I figured he mustve picked up on my anxious

vibes. Perhaps he was one of those transient people who do good wherever they go. Or maybe he

was just weird. Whatever the case, his questions were putting tears in my reality.

Do you know where it comes from? The anxiety, I mean, he asked.

Well, not really. Ive had anxiety my whole life, so

I looked over at the man who was now giving me a look that said something along the

lines of "cut the bullshit." I frowned.

"Where does it really come from?" He asked again.

"I appreciate your help, but I can't just divulge my personal life to a total stranger," I said.

"I'm no stranger," he said.

I laughed. "Oh, really?"

Now he was frowning at me. I felt bad, but I tried to negotiate by telling myself that there

was no way I could know him. That nagging feeling persisted, however.

We finally arrived and as I put the car in park, I looked to my right and the man was

gone. Somehow I wasn't alarmed.

 I dreamt again that night. The volcano rose high in the distance, like a sentinel looking

out over the clouds. The bulge along its northern face begged my attention. I looked away.

Another Sunday came around and I started my drive over the mountains. I couldn't really

make sense of what had happened the previous week, so I started to forget about it, until I saw a

man on the side of the highway sticking his thumb out for a ride.

Compelled by unseen forces, I pulled over to the side of the road and let him in. He was

bearded this time and his head was bald. His skin was whiter than the man before and he wore

jeans and a plaid button-up shirt.

"Take me to church," he said. He then burst out laughing. "Oh man..."

"What?" I asked.

"That song was made for you," he said.

"No it wasn't," I replied. I looked over at the man, and sure enough, he was giving me

that no-bullshit look the man from last week had given me. His eyes were familiar, too. Green,

just like the guy from before.

I was silent as we drove over the mountains. Nearing the peak of the pass, a knot began to

form in my gut. I wanted to get rid of it before he said something, but I couldn't.

"Have you figured out yet where that anxiety is coming from?" He asked.

I shot him a look of consternation.

 You know Im not just some guy needing a ride, so why dont you stop pretending this

isnt a divine encounter?

No one would believe me, I said.

Who cares? You know its real and thats all that matters.

Yes, I know where this anxiety comes from, I finally said, letting myself relax into the

seat. Im often so tense.

Good. Youre already ahead of the game, he replied, nodding.

I didnt say anything for awhile. I stared at the road ahead, lost in thought. Something

was wrong. Id known it for some time but hadn't acknowledged it until that moment. Why did I

always feel so anxious on my way to church? Its just church, right?

I knew in the back of my mind that I was being oppressed by something, and it wasnt

merely a dream. The bulge in the mountain that I continued to see at night was evidence, a

symptom of some strange spiritual malady. I felt embarrassed by such thoughts, thinking to

myself how normal people don't read their dreams like that. Yet I dont even want to be like those

normal people, ignoring their dreams, ignoring

their own consciences, right?

I looked at the bald bearded man and knew he had been listening to my thoughts, as

absurd as that sounds. By that point though, a god sitting next to me in human form was the least

insane thing to happen to me.

I then felt the mans hand grabbing my face and turning my head so that I was staring

directly into his green eyes. And I saw something Id seen before but had never shared with
anyone: a vision. A stream of golden oil pouring down upon my head, dripping down my face

and neck. The aroma of roses filled my nostrils and reached into my lungs. I closed my eyes and

everything faded to black.

I found myself in the parking lot, alone in my car. The seat next to me was empty, but the

scent of roses lingered.

I couldnt think about church during the weekdays. I didnt want to either. A mental

barrier had risen at some point and there was no way around it. A pervasive sadness had invaded

and it refused to leave. Id had exorcisms before to cure this sadness and they'd never worked,

mainly because there had never been a demon to exorcise, apart from the imaginary kind. Ive

noticed that there are times when people would prefer a demon over the truth. A demon can be so

convenient. When something unwanted persists, its much easier to blame demonic powers than

to open ones arms, let alone ones mind, and embrace what looks ugly.

At church, conversations took place that felt like Indiana Jones-style booby traps. I found

that the more Pappis preaching came into being in real life, the more resistance I faced, and the

more of a double-bind I found myself in.

So what was my problem at church? To put it simply, Pappi, upon seeing that the

exorcisms weren't working to cure my illness, had come to the conclusion that I needed to be

sacrificed, specifically a part of me the church disapproved of: my soul. They claimed it was

perverse and needed to be removed in order for me to remain a true institutional member. And

its what God wanted, too, they said. But thats not what I was hearing from God, which was

scandalous. The news was a deathblow to me. My soul was everything. I had done everything to
please the hierarchy, to show that I was indeed a member of the institution, but now they were

invoking what had been abandoned, that old sacrificial system.

Pappi and the church had always told me I should seek God and listen to Him, but when I

told them what God was saying to me, they said it wasnt God at all.

Thats not legitimate, said Pappi. The church didnt hear such words from God,

therefore you didnt hear such words from God.

The church and Pappi told me that God cannot be contained within the walls of a church.

We would study the lives of saints who were called far beyond the institution, out into the

wilderness, but when I told Pappi that God was calling me away, Pappi said no.

The church is about living in community. You cant just walk away from us, he said.

Youre thinking selfishly.

And no amount of anguish expressed through tears or words would make them

reconsider. It was like negotiating with a wall, trying to convince it to move. I told them how

much it hurt and they would just nod. I told them I didnt want to live without a soul, but they

would just shrug or feign some kind of empathy. But how could they empathize? They'd never

experienced it themselves.

Did you sacrifice your own soul this way? I asked Pappi.

No, he replied. I mean, Ive worked on refining my soul, but I didnt have to sacrifice

it.

I wanted to scream at him, but all I could think in that moment was that perhaps Pappi

was so nonchalant about this sacrifice and so obtuse to the gravity of it all because his own soul
had been wounded long ago and scar tissue had deadened the nerves. After all, even Pappi is a

victim of the system. I began to realize that the sacrificial system, at some point in time, had

been picked up by those too afraid to trust God in the flesh, too afraid to live without fear.

In any case, anger was building. I was outraged. I could feel it each day and night. It

would surge at certain times, like lava, and it was all I could do to contain it. And what exactly

had God been telling me? The ultimate scandal. That my soul wasn't perverse after all. That the

idea of perversion in my soul was a lie, a lie so complex and so deep that it would take

generations of forensic investigation to understand its roots. And it was this rather simple

message that tore the fabric of my world apart, like a rip in space-time.

Ive always liked the plot device of deus ex machina, with God coming out of nowhere to

put an end to a story, to save the main character and stop a disaster from happening. And when

God told me that my soul wasnt perverse, I suddenly experienced a real-life deus-ex-machina

moment in which God broke through the sky and shone a great light that gave me an undeniable

hope. I looked up at this new sunlight and I felt alive, called out of a grave. He was setting me

free. The joy was indescribable.

Tectonic plates began to shift. Something had been set in motion and I couldnt stop it.

Nothing could. I saw the volcano in the distance and I had the unmistakable feeling that it was

about to erupt. I was tense, afraid, and excited.

 On my way to church for the last time was another hitchhiker, this time a man from

someplace very far away. I couldnt have known for certain, but he seemed to be from

somewhere around Burundi. My heart thumped as I pulled over to pick him up. I felt scared this

time.

After the man had buckled his seatbelt, I started on the highway again. As we drove

closer and closer to church, the man put his hand on my shoulder, which made me jump.

You dont need to be scared, he told me.

How can you say that? I asked. I looked at him, but only for a split second.

He smiled and sat back in his seat, relaxed.

I thought the man would vanish by the time I got to church, but he was still with me.

Even as I got out of the car, he was still with me. He followed me into the church and stood

nearby as I approached Pappi. It was time to tell Pappi the truth.

"I need to tell you something," I said.

"What is it?"

I hesitated. The words were so hard to extrude. "God told me that my soul isn't perverse. I

don't need to sacrifice anything," I said.

Pappi scoffed and shook his head.

"You're heading down a path that will only lead to death. You will no longer have a place

at our table," he said. I nodded, silent.

 In one swift movement I had been ejected. My stomach churned and my heart raced as I

flew through the open air and frantically reached for the parachute cord. I pulled it and drifted

back down to earth where I found myself in a vast, familiar wilderness.

Off in the distance, I saw that great volcano rising up into the clouds. A tremor shook the

ground I was standing on and I watched as the bulge on the side of the mountain slid down the

slope, releasing a devastating plume of gasses and ash in a spectacular eruption. The top of the

volcano was now in the stratosphere. I felt an incomparable sense of relief and fell to my knees.

My soul had been set free and as ash rose higher and higher into the air, a deep, subterranean

sadness welled up to the surface of my eyes and I wept in the most undoing of ways. And in that

state of inconceivable grief, a newfound joy appeared. I suddenly recognized that strange new

godId known him all alongand I finally understood what it meant to be saved.