Presented by Vincent Cheung
Dr. Malcolm Avery was a household name in the Christian world. His books lined the shelves of pastors and seminarians, his sermons were streamed by tens of thousands, and his name evoked admiration among the faithful. He was a man of precision, clarity, and authority, presenting himself as a defender of sound doctrine and the bulwark against modern heresies. Yet, beneath the polished exterior lay a heart untouched by the God he claimed to serve.
The year was 2024. Dr. Avery’s schedule was packed with conferences, interviews, and an upcoming book launch titled Faith Without Fanaticism. In it, he critiqued what he called “miracle chasers” and “experiential excesses” within the church. He argued that the age of miracles had passed, that the Holy Spirit now worked exclusively through Scripture, and that claims of healing, prophecy, or tongues were either emotional delusions or outright fabrications.
On a rainy evening, Avery prepared for a keynote address at the Global Evangelical Conference in Atlanta. The venue, a sleek mega-church auditorium, buzzed with excitement as attendees filed in. Avery stood backstage, reviewing his notes. The topic: “The Spirit Speaks: How to Discern Truth from Deception.”
As the house lights dimmed and the introductory applause rose, Avery stepped onto the stage. The spotlight warmed his face as he delivered a measured opening, weaving Scripture with anecdotes of supposed abuses of spiritual gifts.
“Today,” he declared, “we face a crisis in the church. The very name of the Holy Spirit is being invoked to justify chaos, delusion, and, I dare say, blasphemy. Let us stand firm on the Word of God, unshaken by claims of visions, tongues, or so-called miracles.”
The crowd erupted in applause, many nodding vigorously. But not everyone shared their enthusiasm.
In the dim corner of the auditorium sat a young woman, her face calm but her gaze piercing. Her name was unknown to the gathering, but her presence was unsettling. After the speech concluded and Avery stepped off stage to a standing ovation, she approached him.
“Dr. Avery,” she said softly. Her voice carried an unnatural clarity, as though it bypassed the noise of the room and landed directly in his ears. “May I have a word?”
Annoyed but too polite to refuse, he gestured toward a side hallway. Once away from the crowd, he crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry, miss. If you’re here to debate theology, I’m afraid my time is limited.”
She looked at him, her expression steady. “I’m not here to debate. I’m here to warn you.”
“To warn me?” he said, his tone sharpening. “About what?”
“Your words,” she replied. “They weigh more than you know. The Spirit is patient, but you have tested that patience for years. Do you not see how your teaching grieves him?”
Avery scoffed, though his chest tightened. “You’re mistaken. My work is to defend the truth, to keep the church from error.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you call his works error? You deny his gifts, mock his power, and lead others to do the same. Do you think he is deaf to your words?”
“Miss,” he said, now visibly irritated, “you’ve misunderstood my position. I do not deny the Spirit; I simply hold that his work today is through the Word, not through the chaos you’ve described.”
She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a whisper that seemed to echo. “You have blasphemed the Spirit, Dr. Avery. You have spoken against him with arrogance and led others to do the same. The time to repent is slipping away. Perhaps it is already too late.”
A shiver ran down his spine. He opened his mouth to dismiss her, but she turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. For the rest of the evening, her words haunted him.
That night, Avery returned to his hotel suite. As he lay in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the young woman’s warning. Restless, he reached for the Bible on the nightstand—a gesture he rarely made outside of sermon preparation. Opening it, he found his place in the Gospel of Matthew, the words striking him as though alive: “Every careless word they have spoken will be brought into judgment.”
Avery closed the Bible, his hands trembling. The rest of the night passed in restless sleep.
The following day, Avery took the stage again, though his confidence was shaken. As he began his address, a faint ringing filled his ears. The ringing grew louder, morphing into a voice—a whisper that no one else seemed to hear.
“Do not quench the Spirit. Do not grieve him. Do not deny his power.”
Avery faltered, gripping the podium. His vision blurred as the whisper became a roar. Faces in the crowd stared up at him, puzzled. He stumbled over his words, the polished rhetoric crumbling into incoherence.
“Are you alright, Dr. Avery?” someone called from the front row.
He forced a weak smile. “Yes, I… just need a moment.”
But the moment never came. The words of his sermon faded from his mind, replaced by the overwhelming realization of his guilt. He had mocked the Spirit, dismissed his works, and led countless others to do the same. He saw it now, as clearly as if it were written in fire before him.
The crowd whispered as he abruptly left the stage. Back in the green room, he sat in the corner, staring blankly at the floor. A knock at the door startled him, and without waiting for a response, a colleague entered. It was James, an old seminary friend turned fellow pastor.
“Malcolm,” James said gently, “What happened out there? You didn’t seem yourself.”
Avery rubbed his temples. “It’s nothing. Just fatigue.”
James frowned but pressed on. “Malcolm, I’ve been hearing disturbing things from those who once admired you. They say your words are losing their power, that your confidence is wavering. They say you’ve turned into more of a critic than a shepherd. I’m here to ask if you’re still leading with the Scripture’s guidance or just with your own convictions.”
Avery’s eyes snapped up, his face pale. “James, stop. I’m not in the mood for this.”
“You’ve been blessed with a platform few can imagine,” James continued. “But Malcolm, the Spirit’s work is not ours to dismiss or control. Be careful that your words don’t become chains for others—or for yourself.”
“Enough!” Avery snapped, rising to his feet. “I’ve defended the truth faithfully for decades. I won’t let you or anyone else question my calling.”
James sighed. “Then I’ve done my part. Whatever happens next is between you and God.” He turned and left, leaving Avery alone with his thoughts.
For days, Avery’s mind returned to James’s words and the weight they carried. His sermons faltered, his confidence eroded, but he pressed on. He doubled down on his polemics, his rhetoric sharper than ever. Yet, behind closed doors, he wrestled with the quiet terror of conviction. The truth haunted him like a shadow—unavoidable and damning. Though he continued to speak, his words became hollow, a grim echo of a heart that had long been damned by his blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.