Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Miracle Job │ Part 5

The next day, at mass the church was alive with reverence. The steady hum of the congregation filled the air as Father Paul stood at the pulpit, his voice clear and commanding.

"The Lord be with you," he began.

"And also with you," the congregation responded in unison.

"A reading from the gospel according to Luke."

"Glory to you, Lord."

Father Paul's voice carried through the pews as he read the gospel, his words reverberating off the stone walls. His gaze swept over the room, making contact with various parishioners as he recited the passage with conviction.

"A man had a fig tree in his vineyard, but it did not bear fruit. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, 'For three years, I've been looking for fruit on this tree, and for three years, I've found nothing. It's a waste of my land. Cut it down!'"

A subtle ripple of murmurs passed through the congregation.

"Sir, the worker replied, leave it alone for one more year. Let me dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, all is well."  Father Paul continued, his voice unwavering.

"If not, then cut it down."

The last line hung in the air, and there was a brief, solemn pause before he finished the gospel.

"The gospel of the Lord."

"Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ." The congregation responded, their voices soft but steady.

Bell Tower

The sound of boots scraping against the rungs of a metal ladder echoed in the quiet bell tower as Eliot climbed, his focus sharp. At the bottom, Hardison Parker, and I stood by, waiting for the signal.

St. Nicholas Church – Below

Meanwhile, Father Paul's voice filtered down from the pulpit as Eliot reached the top of the bell tower. The church's grand interior was full of life, the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows, casting vibrant hues on the floor. A perfect backdrop for a plan in motion.

"Repent or perish! That's Luke 13. Tough to swallow, huh? But like all parables, this one's open to interpretation," Father Paul continued, his voice strong. The congregation chuckled softly at his lighthearted tone.

"Or did the worker have a secret?" Father Paul's voice rang out, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"A secret that only our faith sustains us over time," Paul continued, as his words cut through the church like a spiritual blade. "The owner doesn't have his hands in the soil. Only the worker is there every day, in the dirt, with the tree. He has faith in his skill and faith that God will support that skill. And maybe, in a year's time, the tree will bear fruit."

His gaze flickered towards the back of the church, locking eyes with Grant, who had entered quietly with Tomas.

"He doesn't look for the easy way out," Paul declared, his voice resolute.

"He doesn't say, 'Oh, why would the Lord do this to me? If only he would give me a sign. If only he'd give us a miracle.' But the worker doesn't ask for a miracle. He has faith in himself and faith in God, and he only asks for time."

Father Paul's eyes flicked over the congregation, his voice ringing out with a fervor that seemed to command their attention, drawing their hearts into his words.

"Let us proclaim our faith."

Eliot signaled for Parker to begin her descent, as Hardison and I ensured everything was in place below. The pulley system was set, the equipment all ready for the final touch. As Parker began her slow, controlled drop, the air felt thick with anticipation. The statue—the very symbol of the so-called miracle—was about to disappear.