2025 A.D. ~ The Man of Faith
Meet President Shepherd, the man who will change the nation. Forever.
He did it. Despite the odds, Noah achieved the impossible.
“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
I rise with other shivering dignitaries on the inaugural stage. We applaud Noah for all we’re worth, which is a great deal. Before us, a mass of humanity stretches outward from the Capitol Building into a shroud of falling snow. Crimson and cream accessories mark wide swathes of the crowd. Matching flags ripple with the thundering cheers.
Our campaign branded him as the “Man of Faith” to sell him to the fundamentalists. Crimson and cream represent the blood spilled and bones broken to grow this nation. His likeable demeanor and modest background endeared him to enough centralists to sway the vote in his favor.
I watch Noah gingerly set George Washington’s inaugural 1767 King James Bible on the podium. The move is a message to America’s citizens: Noah Shepherd lives for God and country.
As Noah launches into his address, I glance through my benediction. Like everything I write, it’s crafted to appeal to the millions of Christians who demand we “take back America” following the liberal resurgence in 2020. Each line is calculated to give them what they’d expect from a faithful preacher. This final copy has been approved for the ceremony, but it’s my nature to look for ways to improve my work.
The inaugural address is brief. Noah detests garrulous speeches. That’s one of his greatest selling points. He speaks to the everyday man and woman, especially to those who feel threatened by the liberal agenda.
“The benediction will now be delivered by Reverend Mark Davidson.”
Hats are doffed and chins lowered. I speak the prayer with my trademark inflections, each one intended to generate an emotional rise in believers’ breasts.
“O’ most Heavenly and Beloved Lord, Father of us all, Creator of the Universe, your blessing over this mighty nation is honored and cherished.”
They love beautiful phrasing with lots of words. Every morning, I release online nuggets of inspiration infused with flowery language and talk of blessings.
“We ask you to lead our sacred nation into a fresh age of prosperity, and guide us as a shining example of holiness to the rest of the world.”
There’s a hiss in the distance, probably from liberal demonstrators outside the Capitol proper.
“Dear Lord most high, bathe us in Your light as we move forward in Your name.”
I draw a deep breath. The final part of this benediction will be dissected, applauded, and reviled. For Noah’s campaign, I became a willing target since the liberals have had me in their sights for years, yet a nervous flutter quivers in my belly.
“And finally, Merciful and Patient One, we beg your blessing as we seek to bring this once great nation into Your Glory. Watch over our elected leaders as they sweep the liberal stain from our mighty halls.”
I keep my face passive as the protestors lose their minds from the periphery of the ceremony.
“In the name of Your Son, our Savior, Jesus the Christ, I say ‘Amen.’”
“AMEN,” the crowd roars.
I flash my billion-dollar smile and wave. Everyone in the crowd has braved the blizzard to witness this historic inauguration. Many are here to lay eyes on me as much as on Noah. With millions of “associate members” paying tithe to my church, I’m certain many of today’s witnesses are sheep from my flock. Those who aren’t here have access to my live streams and podcasts. They won’t miss a thing, and my stirring prayer will inspire more fiscal support.
Noah claps me on the shoulder and thanks me for the benediction. The cheers intensify in response to his smile. That famous smile could light the darkest pits of Hell. Not for the first time, a naive part of me wonders if he is the real thing. I quash the notion and fall into the contingent at his side. We’re ushered out by Secret Service, and soon, he and I are alone in the back of a heavily-armored limo. There is no First Lady to join him, and the other dignitaries have filed into the decoy car. The driver pulls away from the Capitol.
“How do you feel, Mr. President?” I hand him an empty champagne flute from a small cabinet behind the driver’s seat. “Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? ‘Mr. President.’ Fantastic.”
He grins like a child as he takes the glass. I open a waiting bottle of chilled, sparkling apple juice and pour into his flute. Noah doesn’t drink alcohol. His loss.
“I feel good, Mark.” He takes a sip and nods at me. His smile fades. “We’re going to do this right. Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow, the work begins.”
I lean back and close my eyes. Yes, the work begins. My call centers will kick off the campaign to celebrate President Shepherd. They’ll call everyone on our lists to thank them for praying for the new president. My people won’t mention voting, as that would violate our nonprofit status. Then, my callers will ask the faithful if they’d like to donate a little more so we can keep the mission going.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” Noah says.
I open my eyes. He leans forward with elbows on knees and lips in a grim line. The glass dangles in his right hand. A whiff of his favorite cigar brand tickles at my nostrils.
“My pleasure.” I straighten in the plush leather seat. “I look forward to working together to bring Christian values back to America.”
Noah places his glass in a holder and narrows his eyes. Something’s off.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “I know you for what you are. I recognized it when you first came to me offering your assistance in the campaign.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cut the act.” He waves a hand. “I put up with your arrogance because it suited my purposes. You have millions of American hearts in the palm of your hand. You’re slicker than any of the old televangelists, but I see it.”
My mouth goes dry.
“I-I don’t — ”
“You’re a con artist, not a man of God. That changes. Right. Now.” He stabs a finger toward me. “You will lead your flock as God calls men of power to do.”
I don’t have a contrived platitude that can handle this. Not with a man who can destroy me. My veins turn to ice.
“I am a man of God,” I try. “Do you have any idea how many people I’ve helped through my organization?”
“Only enough to fit your image and make your tax guys happy.” Noah crosses his arms and leans back. “You’ve said it yourself. I’m the real deal. I expect no less of anyone who associates with me. You will become an honest man.”
The car rolls to a stop. The driver gets out and walks to the passenger door. Secret Service agents gather outside the window.
“I am not the kind person you think I am, Mark.” He holds up a finger to the chauffeur, indicating he needs a moment. “I am in this role to do what must be done to restore this nation in God’s eyes. Your role is to be one of my knights.”
“I don’t understand what you want me to do. If I stop my ministry, we lost credibility.”
A strange smile cuts across Noah’s face. A look I’ve never seen.
“You’re not going to stop your ministry. In fact, you are going to forge ahead and set an example by taking a substantial pay cut. That cash flow will be directed to The Arc’s Hope. It’ll be a new charity. Below the surface, it will go in large part to fund the most important work of all.”
My world is upside down.
“What’s that?”
The smile widens.
“Mark, my friend, we are going to remake Washington in God’s name. Then, the nation.” The smile vanishes. “It’s better than America’s favorite preacher being found assassinated by liberal extremists, don’t you think?”
My heart pounds as though trying to escape. I helped make him the most powerful man on Earth. What have I done?
“Your answer, Mark?”
I stick out my hand and try not to tremble.
“You have my support, Mr. President.”
This is the first installment of The Sacred States of America.
