***SOUND EFFECTS: The angelic voice of a young woman softly rises from murmuring static. She sings:

“Gotta be here,

A Prophet Took—me.

The walk, long—map in my heart.

Love, Book…Love, Book.

A welcoming place of promise

The Prophets call ‘Took.’”

The young woman repeats this verse for 5 minutes, varying the tempo and rhythm. She’s accompanied by a lone violin. Her voice fades, and the violin remains. We now hear freezing cold, howling squalls whip through a dense grove of trees and into a circular field. We’re deep in the Kentucky backwoods; no roads, no trails, only deer tracks in the snow. A fox blinks through pines—a distant, nearly unnoticeable glimpse of red. The dry, dead branches of an old sycamore crack and fall; they pass fluffy, slow snowflakes on their way down before sinking into the white forest floor.

Okay, my time’s about up, guys. Here’s a little personal update for ya before Smith takes the reins: I’m not only Sound Effects today, I’m also an unmanned camera hovering through the 2014/2015 Appalachian winter. Now, without further ado, I present my awesome, omnipotent creator…SMITH HOOOOOOOLBROOOOOOOOOK!!!***

Propheteers!!! I love you, Prophet Nation! You are ever faithful, and always in my prayers. My name is Smith Holbrook, as you know, and I would like to wish all of you a happy holiday season—a healthy one, too. As 2014 draws the curtain, we look back to see how much we have to be grateful for. Let us rejoice in our Lord, Jesus Christ. Our Almighty Redeemer. His grace is unfathomable, His love is eternally comforting. Tonight, we have a special podcast for all of God’s children tuning in. Let’s get at it ya’ll!

***SOUND EFFECTS: A dozen or so people applaud loudly, whistle, chant encouraging things about defense. “Defense is a crucial ingredient to victory!” one man yells at the top of his lungs. Finally, a loud basketball gym buzzer blows and a bucket of arcade coins is dumped onto a trampoline. The trampoline is being utilized by happy children; we hear its springs, we hear the coins bouncing, and innocent laughter.***

Well, today is December 29^th, and boy have our Prophets been busy these past couple weeks. And I don’t mean on the basketball court. Adam Silver, the NBA’s commissioner, along with Striver Roark, planned a holy and unlikely mission for all of us: we were to build a church with our own hands—a rural and loving sanctuary. An idea with legs, with merit. Merely 12 days ago, Silver and Striver approached me, gave me the rundown. I was in my studio recording a short story when they arrived unannounced. Incidentally, our little chat got recorded, and it’s ready to play for you now! Ready? Right!

*RECORDING: Booming knocks on the door of Smith’s studio…we hear a muffled Adam Silver shouting, “Open up, Holbrook! It’s me n’ Strive!”

“What a surprise!” Smith says as he opens the door for them.

Adam Silver is in an efficient state at this point in time; he immediately lays it out for Smith upon entering his studio.

SILVER: “Now listen up, Smits—wow, you’re looking good—but open your ears and keep up. I’ll cut to the chase here: At sunrise, the Prophets and I depart on foot into some northeastern Kentucky backwoods. The boys are presently packing all the tools and other essentials—like food, guns, paint, and tents—that we will need on this mission. We’re going to build a church from the ground up, and we really want—well, we’d be gleefully honored—if you would accompany us. We’ll build fires, we’ll howl with coyotes, and we’ll track plentiful bounties with my blue-tick hound. I love that dog…an uncanny tracker. Anyway, Smits, I KNOW this is sudden. But hear me out. I want what you, Strive here, and all the other Prophets have: love, clarity of mind/spirit, and most importantly, God. I’ve truly seen myself, lately—all the shortcomings I must destroy, and all the attributes I need to keep. Smith, my heart has hardened over time due to arrogance and pride. I’ve misplaced massive blame on a brother, a close friend, without even knowing the truth of the situation…without giving him a chance to explain. It was easier to hate, almost a sickly satisfying pleasure I gained from turning the other way. Shadowy. I’ve took, took, took, and never thought to give. I know one thing: I’m not God. And another thing is I refuse to wake up this Christmas hungover and with as many or more problems as the night before. The dissatisfaction, the ever-fleeting worldly pleasures. I’m undergoing a spiritual renewal/discovery/whatever it is. The freedom God’s grace allows, the joyousness that is capable in each of our lives. True forgiveness is real, and so is love. Come with us, let’s put basketball aside for a fortnight. Let’s build our Father a new house for his birthday…Prophet style. My jet leaves in an hour. What do you say?!”

Smith Holbrook chuckles happily as he looks at a teary-eyed, smiling Striver Roark standing in the open doorway.)

STRIVER: “Smith, this church isn’t going to be a museum for the well; it’s going to be a hospital for the broken.”

SMITH: (choked up with tears of joy, group hugging with Striver and Commisioner Silver)

“…let me grab my coat and lock up—we’ve got a church to build.”

*END RECORDING*

Whew! I’m back LIVE with you now, Prophet Nation. I was unaware that was even recorded 2 weeks ago. I noticed it an hour ago when I returned here to my studio, and it is indeed a pleasant surprise. Anywho, you wacky and faithful lot…

***SOUND EFFECTS: 3 snare drums are rolled—not down a hill, but the anticipatory kind of roll. After a few seconds the drum rolls stop and a lovely young female voice whispers, “He took away the chaos and the pain. ‘The Took’ is complete—radiant, full of promise.”***

The church is complete! We finished painting the last arrow shaped sign yesterday morning. The arrows are nailed to the trees to direct worshipers straight to ‘The Took’. It’s an 8.4 mile hike to it, over hilly terrain that can be tricky at times. We stopped to build handrails and small staircases a half dozen times on our journey. And it was bitterly cold, but we were prepared. Striver, Adam Silver, and little old me…we led the way. Well, God really did. And every Wurtland/Flatwoods 1^st Methodist Prophet followed. And we all pulled our weight: 3 cords of wood, 3 perches of stone, tools, tents, weapons, Bibles, the works. A late autumn snowstorm hit hard only a few hours before we began the trek, but that didn’t thwart our plan. 8 miles in, and we trudged along through a section of pines. The snowflakes seemed float upward and back into the sky due to swirling winds. We emerged from the pine trees and found ourselves in a flat, circular clearing. I don’t know who said it first, and it doesn’t matter—but everyone stopped, smiled, and said something like, “…this is the place.” And it WAS the place! Over the next 10 days, we all worked tirelessly on the structure, pooling together our creativity and strength.

“Half these Prophets were construction workers before I merged ‘em into the NBA, so we should be just fine,” I remember Adam Silver saying as we were setting up camp. And Silver was right. The boys were like a well-oiled machine out there on the construction site. Silver had overly ambitious goals in terms of design for the church, and the boys politely let him know that. He smiled, hugged Prophet Chet Marsh, and said, “You boys do what you do—if you need me, let me know how I can help.”

So that’s what they did. And everything ran remarkably smooth—by the 7^th day, the Took was about 80% complete. Because of this progress, Adam Silver’s excitement grew; he announced to us all that he’d be fasting and praying for our remaining time in the camp. We supported him, in turn, but joked with him also—told him he wouldn’t last a day! Hah! Anyway…where was I? Yes, we were going to finish the church ahead of schedule! And we did! On the 10^th day at around 10 a.m., all of us admired in awe the new, Holy tavern before us. It was at that moment that we realized Adam Silver and Striver Roark were missing.

Were they hunting? Had anyone seen them leave camp? We were all asking questions, trying to figure out their whereabouts. Not even a minute had passed when we heard the powerful bark of Titus, Silver’s blue-tick, somewhere off in the distance. Titus’ bark grew louder, closer—we realized then that the hound was located somewhere off the far south end of the clearing. We all instantly ran in that direction, and when we were about half way there we saw Titus explode into the clearing. He slid to a halt in the snow, his barking stopped, and he looked toward us with concerned eyes. Then he bolted back through the trees on the path he came from. We were worried now. Hastily, we followed Titus’ path for about a half mile. Snow was falling, covering the hound’s tracks. We yelled for our lost friends. They always told someone when they went hunting—we all did, it was a rule. We searched the woods frantically, not sure if we should be panicking.

“Here! Over here!” we heard Striver Roark yell in the distance. When we approached him, what we saw was horrifying: Striver was carrying a blanketed and shivering Adam Silver in his arms.

“He’s okay! He’s okay!” Striver yelled. “Help me carry him!” he said as we closed in.

We were so relieved to find them, and Striver provided some answers: “He busted his nose on a tree or rock…something…he coulda tripped. Titus brought me out here an hour ago, and I found him face down and mumbling, wearing only underwear. All bloodied up and filthy. The fasting must have gotten to him—I should have noticed it. I mean, he was a couple miles out here, he could’ve thought he was in a dream for all we know. He’s conscious, but confused from the impact of the fall…and lack of nutrition. Silver’s never fasted before. He drank the water I gave him but still refuses to eat…he needs sleep. A hospital first, and then sleep. Pray, Prophets, pray for our brother and Commissioner…he’s a fellow child of God, and a great man.”

The strongest Prophet, Tim Atkins, took Adam Silver from Striver’s arms. We all gathered to lay a hand upon him. We felt him shivering under the blanket, and we saw his dirty, bloody face. He had a contented, peaceful smile, and he was repeating something in a raspy whisper. We crouched close so to hear Adam’s words.

He said, “For God hath not given us the spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7…For God hath not given us the spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power…”

He repeated the scripture for miles, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Finally, about half way through the hike, he dozed sweetly to sleep.

Phew…phew phew...well! Prophet Nation, that was a doozy. It’s been fun. And Silver is in a fully recovered state, by the way. Better than ever, only took him about a day to return to normalcy. We just returned from this journey 2 days ago, for your information. Ha! What a life! Commissioner Silver has been eating these past 4 hours at Panera Bread in the Ashland Town Center Mall. His generosity became legendary when he agreed to pay for every meal purchased there today.

Okay…let’s wind it down. Draw this account to a close. God is good…the dark will never extinguish the light…and life is the greatest gift of all. Over and out, faithful listeners. I’m Smith Holbrook, and it’s Prophet reporting.