V iolence in Heaven intends to encourage all people by showing how God (Love) is very present in this world and actively guiding us towards a literal birth of His will within the Kingdom, a tier, a type, of Heaven here on earth.
In this story, the man called Aspot is so named because he has proven himself to be problematic and blemished. Yet for all practical purposes, Aspot is only a placeholder for all mankind, as God discusses life with you, the Reader. Perhaps you are the kind of person who can satisfy God as He and you work together…fruitfully…building Life.
Vincent Brechtel is currently working the remote homestead farmland which, in his youth and now again, continues to help him see and hear our Creator. Within the interim, he spent three decades chasing a technical career where he found success but not the fulfilling peaceful sense of well-being that had begun softly, but ever louder calling him.
1. Into an Ore Furnace
Journey BeginsHis forehead stings from the latest outburst of the sky and he squints to help see the outlines of the road blurred by the rapidly descending deluge of rain and sleet. It is mid-afternoon of what has been an intermittently wet and chilly September day. His spirit is as dark as the demons he can feel riding on his shoulders and even now gnawing at his heel.
In the distance, is seen, an interstate overpass approaching which is about the only thing, he considers good this entire ride. But he wonders if his motorcycle is even going to make it that far. Indeed the engine is sporadically coughing loudly and issuing weak backfire while climbing a small knoll towards the concrete crossroad overpass located in a barren landscape somewhere within the middle of Montana.
As if obligingly to a disgusted kick, his bike whines and complains but also chugs contemptuously under this concrete umbrella. “Whew!” Aspot quietly mutters “I didn’t think you were going to make it you stupid ole nag” as he allows the old bagger to throat a dying cough and quietly roll to a stop even as it proceeds to muddle the roadside with puddles of oil and rain water.
Slowly and a bit stiffly he lifts himself from the seat and steps back far enough to cast an angry eye at this thing which is proving itself to be about as worthless as his repeatedly unfaithful wife. For a moment he is tempted to just kick that bike over and thumb it the remainder of the trip, which is to spend some time with his brother living near Seattle. Rather he only grunts and scrambles up a steep embankment to sit on a ledge of a concrete shoulder near the bottom side of the overpass, somewhat out of the wind. He leans back against a concrete abutment and glares down at his bike wondering just how much worse things can get.
None of his efforts to save his marriage seemed good enough and very recently his wife let him know that her latest fling (boyfriend) is so important this time, that she “no longer needs” Aspot and it is simply best if he packs his bags and goes anywhere far away. But of course she also made it very clear that he had still better expect to pay child-support because she is going to ask the court for the family home he built and to continue supporting her.