[In memory of the Visitation Team that came to my house when my parents were gone.]

S haggy shoved the ninth piece of pizza into his mouth and swallowed.
      His girlfriend Tweety wrinkled her nose. "Did you taste it?"
      Shaggy burped. "Sure. Pepperoni. Mmm."
      "Right. Whatever. I'll be back in a minute." She walked down the hall toward the restroom.
      The doorbell rang. A man in business clothing stood under the porch light. Shaggy recognized him as McNamara, an executive at the company Shaggy worked at. Two men behind McNamara stood in the shadows. They wore trench coats.
      "Hello," said McNamara. "We're from First Community Church of the People. May we come in?"
      Shaggy's neck knotted. His knees went limp. His hands shook. The Visitation Team! How'd they know he was here? How could he escape?
      His stomach rolled over. Was that the pepperoni?
      McNamara pointed to a piece of art hanging on the wall. "Look! A 'Jesus Laughing' print."
      Shaggy looked back over his shoulder. All three men swiftly brushed passed him. McNamara sat down at the table. "Made ya look."
      Shaggy wanted to throw McNamara out. But would he keep his job if he did that? He groaned. "So this is what persecution feels like," he thought.
      "Um, sit. Please sit."
      He sat, fidgeting.
      One of the goons went to the light switch. All went black. Shaggy's hands were wrenched behind his back and tied to the chair. A small bulb split the darkness. McNamara set a miniature flashlight on the table. The trench coats sank to their knees in the shadows, mumbling prayers.
      McNamara said, "You might think we're treating you badly now, but you'll thank us later. See, the Bible says, 'Faithful are the wounds of a friend'. Proverbs, chapter twenty-seven, verse six. We're treating you as our friend."
      Shaggy shut his eyes tight. Think!
      "Friend, have you ever committed your life to Jesus Christ?"
      "Yeah..." What to do?
      "When?"
      "About a year ago."
      "You don't remember the day?"
      "No. Not really." What would Hunter do?
      McNamara scowled. "Didn't make that much of an impression on you, eh? So how do you know you're really saved?"
      "Well... I... I'm different. I'm not like I used to be."
      "Oh? You seem to be absent from work as much as you were before."
      A grand piano of guilt fell on Shaggy. He'd been trying to do better. But he failed. Often. He moaned in agony. "God help me."
      Tweety returned and put her hands on her hips. "What's going on?"
      Shaggy yelled, "Code Red! Call Hunter! Run!
      She looked confused, uncertain.
      "Run!"
      McNamara hissed at the trench coats, "Pray harder."
      Tweety vanished.
      McNamara sneered. "Still living with your girlfriend, eh?"
      "No!"
      "Fine-looking woman waiting in the bedroom for you. How could you say no?"
      "She wasn't in the bedroom!"
      McNamara grabbed the flashlight and shined it directly into Shaggy's eyes. "And you say things have changed, hypocrite?"
      Shaggy saw white spots chase each other on the screen of his closed eyelids.
      The front door crashed open. A stocky man in a leather jacket stood silhouetted against the porch light. He strode into the room and held the executive's eyes with his own. "You're McNamara."
      "I am. I don't think I've had the pleasure."
      "Name's Hunter. Get out."
      "Oh, now don't be rude. We're getting this boy saved."
      "I see. Go ahead, then. I'll just call Thomson and report your failure as a Visitation Team Sortie Leader."
      McNamara studied Hunter. "What'd you say?"
      Hunter took out a cell phone and punched a number. "You violated Section 67, rule three: 'The V. T. Sortie Leader shall ensure that the subject is alone before entering the premises.' I think the case is pretty clear you botched this job. Thomson will not be happy." He put the phone to his ear.
      McNamara stood. "I don't know who you are, Hunter. But I promise you we'll meet again. C'mon boys."
      The three disappeared into the night.
      Hunter flipped the lights on. "It's okay, Tweety. You can come out now."
      Shaggy's face skewed. "How'd you know what that manual said?"
      Hunter said nothing.
      "You were on a Visitation Team once, weren't you?"
      A great, gut-wrenching sigh emerged from Hunter's grim face.
      "Yeah, I was. Made sortie leader at the age of 18, a year before McNamara enrolled into the program. I am what I am today only by God's grace."
      "But what if you hadn't changed so much? How would you know if you were saved?"
      "Did McNamara hit you with that line?"
      Shaggy didn't reply.
      "Why'd Jesus die?"
      "To take our sin away."
      "Do you trust Him to forgive you today?"
      "Yeah."
      "That's how you know."
      "But I still mess up."
      "Yeah, but give yourself a chance. God's at work inside you now."
      Shaggy nodded slowly.
      "Come on up, son," Hunter said. "It's OK. Say, got any of that pizza left?"