The Unexamined Life
"The unexamined life is not worth living." -Plato's Apology, 38a
In May of 2025 I came across this abandoned church in Aurora, North Carolina. Aurora is known as the “fossil capital of the world.” I could find no history of the church, no story to share. So I created one for all small churches like this church. And for the nameless and forgotten pastors who shepherded them.
"The unexamined life is not worth living." -Plato's Apology, 38a
Pastor Mike lay in the hospital bed hooked up to more machines than he’d ever seen, or imagined seeing, in his life. One machine was regulating his breathing, another feeding him something to manage the pain, another recording his heart rate, and another was doing this, and another was doing that, and another was… He knew he was dying. The staff wouldn’t say it to his face, but he could tell from the expressions in their faces. He’d even overheard two of the orderlies making bets on when he would pass. Throughout the day and night, he faded in and out of consciousness. He couldn’t keep track of time except when the news came on, or a nurse came by to check on his medications, or an orderly to see if his linen needed to be changed.
He was waiting to die of either his sickness or boredom and wondering why it was taking so long. Until a man in an ill-fitting suit and tie came to see him. He reminded Mike of a life insurance agent, or a claims adjuster for the hospital. He had the thickest wire rimmed glasses Mike had ever seen. It gave the man an owl like appearance.
“Pastor Mike? My name is Benjamin Feldman, but you can call me Ben, or Benny – whichever you prefer. Can I have a few minutes of your time?”
“Sure, Benny,” Mike answered a bit sarcastically, “time is all I got anymore, but ya better be quick ‘cause even that is running out. What’s this all about, anyway? I ain’t got a will, or life insurance – which you’re a little late for that, and the hospital has all my health care info. So what else do you need?”
“Well, Pastor Mike, I’m here to do your evaluation.”
“Evaluation of what?”
“Your life.”
“My what!?!” Mike coughed. His breathing had been getting more labored over the last twelve hours.
“Your life, Mike.” And with that Feldman opened his briefcase and took out what looked like an old-fashioned, leather-bound ledger and a quill pen and bottle of ink. Feldman set up office, so to speak, on the tray where Mike got his food and meds, dipped the quill in the ink well, adjusted his glasses and poised himself to write. “So, Mike, what would you say your greatest achievement in this life has been?”
Mike seemed to shrink at the question as he settled more into the bed and drew the sheets up around him. “What kind of question is that?”
“The kind of question that’s important for a dying man to ask himself,” Feldman responded.
“You don’t cut nobody no slack do ya, Mister Feldman?” Mike responded sarcastically.
Feldman stared at Mike for almost a minute before responding, “Mike, and I say this with as much compassion as I can, I’m not here to ‘cut you some slack.’ My assignment is to prepare you for eternity.”
“Damnation,” was all Mike could mumble as he turned his face away from Feldman’s gaze.
“I hope to avoid that,” Feldman chuckled. “So back to my question - Mike, what was the greatest, most important thing you ever did in your lifetime?”
“I guess I’d say it was starting that church, even though it was a failure.” Mike replied thoughtfully.
Feldman asked, “And why would you say that?”
Mike turned his head away to hide his expression. “I always thought I had the gift, you know, the calling to be a pastor. I imagined I could have been like Billy Graham, Billy Sunday, or Charles Spurgeon. But I was a failure. Never got no more than about twenty people on a good Sunday, and most of them never stayed. I even had a Regional Overseer for the denomination tell me I was a failure.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Tell me about that,” Feldman asked, leaning in to listen better as Mike’s voice was starting to get quieter and softer. Feldman could tell Mike’s strength was weakening.
“Yeah, the Association of Pastors had selected this location for me to go as a missionary and establish a church. I had one year of funding to get it up and running. They sent me to a little town of less than 500 people, it’s claim to fame is it’s the ‘fossil capital of the world.’ Fossil was a pretty apt description. Well after the year was up no one came out, or contacted me, or anything. I thought maybe they were giving me more time, that they knew how difficult this was going to be.
Mister Feldman there were a dozen other churches within a few miles of the location they had sent me to. A dozen churches in a population of about 500 people. And those other churches were all losing members as the economy kept going downhill.”
“That sounds like a hard ministry to have,” Feldman said sympathetically.
“Damn straight! Eh, sorry. I didn’t mean to cuss,” Mike sheepishly apologized.
“It happens, Pastor Mike. Did you know that Saint Peter once cussed a man out? Yes, in Acts 8:20 a sorcerer offers Peter money for the gift of the Holy Spirit and, in the J. B. Phillips translation Peter tells him, ‘To hell with you and your money!’”
“Really? I mean he said it like that?” Mike asked a bit skeptically.
Feldman laughed and replied, “Pastor, Peter was a sailor – have you ever heard a sailor cuss? But you said the Regional Overseer said you were a failure – when did that happen? It sounds like they just forgot about you.”
“If they hadn’t already written me off, which I think he did,” Mike said with just a little bitterness creeping into his voice. “He advised me that if I wanted to have a successful ministry I should look for an upscale neighborhood, town, community; someplace where the people are in the upper income brackets. They’d be able to support a ministry and I’d make a really good living – which the denomination would be pleased with and probably offer me a better package, with a good salary, and plenty of nice benefits like a housing allowance, healthcare, retirement planning, an education allowance so I could attend seminars taught by people who were making six figure incomes in ministry.”
“So why didn’t you take his advice? Sounds like a good plan,” Feldman asked.
“You know that verse you just mentioned in Acts? That one where Peter says, ‘To hell with you and your money!’ That’s how I felt. What he was offering just didn’t sound like what I thought the ministry was supposed to be. I didn’t think I made the right choice financially, but the more I mulled it over, the more I think I made the right choice.”
“So,” Feldman asked, “What was the response of the Overseer?”
Mike chuckled, “Not a real positive one. Basically, I was probably right where I belonged…a loser ministering to losers.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Feldman smiled and patted Mike on the shoulder. “Pastor, my friend, you made the right choice. You passed the test.”
“Test? Was that some kind of a test? How’d I pass that test?”
“Just because you’re a minister doesn’t shield you from temptation. Even the Lord was tempted to turn stones into bread when He was hungry. The Enemy is allowed to test us, and often his agents appear as angels of light.”
“But that guy worked for the church!”
“Yes, the church is pretty infiltrated by the Enemy of our souls, Mike.” Feldman chuckled. “Mike, let me review some of my notes on you. Give me a minute.” And with that Feldman started turning pages in that large old leatherbound book that he’d been taking notes in.
Mike asked, “What is that?”
Feldman smiled and answered, “Well you might call it the Book of Mike.” And Feldman started thumbing through the pages, reminiscing. “Pastor Mike, do you remember when you came to this ‘fossil capital of the world’ and were just starting to plant your church? Who was the first person you encountered? Do you remember?”
Mike shook his head no.
“Well the first person you met and spoke with was a Silas Marner. He ran a clothing store, remember him?” Feldman asked.
“Yeah, yeah I kind remember him. I think the first time I met him, well I think he was drunk or just getting over a drunk.”
“Yes, he was both. Silas lost his wife and child in a car crash, and with them his reason for living. He was considering committing suicide when you met him and told him about starting a church. Do you remember who gave you that small plot of land to build on? It was him,” Feldman said. “He was one of your first members. You’d never know this but helping you with that church gave him a purpose. It changed his life.”
“Yeah, I kinda remember him talking about that, whatever happened to him?”
“He had a heart attack, and you preached at his funeral.”
Mike turned his head towards the wall so that Feldman couldn’t see his expression. “You changed his life, Mike.”
“But…I forgot his name. I forgot him…”
“There are a few people you’ve forgotten, Mike. Do you remember a young girl named Hestor? Seventeen, pregnant and thrown out of her home. Remember her, Mike?”
“Yeah, yeah I do. I think the congregation, all five of us, found a place for her to stay for a while. I don’t remember what became of that. She moved. Left town and I never heard from her again.” Mike was trying hard to remember, but the memory was elusive as old memories tend to be.
Feldman turned a page in the book as if looking for something. “Ah, there found it. Mike you told her that her life and her child’s life were important, that God had great plans for the two of them.”
“Well, that sounds like the kinda thing a pastor is supposed to say,” Mike agreed.
“Well pastor Mike, she listened. She went back home and her mother let her stay and turned out to be a great grandparent. Hestor got a job, got a college degree and works at an accounting firm as an office manager. That child did well too in life.”
“That’s nice to hear. What became of him?” Mike asked.
”See for yourself pastor,” and Feldman pulled out a newspaper announcement about a Marine who was awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for rescuing his radio operator from the fiery wreckage of the MV-22 Osprey they were in crashed. Feldman pointed to the Marine and said, “That Marine is the child Hestor was pregnant with.”
Mike put his head in his hands and sobbed, “I never knew, I never knew…”
Feldman stood up and walked over to Pastor Mike and placed his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Mike, you reached more lives than you can imagine or remember. You ran the race you were supposed to run. You weren’t called to be Billy Graham. You were called to be the Shepard to the Lost Flock, the people who are overlooked by so many churches and ministers. Your church didn’t fail, it succeeded, until it wasn’t needed anymore.”
Pastor Mike laid back in his bed, relaxed. No longer in pain and smiling. “So what’s next?” he asked, “To be honest I feel good but kinda tired. I think I could go to sleep for a while.”
And then the most amazing thing happened. Benjamin Feldman began to glow and change as if a butterfly were emerging from its cocoon. His business suit seemed to dissolve, and his massive wings filled the room, which was filling glowing with the most beautiful light imaginable. And he picked up Pastor Mike and gently said, “Let’s go home. Some people want to see you again.”
