On the twentieth floor of the Hancock Building, the Christian magazine publisher looked down at the street from his penthouse office. On his mahogany desk was a pile of books and periodicals. To his right were a coffee table and three armless chairs. In the middle chair sat an attractive blonde.

The city was alive with rush hour traffic. The pedestrians reminded him of insects, moving in random patterns. He muttered under his breath, “They look like ants.”
“Did you say something, boss?” The young reporter looked up with eager eyes. Her boss didn’t look at her. He hated having to tell her the bad news.

“No. … Now, about this article of yours, it’s too controversial. We can’t print it.” He stared out the window again. “I’m sorry.”
“Why can’t you print it? I’ve documented every fact. The key subjects are all on record and there’s no way we can be sued.”

“Listen , your source says that 90 percent of Americans who said a salvation prayer aren’t really saved.1 That’s just too far out. I don’t want those kind of statements linked in any way to our magazine.”

“My source happens to be the most famous street evangelist in history. He’s published numerous books, been endorsed by big name ministries, has a massive following and does a TV show with a movie star.”

“Yeah? Well he’s not big enough to take on the evangelical establishment! I’m sorry. If we publish your article, they could break us ... just like that!” He slammed his hand on the table for effect. “Where do you think we get the advertising dollars that pays your salary?”

“But this is a bigger scandal than Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker put together! I mean–millions of people who think they’re saved are going to hell!”