I’d like to tell you of a story that happened many years ago, a story of a close friendship. And I’d like to tell you of a dream that also goes back many years, though not as many as the story.

It was a long time ago- in about the late seventies- that God, who gives dreams, sent me a vision as I slept. I was standing upon a hill with my friend Louie. In his hand he held a golf club and was looking far off to where he needed to drive his next shot. I stood a short distance behind him. I watched as he prepared himself for his swing. Then turning his head to me he said these words: “Joe, pray for me.” There was a sense of urgency in his eyes that defied description. What was required of him was that he had to drive the ball about four hundred yards. The ball then needed to hit a house brick which stood upright, but on a bit of an angle. The ball had to hit off a particular part of the brick, and from there go into the hole, located about ten yards from the brick. Something of the highest importance depended on him being successful. This was what I saw in his face when he asked me to pray.

Immediately after he spoke to me he drew back his club and swung with all of his strength. At that point I awoke from my sleep. Then something happened to me that had never happened before. Nor has it ever happened again. The voice of God came to me audibly. Not only that, but it was resounding in my chest as He spoke. “This is the same chance that your friend Louie has of entering the kingdom of God,” was what I had heard, and very clearly. Immediately I sank into deep depression. It was as though my heart had become pierced through with heavy sorrow. I suppose this lasted only a second or two. Next I was finding myself grateful that I hadn’t yet heard the complete message, for again He bellowed “but with God all things are possible.” These were the words of comfort that He had left me with. Suddenly I was joyful. Never had I gone from such acute depression to bright hope so quickly. In fact, it was more than that. For my understanding was telling me that this hope was not just a bright hope, but a sure hope. What I’m saying is that when I heard those last encouraging words I knew beyond any doubt that Louie would be among the redeemed of the earth. It was as though God was telling me that in spite of all of Louie’s evil deeds it yet was His sovereign will and good pleasure to pour upon him a bountiful mercy and save my brother’s soul.

I had first met Louie when we were only eleven years old, at St. Symphorosa’s school. He was a mischievous little guy even then. I say “little” because there couldn’t have been more than three sixth grade boys shorter than he was; I happened to be one of them. We hit it off right from the start. We just naturally took to one another, having a little more in common than just size. When we graduated two years later I was second in a long line of boys filing into the church. And who was right behind me but Louie. It was the seedtime years of a long and adventurous relationship.

When we grew older Louie had gained a reputation for street fighting. In spite of being but 5’5’’ in height he was one of the toughest kids in the neighborhood. My brother Jack once said of him that pound for pound he was the toughest flat-out. One man who had an eye for gifted athletes said he could had made it as a prizefighter. It seemed he had something against big people. He loved to pick a fight with a guy twice his size. Amazingly I never saw him lose one of those – or any fight for that matter. I’m sure he had, especially when he and my brother joined the marines in the early sixties. I don’t say all this to brag on him; not at all. For Louie had developed a mean streak that would truly unveil itself when he fought. This caused him to seriously hurt some people, and at times with more than just his fists. But after a while he had acquired a pretty wild life-style just in general. In a number of ways he lived quite dangerously. His list of enemies wasn’t getting any smaller. Some were out to really hurt him. In all this he hardly seemed moved.

Yet as strange as it may sound, Louie had a soft side. And somewhere in him a light shined. It may have been buried beneath a lot of darkness, but I’m certain it was there. I saw it once in his eyes; it was in fact all over his face. He and I were in a grocery store. A little Mexican boy was before us at the cash register. He placed all of his candy on the counter and gave the lady all the change he had. The woman told him that he hadn’t enough for the amount of candy he wanted. The boy appeared crushed by her words and didn’t know what to do. I happened to notice Louie observing him. Then with as kind a smile as I’ve ever seen, and with his eyes sparkling, he nudged the young boy and put the amount of money into his hand that he needed. It was another Louie that I saw that day. There was such a goodness about his entire demeanor. I knew then that there was more to my friend than what met the eye. It was a while afterwards that he told me that it was hard for him to listen to the “Ave Maria” being played because it would make him cry. By this I was stunned. And as time passed it seemed I saw that side of him more and more. My poor friend Louie was no doubt a tormented soul. Being split between the type of evil that for the most part controlled him, and the quality of good that I’m sure he knew was there, how could he not have been tormented? But despite his way of life he nevertheless remained my friend. In fact he was my close friend, in a sense like a brother, and together we had a lot of fun times. It was a friendship that went back to our childhood, and one that I could never betray. It was for this reason, that when I heard the voice of God speaking out against him upon awaking from my dream, that my heart nearly failed within me.

But that wasn’t the only dream. It was just the beginning. After it Louie would appear in my dreams constantly, probably at least at an average of once a week. There was never anymore significance attached. He was just there. However I knew that this was the Lord pressing him upon my heart. After some months of this I felt that I had to see him. But it had been six years since we were together last. I’d heard that he had opened up a tavern in the neighborhood, and knowing where it was I dropped in one day. I got there early, maybe around 11 a.m. I knew there would be few or possibly even no customers at that time, and this would give us a chance to talk. Upon arriving I was surprised to see Bobbie LaDuca standing behind the bar. She pretty much grew up with Louie and I. Shortly afterward I learned that she bartended there a few hours a week. It was so good to see both of them again, but especially Louie. They had heard that I “got religion” as the world tends to put it. I told them all about it; they respectfully asked questions; we talked a pretty good while. I made sure that I got in the message of salvation, which didn’t exactly result in them seeing a bright light and repenting of all their sins. But I had come there with more in mind than just telling them the gospel. I wholly believed that God wanted for me to relate to Louie the dream which He had given me some months ago. I’d come determined to not back off on the matter. It didn’t take long to tell since the dream lasted no more than a few seconds. When I was through Louie only looked at me. Then he smiled and chuckled just a bit. “Ya know Joe,” he said, “I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. I’ve hurt a lot of people, and maybe I’m just no good. But I know one thing – that if there truly is a heaven, that I’m gonna be there. I realize that it don’t make sense. I can’t explain it. All I know is, if there’s a heaven, I know I’m gonna be there.”

Now some may see his reply as pure audacity. After all, isn’t that a whole lot to assume considering the person he’d been? And even after hearing the gospel he wasn’t at all inclined to embrace it. I however was not seeing him in that light. In fact,
I felt that he was only confirming the message that was given me, more specifically those final words: “But with God all things are possible.” As I already stated, when I’d heard those words it was as though the Lord was telling me that despite the life that Louie had lived, that regardless of the darkness of his soul and all of his wicked ways, that He yet would choose him for sonship in His kingdom. And in a more mysterious sense He had already done so before the foundation of the world. I obviously wasn’t going to tell that part of it to Louie, though I did relate to him all of the words that the Lord had spoken.

But surely my friend would not be deserving of eternal life, would he? That is o so true.
But who is? From King David to Adolph Hitler - from Paul the apostle to Al Capone - we all fall short of His greatest gift equally. But it would be a matter of pure mercy and great grace towards Louie - His choosing alone, and His pure pleasure to perform it. To the natural mind it doesn’t make sense. This was what Louie was echoing. In short he was acknowledging a great load of guilt; yet he stood firm in his belief that his abode would be in heaven one day, though not understanding why this was going to be. I spent about twelve hours with Louie in his tavern that day. Six years is a long time, and we were just enjoying one another’s company again.

Many years have passed since that meeting. I would say that it occurred somewhere between 1978 and 1980. That puts it at about thirty years ago. In the summer of 2001 Louie Pfeiffer had his last fight, losing his battle to diabetes. Quietly did he slip from this world as all eventually do. Never had I heard that Louie became a believer following that day in his tavern. In fact we bumped into one another a few times afterwards. The last time I saw him was at a carnival at St. Symphorosa school – the same grounds where we had first met. We talked only shortly. I was sure he experienced no conversion. Yet I can’t help but believe that the hand of God was upon Louie all his life. For it wasn’t a small number of people who were intent on hurting him. And if I recall correctly there were three or four brothers from a neighborhood east of us that were out to kill him. But to the best of my knowledge he had never suffered any harm by the hands of his enemies. There is a very small chance that it wouldn’t have reached my ears had that occurred. Still if all that doesn’t show the providential Hand being over him, I feel this does. Louie himself was bent on murder one night. He spoke to me of it. It was the owner or employee of some bar who had really angered him. I don’t remember the reason why. Louie drove home to get a gun. Later that night he climbed to the roof of a building across the street from where the trouble had begun. Then in a prone position he lay in wait along the edge of the roof. Filled with liquor however, he passed out before the man exited the building. The next morning he found himself and his rifle on the ground. He had rolled off the roof in his sleep. Not a bone was broken. In fact there were no real injuries to speak of. He’d only suffered a light bruise on his arm. I don’t think I asked how many stories the building was. But if it was only a single story, what would have been the chances of him incurring no harm? I believe with my whole heart that as lawless a life as Louie lived that God’s hand was upon him to keep him. “Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!” So we read it in the eleventh chapter of the book of Romans. Sometimes we need to drink in these kind of scriptures. I regret to say that we tend to go after what only goes down smooth.

I believe that around the time my friend died, the Spirit of the Lord drew near to claim the long lost sheep that had belonged to Him. Tasting of Him Louie saw that He was good. It was then that he swung his club, but not without the big hands of Jesus wrapped around his own. It was at that point that I awoke from my sleep and saw no more. This was because the remainder of the dream belonged only to Louie. Deep down it had always been his dream, though ever buried under many things. I suppose he and his Saviour watched as the small ball sailed far and high. And when Louie saw it hit down – right upon the brick – I’m sure a smile appeared upon his face, probably like the one he wore when he paid for the little boy’s candy. And when the ball rolled into the hole he fell asleep in the arms of God, all of his pain and confusion and heavy weight of guilt gone forever – a whole new creation.


J. Pecoraro