God's Smackdown

The teenage boys sitting in the back row in the Lititz Community Center, in Lititz, Penn., kept snorting dismissively at the spiritual battle unfolding before our eyes. In a ring set up in the middle of a couple hundred folding chairs, Omega, a 215 pounder who wrestles in the name of the Lord, propped himself up on the ropes and landed both feet in the face of Big Tim Storm, knocking him to the mat. Omega pounced, and pummeled Big Tim with blows to the chest and throat. The teenagers looked like they'd rather be behind the 7-Eleven smoking cigarettes.

Big Tim

But Big Tim, a human wrecking machine at six-foot-three and 260 pounds, has his own yen for Jesus, and, grabbing his "rag doll pansy" of an opponent, flung him out of the ring. By the time he foot-stomped Omega's head a dozen times, the 10-year-olds a few rows up were counting each blow aloud. As Big Tim, exulting in his win, strutted and bellowed "shut up" to the kids' boos and at the blue-haired lady hissing and giving him a thumbs-down, his real accomplishment was whipping up the listless Lititz crowd.

His ring victory, a wrestler named Apocalypse later pointed out, did not really belong to Big Tim, but to the big man upstairs: "We come out here and beat each other up every night for one reason and one reason only," Apocalypse told the crowd. "To spread the good news of Jesus Christ!"

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