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He remembered the last time clearly. It was a Tuesday night for the midweek meeting. He had sat in the second row from the back, his leather-bound Bible open to the book of Jonah. Brother Vance, an elder with a kind, tired face, had read the paragraph aloud. Something about “fleeing from one’s assignment.”

He pressed send.

He wrote a new email. Not to the elders, but to the only person he still spoke to from the congregation: a quiet, gray-haired brother named Mark who sat in the back row and never commented, just like Elias used to do. jw-org