“I don’t know what Reka meant about this morning, but nothing was going on that I can remember.”
He was lying, but Samuel had other concerns now. Would Paul target Reka for church discipline? Samuel hoped he hadn’t gotten that sweet woman into trouble. “It might not have been Reka. I could be mistaken. My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
“Now that you mention it, Eunice did come by the church, but she didn’t say anything to me about a call. Probably realized it was a mistake or somebody’s idea of a practical joke. You know how people are.”
“Yes, I do.” Samuel wished he didn’t.
“Good talking to you, Samuel. I’ll tell Eunice you called.”
Samuel had no illusions. His imagination created a dozen scenarios of what might’ve happened or what was happening inside the walls of the church and the Hudson household. Enough of this. He knew better. Oh, how easily the enemy put his foot on the accelerator and sent Samuel’s mind into overdrive. Only faith could put the brakes on.
Oh, Lord, I don’t know what’s happened over there, but You know. You see into men’s hearts, and their plans are laid bare before You. Nothing is hidden. Jesus, please strengthen me. I’m an old man and tired of the battle. Renew me. Give me the strength to keep running the race.
I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, the same kind of feeling I had when I sat across the street from Centerville Christian and saw the cross smash on the sidewalk. Oh, Father, don’t let that happen again. And if it has to happen, take me home so I won’t see it. Lord, turn us around. Please, Father, whatever Paul’s done, don’t let it destroy Your church. Don’t let it shake Eunice’s faith. Don’t let it crush her spirit. You know Satan does his best work in a church. If Satan can get to the shepherd, he can prey on the flock. Whatever’s happened down there, Lord, take hold of those responsible and discipline them so they will repent. Lord, Lord . . .
When would men learn they couldn’t go against the Lord without facing the consequences? They thought they could go about their lives and do whatever they thought right in their own eyes, and then have the unmitigated audacity to call it “serving the Lord.”
“Our numbers are way up. Have you heard?”
Paul’s heart hadn’t changed since the last time Samuel had talked with him. He still dwelt in the shadow of his earthly father, still ran ahead of the Lord, still let fear and pride reign.
Oh, Jesus, when will the boy learn? What will it take to bring him to his knees?
Samuel wept because he knew the day of the Lord was at hand, and it was Eunice who was in the olive press being crushed.
Fat hissed on red-hot charcoal as Stephen flipped hamburgers. Leaning back from the smoke, he took a look around. Over forty people had come to the midweek evening picnic. He hoped the Lord would multiply the hamburger patties because he’d only planned for the twenty-five members of his Bible study. And it seemed their gathering was attracting others to Rockville’s little park south of the center of town. The only facilities were the two Porta-Potty units Stephen had rented for the day.
Blankets were laid out, umbrellas set up, and a line of card tables arranged to display bowls of potato and macaroni salad, baked beans, casseroles, and rolls. Brittany helped Jack Bodene man the larger barbecue. He talked while she listened, both turning foil-wrapped ears of sweet corn. Something was going on between those two. There was enough heat between them to cook the corn without the barbecue. Stephen just hoped they wouldn’t set each other ablaze and end up in ashes again. Even though Jack had been sober for four years now, Stephen knew how long it took to really get your life in order. Brittany didn’t have that great a track record, either.
He spotted Kathryn’s car pulling up. She waved as she got out.
Brittany saw, too. “What’s she doing here?”
Stephen looked his daughter in the eye. “I invited her.”
“What for? She’s a pain in the—”
“She could use some good friends.”
Brittany gave a derisive laugh. “You were married to her. Do you think she’ll approve of anyone here? You know what she’s like.”
“People can change.”
“Not her.”
“She needs Jesus, Brit,” Jack said from his post.
“You’re on her side, too?” She seethed resentment.
“It’s not a matter of sides. Good grief, Brit. Like your mother is the only major screwup at this gathering. You and I haven’t exactly had it all together either.”
“It’s her fault I didn’t have it together.”
Jack said one foul word that summed up his opinion of that excuse. “And you know it. Why don’t you give her a chance?”
Her eyes glistened. “You don’t understand. Neither one of you understands.”
“Understands what?” Jack wasn’t backing down. “That you want your pound of flesh?”
“You expect me to forgive her!”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Well, what if I told you I wasn’t ready? What if I said I wasn’t going to stick around if she stays? What would you say then, Jack?”
Stephen saw Brittany had all of Kathryn’s angst, sarcasm, and controlling instincts down pat.
Jack shrugged. When he told her exactly what he’d say, mincing no words, her mouth fell open. He wasn’t finished with her. “I guess you’ll go on feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll justify and rationalize your lousy behavior and blame her for everything you ever did wrong. Convenient, isn’t it, to have a scapegoat?”
“Are you finished?”
“Too bad you’re gonna take another one of your long walks and miss out on a good picnic.”
“Well, it’s nice to know how you really feel about me, Jack.”
Jack lifted his head and looked at her. “You know how I feel. No games. Remember? Whatever your mother did wrong or didn’t do right, give it to God and let it go. If you can’t walk the walk with me, you and I aren’t taking another step forward.”
Brittany spat out a curse at him and stalked off.
Jack winced. “Sorry, man.”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Stephen gave a sardonic laugh. He noticed Jack didn’t take his eyes off Brittany as he tonged an ear of corn and slammed it on its other side.
Kathryn approached with a tray of cupcakes. She was wearing Levi’s, a white tank top, and a straw hat with a silk scarf tied around the crown. Stephen couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he knew she was watching their daughter stalk across the last grassy patch on the edge of the park. Her shoulders drooped slightly. “Maybe I should just leave these cup-cakes and go.”
“Nothing doing. Stick around and enjoy yourself. The fireworks are just getting started.”
“In case it slipped your notice, the Fourth of July was two months ago.”
“Brit might come back this time.”
“Wishful thinking, but I’ll stay. For a little while, at least.”
Stephen introduced Kathryn to Jack Bodene. They exchanged pleasant greetings and she went off with her cupcakes. Stephen kept his eye on her as he cooked the hamburgers. Did she feel as ill at ease as she looked? She stood at the table, fiddling with the platters, pretending to be busy while she watched the small groups laughing and talking together. Shouts came from the pickup baseball game at the far end of the grass. Hector Mendoza was hauling toward home plate while his wife and kids jumped up and down screaming.
Kathryn was heading for her car.
“Hey, Sal, take over for a while, would you?” Stephen handed over the spatula and intercepted Kathryn. “You know, Kat, you and Brit are going to have to stop running away from each other.”
“What makes you think she’ll come back if I’m here?”
He grinned. “Jack Bodene. He’s got more sway with our daughter than the two of us put together, and he just read Brit the riot act. If she feels about him the way I think she does, she’ll be back.” He put his hand beneath her elbow. “Give it another two ho
urs. If she isn’t back by then, and you’re bored out of your mind, you can split. I won’t try to stop you.” He headed her back to the gathering. “In the meantime, why don’t I introduce you to the people I know?”
He left Kathryn with Lucinda Mendoza and half a dozen other women watching and laughing over the baseball game and returned to the barbecue pit. A newcomer had dropped in and brought a grocery bag full of packaged hot dogs.
When the call went out that the hamburgers and hot dogs were ready, everyone lined up. Stephen saw Brittany standing under the sycamore tree, her forehead against Jack’s chest. He held her shoulders as he bent to say something to her. She slipped her arms around his waist, her face turned away from the gathering.
Kathryn was on the other side of the food table, serving herself baked beans. He knew she’d spotted Brittany with Jack. “Why don’t we sit together?”
Her gaze lifted to his in surprise. “Sure. Thanks.”
His plate laden, he headed for a shady patch of green on the edge of the softball field, where half a dozen other families had laid down blankets to stake out their territory. Brittany and Jack moved to the end of the food line. Kathryn sat down and lifted her head, watching them briefly before she took a small bite of baked beans. “Lucinda says you’re a very good teacher. I didn’t know you knew anything about the Bible—let alone, how to teach it.”
She wasn’t baiting him. “I never cracked the cover of a Bible until I was in rehab. Then I met Samuel Mason, and he lit a fire in me to learn more. Now I’m hooked on it.” She looked troubled. “Try not to worry about Brittany, Kat. If it doesn’t happen today, it’ll happen next time. Keep trying.” He took a big bite of his hamburger.
“I wasn’t thinking about Brittany.” She looked at him and shook her head. “I just don’t get it, Stephen.”
“Get what?”
“The way you talk about Jesus, as though He’s someone you know. Personally.” She grimaced. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I just want to know what happened to make you this way.”
He told her, and for once, she listened without interrupting or making wisecracks. She heard him out while she ate her meal. Her silence depressed him. He figured he’d done as bad a job as anyone could in sharing his faith, but he’d told her the truth without frills. She could do with it whatever she wanted. Within reason.
“Would you mind if I sit in on your class sometime?”
He coughed. “You want to come to the Bible study?”
“You don’t have to choke on it. I won’t come if it—”
“No, no.” He waved and coughed again. “Sure. Yeah. Please. Come.”
She laughed. “You should see your face!”
He hadn’t seen her really laugh in a long, long time. It changed everything about her.
As the sun set, people started roasting marshmallows. Some sang songs. Hector surprised everyone with his melodious tenor. The laughter died down and the talk turned serious.
“We have enough people to start a church, Stephen.”
The suggestion raised the hackles on the back of Stephen’s neck. “No way, Tree House. Why spoil everything?”
“You’re running out of room,” Tree House said. “If the fire department ever finds out how many people you’ve got down in your basement every Wednesday night, they’ll shut you down.”
“What’s the big deal?” Brittany said. “I’ve been in crack houses where there were more people than my dad has in his basement.”
Nice going, Brittany. Great way to tell your mother what sort of life you were living before you came home. Stephen rubbed his temples. He was getting the twinge of an oncoming tension headache.
“There’s a church on Third Street that’s dying on the vine,” one of the men said. “Why not talk to the pastor there and see if we can’t rent their building for one night a week? We could get something going here in Rockville.”
“They might even be willing to sell. I’ve been to services there. They haven’t got more than a handful of people.”
“Maybe we could pool some money and buy the place.”
“Needs renovation.”
“That’s Stephen’s bailiwick.”
“We’ve got six guys here right now who’ve been on your work crews. We could fix that church up in no time.”
“Whoa!” Stephen held up his hands. “If you’re going to start talking about buying, renovating, or building a church, you can count me out. Been there, done that, don’t want any part of it again.”
“You’re running out of room, Boss.”
Stephen reined in his emotions. “We don’t need more churches, Hector. We need more teachers.”
“Good teachers,” another said.
“I’ve spent my whole life in church, hombre, and I’ve learned more about what the Bible says in the last six weeks from you than I did in all my catechism classes put together.”
That was depressing news, considering how little Stephen felt he knew. “I don’t want to get in the business of raiding churches. Or into church business, period. You start planning building programs and the focus shifts. Pretty soon, all eyes are on the budget and what it’s going to take to put up a structure. You’ve got permits, meetings with the building committee, ad nauseam. Then someone wants a gymnasium to go with the sanctuary and a fountain out front. You start forming committees and fund-raisers and more energy goes into the building than the people sitting in the pews. No way. Besides, you don’t even have a pastor.”
“You could be our pastor,” Jack said.
Stephen laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I’m no pastor. I couldn’t be a pastor in a million years.”
“Why not?”
Jack was serious! “I’m divorced. I’m a recovering alcoholic. I was a lousy father. I don’t have a degree in theology. You need any more reasons?”
“I doubt the apostle Peter had a degree in theology.”
“He was trained, and he was ordained by Jesus.”
“Aren’t we all? Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling us. Anyone who accepts Jesus as Savior and Lord receives the Holy Spirit, who becomes our personal instructor. Isn’t that what the Bible says?”
“Right!” Half a dozen more spoke up, some amused at Stephen’s predicament.
“Look, folks—”
“It’s not like you’d be shouldering the load alone, Dad.”
“Where’s your faith, Brother Stephen?”
He looked around the group, but couldn’t see the one who said it. Probably just one of the crashers, inciting trouble for the fun of watching. He had to make it clear. “I’m not qualified.”
“God will equip you.”
Stephen felt a bubble of panic. “You’re looking for a contractor, and the church isn’t a building, people. It’s the body of Christ. It’s not about ritual. It’s about relationship.”
“Assuming we all agree on that,” Jack said into the silence, “where do we go from here?”
“What do you mean?”
“We still have the same problem. Your basement can’t hold everyone who wants to hear the gospel.”
Stephen saw where they were heading and didn’t know how to divert them. Everyone was looking at him.
Tree House was grinning like an idiot. “Looks like you’re elected, whether you wanted to run for office or not.”
“Don’t bother coming to work on Monday morning. You’re fired.” Tree House laughed at him. The big lug knew him too well. “Listen to me,” Stephen said. “You don’t elect a pastor. God calls one.”
“You’ve been called, hombre. You’re just too chicken to step into the pulpit.”
Stephen opened his hands. “The only thing I want to build in each of you is an understanding of who and what you are in Christ. You don’t need four walls around you for that.”
“Four walls and a ceiling will keep the rain off our heads while we’re learning.”
“And the sand out of our eyes.”
Samuel, where are you
when I need you? He’d have answers for this group. He’d know where to go from here. Just the thought of starting a church made Stephen want to run for the hills. But when he looked into the faces of these friends, he saw the hope in their eyes, the expectation. It humbled him. And the responsibility made him want to run.
Tree House leaned back on his elbows and chuckled.
Stephen glowered. “You want to be a deacon? We’ll put you on the moving committee.”
The others laughed.
Stephen let his breath out slowly. Resting his forearms on his raised knees, he bowed his head. Lord, where do we go from here? When he looked up, he saw all of them had bowed their heads. Except Kathryn, who was looking at him and waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. He shut his eyes again and bowed his head. His heart drummed. He didn’t say a word, but inside he was screaming, Oh, Lord, help me. I’m not fit for the job. Look at the mess I’ve made of my life.
Look at Me.
One by one, others began to pray. As Stephen listened to their words of faith, their assurance, their pleas for guidance, their praise and gratitude for all Jesus had done and was doing in their lives, he felt small and cowardly. Jesus, I have so little faith, less faith than those sitting around me now. He couldn’t squeeze any more people into his basement and more were asking to join. These people wanted a place to gather together and pray and worship the Lord. Strengthen me, God. Show me what to do.
Let go and let God. One day at a time. Easy does it. Think. All the slogans he’d learned in AA flooded in at once. If it was God’s will, it would be done.
His shoulders relaxed. His stomach stopped churning. He stopped measuring everything by past failures and hurts. How was he any different from his ex-wife and daughter, looking back instead of forward? His heart stopped pounding hard and heavy. Fear and pride dissolved. Everything around him was still and quiet. Was it only his imagination, or did he feel the Spirit moving, hear Him whispering? I am the Way—yes, and the Truth and the Life. I am the Bread of Life, the Living Water. I AM.
Gooseflesh rose down his arms and up the back of his neck. Oh, Lord, Lord, You changed the heart of Moses. Please change me. Make me whatever suits Your purposes here.
And the Shofar Blew Page 43
