“I’d like that.” Brandon nodded his head and smiled.
And then he unloaded. He told me the problems he dealt with in his world, was honest about the resentments he had held because I hadn’t seemed to care about him, and gave me a glimpse into his dreams.
I don’t want to get maudlin by talking about how that made me feel, but I melted into a bucket of tears when he finished. Fortunately, he cried with me.
Chapter 38
Wednesday, October 25
The midweek edition of the Belvedere Herald featured what had happened at Connie Wooten’s on Saturday night. Charles Barnett had changed the normal format for the first page. It contained his own news article about the episode, plus an editorial he had also written and placed—unusual for such a feature—in the center of the front page.
The news article covered what had occurred at the Sunnyside Trailer Park in considerable detail, including the names of the men who had assaulted her house and threatened her life, and the men who had come to her rescue. It concluded by telling of the volunteer fire department spraying down Mrs. Wooten’s home with water to wash away the gasoline as best they could. And this is what the editorial said:
NIGHT OF TERROR, NIGHT OF GLORY
This past week had been tragic enough. But that wasn’t enough for some. Not content that young Tyler Wooten—the cause of the tragedy—was dead, a handful of men wanted revenge against his mother and attempted to burn her out of her home Saturday night. Despite having been warned about threats against Mrs. Wooten, our “valiant” police chief, Clyde Matthews, did nothing to prevent the situation.
Connie Wooten is not someone for us to hate. She has lost her only child, having just recently lost her husband to cancer. She is a good person and was a hard worker at the Belvedere Motel until she was fired for no other reason than pressure put on the motel by those who apparently do hate. She was not the cause of her son’s demented outburst, though she undoubtedly is in great pain because of what he did. She is someone toward whom we should have sympathy, not animosity.
But there were troublemakers who felt otherwise, and they would have their revenge at any cost. They showed up with gasoline and torches. The fuel was splashed on the trailer where Connie Wooten lives, and these “stalwart vigilantes” were ready to set fire to the house even though Mrs. Wooten would not leave.
The catastrophe did not happen, however. Steve Long, pastor of Incarnation Church, along with Clifton Stoner and Philip Treadway, leading lights in our community for many years, stood at the door of the Wooten home and defied the attackers, pledging to die with Mrs. Wooten if the attackers were insane enough to torch the place.
But that was only part of the miracle. Somehow word of what unfolded in the trailer park began to reach an increasing number of citizens of our fair city, and large numbers made their way to this turbulent scene. But contrary to human nature, instead of standing around gawking at what was happening, they became a part of it—and a very positive part indeed!
The proud and fair-minded people of Belvedere swarmed around Mrs. Wooten’s humble abode as an additional ring of protection, defying the intentions of those who would have burned her out. They were people from all walks of life, including some who had lost loved ones in the shooting, showing their goodwill in clear opposition to blind hate.
Yet conspicuous in their absence were those charged with protecting all of our people—the Belvedere police force, which we later learned had been forbidden from protecting Connie Wooten by Police Chief Clyde Matthews.
A night of terror became a night of glory. Congratulations to the people of Belvedere for demonstrating both compassion and bravery. But to Chief Matthews and that handful of rabble-rousers who sought to murder an innocent woman, you are the ones we could do without.
Chapter 39
Sunday, October 29
Clouds blotted out the sun, and the breeze felt chilly for northern Georgia in late October, but the weather didn’t dampen my mood. I arose early and was on my second cup of coffee by the time Jayne came into the kitchen.
“Well, you’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this gloomy day.” She appeared with straggly hair and sleepy eyes, though, as far as I’m concerned, she is always beautiful.
“I don’t think it’s going to rain, and we should have a good turnout at worship. I’m looking forward to the day.”
“What specifically?”
“The baptism of Connie Wooten, for one thing. And whether the enthusiasm we saw last Sunday and somewhat during the past week will spill over once again at the worship service, for another. And whether Philip Treadway will be in church, for yet another.”
Jayne had a doubtful look on her face. “I hope you’re not going to be disappointed.”
I gave her what I wanted to be a winning smile and said, “I don’t think anything can disappoint me today.”
Hannah appeared, dragging herself along only half awake, with Skeeter on his retractable leash. She mumbled, “Good morning,” and headed for the door to walk her dog. I say her dog because that was one of the blessings of the past week. The church board had voted to suspend its own no-pets policy and let Hannah keep Skeeter.
I was keyed up for Brandon’s arrival on the scene because I wanted to continue to develop this new relationship with him. His warm smile soon greeted us. He seemed like a new person when he came in and plunked down at the breakfast table in the kitchen. He looked as though he had something special to tell us.
“What’s up?”
“Something I meant to tell you about. At youth church this morning we’re going to be discussing how, as Christians, to do Halloween this year.”
My theological mind immediately kicked in, and I wanted to point out to him that, in ancient days, what we call Halloween was actually a holy day: All Hallows’ Eve. I would have then given him a short history lesson on how it got corrupted and a lot more information he didn’t need. Fortunately, I held my tongue. “Tell us about it.”
Brandon leaned forward on the table as though sharing with us the secrets of the kingdom. “Well, we’re not telling the kids to quit doing trick or treat. But some of us older ones plan to accompany them. We’re going to encourage them to wear costumes that aren’t gory and not to look as though they are dangerous or plan to do bad things. And of course we’re going to expect them to thank people for the candy they get.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
While Jayne nodded her head in agreement, she added, “Brandon, you’re really to be commended for whatever part you have had in doing this. It sounds like some of these ideas may have been yours.”
Brandon almost blushed. “Thanks. Maybe a little.”
I got dressed and headed to church. As I looked into the sanctuary, the women had decorated it with fall colors of vibrant yellow, flaming red, and dark brown. The scene took my breath away. These women showed their devotion to God by the care with which they prepared for worship each Sunday and on other special occasions. Maybe it was time to acknowledge their ministry with a word of thanks as a part of the worship service.
Because Connie Wooten was going to be baptized, I made sure those arrangements were also in place. I sent a midweek notice to our members that we were going to have the baptism and that Connie was the one to be baptized. Amazingly, there had been no objection, and there were several e-mails and phone messages of approval.
Connie had been reinstated in her job at the motel. But we had also hired her at Incarnation to help with the internal maintenance of the facility—cleaning, sweeping, mopping, washing, and taking out the trash. That had been a part of Otis Huntington’s job. We allowed Connie to work it around her motel responsibilities. With the combined employment, she would be making enough to live on.
I had gotten to the church so early that it gave me an opportunity to reflect on the week gone by. As I thought about it all, I became somewhat overwhelmed. Not only did I feel safe in my position as pastor but also appreciated. Questions arising from the
incarnation challenge and what I had done for Tyler and Connie Wooten seem either to have been forgotten or accepted as appropriate. The Belvedere City Council had fired Police Chief Clyde Matthews and had referred to the district attorney action against Mike Troutman and the others who had damaged Connie Wooten’s trailer and threatened her life.
I finally blocked out my reverie and began to check my notes for the sermon. I also wondered how many people would show up for the first class on discipleship I planned to teach in the fellowship hall following the service and wanted to be sure I was prepared for that. I felt a catch in my stomach as I remembered the disaster of the last time I had tried something like this and no one showed up other than the Stoners with their mixed vote. Well, this is a different time, I told myself, hoping I really believed it.
As the morning progressed, I looked out in the parking lot to make sure Connie Wooten’s little car had arrived. It would be humiliating if, after all the plans for her baptism, she didn’t show up. I expelled a sign of relief when she pulled into her designated employee parking space. Later I peeked into the sanctuary and found it filled with a goodly number of folks, including Philip Treadway!
It was only then that a lightning bolt of irony hit me. I realized what happened between those of us at Incarnation Church and Connie Wooten could become a repeat of the failure of our relationship with Otis Huntington or a redemption of that failure. The parallels between the two situations almost seemed orchestrated by God to put us to the test.
The church had hired each of these people to do maintenance work. Each was needy and very alone. Neither was able to dress as well as our more affluent members. Both provided excuses to those who would look down on them—Otis because he committed suicide, Connie because her son had killed some and wounded others.
My mind swung back to things I had said at the memorial service for Otis:
“Why didn’t we minister to him?
“We’re an affluent church, yet Otis lived in a rent-assisted apartment. We go out to fine restaurants, but Otis got by on food stamps. We have our social circles. However, Otis’s best friend was his little dog, Skeeter.
“Is it possible that we, in our comfort and prestige, never let Otis join the club? Is it possible that we worshiped with Otis every week but never invited him into our lives? Is it possible that he embarrassed us?”
Would I be asking the same questions concerning Connie Wooten some day?
In the worship service this morning, we would be welcoming Connie Wooten into the body of Christ that we call Incarnation Church. Thus, we were facing something in addition to the incarnation challenge—it was the Otis challenge. Would we accept Connie as one of us, despite her low self-esteem, meager income, and inability to dress in the manner of the more affluent members? Would we love and care for her as we did not do for Otis? It was something to ponder.
In basically fifteen days’ time, things had come full circle for Incarnation Church.
As she came forward to be baptized, predictably Connie’s plain cotton dress was conspicuous in its contrast to the way other Incarnation women were dressed. She had obviously not been to a hairdresser. She wore no makeup to speak of. And she looked scared stiff!
Nonetheless, the baptism went well. The congregation applauded her confession of faith. People swarmed around her to welcome her into the flock. She graciously accepted their words and actions with a shy smile.
To that point, it had been a great day at Incarnation Church, but how many would accept my invitation to come into the fellowship hall to talk about Christian discipleship? I was frankly anxious based on my experience of only two Sundays ago.
We had just installed a coffee station outside the fellowship hall where people could gather for something to drink and snack on after church. It was a good meeting place for those in no hurry to leave and a great opportunity to welcome newcomers and visit with them. Today there was a crowd at the coffee station, with Paul Rivers and his welcome team in charge. How many would come into the fellowship hall?
To my great pleasure, some eighty or so people showed up for my teaching. They seated themselves without fanfare and had eager looks on their faces. It was a good start.
Incarnation Church had begun to live up to its name.
Epilogue
As the weeks went by, a number of Bible study groups sprang up at Incarnation Church. Clifton Stoner became the leader of one of the groups. It met in his home.
The discipleship course in the hour following worship on Sunday mornings increased in attendance.
A newcomers’ class was begun for the people who had recently been attracted to the church. Connie Wooten and Philip Treadway were regular in attendance. Treadway asked a lot of questions.
Steve Long was pleased with what was happening at Incarnation Church. He truly believed that an increasing number of its members were coming to see what incarnating Christ in their everyday lives meant in thought and action. But there was still running around in the back of his mind the idea of going elsewhere and planting a church of people who, from the very beginning, were committed to being Christ to their world.
About the Author
Harry C. Griffith is an attorney by education, graduating from the University of Mississippi Law School as editor-in-chief of the Mississippi Law Journal and winner of the Phi Delta Phi Award as Outstanding Law Graduate. After serving in the Army JAG Corps, he became a corporate attorney and then executive, rising to the position of vice president–administration before accepting God’s call into full-time Christian work as a layperson.
He founded the Bible Reading Fellowship in the United States in 1971 and served as its president for twenty-seven years. He was also executive director of the Anglican Fellowship of Prayer for eleven years and executive officer during the formation years of the Anglican Mission in America. He was a cofounder of Faith Alive, a lay witnessing ministry, and Adventures in Ministry, a lay ministry organization.
He has had more than twenty books published on a wide range of subjects: prayer, Bible study, evangelism, lay ministry, and marriage. His publishers include Tyndale, Zondervan, Eerdmans, and A. R. Mowbray (England).
Harry has been called a Christian entrepreneur because of his varied and creative ministries over the years. He is a speaker, writer, teacher, poet, lawyer, business executive, husband, father, grandfather, and founder of several Christian and business organizations. He has also held a wide range of positions in civic, service, business, and political organizations.
In His Place: A Modern-Day Challenge for Readers of In His Steps Page 17
