The Silver Star
Page 35
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A Change of Heart
Andrew Winslow had not thought it possible to be more miserable than he had for the first few weeks after learning of Dorothy’s infidelity, but he was mistaken. As the days ran on, he thought almost constantly of Dorothy’s visit to his office when she had asked for forgiveness—and he had refused to give it to her. Since then he had been unable to face her. For the past few days he had stayed at the church until the early hours of the morning before going home and slipping quietly into the spare bedroom. When he awoke each morning, he dressed and left the house without a word, going to a nearby restaurant to eat breakfast. He did everything he could to avoid seeing Dorothy or having to talk to her.
Now he sat in the large leather chair behind the walnut desk and looked around his gleaming new office—and it meant nothing. All of his theology books filled the oak shelves that lined one wall, but he had no inclination to pick one up. He had been unable to eat lately, and he had experienced several bouts of nausea more than once. He thought about visiting Dr. Gunn but stubbornly refused to give in and seek help.
A knock suddenly startled Andrew from his thoughts, and his secretary stepped in. “Miss Winslow is here to see you, pastor.”
Andrew straightened and forced himself out of the chair. As Priscilla stepped through the door, he came over and said, “Priscilla, how are you?”
“My father’s been in a serious accident,” Priscilla said evenly. “I’m leaving to go see him at once.”
“Sit down, Priscilla, and tell me what happened—”
“I didn’t come to talk about my father. I came to talk about you, pastor,” Priscilla said in an even voice, her eyes fixed with great determination on the tall man who stood before her.
Instantly, Andrew stiffened. “I don’t understand,” he said rather harshly, but in his heart he suspected the reason for Priscilla’s visit. There was something in her eyes he could not avoid, and he stood there waiting, hoping that he was wrong.
“I should tell you that Dorothy came to me some time ago and confessed her wrongdoing. She was so ashamed and expected me to reject her. Of course I didn’t. I told her how I once had made a grave error in my own life, and how your sister, Esther, helped me see how much God loved me and was willing to forgive and help me. I gave Dorothy what comfort I could and prayed with her. I hope I was able to console her a little bit.”
“Well, I’m sure you were a help to her,” Andrew said, trying to hide the nervousness growing inside.
Priscilla had prayed earnestly about what she would say to Andrew Winslow. She knew the things she was about to say would be very uncomfortable for both of them, but she felt that she must try to help her cousin, even if it caused Andrew some pain.
“It hurts me to have to be the one to tell you this, but you’ve been no comfort to her, Andrew! You’ve been a failure as a husband, and as a father—and most of all as a Christian!”
The bluntness of Priscilla’s words struck Andrew like a blow. He blinked in surprise and then a surge of anger ran through him. “Get out of here, Priscilla! I don’t need to listen to this!”
“Unless you throw me out bodily, you’re going to hear what I have to say! And if you do throw me out,” Priscilla said, her eyes flashing, “I’ll come right in again!”
She means just exactly what she says, Andrew thought with a shock. “All . . . all right. I’ll listen. Will you sit down?”
“No, I won’t sit down! I can say what I have to say better standing up! First, I want to tell you how you have violated the Scriptures. I’ve only been a Christian a very short time, and you’ve been a minister for a long time. Andrew, you know what the Scriptures say about forgiveness: ‘If we will not forgive others, then God will not forgive us.’ Have you forgotten that? Do you think Jesus turned people away because they had offended Him? Because they had sinned against Him? You know that He didn’t. That’s the very reason why He came—to offer His forgiveness!”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to be accusing me of anything, Priscilla. You’re in a business that promotes immoral motion pictures.”
“Not anymore, I’m not. God’s convicted me of it, and I’ll never act again. When I return, I’m finishing the last segment of the film and then I’m turning in my resignation.”
Andrew knew how much Priscilla had her heart set on becoming a famous movie star. Her abrupt decision to resign shocked Andrew, and he stood there speechless.
“Andrew, what are you going to do about Dorothy? Did you marry her before a minister?”
“Why . . . why, yes. Her father,” Andrew stuttered.
“Did you promise to love her as long as she lived?”
“Yes, I did.”
“But you haven’t loved her, have you? Ever since you got involved in this new building project, you’ve changed, Andrew. Dorothy knows how grievously she’s sinned against you. But she repented and came to you to make that confession and ask for your forgiveness. And you’ve shown her nothing but an unkind, ungenerous, unforgiving spirit. And God is going to hold you accountable for it. You’ll either break your pride and humble yourself before God—and before Dorothy—or else you’ll be a miserable excuse for a man, and no minister of Christ at all! That’s all I have to say!”
Priscilla’s words hung in the silence of the large office. Andrew stood there, his shoulders slumped as he stared at her. He was angry and confused, but inside, all his excuses and arguments began to crumble. Her words of conviction had stung his conscience. The truth of what she had said even now began to pierce the wall of anger he had thrown up as a defense.
Priscilla hesitated one moment, then said more gently, “I’ve spoken some very hard things today, Andrew, but I have one more thing to say.” Sighing, she looked down at the floor for a moment, then lifted her eyes and said, “I love Dorothy—and I love you, Andrew. We’re family, and I only want what’s best for both of you. I know Dorothy’s made a grave and awful mistake. She’s hurt and betrayed you deeply—but you’ve made a mistake, too. You’ve let your hurt and pride prevent you from giving and accepting the only thing that can help you both—God’s forgiveness. I believe your error stems from pride, and if I understand what the Bible teaches, pride is the sin that God hates more than any other. ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,’ ” she quoted. “I have been praying for you, and I will continue to pray that you will seek God, and that you’ll find the grace to forgive your wife—who still loves you—as God has forgiven her.”
Priscilla turned and left the office, closing the door softly behind her. Andrew stood looking at it as if blinded, then with a jerk of his shoulders, he walked over to stand before the window. As he watched Priscilla drive off, her words seemed to hang in the air. He could not avoid them, and he knew that wherever he went they would follow him.
Grabbing his coat, Andrew quickly told his secretary that he would be gone for a while and headed for his car. His mind was a whirl of mixed emotions as he drove toward the beach. Whenever he wanted to escape and be alone, he had gone there to think and pray. Parking his car, he walked along the beach toward a promontory of rocks that jutted out into the deep blue-green water. It was a secluded spot with a niche where he could sit and watch the waves curl in. They were larger today than he had remembered, and the pounding of the surf matched the pounding of the turmoil that churned inside him. With each wave that crashed against the rocks, something began to give inside Andrew Winslow’s grieved heart. The anger and bitterness began to lose their hold as he realized the truth of the Scriptures Priscilla had dared to confront him with. He remembered his first sermon that day long ago when he had been invited to preach at Faith Temple. Christmas is when we exalt the Lord Jesus Christ not only in our hearts but in our acts and in our words every day of the year. He is love—He is mercy and goodness and splendor.
“Lord, I have not done that. . . .” His voice choked, and the pain and sorrow he had carried alone for
all these weeks tore deep within his soul. How can I ask your forgiveness when I refused to give it to Dorothy. Waves of grief welled up inside, and he began to sob uncontrollably as he had never done before. “Oh, God, be merciful to me. My pride and unforgiveness blinded my heart, and I have sinned grievously against you and against my wife.”
****
A March wind tossed fluffy clouds across the azure sky as Dorothy pushed Phillip on a swing. It was such a beautiful day that she had decided to take the children out to a park, where they had stayed all morning. Now she knew they were tired from running and playing. She was exhausted herself. By the time she got them home, gave them lunch, and settled them down for a nap, she was ready to lie down herself and rest. She was washing her face in the bathroom when she heard someone calling her. She straightened up rapidly, and her face turned pale as she realized it was Andrew’s voice. Quickly she dried her face, ran a comb through her hair, then turned and left the bedroom. When she stepped into the hallway, she stopped abruptly. Andrew had come to stand right before her bedroom door. She had never seen his face so pale and drawn, and yet—there was a look in his eyes she had not seen in a long time. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on her in a strange fashion. He cleared his throat and said, “Dorothy, may I talk to you?”
“Why . . . yes,” Dorothy stammered. “Shall we go into the living room?”
“No, this is good enough right here. It doesn’t matter where we are. I’ve got something to say . . . and it wouldn’t be any easier there than in the hallway here.” He suddenly dropped his head and his voice broke. Dorothy stood watching him with shock. She realized that he was struggling with some powerful emotion. When he lifted his head, she saw tears in his eyes!
“What is it, Andrew?” she whispered and came forward and touched his arm gently.
Andrew reached out slowly and put his hands on her arms. He waited for her to withdraw, but she did not. She stood looking up at him, her lips trembling, and he said hoarsely, “I’ve just had a meeting.” He tried to smile, but it was a miserable failure. “You’ve heard that before, haven’t you? Me and my ‘meetings’!”
“A meeting with who, Andrew?”
“A meeting . . . with God.” Andrew could no longer control himself. He tried to stop the sob that rose in this throat, but he could not. Another followed, and then his shoulders began to heave and shake. His face became contorted and he cried, “Oh, Dorothy! I’ve been so wrong!” He could not control the tears as they streamed down his face. Suddenly Dorothy put her arms around him and pulled his head down to her shoulder. She was weeping, too, but it was tears of joy. She held him as he sobbed great, long, hoarse sobs. His arms were around her, and he clung to her as a man would cling to a life preserver in a rising sea.
Dorothy said nothing but kept her arms around his neck, pulling his head ever closer. His tears stained her cheek, and finally when the sobbing stopped, she said, “We’d better go in the living room, Andrew.” She led him there, and his shoulders were slumped as they sat down on the divan. There were hollows in his eyes, and she said, “What’s happened?”
“Priscilla came to me this morning and told me exactly what kind of a man I’ve been. She said some pretty hard things, but I realize now she was right. Believe me, she’s the best evangelist we’ve got in this country!” He tried again to smile, and this time partly succeeded. He shook his head, saying, “Then as soon as she left, and I got over being mad at her, God began to deal with me. I drove down to my favorite spot on the beach and spent the rest of the morning praying.” He paused again, his voice choked with emotion, then he went on. “God showed me what a rotten man I am.”
“No, you mustn’t say that!” Dorothy said quickly. She reached over and took his hand and held it tightly. He squeezed hers, enfolding them with his other hand. They sat there, and Dorothy listened as Andrew described brokenly how he had confessed his pride and lack of forgiveness to God.
“And now I’ve got to confess it to you, Dorothy,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ve failed to love you at times, and . . . and at times when you’ve needed my understanding I’ve been too busy and insensitive to your needs. I’ve not lived up to all of my marriage vows.” For some time he spoke, almost bitterly, and finally Dorothy put her hand over his lips.
“That’s enough, sweetheart,” she whispered.
“Will you forgive me?” he said, tears streaming down his face.
“Andrew, of course!” she said as she began to weep. “And will you forgive me, Andrew?”
“Yes, with all my heart.”
“Then neither of us must ever mention this again—never! We’ve confessed it to God and each other, and now we must go on and find ourselves again.”
For the first time Andrew smiled. He reached out, pulled her close, and kissed her lips gently.
Dorothy felt the strength in his arms, and suddenly she felt like a bride again. She could tell that his longing for her was real, and she knew that the loneliness she had faced for so long was being replaced by Andrew’s promise of renewed love.
Suddenly he pulled back and gave her an odd look. “While I was praying this morning, I felt God speaking to me. I’m going to resign from the church.”
“Oh, Andrew . . . !” Dorothy gasped.
“Yes. The church building is built. It’s time for another man to come in now.”
“But where will we go?” A slight fear came to her and she said, “I know. You’re going back to be Superintendent of Missions again.”
“No. That kept me from my family with all the traveling.” He reached out and stroked her smooth cheek and said, “I’m going to take you back to where I courted you and won you for my wife.”
Dorothy stared at him blankly, and then joy rushed over her. “Back to Africa?”
“Yes, I got a letter from the Mission Board. They want us to go and take over your father’s mission station.”
“Oh, Andrew! My old home, and my mother . . . !”
“Yes, and your mother will be there, too. She needs you now, and we need her.”
Dorothy’s face was radiant. “And just think, Andrew—it would be home! And we’d be with Barney, and Katie, and their children.”
“Yes. I feel it as clear as I ever felt anything from God. I know He would have us return to Africa.” Smiling, he felt a peace fill his heart. He pulled her to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her, then put his lips against her ear. “We’ll go start all over again, sweetheart—and I’ll court you a lot better than I did the first time. . . .”
****
Hope Winslow sat quietly beside the bed, her chair drawn up close enough so that she could reach over and hold her husband’s hand. Since the accident, she had been sitting almost constantly beside Dan’s bed and praying steadily. Dr. Rayburn had been faithful to stop by regularly, but each time he was less optimistic. His last words had been on the morning of March the twentieth, three days after the accident. “Hope, he’s getting weaker every time I see him. There’s only one end to that, I’m afraid. You must be ready.”
Hope had responded, “God can do anything, Dr. Rayburn. If He chooses to heal my husband, He will do so.”
The long hours had passed, and though she saw no change in her husband’s condition, Hope never faltered. She spent every waking moment sending up a constant stream of prayers for her injured husband’s recovery. At times when her faith would seem to falter, she would pick up the Bible and read the promises of God out loud, claiming His faithfulness.
When the hall clock finally struck six, Hope was startled out of a fitful sleep she’d fallen into. Quickly she peered at Dan’s face, then sat quietly stroking his hand gently. After a time Dan’s eyes fluttered, and instantly she leaned over and said, “Dan, can you hear me?”
Dan Winslow’s eyes opened suddenly, and Hope saw with a sudden joy that they were clear. “Sure I can hear you,” he said as he stirred. His voice grew stronger, and he said, “I’m sore as a boil, Hope!”
“Why, like I’ve been stomped by a whole herd of Brahma bulls—but I’m okay.” He saw her face tense with strain and squeezed her hand. “I guess I was pretty low on the limb, wasn’t I?”
“Dr. Rayburn thought . . . he thought you wouldn’t live. I sent for the children.”
Surprise filled Dan’s eyes, then he said, “God knows more than the doctors. Now, don’t be crying, Hope—you know I can’t stand that . . . !” Hope sat down abruptly and bent over and put her face against his chest. The sobs came hard, and he stroked her hair until they passed.
Hope dashed the tears away and sat there quietly for a time. He looked up at her and spoke about how happy she had made his life, and how he had loved her more than he could ever say. “I never had just the right words,” he said, “but I did the best I could. I love you as much as a man could love a woman on this earth.”
She held his hand tightly and leaned over and kissed him. Then she told him what was in her heart of hearts. A few minutes later he fell asleep again. She bowed her head and prayed silently. From time to time she looked up to see if he was awake.
****
The Maxwell pulled up with the Reo right behind it. Peter jumped down and gave Priscilla a hand. Her legs were stiff from the long, tiring ride, and she stomped the ground for a moment while Jason got out. Looking back, she saw Cass and Serena climbing stiffly out of the Reo with their children. “It was a hard trip, Peter, but you did so well.”
“Cass didn’t do bad, either,” Peter said soberly. “He kept right up with us the whole way.”