A New Beginning

by Michael Phillips

  Christopher drew in a breath.

  “Whenever someone comes to me,” he went on, “though the occasions have not been many since I left my last church, with the question, ‘What must I do to become a Christian?’ my answer is always, ‘Give yourself fully—intellect, hands, feet, heart, brain, thoughts, feelings, attitudes, behavior—to your heavenly Father who loves you. Ask him to forgive you for trying to live independent from him and to forgive your sins—which he happily does. You may become his son or daughter simply by asking him to take you into his family, by giving yourself to him.’

  “The question that usually comes next is: ‘What do I do then?’ My reply always is, ‘Read the Gospels. Find out what Jesus taught. He is the example of how a child of the Father is to live. Do what he says, therefore, and model your life after his. That is how life is lived within the Father’s family.’ In other words, once we allow God to forgive us, and once Jesus’ death and blood wash us clean, then we are part of God’s family. Then we must live as his children live.

  “That is the Christian life—doing as Jesus did, living the life of God’s family.

  “But one might inquire further: ‘What, at its essential core, does it mean to do as Jesus did? What defines the Christlike character?’

  “I will answer by saying that in sacrifice, self-denial, servanthood, and death of self-motive is to be found the abundant life which the Father longs to lavish forth upon his children without measure. For such attributes made up the moment-by-moment life of God’s Son.

  “Everything in God’s kingdom is inverted from the ways of man.

  “Man says, ‘Get all you can and you will be happy.’ God says, ‘Give what you have, and you will have riches indeed.’

  “Man says, ‘Raise yourself up.’ God says, ‘Put your self to death.’

  “Man says, ‘The greatest goal is to possess.’ God says, ‘The highest ambition in life is to relinquish.’

  “Man says, ‘To be served by others is to be great.’ God says, ‘Greatness is measured by servanthood.’

  “Man says, ‘The first are first and the last are last.’ God says, ‘The last shall be first, and the first last.’

  “Jesus rose to the height of his sonship by willingly laying down his life. Why did he do so? To teach us how to lay down our own selfishness, and in order that his Father’s purposes might be fulfilled. He never sought his own will, only his Father’s.

  “As he is our example, only in so doing will we—you and I, my friends—reach the height of our sonship and daughterhood within the Father’s family . . . by laying down everything that we might otherwise call our own.

  “Now please don’t get me wrong. This may not necessarily involve the actual giving of one’s earthly life. That is something that comes to very few. But the opportunity to do what I am speaking of comes to everyone. More than that, it comes to us every day.

  “I am speaking rather of laying down, of denying, of putting to death, our natural motives of self, responding to every situation that crosses our path with the automatic silent inward question, How may I be a servant to this other individual? What sacrifice can I make that will help him in some way? What can I say or do—what good can I do, what kindness can I show, what gracious word can escape my lips—that will convey my Father’s love to this dear one whom the Father has put before me?

  “Laying down our lives means nothing more nor nothing less than simply putting others ahead of ourselves—giving their needs and desires preeminence over our own. It means stepping to the back of the line and letting others go first. It means washing other people’s feet rather than expecting them to wash ours.

  “Such was, it is my firm conviction, how Jesus lived every moment of his life. He possessed no motive of self. His only desire was to do his Father’s will.

  “If he is our example, then surely we are to do the same.”

  Christopher stopped and took in a deep breath, then wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. Every eye was fixed on him and there wasn’t a sound in the whole church.

  When he spoke again his voice was quieter, yet just as firm. I could tell he was nearly done.

  “Is this remarkable life of dynamic and practical Christlike Christianity,” he asked, “—is it meant for only a few, for especially ‘religious’ individuals, for pious older men and women, for monks in a monastery or nuns in a convent?

  “Is it meant only for pastors, perhaps such as Avery Rutledge and myself, and maybe also for our wives, but not for working men and women who have to exist in the real world facing the sorts of struggles and strains that we clerics do not have to?

  “Is it somehow easier for someone such as myself because I happen to be called a pastor?

  “Is the life of Christlikeness reserved only for church time on Sundays?

  “What do you think of all this I have been saying? Is there anything here . . . for you?

  “Well, my friends, I will close with my final point—and it is perhaps the most important of all.

  “I believe that the life of self-denial, servanthood, and obedient Christlikeness is the destiny and calling of every man and woman who calls himself or herself a Christian. That means every one of you listening to me here today.

  “It is to such a life as I have been describing, as I told you some weeks ago, that I will challenge you every Sunday, and every day during the week between Sundays. Consider the challenge carefully. This is the life all Christians are called to live—not pastors only.”

  Christopher paused, then added with a sincere smile, “But that’s where the pastor comes in—to make the challenge, and to help you however I can to live this life of Christlikeness.

  “Let me say once again how thankful I am to be living among you. My wife and I love you all dearly. Let us conclude in prayer together.

  “Father, we are grateful that you love us and that you call us your children. Help us to be more fully the sons and daughters we are. Help us to live obediently to your will. Transform us, each and every one, into people who reflect the character of your Son, Jesus. Go with us as we return to our homes, and keep us mindful of you every day in the week which follows. Thank you, Father. Amen.”

  As Christopher opened his eyes, he nodded down to me where I sat. I stood, took his arm, and we walked down the center aisle together toward the door of the church.

  Chapter 29

  Shocking Surprise

  I was learning real quick that the life of a pastor was more involved than I’d ever dreamed. It wasn’t long before I began to see what hard work pastoring could be. I didn’t see how Christopher could keep up with his work schedule and his visiting schedule, because for me the latter was just as taxing as the former. Within a couple of months I was starting to get tired—I mean physically tired—by the end of every day.

  It seemed like everyone needed to try out the new pastor with this problem, that problem, this issue, that issue. Then would come a family crisis, an illness, a conflict, a situation in town, financial difficulties, misunderstandings, and even a few criticisms that came Christopher’s way from unnamed sources—day in and day out, it all took its toll on me.

  Christopher said it was all part of the ministry and that teaching spiritual principles on Sunday morning was only one very small portion of the whole. Occasionally the misunderstandings and difficulties with people got him down, but all the rest of it seemed to exhilarate him, as if he thrived on being part of men’s and women’s lives at such a level. But as for me—like I said, it wore me out.

  I found myself beginning to wonder if I was cut out to be a minister’s wife at all! I was used to having time to write and think and read. And I was used to having more time just with Christopher, but now overnight our lives hardly seemed like our own anymore.

  Two things happened around the beginning of that summer of 1868 involving two people I had known for as long as I’d been in California, which was now over half my life. They were two very opposite things—one good and one bad, on
e that put Christopher into a deeper pit of discouragement and self-doubt than I’d ever seen him in, and the other that confirmed to him more than ever that we’d made the right decision in staying in California. I’ll tell you about them in the order they came, which was the disheartening one first, followed by the encouraging one a week later.

  The time arrived for Robin O’Flaridy’s trial. When they’d visited earlier, Christopher had promised to return for the trial so that he might put in a good word for Robin if possible. By this time Christopher had talked me into returning to Sacramento with him.

  We had a good time on the train ride down. It was so nice to get away from Miracle Springs for two or three days and just be alone together. We talked and talked again, like we really hadn’t had a chance to in months. Already we were learning that being involved with people can’t help but change a man and woman’s relationship. They have to share one another with everyone else, and that makes it hard to keep communicating on the same level as when there was only the two of them.

  The closer to Sacramento we got, the more I found my thoughts turning to Robin O’Flaridy, and I began telling Christopher so many of the old stories about the shenanigans he had pulled and how I’d tried so hard to get through to him about a different way of living than always trying to dupe someone.

  “I am so glad he’s finally changed,” I said. “To be honest, I never thought he would. He was such a dyed-in-the-wool conniver!”

  I couldn’t help laughing as I thought of how he had stolen my idea and scooped me on the Miracle Springs mayor’s election between Almeda and Mr. Royce.

  “Maybe finally we can genuinely help him,” I added. “I always thought he had great potential to really be someone.”

  When we arrived in the capital, we first went to the jail to visit Mr. Harris. He was so happy to see us and seemed to be doing wonderfully. His trial had finally been scheduled for about a month from then, and he said the way it looked he would only have to spend a year or two in prison.

  That evening we went out to dinner, then back to the boarding house. The following morning at nine o’clock we went to the courthouse for Robin’s trial. We sat down in the visitors’ gallery and waited.

  Christopher had briefly met one or two of the attorneys involved in the case when he was in the city earlier to post bail, so he recognized the man who approached us, with one of the court bailiffs alongside him, a few minutes after nine. Christopher stood and the two men shook hands.

  “Have you seen your friend O’Flaridy?” the man asked.

  “No, not since I was here several months ago,” replied Christopher. “We just came down yesterday . . . for the trial. Why, is there—?”

  “A problem? Indeed there is. It seems your friend has jumped bail and is nowhere to be found.”

  Christopher’s face turned white.

  “I . . . I don’t believe it. I was sure—”

  “Believe it, Mr. Braxton,” rejoined the attorney. “I’ve seen his kind more than I can tell you. You get so you can tell. He’s gone.”

  “What . . . what does it mean now?” asked Christopher.

  “It means, first of all, that you’ll never see your two hundred dollars again. It also means that you’re now more involved than you probably intended to be. That’s why the bailiff is here. He’s going to have to take you to the judge. I’m afraid you’ve got some explaining to do over your role in this thing.”

  “Come along, Mr. Braxton,” now said the bailiff, taking hold of Christopher’s arm—a little rudely, I thought. I was too frightened to be angry, but they didn’t need to treat him like a criminal! But before I had a chance even to think about it, Christopher was being led away, and soon he had disappeared through a door with the bailiff, two attorneys, and the judge. I sat there I think as scared as I’ve ever been in my life. Some horrible premonition kept telling me the next time I saw my husband he was going to be wearing handcuffs and be on his own way to jail!

  Fortunately, it was not a premonition based in fact. About ten minutes later Christopher reappeared through the same door, face still ashen and visibly shaken. Whatever the judge had said had obviously not been pleasant.

  He came back up the aisle toward me, paused, gave me his hand without any change in his expression, and we left the courtroom in silence. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it felt like every eye was upon us.

  Once we were outside the courtroom, Christopher said, “I had a bad feeling about it after I talked to Robin when I came down here before, but I didn’t want to face it.”

  “What kind of feeling?” I asked.

  “A nervousness that maybe he wasn’t being completely truthful with me. I guess I should have listened to my reservations.”

  “There was no way you could have known.”

  Christopher just sighed. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, “and go home!”

  Chapter 30

  Hard Questions

  We were back on the northbound train within two hours, during which time Christopher hardly said two dozen words. I’d never seen him like this—so low and despondent, as if he singlehandedly had caused the collapse of the entire justice system of the United States of America. I kept trying to tell him that it wasn’t his fault and wasn’t even as bad as it might seem.

  “When the judge started talking about my being an accomplice in the whole scheme,” Christopher sighed, “I didn’t exactly feel as if it wasn’t my fault.”

  “You—an accomplice!” I exclaimed. “How could they think such a thing?”

  “You’ve got to admit it doesn’t look good.”

  “If you were in on it, why would you come back?”

  “One of the attorneys pointed that out to him. But he was talking about bringing charges against me anyway, until the attorney reminded him I was a minister and had only been trying to help. Then the judge laughed—and that was worse. ‘A fake conversion to weasel bail money out of a parson,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen it so many times. You religious fellows are sitting ducks for their kind!’”

  Poor Christopher! His voice was so forlorn as he told me of the painful interview.

  “Don’t you understand, Corrie?” was all he kept saying, “I gave my word. It wasn’t just two hundred dollars, although that’s bad enough—we can hardly afford to lose that kind of money. But it was a pledge that Robin would be there. It was my guarantee—that is how the court looks at it. I was honor bound to make sure he appeared. It . . . it just never dawned on me,” he added for what must have been the tenth time, “that he wouldn’t be there. I had the feeling he wasn’t telling me everything . . . but I never dreamed he would just run away.”

  His voice and whole expression was so full of disbelief that someone, even someone like Robin T. O’Flaridy, would not do what he said. The thing struck him as categorically impossible. How could truth be so violated? It was as if his brain could not contain the idea of not doing what one promised.

  The first half of the train ride was almost silent. Nothing I could say or do could console poor Christopher. I even began to wonder if he was mad at me for some reason, though I kept telling myself that couldn’t be so.

  “Do you know what’s the worst of it of all?” he said suddenly after we had bounced along for probably thirty entire minutes of silence. “It’s not being used and taken advantage of so much. It’s not even losing all that money. The Lord will make it back up, and it’s his money anyway. But what makes it so hard is for things like this to happen when you’re honestly and sincerely trying to help people. If I was selfish, if I was mean, if I was out for myself—that would be one thing. But I honestly do want to do good for others, Corrie. I really do.”

  “I know, Christopher. And God sees that desire in your heart.”

  “But why doesn’t anyone else?”

  “I do.”

  Christopher nodded, then placed his hand on mine.

  “And so do lots of people,” I added. “Why else do you think the community wanted you as
its pastor? Why else does my family love you so much? Everyone who really knows you recognizes that about you—that you live for others.”

  Christopher sighed. I thought I’d never seen someone so dejected.

  “I thought I was somewhat discriminating,” he said. “I thought I knew people. But I can’t trust myself. Where’s my discernment? It’s no different than that lady in St. Louis. I think I’m trying to help people, but I’m just a gullible fool.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I love you,” I said softly.

  “What—that I’m a gullible fool?”

  “No, that you’re always trying to help people.”

  “But what good do I really do anyone? This kind of thing seems to happen over and over. You’d think someone with my background would be more naturally suspicious of people. As ill-treated as I was, you’d think I’d have a healthy, sober-mindedness about people and their motives. I’m beginning to think a little mistrust might be good in my case!”

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  “I haven’t even told you about the Draws family back in Richmond. I don’t want to tell you—it’s too painful to remember all I tried to do for them, and what happened in the end.”

  “Maybe that’s one of the chances you take when you try to help others.”

  “It seems like it ought to turn out differently.”

  “Jesus said to give, and you obeyed. You were trying to do right.”

  “And look what’s come of it?”

  “It hasn’t hurt us. We’ve only lost some money.”

  “Almost all we had in the bank! And what good have we done Robin? We’ve just allowed him one more successful con. How does this help him see his need of the Lord? And besides all that, what can the truth of the gospel look like to those men back there who think I’m just a foolish pastor without an ounce of brains.”

  “We were trying to do what we thought was right. I know what it looks like to you now, but I can’t help it, Christopher—I hope we always do that.”