Sarah Redeemed

by Vikki Kestell

  She leaned on Sarah a little, looked up, and smiled; Sarah kissed the top of Blythe’s golden curls.

  How I love this girl.

  Pastor Carmichael stepped onto the platform and surveyed the congregation of Calvary Temple with affection. “My dear brothers and sisters, let us continue our study of ‘The Overcoming Christian Life.’ In a previous message from this series, we looked at the connection between bondage and deception.

  “In that message, I differentiated between overt, external bondages and covert, internal bondages—those sins we may be able to hide from the view of others and that we attempt to hide from God himself.”

  Heads nodded in remembrance.

  “Scripture tells us that nothing in all creation is hidden from God, so I then asked the question: When we think to ‘hide’ what is in our hearts from God, are we not deceiving ourselves?”

  Some in the congregation murmured, “Yes”; others said, “Amen.”

  “To refresh what I taught in that lesson, when we deceive ourselves, it is called ‘self-deception.’ Anything that contradicts God’s word is deception—a lie. Self-deception, then, is a lie we embrace, a falsehood we justify and exalt above God’s word.”

  “Self-deception is a form of idolatry—for we have lifted our own opinions above the Lord’s righteous decrees. And, just as every idol must be torn down, self-deception must also be torn down.

  “So, in today’s message, I begin with this question: What is the antidote for self-deception? What empowers the disciple of Christ to tear down a stronghold of self-deception? The only antidote to self-deception is truth, truth applied directly to the deception.

  “Many people are walking through life asking, not unlike Pontius Pilate, ‘What is truth?’ Pilate was looking for truth in an ideal or a code of conduct, but truth cannot be relegated to mere knowledge nor can truth be right for one man and wrong for another.

  “Scripture tells us that we serve the God of truth. Truth is not an idea or a code of conduct; truth is defined by the nature and character of God Almighty.

  “He is the Rock, his work is perfect;

  for all his ways are judgment:

  a God of truth and without iniquity,

  just and right is he

  (Deuteronomy 32:4),

  “and the Psalmist tell us:

  “Into thine hand I commit my spirit:

  thou hast redeemed me,

  O Lord God of truth

  (Psalm 31:5).

  “When God the Father sent his Son into the world, Jesus embodied and demonstrated all that his Father is. Jesus said, Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.

  “It should be no surprise, then, that Jesus also said, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

  “God’s word is infused with his nature and character: His word cannot lie any more than God himself can! 2 Corinthians 6:7 declares Scripture to be the word of truth. And truth is of vital importance to the Christian—in fact, we cannot come to God without truth. 1 Timothy 2:3-4 tells us:

  “For this is good and acceptable

  in the sight of God our Saviour;

  Who will have all men to be saved,

  and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.

  “What more had Jesus to say about truth? As he prayed to his Father he said, Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth. To us he said, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

  “Christian theologians tell us that truth is ontological. This large word means that truth is reality—it is the way the world surely is, the way things actually are. God, as the author and creator of life, is likewise the sole author and creator of all truth—what he says is truth, is truth.

  “To recap, truth is the very nature of God; Jesus is God made flesh and he embodies truth. God has given us his word, and his word is truth! We cannot escape the truth—for God has made it known to us through his Son and through his word. Truth, like God himself, is unchanging and eternal.

  “What God says, he will do; what he declares, will never change. God alone determines truth.”

  Sarah shivered and stared at her hands: They were clenched so tightly that her fingertips were white.

  FOR A SECOND WEEK, Sarah did not return to Palmer House after work until just prior to dinner, having spent the last hour the shop was open—and another half hour after locking the doors—with Lola. Sarah had no doubts that Rose would, at some point, notice her late returns and make mention of them.

  Sarah had no intention of lying to Rose; rather, she had practiced a perfectly accurate response: “Lola comes by the shop near closing, and we visit for a bit.”

  There was nothing false about the statement on its surface—Sarah had worded it with care and was ready to offer it the moment Rose questioned her. Nonetheless, that did not prevent Sarah’s conscience from pricking her for what her “clever statement” omitted.

  But what if Miss Rose knew . . .

  “If she knew what? That Lola is my friend? That we spend time together? For pity’s sake—am I not permitted to choose my own friends?” Sarah would not allow herself to put into words her emerging sentiments regarding Lola and their escalating physical involvement.

  She refused to acknowledge the dark path down which those affections were taking her, so she overruled her conscience with whatever justification came to mind. She even, as she climbed the porch steps to Palmer House that evening, averted her gaze from the sign hanging beside the door.

  It did not matter: The image of the white letters on a green field stood before the eyes of her imagination, proclaiming, in God the LOST ARE FOUND.

  The lost? Sarah wondered briefly if she were lost—not misplaced or absent, but rudderless, without moorings, adrift in a vast sea, drifting farther and farther from shore each day.

  Dear God! Have I lost my way? Am I now the lost one? O Jesus, my Lord! Do you hear me? Do you see me? Can you find me?

  Stiffening her back, Sarah suppressed her cry for help. What mattered at the moment was that she was in time for dinner and had given no cause to pique anyone’s curiosity. She entered the house, hung her coat, scarf, and hat on the hall tree, and joined the others gathering in the dining room.

  Blythe, who was helping serve the meal, patted the seat she had saved for Sarah next to hers. “Sit with me, Sarah?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  Dinner then proceeded in its normal fashion.

  Normal? Amidst the happy chatter around the table, Sarah was mainly silent—as she had been for some days. Sarah spoke when spoken to but said little else.

  When the girls began to serve dessert, Blythe whispered in Sarah’s ear, “Frances cut the pie a little crooked, and I managed to put by one of the bigger slices for you, Sarah. I know how you love pecan pie.”

  Sarah looked down at the plate Blythe set before her. “Um, thank you, dear.”

  Meals were adequate at Palmer House but, with the exception of Sundays, desserts were considered a luxury. Nevertheless, Marit managed to make sure most dinners included a sweet, albeit diminutive, ending. That often meant she baked a single cake or pie and that dessert was cut not six or eight ways, but in sixteen portions, meaning a “slice” was hardly more than a sliver. Since Toby was not old enough for his slice, Marit always gave Billy, whose work was so physically demanding, the leftover piece.

  This evening, Sarah was not hungry and could not do justice to the marginally “bigger” sliver of pie Blythe had made special effort to give her. Knowing Blythe had acted out of love, Sarah forced herself to take one bite. When it sat like sand in her mouth, she forced herself to swallow it, then toyed with the rest of the pecan filling.

  Unfortunately, Blythe noticed. She noticed everything Sarah did.

  “Are you not hungry, Sarah?”

  “I suppose I am not, Blythe. Thank you, though, for your thoughtfulness.” Sarah set her plate in front of t
he girl. “Here. You finish it.”

  Sarah realized that she had injured Blythe’s feelings. She reached her arm about Blythe’s thin shoulders and hugged her. “Please do not be upset with me, little sister; I merely have a lot on my mind. I would feel much better, though, if you ate my serving. Please? For me?”

  Mollified, Blythe smiled. “All right, Sarah. For you.”

  I do not believe I have ever met anyone so aptly named, Sarah thought. When she smiles, sunshine dances on her sweet face.

  Dinner ended. Everyone stood and began to clear the table and restore the dining room to order. Sarah attempted a quick exit, but Rose waylaid her.

  “May I have a moment of your time, Sarah? In the parlor?”

  Nothing in Rose’s bearing indicated what she wished of Sarah, but still, Sarah’s heart pounded in her ears. Over its hammering she heard herself say, “Of course, Miss Rose.” She followed Rose through the great room and hallway into the parlor.

  Rose sat on the settee and patted the seat next to her. Sarah sank down and waited, her gaze fixed on her hands folded in her lap. She did not want to meet Rose’s scrutiny; she was afraid to see disappointment in those sweetly solemn gray eyes.

  Rose, too, waited. When Sarah did not look up, Rose said, “You are so very much the daughter of my heart, Sarah, that it grieves me to begin this difficult conversation with you.”

  “Oh?” was all Sarah could manage.

  “Yes, it is very difficult, indeed. However, I cannot imagine that you are surprised that I have asked you to meet with me.”

  Again, all Sarah could answer was, “Oh?” Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

  Rose cleared her throat. “Your behavior these past weeks has altered in such a marked manner, that it is apparent to all who know and love you. I have been approached by no less than five of our girls asking, ‘Is something amiss with Sarah?’

  “For myself, I note this change to have begun around the time you accepted the invitation to Lola’s musicale. Although my spirit was disquieted by the invitation, you pointed out—quite rightly—that you are not merely one of the girls here. You are very much a pillar of this house, someone upon whom I increasingly rely.

  “And so, since you are not subject to all the rules of the house, I did not ask why you came home later the evening of the musicale than Mr. Williams declared he would have you home. I knew you were late, you see, because I fell asleep on the couch in the great room around half past twelve. I also refrained from questioning you much regarding the fall you took and the injury that resulted from it. Perhaps I was loath to probe too deeply because I was already uneasy. I chose to pray and not to . . . to meddle.

  “Conversely, I confess to you now that my heart has not been at peace concerning you since that day, and I have watched this alteration in your mood and behavior with growing distress. I feel that I cannot now allow these changes to continue without comment or understanding.”

  When Sarah said nothing, Rose reached over and took her hand in hers. “Dearest Sarah, since you returned to work at the shop, you have come home late each day. Can you tell me why?”

  The response Sarah had memorized refused to present itself with the polished delivery she had rehearsed; instead, it came out in stiff, disjointed phrases. “Near closing. We visit—that is, Lola and I—she comes by—and then the shop closes. I mean, when the shop is closing, Lola drops by and-and-and we visit for a bit. After.”

  “You are saying that each afternoon as the shop is closing, Lola comes by and the two of you visit for a spell. Is that right?”

  “Um, yes. We are . . . friends.”

  “I am happy for you to make friends of your own age, Sarah. This is natural and healthy. However, I do wonder, these many weeks now gone by, that you have not brought your friend home for dinner as I suggested. Do you not want us to know Lola?”

  “I . . .” Sarah’s reply trailed off.

  “Is it, perhaps, because Lola is not a believer? I think we cannot pretend that she is. She spoke of her and her friends drinking to excess, and you and I both heard her demean those who call themselves by the name of Christ. These are not the actions or words of a disciple of Christ.”

  Rose waited, but Sarah had no response. At last, Rose said, “I wish to ask you a question, Sarah, and I would ask you to consider it carefully before you answer.”

  Sarah sighed. “All right.”

  “Do you not wish for Lola to know Jesus as you do?”

  Rose’s question confounded Sarah. Do I not wish Lola to know Jesus? To be saved and set free as I am? Even worse, Sarah was appalled at the immediate rise of anger Rose’s query produced—and the vehement no that followed on the heels of her anger. She was horrified, too, because one simple interrogative had sliced open and laid bare the truth—the truth that she did not desire a single thing about Lola to change: not her brash and risqué speech, not her brazen opinions, not her flirtatious, sensual behavior—and certainly not the way Sarah felt herself responding to Lola.

  Minutes went by without Sarah replying: She was wrestling with desires she had not, before this moment, admitted to.

  Tears shimmering on her lashes, Rose whispered, “You have not spoken, Sarah, but perhaps by not replying, you have given your answer? I can only surmise that you must harbor an affection for Lola. So, I ask you, if you do care for Lola, could you countenance her spending eternity separated from God?”

  Annoyed, Sarah shifted. Well, of course, I do not wish for Lola to spend eternity separated from God.

  But if Sarah believed Rose did not perceive the darker, unspoken issues at stake, her next words rocked Sarah to her core. “Sarah, can you tell me that your affection for Lola is holy before God?”

  “W-what?”

  “I am asking you plainly: Is your friendship with Lola holy before God? Or has it strayed onto an unholy path?”

  Sarah sputtered. “How can you ask such an ugly thing?”

  “The matter is simple, Sarah. If you have nothing to hide, you should be able to reply.”

  Sarah dropped her chin. “I-I do not know how to answer you.”

  Rose gently persisted. “What can you, as a daughter of God, saved from your sins, have in common with someone whom we have both heard scoff at the name of our Savior? Since Lola is not a believer, have you considered the possibility that she is enticing you away from Jesus? That she is drawing you into temptations that cannot lead to anything other than sin?”

  Sarah whispered aloud the phrase that had been haunting her for days.

  “Is it . . . is it sin?”

  “Please look at me, my daughter.”

  Sarah lifted her head but marginally.

  “Sarah, I must answer you directly, in a manner that leaves no room for ambiguity or misunderstanding. Jesus, our Savior, countered the Tempter thusly: It is written, man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.

  “Jesus is our pattern in all things, and Jesus himself was quoting God’s written word. Following his example, then, I shall quote God’s written word: It is written,

  “Be ye not unequally yoked

  together with unbelievers:

  for what fellowship hath

  righteousness with unrighteousness?

  and what communion hath

  light with darkness?”

  “So . . . you are saying that if Lola were a Christian . . .”

  “Oh, Sarah. You are better acquainted with Scripture than that. You know it is also written:

  “For this cause God gave them up

  unto vile affections:

  for even their women did change

  the natural use into that

  which is against nature”

  Sarah began to tremble, but Rose pressed on. “Sarah, I must be clear: You cannot presume any future in which Lola holds the place only a husband should hold.”

  Sarah’s voice cracked. “But . . . but Lola, she has pursued me; she has drawn me gently t
o her. No man has ever treated me with such kindness!”

  “Shall we not be honest, dear one? You have never allowed a man to woo you.”

  “Because I do not want a man lording it over me, holding my life in his hands, making decisions for me, controlling me, and telling me what to do!”

  “Be that as it may, what is evolving between you and Lola is wrong, and it can never be anything but wrong. Nothing, including how you feel toward men, my dearest Sarah, can or will ever justify it.

  “So, I must ask you: Have you exchanged the love of God Almighty for Lola’s affections? If you choose friendship with Lola over communion with God, has she not become an object of worship? An idol? Colossians 3:5 tells us that ‘inordinate affection’ is idolatry.

  “What counsel, then, does the Bible provide regarding idolatry? 1 Corinthians 10:14 commands, Wherefore, my dearly beloved, flee from idolatry. The hooks of idolatry are insidious and treacherous. We are to flee, Sarah. Flee! Escape! We must run from whatever or whomever we are tempted to place before or beside God himself. Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.”

  Sarah finally turned to Rose and whispered, “But what . . . what do I do with my heart, Miss Rose? How can I deny how I feel?”

  “Oh, my darling girl, I understand that your feelings are real, but do we live only by our feelings? Do you not recall that our uncrucified hearts are flawed? Jeremiah 17:9 tells us, The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. We cannot rightly judge ourselves with our own flawed hearts, our own standards, or our own eyes. No, we must live by what God tells us is good, right, and true.”

  Quiet tears slipped from Sarah’s eyes, and Rose wept with her, even as she continued, “Sarah. Ephesians 5:5 says that no one who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God. I must urge you, then, in the sight of God, to break off your friendship with Lola. You must, Sarah, for your sake and for hers.”

  “I-I fear it would crush her, Miss Rose, and I could not bear to hurt her so—and is it not wrong to hurt someone?”