He shook her hand and Sarah managed to thank him, but she was so overwhelmed at his commitment to pray for her that she was crying by the time she got to her car. Just knowing that a seasoned Christian would be praying for her helped her feel less overwhelmed.
She read most of the book on humility that week and only missed having her prayer time one morning. The next week at their meeting, Sarah had more questions ready for Pastor Hall, especially about pride.
“Well,” said Pastor Hall, “I’m glad you’re interested. Most Christians don’t fight against pride or understand enough about humility to earnestly desire it. That’s a tragedy because if we humble ourselves, God promises to exalt us!18 Pride is one of the most deadly forces at Satan’s disposal, and he uses it very effectively against us.”
“That’s exactly what the book said. It sounded like God takes these areas seriously,” said Sarah with her eyes wide. Pastor Hall chuckled.
“Yes, He does—very seriously.”
Sarah, flipped to one of the dog-eared pages. “It says that ‘humility is the God-given confidence that does away with the need to prove to others how worthy you are, and the correctness of your actions. It gives the freedom to be who you were created by God to be, and to accomplish what God has for you to do—because you completely agree with Him.’”
“That’s a great definition! I totally agree. We need to perform before an audience of One,” he said pointing upward. Sarah nodded as that truth sunk in. “God has given each of us a different mix of spiritual and natural gifts. It’s humility when we accept what we are given and use these giftings as God planned. Don’t covet what other’s have. It will throw you off of God’s path for your life. You’ll only be judged on what God gave you and the specific purposes that He called you to do.”
“What do you mean, ‘I’ll be judged on what God gives me’?”
“When Christians die, their lives are judged and they are given rewards for their faithfulness or they ‘suffer loss’ for their lack of obedience.19 They all get to Heaven, but the Bible speaks many times about eternal rewards and being faithful with what we’re given.20 Develop your spiritual gifts. You entered the Kingdom late in life Sarah, so be diligent to give the Lord your time and your energy; make Him your priority above all distractions. When you get to Heaven and you really understand God’s great love for you and the amazing sacrifice He made for you, you’ll be grateful that you did.”
“Do I really have spiritual gifts? I don’t know what they are.”
“Your spiritual gifts were picked especially for you by the Lord. You can understand your true destiny better when you function in your gifts. It helps you know who God created you to be and what He desires for you to do. There’s a list in the last chapter of the book I gave you. Go home and read it. Pray and see if the Lord highlights anything to you.”
At home Sarah read the descriptions of pastor/teacher, prophet, evangelist, apostle, administrator, leadership, faith, knowledge, wisdom, exhortation, discernment, ministering, service, giving, speaking in tongues, interpretation of tongues, miracles, healings, mercy, and hospitality.21
She faithfully prayed over the list. “I can’t wait to meet with Pastor Hall next week. I’ve got so much to learn.”
CHAPTER 3
“Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility.”
Saint Augustine1
Pastor Hall retired two months after their last meeting, and he and his wife left Bradbury for Texas to care for his aged mother. But he was faithful to remember to pray for Sarah regularly.
The church board had called Paul Reynolds as interim to the little white chapel with the beautiful stained glass windows. With seminary graduation under his belt for less than a week, Paul had felt very grateful and relieved to be selected.
It was his first time preaching at Bradbury. Paul always started his sermons with a joke. “A woman calls her husband on his cell phone. He’s driving in his car; ‘Honey I want you to be very careful. I just heard on the radio that there’s someone driving the wrong way down Old Highway 3.’
“‘One?’ the husband replies, ‘There’s hundreds of them!’”
The congregation roared with appreciative laughter. Paul let out a deep sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed, jet-black hair. At 6’2”, with a natural athletic build—wearing his best and only suit—he presented a good first impression.
Maybe they’ll like me. Maybe they’ll call me as their pastor.
“Relax,” said Saldu, to Paul’s spirit. Paul’s radiant guardian angel was standing in the pulpit directly behind him. “The service isn’t about you. It’s about glorifying your wonderful savior and Lord. Take your mind off your performance. Empty yourself and He’ll fill you. Then you’ll have truth and life to share.”
Shifting his weight from his left to his right foot and back again, like he always did when he had too much nervous energy, he began again, “I’m happy to be here today serving as your interim pastor. I’d like to introduce my better half. Kathy, will you stand please?” A petite brunette with curly hair, wearing a denim jumper, stood from the second row and gave the crowd a big smile and a wave.
“Jordan is 2 years old, and he is in the nursery. I speak for all of us when I say we look forward to getting to know all of you and serving with you here at the Victory Church of Bradbury, Missouri.”
At least I’ll be employed until the search committee calls someone else. At the very least, he hoped they would be committee-typical and take six months making up their minds. That would give him time to get something else lined up. He had student loans up to his eyebrows, even though Kathy had worked until she was very pregnant with Jordan.
However, deep in his heart he was hoping to be the one, hoping to wow them with all the knowledge he’d gleaned from 89 graduate hours, not to mention his ability to read Hebrew and Greek. God, he silently prayed, If this is Your will, I’d be so glad.
At the back door shaking hands after the sermon, Paul tried every memory trick he knew to remember people’s names. He pictured an outhouse floating in the ocean when he met John Seas. Angela Carver became an angel sculpting a big piece of cheese. Sarah Edwards was easy; her name was the same as the wife of his hero, the fiery evangelist, Jonathan Edwards.
For ten full minutes Paul basked in the adoration and compliments as the church members filed by shaking hands on the way to their Sunday dinners.
“Great sermon, pastor.”
“I enjoyed that a lot.”
“I never knew the meaning of that one word in Greek; that’s very interesting.”
If Kathy and Paul could have seen into the spirit world, they would have fainted at the sight of two tall, muscular angels with angular, chiseled features accompanying them to their small Toyota. Valoe had long blond hair and Saldu, brown. Their glistening white robes were girded at the waist with a belt of truth. Their enormous gossamer wings were folded behind them. After being in the throne room from eternity past, they literally glowed with celestial resurrection power. Hael, Jordan’s plump, jovial guardian angel, was waiting to get in the back next to Jordan’s car seat. Valoe and Saldu would fly along beside the small car. Even though these guardians had been with them for years, neither Paul nor Kathy were aware of their presence.
The minute Kathy and Paul were in their car, before the key was even in the ignition, Paul turned to Kathy and asked, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What do you mean ‘well what’? How’d I do? What did you hear from the people?”
Kathy rolled her eyes, “Just the same things you did when we were standing together in the back.”
“I know what they said, but what did they really think? Did they seem to like it? Did they follow along?”
“You did fine, honey. The sermon was very good; you know it’s one of my favorites.”
“Were they nodding? What did their body language te
ll you?”
“Honey, I was sitting on the second row. All I could see was you!” She patted his shoulder. “Take a deep breath and relax; you did fine.”
“Kathy, I’ve got a good feeling about this,” he said, as he eased the car onto the blacktop road and back toward town. “I think this might be God. I can see us settling here. I can see Jordan growing up here. I can see me taking this church from 60 members to 300, and I know you think the parsonage is charming.”
“After the seminary dorm, living in a department store dressing room would be charming.”
“No, I’m serious; I think we have a future here. I have a good feeling about this. It has potential. It feels like it might fit.”
“Honey, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’ve got your cart way out before your horse. Relax and let God bring it about, if it’s even Him. If it’s not, He has something else. Just don’t force it.”
“Listen to your wife,” said Saldu. “Realize the magnitude of your heavenly Father’s love for you. If you humble yourself, you can get filled to overflowing with love and acceptance from Him every day. Now your insecurities cause you to crave affirmation from people. You’re looking in the wrong place.”
“Yes,” said Valoe, “God’s love truly satisfies. You could spill the excess over on Kathy and Jordan and the needy people around you. Instead you try to accumulate compliments to fill the bottomless dark pit in your soul. Without humility there can be no spiritual power, intimacy with God, or favor of God on your life.”
Their 1993 Toyota stopped in the parsonage driveway. The engine dieseled for a few seconds after the key turned off and finally sputtered to a stop. Kathy shook her head.
“This car! It won’t start when we want, and now it won’t stop, either. Maybe it’s demon possessed.”
“Later this afternoon I’ll get some anointing oil, or maybe some 10W40,” said Paul chuckling, “and see if I can exorcise anything from the starter.”
This caused Kathy to chuckle. She shook her head and then squeezed his arm.
Paul gathered Jordan out of the car seat and carried him up the cracked sidewalk, past the overgrown evergreen bushes, and to the front door of the small Tudor-style house. Brown paint was peeling off the wood trim and shutters.
“I can’t get this lock to open. I’m jiggling it like Mike told me to,” said Kathy.
“Here, honey, let me,” he said, passing off Jordan to her arms. “Insert the key then pull it back just a little, then jiggle. See, it opens every time. Ah, home sweet home.”
“Home sweet temporary home,” she corrected. Dear Lord, don’t let him get his heart set on anything that isn’t You. He’s 26 years old, and his diploma isn’t even framed yet. We’re at the beginning of the beginning of our ministry, and we need Your guidance.
She bent over to let Jordan down and scanned the living room. Boxes of all sizes were strewn from one end to the other. She shook her head. Where to even start? “I guess I’ll heat lunch. Mike’s wife, Jessica, brought lasagna and salad last night. What a blessing. We can get started unpacking after we eat.”
After lunch, Kathy loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and closed the harvest gold colored door. I hope this works, she thought. Judging by the color, this dishwasher has to be at least 25 years old.
After putting Jordan down for a nap she surveyed the mess: clothes, bedding, toys, pots, pans, and boxes of books. How did we get so many books? She moved a box off the couch and sighed the kind of deep sigh reserved for the challenges of moving. It would have been nice, she thought, if the church had the money to move us. Poor Paul. He worked so hard; he must have made 20 trips with our little Toyota and didn’t complain once. I guess that’s the bright side to not owning a lot of worldly goods.
“Paul, let’s unpack while Jordan is napping.” No answer. “Where are you?”
“I’m in my study, honey.”
Kathy walked down the hall, peeked in the door, and saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor writing in a spiral notebook.
“What are you doing? Why don’t you set up your desk?”
“Honey, I don’t have time. I’m inspired. I’m writing out a five-year plan for the church.”
“A five-year plan! You’re the interim pastor,” she said, throwing her arms in the air. “Besides, I need help unpacking.”
“Honey, you can put away the towels and hang the clothes, you know, the light stuff. Trust me, I think this is God.”
Kathy left the room shaking her head. In frustration she grabbed a towel and threw it toward the laundry basket. It passed through Valoe and hit its mark.
“She’s got a wicked curve ball. I’d hate to have to try and hit off her,” Valoe said as he grinned toward Saldu.
“You and me both,” Saldu replied.
“It never ceases to amaze me,” says Valoe, “why Father seems to call some of the most inconsiderate men to the ministry. They’ll drive across town in the middle of the night to comfort a parishioner, but won’t lift a finger to help their wives at home.”
“I guess He wants them in the ministry so He can keep a close eye on them. Who knows what they’d do unchecked?”
“Yes, unfortunately we’ve seen that a few times.”
“Well, Kathy’s got her hands full with Paul. Right now, let’s help her deal with the attitude that resulted in that wicked curve ball.”
CHAPTER 4
“One day, The Holy Spirit said to Bartleman ‘If you were only small enough, I could do anything with you.’ A great desire to be little, yeah, to be nothing came into my head.”
Frank Bartleman1
The telephone wires were on fire this Sunday afternoon. The trio of Wilma, Bernice, and Carol, three members from the lady’s over-60 Sunday school class, plus the spirits of Gossip and Slander, made sure of that. Not even in seminary was one of Paul’s sermons exposed to the scrutiny it received today.
Wilma pulled the handle that sent her recliner sprawling. “Getting a cell phone was the best thing I ever did,” she said to Oreo, the big black and white cat grooming himself on the area rug. She arranged her ample frame, comfortably fitted in a pink bathrobe and matching slippers, in the recliner, and with her left hand, she pushed her first auto dial button. With her right hand she picked up a cup of coffee from the end table.
Her ten pre-programmed numbers were like a prayer chain in reverse, a destructive gossip network that spread rumors at the speed of light. It resembled a multilevel marketing pyramid of friends phoning friends. It was so fast and efficient that if it were Amway® Wilma would have been a billionaire by now.
Bernice set down her watering can beside her African violets displayed on her kitchen windowsill and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”
“Hi Bernice. It’s Wilma. What’d you think of the new interim today?” Before Bernice could answer, a thought popped in her head, The mouths of fools are their ruin; their lips get them into trouble.2
Bernice was so surprised by this thought that she didn’t respond. Is that a verse from Proverbs? she wondered. After a few seconds, Wilma broke the silence.
“Well, frankly Bernice, I’ve heard better sermons. And what’s with all that Greek mumbo jumbo?”
“Yes, the Greek, well that was, um, interesting.”
“Interesting? I just thought that it was a big front he put up to try to impress us. He thinks we’re all a bunch of small-town hicks and don’t know anything.”
The term “small-town hicks” was enough to play on Bernice’s insecurities and suck her into the gossip session.
“I was pulling for him, Wilma, but I just don’t think he’s gonna make it. He’s got awfully big shoes to fill, awfully big shoes to fill. Pastor Hall’s retirement is just so hard to accept.”
Twenty minutes later, Wilma sipped her coffee and punched speed-dial button number two as the spirits of Slander and Faultfinding perched on her shoulder. Across town, Carol hit the television remote’s mute button, silencing the replay of her favorite soap opera.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Carol, it’s Wilma. What’d you think of Pastor Paul today?”
Ardare, Wilma’s guardian angel, stood behind the plush gray recliner—eight feet tall and radiating with celestial light.
As he listened, his countenance disintegrated. “Oh, I can feel Father’s heart breaking even now.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Wilma, you have no idea. If you only knew how grievous this is to Father, you would never spread your poison.”
As Wilma hit the third number, a thought interrupted her, As surely as a wind from the north brings rain, so a gossiping tongue causes anger!3 She shifted her weight uncomfortably in the recliner.
Joan put down her knitting and picked up the phone, “Hello.”
Silence.
“Hello, hello, is anybody there?”
Wilma was distracted from Ardare’s thoughts by Joan. “Hello, Joan, it’s Wilma. How are you?”
“I’m fine Wilma. What’d you think of Pastor Paul today?”
Wilma haltingly began, “Um, well, I think, I think…”
“He’s got awfully big shoes to fill,” whispered Gossip.
“I think He’s got awfully big shoes to fill,” repeated Wilma, “and I don’t know who he was trying to impress with all his high fallutin’ Greek words….”
Ardare continued bringing conviction to Wilma, and each time she made an effort to resist. Finally, she threw off his conviction totally for the pleasure of gossiping with her friends. By the time Wilma had hit auto dial number ten, she had no memory of the verse from Ardare.
Number ten was Sarah Edwards; she was not a close friend, not even really a friend, after all, that’s why she’s number ten, but she was a new Sunday school member. Wilma was on a roll; the recliner felt comfy, and the phone had been charging all night.
Angels of Humility: A Novel Page 3
