Angels of Humility: A Novel

by Jackie Macgirvin

  After loading the washer and praying, she turned around and noticed a box on the gray storage shelves that Malta was pointing at. It was marked “OLD DOCUMENTS,” in George’s writing. It had been there for years, but today, for some reason, she decided to see what was inside.

  She dragged the trashcan over to the shelves, gave the box a big tug, and it fell to the floor, stirring up so much dust that it gave her a sneezing fit.

  “God bless you,” said Joel and Malta as she slowly sat down on the area rug. The first document was their taxes from 1949. She smiled. George was nothing if not organized. That was such a hard year for us. President Truman signed to raise the minimum wage to 75 cents an hour. We had to cut the amount of help we could use during harvest season. She smiled, looked at the taxes again and with slight hesitation threw them in the trashcan. I guess I’ll clean these out so no one has to do it after I’m gone.

  The next six stacks were the next six year’s taxes. Then came the utility bills from 1948. What was that man thinking? Next was a yellowed newspaper. She opened it carefully. It was the Gazette. On the front were George’s picture and the headline, “Local Fireman Saves Twins In House Fire.” She remembered the incident well. It was the first year he’d been with the department. It wasn’t until George came home for dinner that she found out what a hero he was, and then not until dessert when she inquired about his day. She smiled as she read. Then she flipped through the paper and scanned the weekly grocery ad. Eggs five cents a dozen. She smiled again and set the paper aside. After a few more inches of old taxes and old insurance papers, she pulled out a hand full of letters. She recognized her writing at once. It was her old love letters to George. She clutched them to her heart. I never knew he saved these.

  After considerable effort, she got to her feet, still holding the precious letters, and headed slowly upstairs. Entering the kitchen she saw yesterday’s stack of mail. She looked at the letters in her hand and picked up the letters on the counter. She pulled out a letter from her niece and one from Buchanan County Correctional Facilities and threw the rest in the trash. That felt liberating, she thought. She poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the yellow table with her old love letters.

  The top letter was one that she had written to George when he was away that first year at college. I missed him so much I literally didn’t think I could stand being apart. Then she realized that these feelings from many years ago were the same she had been forced to endure since his death. Only her love now was more mature, more intense; and he wouldn’t ever be coming home to visit for spring break.

  There were 64 letters. She’d written them over a period of two years until they’d decided to get married when George started his junior year. Although Sarah wanted to read them all in one setting, she decided to ration them. I’ll read one a day, and then I’ll start over. It seemed like a healing thing to do. Reading them all at once seemed gluttonous, like she’d use up something precious that she could never replace.

  She started putting them in chronological order according to the postmarks. The last letter in the stack was not her handwriting, nor was it George’s. It was postmarked from Bradbury and the year was 1926. It was addressed to Lorna McHone. That was George’s mother’s maiden name. I think I’ll read two today. She carefully opened the yellowed pages. It was from George’s dad before he and Lorna were married.

  Dearest,

  I miss you such that at times I can think of nothing else. I am making a way for us to be together forever. Something so exciting has happened. I am the proud owner of 36 acres of rich farmland, which has a house and barn. It was a full-fledged miracle that I have gotten this land. Who would have thought that an 18-year-old would ever be a landowner?

  For the last three months I’ve been working as a farm hand for Reverend Templeton. He farms and on the weekend he rides the circuit preaching to several different churches. Then he’s back working hard on the farm through the week. When I started the job he told me it would just be temporary because he felt God was telling him to sell the farm to spend more time on the circuit. He was all ready to sell the land to the neighbor who had offered him a price of $450. I had started looking for other work when Reverend Templeton came to me and asked me if I’d be interested in the farm. I told him “Yes,” but I’m the last person who would have means to acquire $450. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “The Lord told me He wants you to have this land. I’m prepared to take $100 a year for four and a half years, with no interest.”

  You know, Lorna, that I am not a religious man, but I got down on my knees and thanked God for this gift. I’m putting in the first crop and after the fall harvest, I will send money for you to come to Bradbury.

  Respectfully,

  Vernon Edwards

  Sarah laid the letter on the table; her hands were shaking. I never knew how he got the farm. She hurried to her car and drove out of town on Old Highway 3 and past the land. She turned left on Old Cemetery Road and pulled onto the dirt drive. She stepped carefully through the weeds. This old cemetery, in need of mowing and repair, was where most of the town’s settlers were buried. The largest tombstone was William Bradbury’s, the town’s namesake; next to him were his wife, an infant daughter, and two adult daughters and their husbands. After looking for five minutes Sarah found a small flat headstone, off in the corner, more like a large brick. On it was carved:

  Reverend Arthur Templeton

  May 19, 1855 - July 28, 1933

  He preached Jesus

  She slowly sat down beside the small headstone and ran her fingers over the letters. “You see, Sarah, the Lord has had plans for this land from before the foundation of the world,” whispered Malta. “He was orchestrating them before you were born. You’re one link in those plans. Reverend Templeton was another link, and he was faithful. He heard the Lord’s voice and sold the land to George’s father so you could own it today. It’s your turn to be faithful.” Malta laid his large gleaming hands on Sarah’s shoulder and she began to weep.

  “Remember the dream you had about the jail before it was announced? Remember the Scriptures and how they undid you emotionally? That was Father talking to you. Don’t be thrown off track by anyone or anything,” said Joel. “All of the confusion is from the enemy to keep you from following through with Father’s plans.”

  “It will be hard to go against what the town wants,” said Malta. “There will definitely be a high price to pay. You will suffer, but one place that you can go deeper with the Lord in intimacy is in your sufferings. Instead of fleeing from the pain, feel it and meet Him in your pain. Realize that this very pain is part of what He suffered for you when He was on this earth. Remember that He was despised, and rejected.3 Then take your focus off yourself and thank Him that He loved you enough to suffer like that for you. Remember, no injustice you’ll ever suffer will come close to what He suffered for you.”

  “You see Sarah, in addition to suffering everything we suffered, He also carried all your sorrows and griefs just like He carried all your sins.4 He understands every physical and emotional pain, and He will give you the grace you need. You can go to Him and find relief and healing there,” said Joel.

  Sarah’s shoulders heaved up and down under Malta’s hands as she continued to sob.

  “Even in your seemingly darkest hours, He’s a good God, and you can trust Him. He not only moved Barbara here in answer to your request for a friend, but also as an intercessor for you. Pastor Hall is still praying for you, too. Did you know that intercessors need people to intercede for them? They’re high on Satan’s target list,” said Malta.

  She thought about the two people praying for her and took several deep breaths to try to bring her sobbing under control.

  “Sarah,” asked Joel, “when you face eternal judgment and it is too late to do anything more about this situation with the land, what will you wish then, with all your heart, that you would have done at this critical time as you are actually dealing with it?”5 Sarah breathe
d a desperate prayer and ran her hand again over Reverend Templeton’s headstone as a kind of connection with his obedience.

  After several minutes, a new determination welled up inside of Sarah. She understood that she was a conduit for the Lord’s plans. She wiped her eyes, cleared her throat, and spoke. “I have come into the Kingdom for such a time as this,” she said with great resolve. If the Lord suffered so dreadfully for me, then I can surely suffer some because of Him.” Sarah made a vow, “Lord, I want to be the next faithful link in Your destiny for this ground. Thank You for Reverend Templeton’s faithfulness and thanks for showing me Your will. I’ll sell to BCCF. Amen.”

  The manipulative spirits that had formerly been taunting Sarah began wailing. Black fur and accusations flew as each one turned on the other. “You heard her boys,” said Joel with a broad smile. The demons stopped bickering and looked up, but before they had a chance to leave his flashing sword sent their wretched bodies flying. Oh, yeah. He loved his job!

  CHAPTER 17

  “I am sure there are many Christians who will confess that their experience has been very much like my own in this, that we had long known the Lord without realizing that meekness and lowliness of heart are to be the distinguishing feature of the disciple as they were of the Master. And further, that this humility is not a thing that will come of itself, but that it must be made the object of special desire and prayer and faith and practice.”

  Andrew Murray1

  She took the letter from BCCF and sat on the sofa. As she opened it, her hands were shaking, but her spirit was totally at peace.

  Dear Ms. Edwards,

  We’ve not received a response from our last letter. We wish you to know that we are still interested in purchasing your land. We would like you to consider selling it to us for the sum of $50,000. I have enclosed a contract for you to look over. I will contact you in a few days if I don’t hear from you.

  Sincerely,

  David Burris,

  President Buchanan County Correctional Facilities, Inc.

  “Fifty thousand dollars? They’re offering me $50,000. Lord, what will I do with that kind of money?”

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Pastor Paul knocking on the door. Of course he never went anywhere without his little black cohorts surrounding him. The first thing he saw was the hand-lettered “Jesus Loves You” sign over the window. He shook his head. It reminded him of the guy at the sports arena with the rainbow-colored wig and the John 3:16 sign.

  She invited him in.

  “What happened to your window?”

  “Someone’s not too happy with me right now, lots of someones, actually.”

  “That’s terrible. It just shows how emotional some people can become over these sticky issues. Everyone has strong feelings about your land, that’s for sure.”

  “Please sit down, Pastor. I’ll get some coffee,” she motioned toward the couch and went to the kitchen. Paul didn’t set out to read the letter, but it was laying face up on the coffee table. He could read it without even leaning forward. Fifty thousand dollars! Unbelievable, no wonder she wants to sell to the jail. Sarah returned and handed Paul the cup.

  “I assume you’re here to follow up on our conversation a few days ago. The Lord has just showed me specifically that I’m supposed to sell to BCCF. Just today.”

  Right, Paul thought, and I bet He had fifty thousand reasons. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. The potential for good for God’s Kingdom that a new and larger church facility could produce is incalculable.”

  “Oh, but the Lord has a plan for this land, and I’m just following it. I really have no say in the matter if I want to be obedient. It’s like you said, ‘For such a time as this.’”

  He set the cup on the coffee table next to the letter. Sarah didn’t see him roll his eyes as he let out a sigh. “Well, I’d encourage you to continue to pray about it,” he said, trying to conceal his growing aggravation.

  “Oh, I have. A lot. And the Lord answered just today.”

  “Sarah, I don’t mean to offend you, but you are a new believer. I don’t doubt your sincerity, but many times people think they’ve heard the Lord and it’s not the Lord, especially if they have strong feelings about one particular option. It’s easy to believe that option is from the Lord because we want it so badly.” This statement caused the demons to snicker wildly among themselves. “All I’m saying is, maybe you could keep praying and some of the ladies from the church could drop by and talk to you about it.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t need to keep praying. I know I heard from the Lord.”

  Paul sat silently in the chair. When he could think of nothing else to say, he stood to his feet. “Well, have a good day,” he said curtly and headed for the door.

  Sarah signed the contract and walked to the post office box whistling. Lord, bless this endeavor, she prayed as she dropped in the letter. A wave of peace swept over her as she heard it clunk on the bottom. She reveled in the feeling for a few moments, then headed for Barbara’s house.

  Joel gave Malta a high five.

  CHAPTER 18

  “We must overcome the impulse to attempt to finish in the flesh what God has begun in the Spirit. This is a great offence to God—our attempting to substitute human zeal for Heaven’s anointing.”

  Bobby Conner1

  “Character is the hardest thing to gain and the easiest thing to lose.”

  John Paul Jackson2

  Paul was fuming when he left Sarah’s. Saldu tried to calm him. “Paul, Father brought you to this church for a purpose, and the enemy has distracted you. Your five-year plan isn’t the Lord’s five-year plan. And you shouldn’t be fighting this jail, either. You’re not in Bradbury to win a popularity contest; you’re here to do the will of God. You’ve compromised His truth because of your need for love and acceptance, not just with the church people, but the whole town.

  “Think of your life this way. God is looking down at you from Heaven. You’re at the top of a ski slope and there’s a mile of virgin snow beneath you. You shove off and with the Lord’s help you ski successfully to the bottom. Not only are your tracks visible from Heaven, but you leave a trail for others coming behind you to follow. Because of you, they find their way, too. This speaks of the potential for your life to have Heavenly and earthly impact.3

  “Paul, the Lord has made you a leader and He has great plans for your life. You’re very charismatic and people will follow you, but your challenge is to step out of the way and point them to Jesus, not to keep them huddled around you like a fan club. Give up all honor like Jesus did; seek honor from God only, empty yourself, count yourself as nothing so that God may be exalted and may be all. There is an irrefutable rule in God’s Kingdom: Those who seek exaltation never receive it.”

  When Saldu stopped, Paul’s little black soulmates immediately helped him key in on the part of Saldu’s message about leadership.

  “You’re a leader, Paul, and your five-year plan is nothing short of brilliant,” whispered Deception. “It’s like God dropped a heavenly blueprint in your lap to teach you how to grow the church for maximum eternal impact.”

  “Forget the plan,” urged Saldu. “To be truly great in the Kingdom of God, you must be humble and passionately in love with the King. Like Mary at Jesus’ feet, you need to be content to sit and wait on Him.4 You should hang on His every word. You must be willing to look foolish in the eyes of your peers as you proclaim boldly what God has told you to say and do.”5

  “Now about that jail, Paul,” said Manipulation, sidestepping Saldu’s comments, “I’ve got an idea to thwart that thing that can literally make you the town’s savior. You’ll have hundreds of people skiing behind you, following your godly example.”

  Paul bit: hook, line, and sinker. He drove straight to Clarence Harvey. “That’s right. I saw the letter. They’re offering her $50,000 for the land.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars?” Clarence cursed under his breath. “That’s more than twice as much per ac
re as most property around here is bringing. Of course she’ll sell. She’ll never get that price again, not in her lifetime.”

  “Maybe she could,” whispered Deception. “Maybe she could,” repeated Paul.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe we, the town, could do a fundraiser. If we raised $50,000, she’d have no reason not to sell to us.”

  Clarence paused; his business mind evaluated the feasibility of the idea. A big smile spread across his face. He slapped Paul on the shoulder. “I like your style. That’s a great idea, buddy!” Paul smiled and reveled in the affirmation of an older father figure.

  “I’ll get on the phone with some businessmen who have fairly deep pockets. I’ll get Gary to print some posters and flyers, and maybe I’ll do another billboard.”

  “We can take a special offering at church this Sunday. I’ll swing by Sarah’s house and tell her the good news.”

  “Great, give me three hours, and I’ll have this campaign in full swing.”

  “I’m on my way to Sarah’s.”

  Paul knocked and knocked, but Sarah wasn’t there. He went back to the church and tried to call several more times. She doesn’t even have an answering machine. I’ll have to call later in the evening.

  Sarah was at Barbara’s recounting the story with great excitement. “And then I found the letter yesterday in the bottom of a box that had been in the basement for who knows how long. George’s father was practically given the land by a minister. And George’s father wasn’t even a believer, as far as I know. George had one brother, but he was killed in the war, so the farm passed on to George. Now it’s mine, or it was until about an hour ago when I mailed the contract. And when I dropped the letter in the mailbox, I felt such a peace inside, like a warmth. It’s hard to explain. All I know is that I was desperate. I couldn’t take much more stress. I still can’t believe how it all worked out.”