Angels of Humility: A Novel

by Jackie Macgirvin

  “Don’t ever forget, Sarah, that pride comes before a fall.4 The Lord requires humility from His followers. Pride has crept in over the works you’ve done for Father. You can never repay the gift He’s given you nor can you impress Him with your attempts at holiness. Repent of your attitude and ask the Lord to cleanse you. The Lord says if you humble yourself, He will exalt you. If He has to humble you, He doesn’t promise you anything.”

  When that truth pierced Sarah’s heart, she couldn’t repent fast enough. Through her tears she prayed, God, I repent for the pride I feel for the things I’ve done. Instead I offer them to You as a sacrifice of praise, not trying to impress You or use them as leverage. I’m sorry I judge people so quickly. Help me to see all people as You see them. Joel replaced the dull, drab mantle of humility that pride had caused her to shed. Malta played a melody on his lyre; the music washed over her like waves of the Father’s love. She felt it go through her again and again—the Lord’s great love for the lost—the Lord’s great love for her.

  From then on, she prayed daily that the Lord would help her to humble herself. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see which of those two choices is best.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Our love to God will be found to be a delusion, except as its truth is proved in standing the test of daily life with our fellow-men. It is even so with humility. It is easy to think we humble ourselves before God. Yet, humility toward men will be the only sufficient proof that our humility before God is real.”

  Andrew Murray1

  “No peas,” said Jordan. “Yes peas,” replied Paul.

  “NO PEAS!”

  “YES PEAS!” said Paul, raising his voice to match Jordan’s increased volume.

  “Honey,” said Kathy, touching Paul on the hand. Then she turned to Jordan. “Jordan, eat your peas, like the good boy you are. Peas pleeeease,” she said, exaggerating her enunciation.

  “Peas please, peas please, peas please,” he repeated giggling. Then he made a face, took two big bites, and declared, “Done.”

  “Yes, you are. And I thank you.” Let me wipe off your hands and you may get down and play.”

  “Honey, have I told you you’re amazing?” said Paul, putting his arms around her.

  “Yes, but I like to hear it frequently. You can’t say that too much to a woman!”

  “OK, you’re amazing, you’re amazing, you’re amazing,” he said kissing her between compliments.

  “Thank you.”

  As Kathy was reveling in his kind words, the topic changed to church, which it frequently and predictably did. Fueled by Sarah’s prayers and the prayers of other members, the church’s growth continued. There were visitors at almost every service. The Wednesday evening prayer meetings were well attended, as were the Thursday visitations. And of course, every pastor’s dream, the offering was up.

  “Kathy, I was talking to Mike today, and we’re thinking that with the growth that we’re seeing, maybe we should jump ahead with the building campaign. If the growth we’re experiencing now keeps up, we’re going to have to go to two Sunday services. Wouldn’t that be great? We’re almost the biggest church in town, numerically. I think the Catholic Church is still ahead of us by about 30.”

  Kathy didn’t say anything, but a sick feeling rose in her gut. Paul always seemed so proud of what was going on at the church, but in a bad way, like he was solely responsible. It seemed like he was manifesting all the signs of pride that she had been reading about.

  “Honey, why don’t you take a week off and we could get away? You’ve been working six, sometimes seven days a week, and you never get home before 7:00.”

  “I can’t take time off—things are really moving.”

  “But I really need some time with you.” She put her arms around his shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I feel so disconnected. We used to be partners back in seminary when we’d talk about what ministry would be like. You used to ask my opinions and you valued my prayers. Maybe we can just go away for a weekend. Mary could watch Jordan, and we could just spend some time alone.”

  Paul pulled away from her and stated incredulously, “A weekend? I can’t be gone on a Sunday. I need to be here to preach. What are you thinking?”

  She was thinking that he was so insecure that he didn’t want anyone in “his” pulpit for fear they would preach a better sermon, but she refrained from saying it. “Sorry,” she mumbled and turned away to hide her tears. She’d initially been attracted to Paul for his ambition; now that trait had come back to bite her.

  “We used to pray together, but now you’ve pushed me to the outside. Now you’re making all these ministry decisions and all you want me to do is blindly follow you,” she finished the rest of the sentence in her mind, even when I feel you’re wrong.

  He rolled his eyes and went to his office. Things are going so well at the church. Why are they so hard at home? He picked up a piece of paper off his desk and perused it. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he’d called the radio station at Mt. Peilor to get their rates. Airtime is really reasonable. Maybe in a few months we can start broadcasting Sunday’s message.

  “Paul,” suggested Saldu, “It’s better to be a well-done, good, and faithful servant than a half-baked famous preacher.”2

  In her bed that night Kathy prayed, through silent tears, as she had for the past several months. Lord, please, I need a husband, and Jordan needs a dad. Don’t let our marriage become a casualty of his ministry. Help him to find a balance. We used to be a team. He’d confide in me, and he valued my prayers. He respected my input. Now it’s like a big door has slammed shut in my face. He won’t even let me inside his thoughts, much less his heart. Valoe stood watching over her, echoing her prayers, as he did every night.

  She fell asleep and dreamed that she was on the roof hammering away at hundreds of loose shingles. It seemed like for every one she would hammer down, two would pop loose. She was exhausted, sweaty, and frustrated. In spite of the fact that she was actually losing ground, her determination kept her at it.

  Valoe appeared in her dream. “Kathy,” he said reaching for the hammer from her aching hands, “you need a rest.”

  “No, I can’t stop,” she said refusing to let go. “I have to get these shingles fixed before it rains. I have to save our house. It’s all up to me.”

  “No Kathy, it’s not all up to you,” said Valoe, taking the hammer and holding her blistered hands in his. “You’re in danger of falling into the same trap that Paul has. ‘It’s all up to me. Work, work, work.’ I know that Paul’s preoccupied, but don’t look to yourself; look to the Lord. By yourself you can never be enough or do enough. You can’t change Paul; you can only pray for him. You need to push into the Lord even more. He’ll help you find that place of rest in the middle of the storm. He’s the only one who can. The storm might not abate, but He wants to give you grace to dance in the rain. You must learn to cast your burdens on Him. He wants to comfort you and has sent a Scripture for you, Psalm 127:1–2.”

  Kathy woke up and wondered, That was bizarre. Roof repair? An angel? Was that from the Lord? It sounds like a pizza dream. I guess there’s one way to tell. She grabbed her Bible and book light off the nightstand and read, “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord guards the city, the guard keeps watch in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for He gives sleep to His beloved.”

  For the first time in a very long time, Kathy felt the peace of God rest on her. Lord, it was You. You know my situation and see my frustrations. Thank You for listening to my prayers. Lord, I can’t do anything in my own efforts. Help me to remember that when I get frustrated, especially with Paul. God, will You build my house? Kathy fell asleep meditating on those verses. She would faithfully cling to them each day and they would bring a measure of peace to the disappointment and loneliness she felt.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Not the fastest horse can catc
h a word spoken in anger.”

  Chinese Proverb

  “He who angers you conquers you.”

  Elizabeth Kenny1

  Sarah was succeeding in her goal of praying in tongues whenever she drove. She usually visited the jail at least three times a week, sometimes more, depending on her mobility each day. As she drove she prayed out loud in tongues so she would know if she got distracted and stopped.

  “Sarah,” said Joel, “Today I’ll teach you how to become even more of a threat to Satan’s kingdom through intercession—”

  “That’s right,” interrupted Malta, who was too excited to wait. “Begin by praying in tongues silently and then pray with your mind at the same time. You’re praying with your spirit and your mind. You’re praying two prayers at once.”

  “You might be praying about the same thing or each prayer might be totally different, but twice as much prayer is ascending before the Lord’s throne as a fragrant offering to Him.”

  Sarah switched to praying silently in tongues and in her mind she prayed for the other drivers to get saved. Then she prayed for each inmate by name. Wow, I can do it, she thought, as she pulled into the parking lot. I just doubled the amount of prayers I prayed in the same amount of time. This is even better than praying in tongues when I read or watch television. This is praying in tongues while I pray! God, You are so awesome. I’ll call this type of prayer “double dipping” because it’s getting twice as much accomplished! Oh, and Lord, I need Your grace to develop this new habit.

  The jail was about half full now, with almost 50 inmates. Although they all had varying levels of responsiveness to her, they all knew two things about “Momma Sarah.” She always brought cookies, and she sure loved to talk about Jesus.

  She had continued praying for Will with little visible response. But she was not about to give up. The glimpse of his father beating the helpless little boy always brought compassion. One day when he cursed at her, all she could see was the little, terrified boy behind the hulking, angry tattooed man. “Bless you, Will,” she responded as she moved on.

  The next time Sarah came to the jail, she had traded her cane in for a walker. She’d bought the deluxe model that had a basket on the front to hold the cookies and pouches on the side to hold her Bible and multiple tracts. As she entered, one of the guards said, “Sarah, the director wants to see you in his office.” That made her heart beat a little faster, and she prayed a little harder as she shuffled down the long beige hall. She had met the director once before, and he seemed like a nice young man. Everyone seemed young to her these days.

  The director, Richard Walker, welcomed her into his office and even helped hold her chair as she sat down. After some chatty small talk he said, “As you know, we have no chaplain. We just haven’t been able to fill the position. I know you’ve been visiting here regularly, and I wanted to know if you are interested in the position; part-time is all that’s budgeted for now.”

  “Me, a chaplain?” Sarah tossed back her head and laughed. “I’m very flattered, but I don’t think I’m official chaplain material. Maybe I could be an honorary chaplain until the position gets filled. Now I’m just having a good time getting to know these inmates. But I’ll pray that the Lord would bring the right person to fill the position.”

  At home she followed through on her promise. As she prayed, the Lord showed her a picture of the man he wanted as part-time chaplain. He was limping toward the jail entrance, and from Sarah’s vantage point, all she could see was his back. He knelt at the door and cried out to God. She knew he was repenting, and it had something to do with the jail. She couldn’t make out his words, but she could feel the heaviness of his great burden. Then God’s mercy spilled down on him like refreshing rain. As he stood to his feet, his new posture was confident, assured. He walked steadily through the big double doors, and once inside, the jail roof exploded in a fireball of heavenly activity.

  Sarah was enthralled with the scene the Lord was showing her. “Yes, Lord, Yes, Lord,” she was yelling. “Bring Your servant here.” Then she was inside the jail looking at this man, still with his back toward her, ministering to the inmates with power and authority. When he moved to Will’s cell, he went in and touched him and spoke, “William, you are a man like me. We both had unloving, abusive fathers. However there is a heavenly Father who loves you like you’ve always wanted to be loved, like you need to be loved. The good news is you don’t have to earn it, and you can never lose it.” As Sarah watched the ministry continue, William broke. Whoever this new chaplain is, he’s certainly anointed for this work, thought Sarah. Lord, please show me who this is. When he finally turned, Sarah smiled and let out a shout of delight, “It’s Pastor Paul!”

  The Lord went on to show Sarah that she was supposed to minister with Paul under his authority at the jail. He showed her that He had another pastor slated to take the church to its next level. Paul’s position at the jail would almost immediately transition into full-time work. “Praise the Lord,” Sarah shouted. “Thank You, God! Thank You for answering my prayers.”

  Then she thought, That’s why Will isn’t responding to me. The Lord’s arranged it so Pastor Paul will touch his heart. She decided she’d be no less dedicated in her prayers for him, but she was able to let go of some feelings of failure that had been attacking her. Thank You, Lord, that Will’s salvation is in Your hands and doesn’t rest on my minuscule capabilities.

  The next day at the jail Sarah went straight to the director’s office. She was moving so fast the janitor commented, “Slow down Sarah or the wheels on your walker are gonna ignite.”

  “I can’t slow down. I’ll just have to take that chance,” she replied, laughing.

  In the director’s office, she didn’t even sit, she just blurted out, “I know who your part-time chaplain is.”

  “Well Sarah, let me in on the secret so we can both know.”

  “It’s Pastor Paul from the Victory Church.”

  “Nope, it’s not him.”

  Sarah was taken aback. She almost felt slapped. After yesterday’s revelation she thought everything would fall smoothly into place.

  “W-what do you mean it’s not him?”

  “Sarah, he was my first choice. For some reason, I thought he’d be the one, but when I asked him, he told me an immediate, ‘No.’ Didn’t even want to pray about it like I thought pastors do. “

  “You asked him and he told you no?”

  “He sure did. Said he wasn’t the least bit interested; then he hung up on me.”

  “Well, I’ll talk to him. I know he’s supposed to be here.”

  “I hope you have better luck than I did.”

  Sarah prayed all the way to the church. As she pulled into the drive, the first time since that fateful Wednesday night prayer meeting, she felt the emotional turmoil churning again. She was toying with the idea of going home and making a phone call, but pressed through when she saw Paul’s Toyota in the parking lot.

  Pushing her walker down the hall, she breathed a prayer for the Lord to bring about His will in their lives, especially as partners in ministry. Then she took several deep breaths and knocked on the large oak door with Paul’s gold nameplate prominently displayed.

  “Yes?”

  “Pastor, it’s me, Sarah.” Paul shook his head. Just what I need, an unexpected visit from Typhoid Sarah. “Come in,” he said in his most cheerful voice.

  Sarah had barely sat down before she, in her exuberant naiveté, tactlessly blasted him with the verbal tidal wave she was so excited about. “Pastor, I heard from the Lord that you’re supposed to take the part-time position as chaplain. I’m supposed to work with you. Then, I don’t know when, but you’ll eventually work there full-time. The Lord has someone already picked to succeed you here. And there’s an inmate there named Will. I can’t get through to him, but I know you can because you both were abused by your fathers—”

  Saldu had started talking to Paul even before Sarah did, in an attempt to prepare him,
“Let go of your selfish ambition and conceit; humble yourself and see others as better than you are. Don’t continually look out for your own interests, but take an interest in others.”2 Paul totally disregarded the conviction. He leapt to his feet and leaned far over his mahogany desk. “HOW DARE YOU barge into my office like this.” Sarah had unknowingly hit both of Paul’s most vulnerable sensitivities: his abusive father and his fear of being replaced at the church. This church was where he sucked up what little self-esteem he had. Of course, the idea of having to be around Sarah regularly was also repulsive to him.

  Sarah was taken aback at the hostile reaction to what she considered extraordinarily good news. “Oh, I-I’m sorry. I was so excited. I saw it in the Spirit. I saw that we’re going to be ministering together—”

  “Sarah, take your craziness and get out. Just leave me alone,” he yelled, pointing toward his door. “I don’t want anything to do with that jail, and I certainly don’t want to minister with you!” He could feel his heart beating in his neck. He knew his voice was elevated, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “B-b-but don’t you see,” stammered Sarah as she struggled to get out of her chair, “You were attracted to my land. You thought it was to build a church there, but you were attracted to the land because you’re supposed to minister at the jail—”

  Paul marched around his desk and flung open his door. It slammed into the doorstop with a loud thud. Pointing toward the hallway he screamed, “I said, GET OUT.”