“You’re going to be in a double room, but now there’s no one else in it,” said Wayne. Halfway down the corridor, he turned left into room 120. Sarah’s eyes scanned the stark room. Yellow walls, a small sink, a door to the bathroom, and two beds, each with a small dresser. The only things on the walls were a large clock and a bulletin board listing the date and the nurse on duty.
Barbara read Sarah’s mind and volunteered, “I’ll swing by your house and pick up a few things that we can put up on the walls.”
When Barbara returned several hours later, she had to use a cart to transport all the things she’d brought. All Sarah’s worship CDs, a CD player, more books and devotional guides, pictures from around her house, the afghan from the couch, her love letters, and the big world map that Sarah covered with pushpins every time she prayed for a different city. She plugged in the CD player, put in five worship CDs, and pushed “repeat all.” “I’ll change them whenever I come, but I think that having worship music constantly will help your mood,” Barbara said.
“Also,” she added with excitement, “I saw this in the drugstore the other day, and it made me think of you.” She held up a colorful world globe, put it on Sarah’s nightstand, and plugged it in. “See, it’s a night light and it rotates. If you can’t sleep you can pray for the countries as they move past you.”
In bed that night Sarah tried to slightly adjust her body to alleviate as much pain as she could. She held the afghan close to her, like a toddler would his blankie. She stroked the wool. Lord, am I going to spend the rest of my life in the Manor? When I die, will they find my stiff body under this pink chenille bedspread?
CHAPTER 33
“The proud man counts his newspaper clippings, the humble man his blessings.”
Fulton J. Sheen1
The tension in the sanctuary was obvious. The older folks sat together again on the center pews. The rest of the members fanned out on the left and right sides. The crowd was mostly older members. Most of the nondisgruntled folks had stayed home, with the exception of the elders.
Paul called the meeting to order with prayer and introduced Mike as tonight’s master of ceremonies. They had both agreed that Paul shouldn’t lead the meeting, but could surely comment. Mike listed a few ground rules and then opened the microphone to the audience. After a few minutes, Wilma made her way to the front.
“Well, it’s no secret where I stand on this church building plan. I’m not in favor of anything that would cause us to leave our building. This church was built in 1907, and most of the older members, including myself, have grown up here. This is home to us. We were baptized here, married here, have seen our kids married here, and many of us have even buried loved ones in the adjoining cemetery. The only way you’ll get me to leave is in a box.” She wiped a tear from her eye and sat down to applause.
Floyd wanted to know what would happen to the building if a new one was built.
John Williams was concerned about debt. “This church is paid for. If I’m not mistaken, we had the mortgage burnin’ in 1950, seven years early. We took a special offering and paid it off. We own it free and clear. If the church goes and gets itself in debt up to its ears and then a recession hits, we’d be in a terrible bind. What would we do then? We’d owe hundreds of thousands of dollars that we wouldn’t have. I say we keep the one that’s paid for and run two or even three services if needed.”
One of the elders stood to defend the plan. “I think the Lord is bringing this increase, and I don’t think it’s going to stop. We need to be prepared for the future, to take the next step. I understand the sentimental attachment to the building, but we can’t let sentiment stand in the way of what the Lord is calling us to.”
After going back and forth for the next hour, Mike felt it was about time to bring things to an end. Floyd stood and interrupted him. “If I’m not mistaken, and I know I’m not, we can propose a vote on any topic as long as we give at least three days’ notice. So, I propose a vote on Wednesday night.”
“That’s true Floyd. Do I have a second to Floyd’s proposal?” asked Mike.
“You don’t know what I’m proposing yet,” replied Floyd.
“I assumed it was a vote on the building campaign.”
“No. I propose that we vote on whether to keep Pastor Paul. I think I speak for all the older members that we don’t want to lose our church, and we would encourage Paul to take those who want to build and leave. That would satisfy everyone.”
Mike stammered and stuttered, but nothing intelligent would come out. Finally he asked, “Floyd, are you sure you want to make that proposal?”
“If he doesn’t, I will” said Joe Kemper.
Mike knew the church’s bylaws, and he knew they were within their rights, as long as there was three days’ notice. He was trapped, and he knew it. The frustration in his voice showed when he asked, “Do I have a second on this proposal?” Everyone in the middle section raised his or her hand.
“Let’s vote. All in favor of voting on Wednesday night whether to retain Pastor Paul, please raise your right hand.” A quick glance at the center section and he knew the motion had passed. “All opposed same sign.” Most of the hands on the sides, but not enough. “The motion passes. We’ll vote by secret ballot Wednesday night. Only church members, not just attendees, may vote. Meeting adjourned.”
Mike glanced at Paul, still seated on the front row. He could tell Paul was fighting back tears. Kathy was seated beside him with her arm around his shoulder. “Lord,” she silently prayed, What are You trying to tell us?
Barbara left the church and drove straight to the Manor. “I’ve got some news you might want to pray about,” she said holding on to Sarah’s hand. “The older members at the church want to vote Pastor Paul out.”
“They want to vote him out?” repeated Sarah in disbelief. “Why would they want to do that? The church is growing.”
“They hate the building campaign. They don’t want to leave the church. Too many memories.”
“Oh, that poor man! Is being voted out good or bad? If he’s not at the church he might take the job as chaplain, or he might just move away. Oh, Lord, give him wisdom.”
CHAPTER 34
“Pride is like the veins in our body. Pride is like our blood. It flows from the heart. It is the core and fiber of our being. The only way we can get away from it is to get a transfusion from Jesus. To be mortally wounded by the Cross. Then to rest in the tomb letting the life of Christ flow into our veins, replacing what was once there.”
Aaron Pierson1
Sarah wasn’t making much progress in physical therapy, and although she’d initially been assigned to the main dining room, she’d been reassigned to the dining room in the back where residents require help to feed themselves. The tremors in her hands had increased substantially.
Wretched spirits of Depression and Discouragement had come sniffing around and latched on to Sarah again. With each passing hour, her attitude sank lower.
“How’re ya doin’ today Ms. Sarah?” said a food service worker, setting her plate down in front of her and pulling a bib over her head. Sarah tried to force a smile, but it just wouldn’t come. She looked around the table at the other residents, many who looked on the verge of death at any minute.
Some were unable to talk; they could only grunt. Others were partially paralyzed, the result of a stroke. Some were tied in their wheelchair with restraints so they wouldn’t topple out.
At least I have regular food, not that ground-up mush, she thought, groping for something positive. Several aides were already beginning to feed the other residents. Unwilling to admit that she belonged with this group, she picked up her glass of milk, but it slipped from her hand and spilled across the table. The aide frowned, but forced a cheery voice as she jumped to wipe the spill dripping off the table on to another resident’s lap.
“Now Ms. Sarah, you know you’re here ‘cause you can’t feed yourself. I have to help you. You just wait till I get over there
.”
She felt her face flush. She wanted to run, but that was certainly not an option. She tucked her chin and did her best to hide. Finally the aide arrived, “OK Sarah, open your mouth. Doesn’t this meatloaf smell good this evening?”
“Umm, meatloaf,” mocked Despair. “You get to be patronized and humiliated like this three times a day until you die. You’ve outlived your usefulness, and now you’re just a burden.”
Later, lying in bed, physically weak and in pain, a tear trickled down Sarah’s cheek. My life is coming to an end. I can’t take care of myself. I don’t know if I’ll ever walk again or leave this horrid place.
“Sarah, you must praise Him through your trials and tribulations,” said Malta. The music that came forth at creation has never ceased. But like a human’s inability to hear a high-pitched dog’s whistle, you lack the spiritual senses necessary to hear the rocks, hills, and trees constantly cry out praises to God. When a human sings praises, heavenly residents immediately join in. A full heavenly orchestra accompanies you, once again, unheard by human ears.
At this encouragement, she began by an act of her will to praise Him in song.
“Every blessing You pour out I’ll turn back to praise….” Thousands in Heaven joined in. “And when the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say, ‘Blessed be the name of the Lord, Blessed be Your name.’”
Unbeknownst to her, a celestial orchestra was accompanying her praise, and eight other worship angels had joined her in the bedroom. They carried absorbed glory from constant worship around the throne and radiated that brilliant light. Their voices harmonized with hers in other-worldly beauty. The music ascended to the throne room where heavenly residents danced with angels and sang the next line, “Blessed be the name of the Lord, Blessed be Your glorious name.”2
Sarah stopped singing and massaged her hip under the covers. “Oh, what’s the use? What difference does this make anyway? I’m just not into worship today.” All the angels abruptly stopped singing and faced her.
“Don’t stop. Press through.”
“Sing; praise Him!”
“The sacrifice of praise offered from a place of discouragement is the highest and sweetest praise of all,” said one of the worshiping angels, bending low over Sarah’s bed.
One of the angels started humming the “Hallelujah Chorus.” The angels around the bed immediately lifted their hands and faces toward Heaven. Sarah half-heartedly joined in, humming and stumbling over the words.
The heavenly voices gained momentum. She felt energy come over her, which she could not explain. She sang, “And He shall reign for ever and ever.,” and tried to flail her feeble arms as if she was directing a choir, bringing in singers, beckoning others to sing softer. The unseen angel choir gathered around her bed and followed her musical cues. Their voices, directed by Sarah, came once again rolling tumultuously into the throne room like a tidal wave of pure joy. Handel, along with thousands of others, bowed low, worshiping and weeping softly in front of the throne.
After singing the song several times, Sarah fell asleep exhausted, as the shining globe rotated quietly on her side table. The angels continue singing, dancing, rejoicing in Jesus, and rejoicing in Sarah’s decision to press through in praise.
“They just don’t realize that when they praise, they’re never alone,” Joel said to his heavenly companions.
A huge, glimmering worship angel played his flute by her bed, and Sarah’s tense body relaxed slightly. His cohort spoke over her, “Sarah, you don’t realize that all of nature constantly sings praises to our God. The roar of the sea, the ‘caw, caw, caw’ of the crow all ascend to the throne as ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.’ It resounds in the throne room as praise from creature to Creator. The flowers, the hills, and even the rocks cry out day and night, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.’ Your praises ascend to the throne room, filling it, echoing off the walls, vibrating through the crystal river flowing from Father’s throne. Your praises are heard in the throne room, and your praises make a difference.”
“I wish Sarah could see that whenever she chooses to praise, she’s connected to the unending, global-celestial worship cycle,” said the flute playing angel, stopping to gently run his large hand across Sarah’s cheek.
“Her time on earth is coming to an end,” said Malta. This announcement sent the angels back into a fit of frenzied activity—dancing, singing, cheering, leaping, laughing, worshiping—angelic pandemonium!
“I can’t wait,” said Malta, “to carry her to her eternal home. I wish it were tonight—”
“Yes,” interrupted Joel, “the end. It’s my favorite part of the job. I love to see the faithful ones when they run into the waiting, open arms of Jesus.”
“Sarah will be so astonished when she experiences His unfiltered, unconditional love. Imagine her amazement of His joy over her.”
“Make it soon, Lord! Make it soon!” shouted Joel. This petition set off another round of celestial pandemonium.
CHAPTER 35
“If thou desire the love of God and man, be humble, for the proud heart, as it loves none but itself, is beloved of none but itself: the voice of humility is God’s music, and the silence of humility is God’s rhetoric.”
Francis Quarles1
Paul also felt like his whole life was coming to an end. He and Kathy had been discussing the vote for three days. His demons of Pride, Respectability, and Selfish Ambition were working overtime. Also, being taunted by Fear and Rejection caused his moods to vary wildly at a moment’s notice.
“Like I’ve said before honey, if you are voted out, then the Lord has something else for you. There is no one on earth who can stop His plans for your life. No one can thwart His plans.”
“Even if they vote in my favor” said Paul, jumping up from the chair to pace in front of the mantle, “how can I minister effectively knowing that slightly less than half the congregation is in favor of me leaving? How can I proceed with my five-year plan if they are so dramatically opposed?”
“I’m so sorry that this plan that you’re so excited about isn’t working out, I know this is emotionally grueling for you. But try to put it in perspective; God is not up in Heaven wringing His hands over tonight’s vote.” She stood and held out her arms offering a hug, “OK?”
“How can you be so calm? Don’t you know what’s riding on this vote?” He turned his back to pace again.
“I know what’s not riding on it—God’s will for our lives. Whatever happens, whichever way it goes, God’s hands are not tied.”
Paul nodded, running his fingers through his hair, but he remained unconvinced. “It’s 6:45, time to go,” he said curtly.
While Kathy was protective of her husband and his feelings, she was not as emotionally invested in the church as Paul. As they drove, Kathy prayed silently, Lord may Your will be done in our lives and for this church. I pray for unity of Spirit, and I ask that the enemy will not be able to use this event for his purposes.
Paul prayed, Lord let them keep me.
As they walked together to the front pew, Paul remembered what Mike had said, “You can expect to see some new faces tonight. They are older members who rarely attend any more, but when something happens that’s controversial, they run back and make their opinions known. Since they’re still members, there’s nothing we can do.” Paul scanned the congregation to see how many reinforcements had been brought in. The church was packed. Oh my gosh, it seems like I’ve never even met half these people.
Mike called the meeting to order. He explained the reason for the assembly and what the voting procedure would be.
“The vote will be decided by a simple majority rule.” After several questions from the members it was time.
“Paul, I need you to wait in your office please, until I call you.” Dead man walking, whispered Discouragement to Paul as he self-consciously exited the sanctuary. Of course, Saldu was with him doing his best to encourage Paul in the Lord, but Paul wasn’t listening. His ears were tuned to the deceptive spir
its that regularly accompanied him.
“Who do these older members think they are? Do they run the church? Why can’t they just cooperate?” spouted Self-Righteousness.
“Who will hire you if you get fired from your first church after just a few months?” asked the spirit of Fear.
“What a loser that would make you!” added Criticism.
The baskets were passed and each member took a pre-printed ballot. They merely needed to check the box next to “RETAIN PAUL REYNOLDS AS PASTOR” or “DISMISS PAUL REYNOLDS AS PASTOR.”
The mood was somber, both sides were convinced that they alone knew the Lord’s will on this issue and that those opposed were hypocrites and sinners. The spirits of Faultfinding, Unforgiveness, Self-Righteousness, Selfish Ambition, Judgment, and Treachery were divided equally between both groups and circling the sanctuary like it was a choice buffet.
Sarah was in bed for the evening, but she wasn’t sleeping. She knew the vote was starting, and she had purposed in her heart to pray for the Lord’s will to be done. In fact, she’d been praying off and on since she heard about it. Her prayer was always the same, “Jesus, I pray that Your perfect will would be done for the church and for Pastor Paul and his wonderful family. I pray against division, divisiveness, and strife between church members. I pray that You would transition Paul to the position as chaplain and bring the new person that You have for the church.” After praying for 20 minutes, she dozed off. The Parkinson’s, plus the demands of physical therapy, had sapped what little energy she had.
The baskets were passed again, the ballots were collected, and the elders retreated to the fellowship hall to count the votes. Kathy had purposed in her heart that whatever happened, God’s will for their lives would not be thwarted. She had made a decision that however the vote went, she would praise Him. “God, our lives are in Your hands, and You may do with them what You want. I will trust You no matter how the decision comes back. God, please comfort Paul and let him have confidence in Your leadership, not his own.” Because of her attitude, she was able to receive the comfort that Valoe was imparting to her. That prayer enabled Valoe to easily dispose of a spirit of Fear trying to infiltrate Kathy’s thoughts. Even though she was aware that half the congregation was staring at the back of her head thinking negative thoughts, she was truly experiencing God’s peace that passes all understanding.2
Angels of Humility: A Novel Page 21
