The Impressionist

by Tim Clinton

  Endorsements

  “The Impressionist engages our hearts with two stories about two very different men: Adam is angry, lost, confused; Jim Ed is at peace, with healing in his words. Their conversation in the park is anything but small talk. As Jim Ed shares glimpses of his troubled youth and the life-changing nature of love, Adam—and we—must face the truth about ourselves and our desperate need for a Savior.”

  —LIZ CURTIS HIGGS, New York Times bestselling author of Mine Is the Night

  “The Impressionist will take you by surprise. This is more than compelling story, it’s an invitation to become real and experience more freedom and joy than you ever have before. Transformation is waiting to be unlocked in these pages!”

  —MARGARET FEINBERG, author of Wonderstruck

  “The Impressionist is one of those rare books that tugs on your heartstrings, unveiling things deep within your soul, things you didn’t even know were there. Anticipate it and savor it!”

  —LARRY J. KOENIG, PH.D., Author of Smart Discipline and Mental Toughness: the Path to Extraordinary Success in Life

  “This is an authentic story of the challenge that most men face in life—to be a victim or a gladiator. It is so compelling that I skipped an NFL playoff game because I could not stop reading. This story will instruct and inspire.”

  —DR. MICHAEL LYLES, Christian psychiatrist, author and speaker

  “Oh man! Instant movement and immediate ‘boy can’t we all relate to this!’ What a gut check! Powerful, powerful book!”

  —GARY L. STEWART, author of The Most Dangerous Animal of All

  “What a story! The Impressionist is packed with biblical wisdom and endearing characters. Dr. Clinton’s novella will encourage, inspire and challenge you to greatness.”

  —Pat Williams, Orlando Magic senior vice president, Author of Coach Wooden’s Greatest Secret

  “Combine the insights of Tim Clinton and the storytelling of Max Davis, and what you get is a wonderfully entertaining glimpse into the very soul of human existence. Adam is an unforgettable character and a great reminder to for each of us to consider what really matters in our own lives.”

  —MARK GILROY, bestselling author Cuts Like a Knife and Every Breath You Take

  “Tim Clinton is as rare as they come. After decades of leading, equipping and encouraging countless thousands of Christian counselors, men, women, couples and teens, he has pulled yet another rabbit out of the hat with this story. I am amazed by Tim’s creative ability to use fiction to demonstrate the real life internal battles that so many face on their way to becoming the masterpiece God intends them to be. This is a must read for anyone in search of healing and hope!”

  —JOE WHITE, bestselling author, speaker and president of Kanakuk Kamps

  “Dr. Tim Clinton’s riveting story captures your senses, renders you breathless and renews your commitment to reach your potential in Christ. A master storyteller, Clinton is supremely qualified to mine insightful nuggets from the hearts of struggling believers who re-evaluate human frailties in light of Divine Truth. This book is more valuable than gold for those who hear and believe the lies of the enemy. Simply and unwittingly, Dr. Clinton reminds the reader of a life-altering choice—believe the lies, or embrace the truth and become the masterpiece you are created to be!”

  —RICK RIGSBY, PH. D., Ordained Minister, Motivational Speaker, Author of Lessons from a Third Grade Dropout

  © Copyright 2014–Dr. Tim Clinton

  All rights reserved. This book is protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America. This book may not be copied or reprinted for commercial gain or profit. The use of short quotations or occasional page copying for personal or group study is permitted and encouraged. Permission will be granted upon request. Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved. All emphasis within Scripture quotations is the author’s own. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  DESTINY IMAGE® PUBLISHERS, INC.

  P.O. Box 310, Shippensburg, PA 17257-0310

  “Promoting Inspired Lives.”

  This book and all other Destiny Image, Revival Press, MercyPlace, Fresh Bread, Destiny Image Fiction, and Treasure House books are available at Christian bookstores and distributors worldwide.

  For a U.S. bookstore nearest you, call 1-800-722-6774.

  For more information on foreign distributors, call 717-532-3040.

  Reach us on the Internet: www.destinyimage.com.

  ISBN 13 TP: 978-0-7684-0491-3

  ISBN 13 Ebook: 978-0-7684-0492-0

  For Worldwide Distribution, Printed in the U.S.A.

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  Foreword

  Power of a Story

  By Karen Kingsbury

  I was at the front of a line of reader friends after speaking in Roanoke, VA, at an Extraordinary Women event when a woman stepped up and started crying. “How is Ashley?” she searched my face, completely sincere.

  “Ashley?” I blinked. Did I know the woman? Had we met before?

  “Yes!” The woman seemed almost frantic. “Ashley Baxter.”

  I smiled. Ashley Baxter is a character from my Baxter Series. “Well…the stories are fiction. You know that, right?”

  The woman hesitated. Her eyes drifted to a spot near the back of the room. “Well,” she looked at me again. “I guess I do know that deep inside. I mean, I took her name off the prayer list at church. But still …” her eyes lit up again. “I was hoping for an update.”

  This is the power of story.

  As a novelist I’ve seen that sort of thing over and over and over again. God puts a story on my heart and He uses it to touch the hearts of other people. Through story we are teachable. We allow truths to enter through the back door of our hearts. Every now and then the message in a story is so unforgettable it almost becomes real.

  Like Ashley Baxter.

  Tim Clinton is that sort of storyteller. He has a lifetime of truth about faith and relationships and how God wants us to live. His ministry changes lives for the Lord daily. God is using Tim Clinton to change this culture for Christ on a number of fronts.

  But in this—his first novel—he tells you a story.

  I’m honored to introduce to you the latest way you can learn from Tim Clinton. Settle in to The Impressionist and its beautifully written lessons. Let God speak to you between the lines.

  Who knows?

  You just might remember the journey forever.

  #1 New York Times Bestselling novelist Karen Kingsbury is America’s Favorite Storyteller. She has nearly 25 million books in print and her last dozen titles have all topped bestseller charts. Karen is also a speaker at Extraordinary Women events around the country. She is a fan of Tim and Julie Clinton and everything they stand for. Karen lives in Nashville, TN., with her husband Don and their five sons, and nearby their daughter, Kelsey, who is married to Christian Recording Artist Kyle Kupecky. You can learn more about Karen Kingsbury at www.KarenKingsbury.com.

  Dedicated to James Edward Clinton, who first taught me about the love of God and the truth that is in Christ. A faithful father, husband and pastor extraordinaire, he brought healing to all he encountered, teaching others to become the masterpiece God created us to be.

  “Remember the Lord, great and awesome, and fight for your brethren, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your houses.”

  —Nehemiah 4:14

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  “So what are you trying to say Paige?” My voice began to elevate. “Go ahead. Spit it out! What cha got? I can take it!”

  She snapped her head toward me, eyes piercing. “Just forget it Adam, all right. I don’t want to fight.”

  “You don’t want to fight?” I laughed. “You started this for crying out loud!” Frustrated, I jerked opened the refrigerator and stared inside while drumming my fingers on the door.

  “I hate it when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Stand there with the refrigerator door open. You’re letting all the cold air out. Make a decision or close the door.”

  “You want it shut? Well fine!” I slammed the refrigerator door so hard bottles knocked over inside and several family pictures jarred loose from their magnets and fluttered to the floor. Paige flinched backward, stunned by my outburst.

  “That wasn’t very smart,” she said.

  “There you go again!” I shouted. “Criticizing! That’s all you do anymore!”

  “I wasn’t criticizing, just stating a fact. The last thing we need right now is to buy a new refrigerator.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You know how hard I work!”

  “You?” she said. “I work hard too.” Then Paige did what she usually does when she’s upset. She started cleaning. I hate it when she does that. She turned on the faucet and began washing our breakfast dishes while staring off into space. I hate that too—when she checks out on me like she wishes she were somewhere else. But don’t be fooled, Paige knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s pushing my buttons. It gives her a sense of power. I moved to her side, looking down on her, violating her personal space, pushing her buttons.

  “We have a dishwasher you know,” I said.

  Paige didn’t respond, just kept washing.

  “Oh, now you’re silent?” I barked, pressing. “You know it drives me crazy when you clam up like that—get me all worked up and then shut me out! It’s a game to you isn’t it?” Giving in to rage, my mouth couldn’t stop. I was on a roll, a runaway train out of control. “You’re sorry you married me, aren’t you? Just admit it! It’s true! I know that’s what you’re thinking—how disappointed you are in me.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t have to, Paige. It’s written all over your face!”

  Paige slammed down a plate into the sink shattering it. “Fine,” she cried out, “I’m sorry I married you! There, I said it! Happy now?” She turned away from me to gaze out the kitchen window. Wetness formed in the corner of her eyes and her bottom lip began to quiver. “It wasn’t supposed to be like—” She cut herself off before finishing the sentence and began carefully picking up the broken pieces of plate and placing them in the trash canister under the sink.

  Clutching her shoulder, I spun her around to face me. “What Paige?” I demanded. “It wasn’t supposed to be like what?”

  She pushed herself away from me, stronger, forcefully. “This okay! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! I can’t take this anymore! Something’s got to change Adam.”

  “Change!” I yelled back. “What do you mean? …Oh, you mean me, right? I’ve got to change?”

  “Hey, if the shoe fits!”

  “The problem is you’re impossible! I can’t please you no matter what I do!”

  Paige took a moment to regain her composure and then smiled sadly through her pain. “You should take some lessons from Eric,” she said calm and calculating. “It’s so obvious how much he loves his Carolyn.”

  “Eric?” I shook my head in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me? The guy’s a wuss! And it’s not exactly like you’re in competition for the World’s Greatest Wife Award! Maybe you could take some lessons from Carolyn…maybe join her fitness class. It’s definitely working for her!”

  The moment those poisonous darts shot out of my mouth, I wished I could have pulled them back. Before my eyes, I watched my wife go limp as the deadly toxin took effect. Then the tears burst free and flowed down her cheeks, her expression no longer of anger but of defeat and devastation, of hurt. Paige collapsed into a kitchen table chair and buried her head into her hands.

  “I’m tired Adam,” she said through broken sobs. “I’ve had enough. I want out. I’ve got to get out.”

  It took a moment for the full impact of her words to register in my brain. These were words I’d never heard before, words that Paige had never uttered, not in the entire nineteen years of our marriage. Yes, we’d argued before, done the dance, but it had never come to this. This time a line had been crossed. Issues and feelings that had been percolating for years had finally boiled to the surface. Staggering under the weight of her words, a panic began to seize me.

  “You don’t really mean that,” I plead while reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m tired too, honey. We’re both worn out. Be reasonable. Let’s just talk about this later when we’re not upset. I wasn’t thinking, just reacting.”

  “Don’t touch me!” She yanked her arm back, recoiling away from me as if she’d been burned. “Leave me alone!”

  “All right,” I said stepping back gingerly. I leaned against the counter with my arms folded across my chest, not knowing what to do. “If that’s what you really want…for now.”

  “Oh trust me, Adam. It’s what I want!” She dabbed her eyes with the dish towel she was holding. “Right now what I want is to be as far away from you as possible!”

  Feeling the knife twisting in my gut, out of nowhere, I blurted out desperately. “God hates divorce!”

  “Really, Adam?” she spat. “I didn’t know that! God also hates husbands being jerks!”

  Realizing my mouth had already done way too much damage, I fought the urge to lash out again. Nervously, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, looking at her. Paige laid her head down on the table and closed her eyes like every bit of energy had been drained from her. An awkward silence filled the kitchen magnifying the everyday sounds around us. Water dripped slowly from the faucet, echoing off the stainless steel sink, while the refrigerator hummed. Birds chirped outside the window and dogs barked in the distance.

  “There’s something else I need to tell you,” Paige eventually said. “The timing stinks, but it’s important.”

  “Fire away,” I replied. “It can’t get any worse.”

  “Yes it can,” she moaned. “Josh is using again.”

  “What!” I pounded my fist against the granite counter-top. “I thought his tests have been clean?”

  “Apparently he’s been lying to us. He’s been using synthetic marijuana that’s undetectable to most tests. They changed tests. The principal called. They also found pills in his locker—Xanax.”

  “Xanax?”

  “Yes, so he’s suspended again. They haven’t decided if they are going to expel him. The handbook calls for expulsion and he could go to jail, Adam!”

  “Ugh…what’s wrong with that kid! What happened to my boy?” I said, my rage rising. “He’s been playing us this whole time! And you were planning on telling me this when?”

  “I didn’t call you because I knew how upset you’d get and Josh begged me not to say anything until you got back in town. I was going to tell you first thing this morning but…”

  “And you obliged him! I’m your husband, his father!”

  “You’re never around anyway.”

  “That’s low Paige!” I slammed my heel against the cabinet. “It’s all on me, how convenient.”

  She flinched. “Stop slamming things!”

  “You’re the one who’s always complaining about the money!” I threw my hands up and made a beeline out the kitchen toward Josh’s room. “It’s past ten and he’s still sleeping! Get ready to call  cause he’s gonna need an ambulance when I’m finished with him!”

  Paige jumped up from the table and ran after me. “Adam! STOP!”

  Already in the hallway, I turned around. “What now!”

  “You’re too angry!”<
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  “Oh no, I’m angry,” I said. “You wanted me worked up— well you got it!”

  “Don’t say or do something you’ll regret! Please!”

  I moved to ignore her.

  “I’ll call the cops, Adam! I swear I will!” Her eyes locked onto mine, narrowing. Gone were the tears, now replaced with fire, a mother’s fire.

  Believing her every word, I stopped dead in my tracks only a few feet from Josh’s bedroom door contemplating. The simmering rage inside of me was at the point of eruption. With clinched teeth and fists, my temples and neck throbbed. I’d never considered myself a violent person but things were changing fast. At any second I was going to blow and the harm caused from the shrapnel would not be pretty. “Aaaaaaahhhhh!” I screamed so loudly, I was sure every neighbor on the block could hear it. Blowing past Paige, I bolted out the front door slamming it behind me. With my hands shoved deep into my jean pockets, I exploded on a half-deflated soccer ball that was laying in the front yard. The second it launched from my foot I realized it had become a projectile that could do serious damage to something or someone. Once again, I’d reacted before thinking. Fortunately, the ball arched in the air and across two driveways eventually rolling to a stop underneath a neighbor’s minivan. “Safe from at least one lawsuit,” I mumbled as I stormed down the street.

  2

  There was a crisp, fall breeze stirring the leaves that Saturday morning. It was a great day to get some air. If my head hadn’t been so clouded with anger maybe I could’ve enjoyed it. Still, I had to get away and driving was out of the question because I’d probably run over somebody! I knew one thing for sure. I didn’t want to go back in that house. So I walked. It just so happens that our neighborhood is located about six or so blocks from Indian Mounds City Park. Unusually nice, it’s the city’s biggest one and a much-needed reprieve from the concrete jungle. It had been one of the perks for us moving to the area. Wearing an old pair of Nike running shoes, my favorite UM sweatshirt, and too upset to do anything else, that’s where I headed.