And the Shofar Blew by Francine Rivers
He found his way to Charlie’s Diner instead. The parking lot had two spaces left. People. Too many people. He fought the urge to turn around and head back to the grocery store and home again, but Rick was right. He did tend to isolate himself, and the more isolated he was, the harder it was to fight the temptation to buy a bottle of good scotch and take that first drink that would send him into the black hole again.
“Hey! Stephen Decker came back, Charlie!” Sally called to her husband. “I told you I didn’t chase him away!”
“So, invite him to sit down and give him a menu, why don’t’cha?”
“Would you like a booth, or would you prefer to sit at the counter?”
Stephen looked around and saw one booth left. It was back in the corner. If he took it, he would have complete privacy. He could eat alone and then go home again to his empty apartment and brood some more. “Counter,” he said.
Grinning, Sally waved her hand. “Pick your spot.”
He took a stool near the middle and opened the menu she handed him.
“Our special this evening is roast beef with garlic mashed potatoes and baby carrots. It comes with a fresh-baked roll and your choice of homemade minestrone soup or a garden salad.”
“Sounds good. I’ll take the soup and a cup of coffee whenever you get around to it.”
“Coming right up.” She clipped the order to the wheel over the cook’s counter. Turning, she picked up an orange-capped coffeepot from a burner and a white mug from a rack. She set the cup in front of him and filled it. “How’s the construction business?”
“Booming.”
She set out a napkin and put a knife, fork, and spoon on it. “That exciting, huh?”
“You know anything about the churches in the area?”
Charlie banged his bell. Sally picked up the soup and set it down in front of Stephen. “Well, you’ve got your pick. Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, and everything in between. We even have a mosque a few miles down the road, and some Buddhists who meet in a little shrine out on McFarlane. But if you’re asking for a recommendation, I say Centerville Christian.” She lowered her voice. “It always had good solid Bible teaching, if you know what I mean. Dry as bones, though. Not much going on. Just a handful of old-timers in the congregation up until a year ago when they got a new pastor.” She straightened. “Centerville Christian. If you want a happening place, that’s where you should go. Charlie and I go there, don’t we, honey? At least, when I can get him out of the kitchen. Pastor Paul preaches there. You met him the day you came in for breakfast.”
“The jogger?”
“That’s him. If you’re interested, you can attend the Bible study tomorrow night. Meets at seven-thirty in their fellowship hall. Charlie and I can’t go because we’re both working. But we would if we could.” She nodded toward an elderly couple sitting in a booth. “That’s Samuel and Abby Mason. They’ve been members for years. In fact, Samuel’s one of the elders who called Pastor Paul to the pulpit. Hey, Samuel, what’re you studying on Wednesday nights?”
“We just started the book of Ephesians.”
“Got room for one more? I got a live one on the line here.”
“Plenty of room.” He gave Stephen a nod.
Stephen nodded back.
“There, Decker,” Sally said, grinning again. “You’re all signed up.”
“Assuming he wants to go!” Charlie yelled from the back.
“He asked me about churches, you old coot!”
“Don’t you have some dishes to wash?”
Sally winked at Stephen as she called back, “He’s got to get his dinner and eat it first.”
Charlie slid a plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and baby carrots onto the cook’s counter and banged the bell.
Stephen laughed with the others supping at the counter. As he ate dinner, he noticed how Sally talked with her husband as she washed dishes and put them in sterilizing racks. She laughed at something he said. He came out and carried the loaded rack into the back room for her. And then the banter would begin again. Needling without the sting.
Sipping his coffee, Stephen felt lonely again. Even in the middle of a crowded diner, his walls were going up. And he knew if he allowed himself to stay inside them, he’d self-destruct. Maybe the Bible study would be a good start.
If he was going to build a new life, he was going to have to build new habits.
CHAPTER 4
PAUL SPOTTED the contractor he’d met briefly at Charlie’s Diner. He was entering the fellowship hall with a Bible tucked under his arm. Paul wove his way through the gathering of regulars. “Stephen Decker, isn’t it?”
Decker’s brows rose slightly. “You’ve got a good memory.”
“It’s good to have you join us.” He’d worked out a method of name associations while on staff at Mountain High. People felt accepted when their names were remembered. It made them feel significant and cared for, and gave them a sense of belonging. When he’d met Stephen Decker at Charlie’s, he set memory triggers: deck, contractor, builder, Decker, Stephen, first martyr. It was also important to learn what skills people possessed and how they could best serve the church.
They shook hands. “Don’t let the noise get to you,” Paul laughed. “We start off our Bible studies with refreshments. Gives people a chance to mingle. Let me introduce you around. Did you see the notice about the study in the Centerville Gazette?”
“No. Sally told me about it.”
“I’ll have to thank her.” Paul ushered Stephen around and introduced him to everyone, but focused on people with whom he’d have common interests. Matt Carlson was a roofer. Phil Sturgeon was a plumber. Tom Ingersol was an electrician. All had been involved in various projects around Centerville and as far north as Sacramento, and had become new and valuable members of the church. An architect who was also a contractor would be invaluable as CCC out-grew its sanctuary and fellowship hall.
Stephen shook hands with Tom. “You did the wiring on my Vine Hill project.”
“Sure did. That’s some house you’re building up there. Who’s moving into it? Bill Gates?”
Decker laughed. “It’s not quite that grand.”
“Bigger than anything else we have around this neck of the woods.”
With Decker assimilated, Paul felt free to head for the podium, where he made a last-minute check of his notes. “Okay, folks, let’s get started. We have a lot to cover this evening.” He counted heads as people took seats. Thirty-eight. Good mixture of men and women, middle-aged and older.
He hoped the complainers who continued to come would behave them-selves. He didn’t want any of them beating newcomers over the head with doctrine. The sooner the church grew, the better. He wanted to revamp the board of elders. If this church was going to grow, men like Otis Harrison and Hollis Sawyer were going to have to retire from leadership. They lived in the past, and Paul was sick of trying to reason with them. If they had their way, this church would remain the same today as it had been for the past forty years.
“Let’s open in prayer.” Paul prayed fervently that all those present would have open hearts and minds to the lessons God was about to give them, that they would assume the role Jesus had for them, that they would accept God’s leadership in the days ahead, and that the Lord would bless them for their obedience.
After reviewing the historical context of Ephesians, Paul moved through the book verse by verse, heavily emphasizing that each person in attendance was chosen of God and should never cease to be thankful. He further stressed that wisdom and revelation would enlighten them as to what service the Lord had created them to do for His church. Samuel Mason raised his hand. Paul ignored him. How many times did he have to explain this was a class and not a discussion group? He had worked out his lesson plan so that it would last exactly fifty minutes, leaving ten minutes for prayer requests at the end. He didn’t have time for interruptions or going off on some rabbit trail of discussion.
As the end of the hour approached, Paul closed his B
ible and asked for prayer requests. He jotted them down on a slip of paper. To save time, he prayed through the list himself, summarized what he’d taught that evening, and thanked God for His Word. He dismissed the class at nine o’clock. His father had told him years ago that newcomers were more likely to return to a class that had a definite beginning and ending.
Tucking the prayer requests into his Bible, Paul prepared to talk with those who lingered. Now was the time for questions. Several people came up to tell him what a wonderful teacher he was, and how he made the Bible come to life.
“God brought you here, Pastor Paul,” Edna Welty said. “Henry Porter was a good man, but he put me to sleep preaching the same thing over and over again.”
Samuel and Abby joined them. “Henry Porter taught about grace, Edna,” Abby said quietly.
Samuel looked into Paul’s eyes. “A lesson that bears teaching again and again because it’s beyond the understanding of men.”
Paul forced a smile. How long would he have to listen to the plaudits for the old pastor? Did Samuel Mason and the other two elders not yet realize that Reverend Porter had almost led this pathetic little flock into complete oblivion? “Those who receive God’s grace are also called to greater responsibility.” Most of the parishioners had come to church out of habit, not out of faith. Faith was living and active, not boring and complacent.
“Yes, but the work comes out of gratitude, not obligation.”
Samuel Mason was like gum on his shoe! He couldn’t shake him off. “Gratitude, yes, but people with a calling upon their lives are useful and vital.”
“Every member of the body of Christ is vital.”
“But not all are useful. Some just come along for the ride, giving nothing back to the Lord who saved them.”
“Still, it’s important not to give the wrong idea.”
Paul’s confidence evaporated. “What wrong idea was I giving in my lesson this evening?” He had been so careful.
Abby looked distressed. “Oh, I don’t think that’s what Samuel is saying, Paul.”
Samuel didn’t amend his words or apologize. “Salvation is a free gift from God, not something we can earn through good works.”
“Faith without works is dead.” Paul hadn’t meant to sound so hard-edged, but Mason deserved a reprimand. The elder had no right to embarrass him. Who had graduated from seminary? Not Mason. Who had spent countless hours poring over the Bible preparing for this class? Who was pastor of this church now?
“Faith and works are interlocked,” Samuel said.
The old man was dogged. “A man is justified by works because they show his faith.”
“Abraham offered his son Isaac because he believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness. It was because of his faith that he was called the friend of God.”
Paul smiled stiffly. “Then we both agree, don’t we? We just have different ways of getting to the same conclusion.” He saw the troubled look in the old man’s eyes and leaned closer, speaking in a low tone. “We should end this conversation before others think we are quarreling. The last thing we want is a divisive spirit in the church.” He hoped that was enough to shut the old man up.
Abby’s face flushed deep red. “Now just a minute!”
“Enough said.” Samuel put his arm around her. “Good night, Paul.”
Mason sounded tired. Nine-thirty was probably past the old guy’s bedtime.
Paul felt a twinge of conscience as he watched the Masons leave the fellowship hall. They meant well. He didn’t want them to leave like this. As he started after them, a woman stepped into his path and said she’d been nourished by his teaching. Paul looked past her toward the door. The Masons were already gone, and it would be rude to brush past this woman. Maybe he’d call Samuel tomorrow and suggest they have lunch together. They needed to have a meeting of minds if the church was going to continue to grow. This church needed workers. Samuel should realize that better than anyone, considering the years of work he had put in keeping this church going. Why was he resisting now? Surely he wanted Centerville Christian Church to become a beacon in the community and not go on being a dead light bulb. Samuel Mason was an elder, but that didn’t give him the right to challenge Paul’s authority.
Locking the doors on the way out, Paul argued with his conscience on the short walk home to the parsonage. Eunice always waited up for him, but he didn’t want her getting wind of what had happened between him and the Masons. He thought he had his emotions completely under control when he walked in the front door and found Eunice mending Timmy’s coveralls. She glanced up with a smile and her eyebrows rose in question. Depressed, Paul dropped his binder and Bible on the desk. She could read him like a book. “Don’t ask.” He had blundered with Samuel and Abby and didn’t want Eunice to jump to their defense. She loved them like a second set of parents.
His father had told him to be careful how much he shared with his wife. “Women are so easily deceived,” he had said. Paul sank into his easy chair.
Euny went back to stitching up the torn seam of Timmy’s coveralls, but Paul wasn’t fooled. She was waiting for him to say something. Maybe he should talk to her, listen to her take on what had happened. She might be able to advise him on how to make amends without backing down on what he had been teaching.
“We had another newcomer tonight. Stephen Decker. An architect. He’s the one in charge of that mansion going up on Vine Hill road.” God was sovereign. It was no accident so many people involved in construction were coming to Centerville Christian Church. It was a sign.
“I can see your wheels spinning, Paul.”
“I have great hopes for this church.”
“Rightfully so, but it wouldn’t hurt to slow down a little.”
“CCC didn’t have a soul under the age of sixty when we got here, Euny, and now we’ve got a youth group of twenty and young families are starting to show up. You know as well as I do that the future of the church is in its youth. And Sunday services are filling as well. We had 107 last Sunday.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Paul.”
“I’m not defending myself!”
She blinked.
He winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing’s come up that I can’t handle. You know, some people think it’s wrong to be ambitious for God’s work.” He stood up, knowing if he sat again, he would pour out his frustrations, and she might end up saying something that would weaken his resolve. “I’m going to take a shower and then hit the sack. I’ve got some early-morning visitations.”
“Are you going over to see Fergus Oslander and Mitzi Pike at Vine Hill Convalescent?”
“No.” He hadn’t been out to Vine Hill in weeks. He didn’t have time. “I’m going to drop by Stephen Decker’s job site.” He sensed her disquiet. “I can’t be in two places at once, Eunice. It would help if you’d go to see them.”
“I have been going. Every week since we arrived. But sometimes they need to see their pastor.”
“Have they asked for a visit?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’ll try to swing by and say hello to them on my way back into town.” Saying he would try didn’t mean he actually had to do it.
“Samuel goes every week, too.”
“Samuel is retired. He’s got plenty of time. He can pick and choose where he goes and who he sees. I haven’t got that luxury.” He felt that uncomfortable pinch of conscience again. He said good night and left her alone in the room.
Why couldn’t she understand that he had to make hard choices? It made more sense to spend the time with a man who could become a vital part of the congregation rather than with two sick old people living out their final years in a convalescent home. They couldn’t even attend services anymore and didn’t have so much as a dollar to spare for the cause of Christ. Besides, all they ever talked about was their dear old pastor, Henry Porter, and what a good man
he was. Porter may have been good, but he had also been ineffective.
Eunice was better with the old folks. He’d encourage her to keep going to see them. But he had to put his energy elsewhere. There were only twenty-four hours in a day, and he needed to use what time he had in cultivating relationships with men like Stephen Decker, who could build this church into something that would glorify God.
Stephen returned to Centerville Christian for the Sunday morning service. He took the program offered by a greeter and slipped into the back row. He hadn’t been to a church service since leaving the Salvation Army facility, and he wasn’t sure how comfortable he would feel in this one. He’d enjoyed the Wednesday evening Bible study, with Paul Hudson moving confidently through the Scriptures, explaining historical significance, literal meaning, and application. Maybe he’d learn something that could help him get through his days without getting the shakes.
Whoever was playing the piano must’ve had training. Leaning to one side, he spotted the pretty blonde in front. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her. Paul Hudson came in from the side door, went up the steps, and took the seat to the left of the pulpit. The blonde pianist finished the last few bars of music, rose, and took her seat in the front row.
For the next hour, Stephen absorbed every word said. Hudson was speaking from Romans, and the sermon seemed designed for Stephen, addressing the struggles he’d been going through over the past five years. It was as though Hudson had an uncanny ability to look into his heart, and was using a laser to point out areas Stephen needed to change, while reminding him what he had learned over six months in an alcohol treatment center. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Rick always added, “Thy will, not mine, be done.” Stephen remembered the essentials. He admitted he was powerless over the alcohol and that his life had become unmanageable because of his addiction. He believed that only Jesus Christ could restore him to sanity. But what had happened to the decision he’d made six months ago to turn his will and his life over to Jesus Christ?
“Hey! Stephen Decker came back, Charlie!” Sally called to her husband. “I told you I didn’t chase him away!”
“So, invite him to sit down and give him a menu, why don’t’cha?”
“Would you like a booth, or would you prefer to sit at the counter?”
Stephen looked around and saw one booth left. It was back in the corner. If he took it, he would have complete privacy. He could eat alone and then go home again to his empty apartment and brood some more. “Counter,” he said.
Grinning, Sally waved her hand. “Pick your spot.”
He took a stool near the middle and opened the menu she handed him.
“Our special this evening is roast beef with garlic mashed potatoes and baby carrots. It comes with a fresh-baked roll and your choice of homemade minestrone soup or a garden salad.”
“Sounds good. I’ll take the soup and a cup of coffee whenever you get around to it.”
“Coming right up.” She clipped the order to the wheel over the cook’s counter. Turning, she picked up an orange-capped coffeepot from a burner and a white mug from a rack. She set the cup in front of him and filled it. “How’s the construction business?”
“Booming.”
She set out a napkin and put a knife, fork, and spoon on it. “That exciting, huh?”
“You know anything about the churches in the area?”
Charlie banged his bell. Sally picked up the soup and set it down in front of Stephen. “Well, you’ve got your pick. Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, and everything in between. We even have a mosque a few miles down the road, and some Buddhists who meet in a little shrine out on McFarlane. But if you’re asking for a recommendation, I say Centerville Christian.” She lowered her voice. “It always had good solid Bible teaching, if you know what I mean. Dry as bones, though. Not much going on. Just a handful of old-timers in the congregation up until a year ago when they got a new pastor.” She straightened. “Centerville Christian. If you want a happening place, that’s where you should go. Charlie and I go there, don’t we, honey? At least, when I can get him out of the kitchen. Pastor Paul preaches there. You met him the day you came in for breakfast.”
“The jogger?”
“That’s him. If you’re interested, you can attend the Bible study tomorrow night. Meets at seven-thirty in their fellowship hall. Charlie and I can’t go because we’re both working. But we would if we could.” She nodded toward an elderly couple sitting in a booth. “That’s Samuel and Abby Mason. They’ve been members for years. In fact, Samuel’s one of the elders who called Pastor Paul to the pulpit. Hey, Samuel, what’re you studying on Wednesday nights?”
“We just started the book of Ephesians.”
“Got room for one more? I got a live one on the line here.”
“Plenty of room.” He gave Stephen a nod.
Stephen nodded back.
“There, Decker,” Sally said, grinning again. “You’re all signed up.”
“Assuming he wants to go!” Charlie yelled from the back.
“He asked me about churches, you old coot!”
“Don’t you have some dishes to wash?”
Sally winked at Stephen as she called back, “He’s got to get his dinner and eat it first.”
Charlie slid a plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and baby carrots onto the cook’s counter and banged the bell.
Stephen laughed with the others supping at the counter. As he ate dinner, he noticed how Sally talked with her husband as she washed dishes and put them in sterilizing racks. She laughed at something he said. He came out and carried the loaded rack into the back room for her. And then the banter would begin again. Needling without the sting.
Sipping his coffee, Stephen felt lonely again. Even in the middle of a crowded diner, his walls were going up. And he knew if he allowed himself to stay inside them, he’d self-destruct. Maybe the Bible study would be a good start.
If he was going to build a new life, he was going to have to build new habits.
CHAPTER 4
PAUL SPOTTED the contractor he’d met briefly at Charlie’s Diner. He was entering the fellowship hall with a Bible tucked under his arm. Paul wove his way through the gathering of regulars. “Stephen Decker, isn’t it?”
Decker’s brows rose slightly. “You’ve got a good memory.”
“It’s good to have you join us.” He’d worked out a method of name associations while on staff at Mountain High. People felt accepted when their names were remembered. It made them feel significant and cared for, and gave them a sense of belonging. When he’d met Stephen Decker at Charlie’s, he set memory triggers: deck, contractor, builder, Decker, Stephen, first martyr. It was also important to learn what skills people possessed and how they could best serve the church.
They shook hands. “Don’t let the noise get to you,” Paul laughed. “We start off our Bible studies with refreshments. Gives people a chance to mingle. Let me introduce you around. Did you see the notice about the study in the Centerville Gazette?”
“No. Sally told me about it.”
“I’ll have to thank her.” Paul ushered Stephen around and introduced him to everyone, but focused on people with whom he’d have common interests. Matt Carlson was a roofer. Phil Sturgeon was a plumber. Tom Ingersol was an electrician. All had been involved in various projects around Centerville and as far north as Sacramento, and had become new and valuable members of the church. An architect who was also a contractor would be invaluable as CCC out-grew its sanctuary and fellowship hall.
Stephen shook hands with Tom. “You did the wiring on my Vine Hill project.”
“Sure did. That’s some house you’re building up there. Who’s moving into it? Bill Gates?”
Decker laughed. “It’s not quite that grand.”
“Bigger than anything else we have around this neck of the woods.”
With Decker assimilated, Paul felt free to head for the podium, where he made a last-minute check of his notes. “Okay, folks, let’s get started. We have a lot to cover this evening.” He counted heads as people took seats. Thirty-eight. Good mixture of men and women, middle-aged and older.
He hoped the complainers who continued to come would behave them-selves. He didn’t want any of them beating newcomers over the head with doctrine. The sooner the church grew, the better. He wanted to revamp the board of elders. If this church was going to grow, men like Otis Harrison and Hollis Sawyer were going to have to retire from leadership. They lived in the past, and Paul was sick of trying to reason with them. If they had their way, this church would remain the same today as it had been for the past forty years.
“Let’s open in prayer.” Paul prayed fervently that all those present would have open hearts and minds to the lessons God was about to give them, that they would assume the role Jesus had for them, that they would accept God’s leadership in the days ahead, and that the Lord would bless them for their obedience.
After reviewing the historical context of Ephesians, Paul moved through the book verse by verse, heavily emphasizing that each person in attendance was chosen of God and should never cease to be thankful. He further stressed that wisdom and revelation would enlighten them as to what service the Lord had created them to do for His church. Samuel Mason raised his hand. Paul ignored him. How many times did he have to explain this was a class and not a discussion group? He had worked out his lesson plan so that it would last exactly fifty minutes, leaving ten minutes for prayer requests at the end. He didn’t have time for interruptions or going off on some rabbit trail of discussion.
As the end of the hour approached, Paul closed his B
Tucking the prayer requests into his Bible, Paul prepared to talk with those who lingered. Now was the time for questions. Several people came up to tell him what a wonderful teacher he was, and how he made the Bible come to life.
“God brought you here, Pastor Paul,” Edna Welty said. “Henry Porter was a good man, but he put me to sleep preaching the same thing over and over again.”
Samuel and Abby joined them. “Henry Porter taught about grace, Edna,” Abby said quietly.
Samuel looked into Paul’s eyes. “A lesson that bears teaching again and again because it’s beyond the understanding of men.”
Paul forced a smile. How long would he have to listen to the plaudits for the old pastor? Did Samuel Mason and the other two elders not yet realize that Reverend Porter had almost led this pathetic little flock into complete oblivion? “Those who receive God’s grace are also called to greater responsibility.” Most of the parishioners had come to church out of habit, not out of faith. Faith was living and active, not boring and complacent.
“Yes, but the work comes out of gratitude, not obligation.”
Samuel Mason was like gum on his shoe! He couldn’t shake him off. “Gratitude, yes, but people with a calling upon their lives are useful and vital.”
“Every member of the body of Christ is vital.”
“But not all are useful. Some just come along for the ride, giving nothing back to the Lord who saved them.”
“Still, it’s important not to give the wrong idea.”
Paul’s confidence evaporated. “What wrong idea was I giving in my lesson this evening?” He had been so careful.
Abby looked distressed. “Oh, I don’t think that’s what Samuel is saying, Paul.”
Samuel didn’t amend his words or apologize. “Salvation is a free gift from God, not something we can earn through good works.”
“Faith without works is dead.” Paul hadn’t meant to sound so hard-edged, but Mason deserved a reprimand. The elder had no right to embarrass him. Who had graduated from seminary? Not Mason. Who had spent countless hours poring over the Bible preparing for this class? Who was pastor of this church now?
“Faith and works are interlocked,” Samuel said.
The old man was dogged. “A man is justified by works because they show his faith.”
“Abraham offered his son Isaac because he believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness. It was because of his faith that he was called the friend of God.”
Paul smiled stiffly. “Then we both agree, don’t we? We just have different ways of getting to the same conclusion.” He saw the troubled look in the old man’s eyes and leaned closer, speaking in a low tone. “We should end this conversation before others think we are quarreling. The last thing we want is a divisive spirit in the church.” He hoped that was enough to shut the old man up.
Abby’s face flushed deep red. “Now just a minute!”
“Enough said.” Samuel put his arm around her. “Good night, Paul.”
Mason sounded tired. Nine-thirty was probably past the old guy’s bedtime.
Paul felt a twinge of conscience as he watched the Masons leave the fellowship hall. They meant well. He didn’t want them to leave like this. As he started after them, a woman stepped into his path and said she’d been nourished by his teaching. Paul looked past her toward the door. The Masons were already gone, and it would be rude to brush past this woman. Maybe he’d call Samuel tomorrow and suggest they have lunch together. They needed to have a meeting of minds if the church was going to continue to grow. This church needed workers. Samuel should realize that better than anyone, considering the years of work he had put in keeping this church going. Why was he resisting now? Surely he wanted Centerville Christian Church to become a beacon in the community and not go on being a dead light bulb. Samuel Mason was an elder, but that didn’t give him the right to challenge Paul’s authority.
Locking the doors on the way out, Paul argued with his conscience on the short walk home to the parsonage. Eunice always waited up for him, but he didn’t want her getting wind of what had happened between him and the Masons. He thought he had his emotions completely under control when he walked in the front door and found Eunice mending Timmy’s coveralls. She glanced up with a smile and her eyebrows rose in question. Depressed, Paul dropped his binder and Bible on the desk. She could read him like a book. “Don’t ask.” He had blundered with Samuel and Abby and didn’t want Eunice to jump to their defense. She loved them like a second set of parents.
His father had told him to be careful how much he shared with his wife. “Women are so easily deceived,” he had said. Paul sank into his easy chair.
Euny went back to stitching up the torn seam of Timmy’s coveralls, but Paul wasn’t fooled. She was waiting for him to say something. Maybe he should talk to her, listen to her take on what had happened. She might be able to advise him on how to make amends without backing down on what he had been teaching.
“We had another newcomer tonight. Stephen Decker. An architect. He’s the one in charge of that mansion going up on Vine Hill road.” God was sovereign. It was no accident so many people involved in construction were coming to Centerville Christian Church. It was a sign.
“I can see your wheels spinning, Paul.”
“I have great hopes for this church.”
“Rightfully so, but it wouldn’t hurt to slow down a little.”
“CCC didn’t have a soul under the age of sixty when we got here, Euny, and now we’ve got a youth group of twenty and young families are starting to show up. You know as well as I do that the future of the church is in its youth. And Sunday services are filling as well. We had 107 last Sunday.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Paul.”
“I’m not defending myself!”
She blinked.
He winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing’s come up that I can’t handle. You know, some people think it’s wrong to be ambitious for God’s work.” He stood up, knowing if he sat again, he would pour out his frustrations, and she might end up saying something that would weaken his resolve. “I’m going to take a shower and then hit the sack. I’ve got some early-morning visitations.”
“Are you going over to see Fergus Oslander and Mitzi Pike at Vine Hill Convalescent?”
“No.” He hadn’t been out to Vine Hill in weeks. He didn’t have time. “I’m going to drop by Stephen Decker’s job site.” He sensed her disquiet. “I can’t be in two places at once, Eunice. It would help if you’d go to see them.”
“I have been going. Every week since we arrived. But sometimes they need to see their pastor.”
“Have they asked for a visit?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’ll try to swing by and say hello to them on my way back into town.” Saying he would try didn’t mean he actually had to do it.
“Samuel goes every week, too.”
“Samuel is retired. He’s got plenty of time. He can pick and choose where he goes and who he sees. I haven’t got that luxury.” He felt that uncomfortable pinch of conscience again. He said good night and left her alone in the room.
Why couldn’t she understand that he had to make hard choices? It made more sense to spend the time with a man who could become a vital part of the congregation rather than with two sick old people living out their final years in a convalescent home. They couldn’t even attend services anymore and didn’t have so much as a dollar to spare for the cause of Christ. Besides, all they ever talked about was their dear old pastor, Henry Porter, and what a good man
Eunice was better with the old folks. He’d encourage her to keep going to see them. But he had to put his energy elsewhere. There were only twenty-four hours in a day, and he needed to use what time he had in cultivating relationships with men like Stephen Decker, who could build this church into something that would glorify God.
Stephen returned to Centerville Christian for the Sunday morning service. He took the program offered by a greeter and slipped into the back row. He hadn’t been to a church service since leaving the Salvation Army facility, and he wasn’t sure how comfortable he would feel in this one. He’d enjoyed the Wednesday evening Bible study, with Paul Hudson moving confidently through the Scriptures, explaining historical significance, literal meaning, and application. Maybe he’d learn something that could help him get through his days without getting the shakes.
Whoever was playing the piano must’ve had training. Leaning to one side, he spotted the pretty blonde in front. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her. Paul Hudson came in from the side door, went up the steps, and took the seat to the left of the pulpit. The blonde pianist finished the last few bars of music, rose, and took her seat in the front row.
For the next hour, Stephen absorbed every word said. Hudson was speaking from Romans, and the sermon seemed designed for Stephen, addressing the struggles he’d been going through over the past five years. It was as though Hudson had an uncanny ability to look into his heart, and was using a laser to point out areas Stephen needed to change, while reminding him what he had learned over six months in an alcohol treatment center. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Rick always added, “Thy will, not mine, be done.” Stephen remembered the essentials. He admitted he was powerless over the alcohol and that his life had become unmanageable because of his addiction. He believed that only Jesus Christ could restore him to sanity. But what had happened to the decision he’d made six months ago to turn his will and his life over to Jesus Christ?