New Heart Church by Jim Barringer

  Chapter One

  I noticed one overpowering thing as I stepped onto the stage and strapped on my guitar: I was nervous.

  I’m sure that Danny was only trying to do me a favor when he told the whole crowd of nearly seventy-five people that I was new and was going to be playing guitar, and I’m sure that they all meant well when they clapped enthusiastically for me, but all it really did was drive home the fact that I had never played for a crowd this big before.

  Everything went wrong. I came in two beats too early on the very first song, sending Elizabeth and Jake into a tailspin as they tried to catch up with me. Danny, unsure of where any of us were, chose a random moment to begin singing. We caught up with him quickly, but by then the rest of the congregation was confused, and seemed really hesitant as they sang along. The next song should have been easy, but I was so rattled that my hands weren’t obeying me, and I dragged the tempo down. What should have been an upbeat, happy song ended up plodding along. By that point, I was ready to just set the guitar down and walk away.

  The one time I looked up, embarrassed, I almost made eye contact with Stanley. I say almost because his eyes were closed, and he was singing, loudly and passionately, obviously believing whatever he was singing. Somehow, I was reassured by the idea that even my colossal mistakes weren’t enough to throw him off, and that calmed my nerves enough to let me settle in and focus.

  The last two songs went as well as they could have, but when Danny told everyone to bow their heads and pray at the end of our set, I couldn’t get off the stage fast enough. Slinking toward a seat at the back of the room, I plopped down miserably, angry and embarrassed at myself. I’m sure that Danny preached a great sermon, but I didn’t remember most of it. The only thing I remember was a few sentences toward the end.

  “There is no greater love than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends,” Danny said, looking up from the Bible he held in one hand. “I think most of us could get behind that. There’s something great and noble in laying down your life for a friend. The question I want to pose is this: are you willing to be the friend in need? Are you willing to let someone else lay down their life for you?”

  That reminded me of what Stanley had asked me, about whether I thought I was worth less than seventeen dollars. The thing is, I thought he was wrong. I didn’t think there was any harm in wanting to provide for myself. I couldn’t go around accepting handouts my entire life, could I? That wasn’t the way the world was supposed to operate, not the way I understood it, anyway. But Stanley obviously believed something quite different, and here was Danny spouting the same idea, while seventy-five people listened, nodding their heads in agreement. What did they know that I didn’t?

  I was determined to burn off as quickly as I could at the end of the service, and when Danny asked everyone to bow their heads and pray again, I quietly stood, making for the door. Somehow, impossibly, Stanley had preempted me, and stood just outside the doorway. As I passed, quietly because people were still praying, he gently took me by the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Eli.”

  The earlier anger and embarrassment surged up in me again, and my face turned red. “Don’t talk like that. I played terribly.”

  “God used you anyway. It was a good morning for worship.”

  “Well, tell God to settle me down next time so I don’t embarrass him in front of dozens of people.” I pushed past Stanley and stomped down the hall to the stairs, thudding down the two flights to my bedroom.

  I kicked off my shoes and flung myself on the bed, suddenly exhausted. I had publicly flopped in front of people before, several times while giving speeches and once during a play in high school, but never had I been quite so furious at myself. I felt, even more so than I had after that basketball game in the park, like I had let my friends down, that I should have done much better.

  Of course, infuriatingly, a polite knock sounded on my door a few moments later. I glared at the ceiling, silently willing the person to go away, but of course that never happened around here. After another round of knocking I hauled myself off my bed and swung the door open.

  It was Jake. “Hey, man. I just wanted to say thanks for playing with us this morning. You want to jam later tonight?”

  “Tonight? Er…” I didn’t have anything else planned – obviously. So why was I hesitating? “Yeah, alright. What do you play?”

  “I was trained on blues, but I’ll groove with anything. How does seven o’clock sound?”

  “Sounds good. See you then.”

  As I watched him walk away, I was perplexed and annoyed both. I didn’t understand why everyone here – Stanley, Danny, now Jake – seemed determined to like me, determined to think the best about me. In any of the other bands I’d ever played with, if I’d flopped as badly as I had this morning, the drummer would have been banging on my door just the way Jake did, only he would have been chewing me out for playing so terribly. Jake, on the other hand, had not only thanked me, but had wanted to play with me again. Stanley, after I made him look like a fool in front of his friends on the basketball court, paid my admission to the aquarium. I deserved so much worse than what they were giving me, and it was infuriating to me that they wouldn’t simply be angry at me, the way I felt they should be.

  More than that, I didn’t understand why they were doing it. Maybe it’s just that they were genuinely nice people, but it felt like more than that, like they had made it their life’s mission to hammer me with kindness. But for what purpose? I was perfectly happy to hang out in my apartment and be anonymous in this building, but the people I had met refused to let me. Why?

  After a few hours of solid moping, I headed up to the big room on the fifth floor, where Jake was already waiting, warming up with a bluesy cadence. When he saw me come in, he started to stand up, but I waved him back down. “Keep playing,” I told him, pulling my guitar over my head and adjusting the strap on my shoulders. Closing my eyes and breathing in, I swayed back and forth with the rhythm before cutting loose with a solo that any of the great blues players would have been proud of. We played in the same groove for about ten minutes, trading solos, before bringing our improvised song to a close.

  “Man, that was great,” Jake said, wiping his face. “No one around here plays like that.”

  “I didn’t know I could,” I laughed. “I haven’t ever played the blues before.”

  “Sounded like it came naturally to you. You know what they used to say, either you have the blues or you don’t.”

  “I guess I do, at least lately.”

  “Heh. Well, what else can you do?”

  “Lay down a groove; we’ll go from there.”

  Five songs and a little over an hour later, I sat down on a stool, hands aching, unused to the strain since I hadn’t been practicing as much lately. Clenching and unclenching my fist, I looked up at Jake. “How long have you been doing this?”

  “What, drumming? Pretty much my whole life, that I can remember. Parents had me in lessons by the time I was seven, and I kept going through high school. I did marching band, did drum corps, and just kind of stuck with it.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “I like it,” he said with a shrug and a grin. “How long you been playing guitar?”

  “Seven years now, I guess. Started on bass, went to guitar, never looked back.”

  “Pretty cool. Man, I feel like I’ve known you for months, and all we did was play together.”

  I suppressed a laugh. “Yeah, music is pretty awesome like that.”

  “Yeah, it definitely is. What brings you to the area?”

  “Graduated from college, parents wanted me out of the house. Maybe you knew my aunt Helen; she used to live here, but recently got transferred and is still paying on her room. So here I am.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I’m currently holding auditions for the role of Eli’s employer.
”

  Jake smiled. “I’d offer to help if I could. I don’t think my company has any openings at the moment, but if anything comes available, get me a resume and I’ll put your name in.”

  “Thanks, that’s really nice of you.” It wasn’t until later that I realized I didn’t know what he did, and had totally forgotten to ask.

  “Yeah, man, anytime. Hey, what do you usually do on Friday nights?”

  “I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, so I don’t really have a ‘usual’ anything yet.”

  “Why not make your first one? Fridays are when we have our mens’ Bible study up here. Danny teaches and then we do something manly.”

  “Like what, grill in your boxers?”

  Jake laughed so hard he nearly fell off his drum stool. “We haven’t yet, but you never know.”

  “Well, thanks for the offer, but I probably won’t take you up on it. I’m not really the Bible study kind of guy.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not into the whole Jesus thing. I’m not against it, you know, no disrespect to you or what you believe. I’m just not really interested.”

  “Have you ever heard what Christianity is all about?”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ve been to church a couple dozen times.”

  “Is your life the way you want it to be?”

  “Well…I mean, no, not really. But I don’t see what that has to do with Jesus.”

  “Everything, man. You should talk to Danny or Stanley about it sometime; maybe you’ll be surprised what they could tell you.”

  “What, you can’t tell me yourself?”

  He shrugged. “They’re the ones who are gifted speakers and thinkers. Me? I just hit stuff really hard.”

  “Well, thanks. It was fun playing with you.”

  “Want to do it again later this week?”

  “Sure. Come by anytime. I’ll probably be there, unless some sort of miracle happens and I land a job in the next few days.”

  “Will do. You know, if it’s miracles you’re after, Jesus might not be a bad person to ask.”

  “I’m sure he’s got better things to do than help me find a place to work, but who knows, maybe I’ll give him a shot and see what happens.”

  “You know what the Bible says, man. ‘Taste and see that the Lord is good.’ Psalm 34:8.”

  “Thanks, Jake. You take it easy.”

  “Peace, man.”

  I don’t know exactly what prompted me to try, but as I lay in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, watching the moonlight dance through the trees and cast wobbling shadows on the far wall, I decided I would take Jake’s advice. “Uh…dear Jesus,” I began, hesitatingly, feeling silly. “I need a job. So please…you know, help me get one. Thanks.”

  I didn’t know what else to say, and honestly, I didn’t even feel any better as I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me.