A Moment of Weakness

The film continued with additional clips of the other students who’d died last year, followed by a montage of news headlines featuring Hamilton High’s worst criminal element. The video ended with the quote from Alexander Hamilton. Those who stand for nothing . . . fall for anything.

  Wendell waited for the lights to come on. The room was quiet. Not much, but something of an improvement. “That was the old Hamilton High School.” He looked around. “Today you are sitting in the auditorium of the new Hamilton High.”

  He spotted Alicia. Even from so far away he could feel her support, her prayers. She wouldn’t stand beside him in this season. But however afraid this made her, in her heart she would always be for him. Wendell knew that.

  Determination flooded his veins and stirred his voice. “This school was named after one of our founding fathers—Alexander Hamilton. He was a man of faith and conviction. A man who did not believe in wasting his chance.”

  Wendell noticed a kid in the fourth row roll his eyes and whisper something to the girl next to him. Wendell pressed on. He could tell them about the club, tell them about the reason for the club. But this was where he needed to be most careful. Especially during school hours. “From now on you have the choice to be people who do not believe in wasting your chance, either.” He paused. Facts, Wendell . . . stick to the facts. “There will be a voluntary after-school program called Raise the Bar. I want to stress that this program is voluntary. But the goal of the program is to change your life.”

  Wendell didn’t need notes. “Raise the Bar will be a time of looking into the Bible for wisdom and direction. I will lead each session, and afterward, there will be a time of prayer.” He hesitated.

  There was so much more he wanted to say. If he could, he would tell them how miracles could happen if they would take their troubles to God. And how it was his belief not only as a Christian but as an educator that Hamilton High needed redemption.

  But even without his saying any of that, muffled laughter came from a group of freshman boys at the right side of the auditorium.

  Wendell ignored them.

  He wanted to tell them how statistics showed that faith in God improves test scores and a student’s outlook on life and school. Instead, he chose his words with great intention. He didn’t tell them that Scripture backed those statistics. Or that God promised in the book of Jeremiah that He had great plans for the students.

  Wendell looked around the auditorium. Maybe it was his imagination or his strong belief that this was what the kids needed, but suddenly the room seemed quieter. For the most part, the students were listening. At least Wendell thought so. His voice grew steady again. “If you—each of you—want to win . . . if you want a different life than what you just saw on the screen, show up at Room 422 at four-thirty today, after practices and clubs let out.”

  He looked around the room again. “If you don’t play a sport, if you’re not in a club, you can choose to stick around and do your homework. Then come to the meeting.” He paused. “What do you have to lose?”

  He explained how the Raise the Bar program would never conflict with tutoring, since it was on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “We’ll have free snacks for anyone who comes.” Wendell noticed several kids raise their eyebrows. Free food was something for these students. A few whispered amongst themselves.

  Wendell took a step closer to the edge of the stage. He wasn’t finished. There was something he had to say before he could end the assembly. “Hear me loud and clear about one thing.” He made eye contact with every section of students. “The Raise the Bar program is voluntary. No one is insisting you attend, and you will have no repercussions if you do not attend. This is merely an option. Raise the Bar . . . or not.”

  When the assembly was over, Alicia found him and gave him a quick hug. “That was perfect.” His words seemed to have emboldened her some. After Alicia moved on, other teachers approached him.

  One of the math teachers leaned close. “Mr. Quinn, I’m concerned.” He whispered his words—as if the political correctness police might be lurking nearby. “What you’re doing is illegal.” He allowed a quick smile. “But I say more power to you. Nothing else is working.”

  Five teachers approached to tell him he was tempting criminal charges. “You’re not considering the rights of atheists in this room.” His lead science teacher was furious. “No one has any right to mention God in a student assembly.”

  “I’m only giving students an option.” Wendell was ready for this. “You want to start an Atheist Club, by all means do so. Get a proposal to me.”

  Lonnie Phillips, his vice principal, was one of the last to pull him aside. “You could get us all on the front page with this one.” She raised her brow. “Truth is, I like the idea. But let’s be honest, Wendell. I’ll be surprised if one student shows up.”

  For the rest of the morning, Wendell worked in his office and tried to wish away the hours. Other teachers came in to share their concerns or enthusiasm for the program. Everyone was talking, for sure.

  At lunchtime he walked through the cafeteria, making himself available for the students. One after another they came to him. “Mr. Quinn, does God really care if I read the Bible?” And the few angry students. “You can’t talk about God in school. You know that, Mr. Quinn.” Or “What are we reading in the Bible first?” And “Mr. Quinn, thank you for this morning. I’ll be there.” Or even the occasional “I don’t believe in God, but I’ll be there. You got a lot to prove, Mr. Quinn.”

  Positive or negative, Wendell listened. This was his first hint that maybe—just maybe—students really had truly paid attention earlier.

  Finally it was four-thirty. Wendell got caught in a meeting with a parent, explaining that her son had been arrested the day before school started. By the time Wendell carried his Bible into Room 422, he was six minutes late. He rounded the corner and saw students gathered in the hallway near the door.

  What’s this? Wendell hesitated, then picked up his pace. Were students protesting already? He eased his way through the crowd. Inside the classroom every desk was taken. Students lined the room, two and three deep. Among them was his son Jordy.

  Chick-fil-A had provided sandwiches for the meeting, but clearly they hadn’t brought enough. The group standing outside the door was not protesting. They were trying to be included.

  Tears stung Wendell’s eyes. He took the spot at the front of the room and struggled to find his voice. When he could speak, he prayed out loud. “Look what You’ve done, Lord. You brought these students here. Now . . . please, speak to them. That this might be the first day of the rest of their lives. Good, beautiful, productive lives lived out for You.”

  A boy sitting up front took attendance as they got started. Fifty-eight students filled the room. Wendell couldn’t believe it. This had to be Jordy’s doing. His son smiled big in his direction. Deep breath, Wendell told himself.

  He took his worn Bible and opened it. He loved this old book. The notes in the margin, the highlighted areas. The thin worn pages. His kids wanted him to get a Bible app for his phone. Wendell wouldn’t hear of it. He pulled out his notes. No place to start like the beginning. He steadied his voice. First . . . “God is real. And God created the world. He created all that you see and He created you.”

  At the back of the room, Alicia slipped in and leaned against the wall. She stayed only ten minutes. Whatever was going through her head and her heart, Wendell would have to deal with it later. This was for the kids.

  When the meeting was finished, an enthusiasm and energy filled the room. A dozen students approached him with questions about salvation and sin and forgiveness and redemption. Wendell could hardly believe it. He had expected maybe a dozen students and at least one who would challenge him. But none of that happened. It had to be the Lord at work. How else could he explain it?

  With God at the center of this, nothing could stop it.

  After the last students left the classroom, Wendell returned to his office. Jordy had already promis
ed to make dinner for his siblings, so Wendell could take his time getting home.

  Basking in the light of all that had happened today, Wendell closed his office door. Once more he took the old football off the shelf and read Les’s words.

  In this moment.

  Yet if the media got wind of what he was doing . . . if the school district found out and ordered him to stop, then Wendell could be forced into silence. But he had a plan for that, too. He had already looked into his options, already Googled who could help him if things fell apart.

  There was a lawyer in Indianapolis who had won several religious freedom cases in the last few years. Given the very real possibility he would need to call the man, Wendell had researched the guy. A Christian with a kind but outspoken faith in God. The man was a successful litigator. Someone you’d want on your side. Wendell had memorized his name.

  The lawyer was Luke Baxter.

  • • •

  ASHLEY BAXTER BLAKE took the call ten minutes before the kids would get home from school. They’d been back for a week now. The routine was familiar again.

  As soon as Ashley answered the phone, she knew something was wrong. It was her sister-in-law Reagan. She was crying. “Ashley . . . I’m so sorry. I had to call.”

  For an instant, Ashley felt her heart drop. The Baxter family had been through enough tragedy over the past decade. Please, God, let everything be okay. Please. Her prayer came even as she got the word out. “Reagan!” Ashley had been slicing apples and string cheese for the kids. She leaned against the kitchen counter. “What happened? What is it?”

  “Oh, it’s not anything like that.” Defeat rang in Reagan’s voice. She sniffed a few times and regained some control. “It’s Luke and me. It’s us.”

  Oh no. Ashley hung her head. Reagan and Luke had struggled before. This wasn’t a car accident or an illness. But it was bad, all the same. “Tell me.”

  “It’s his work. He’s never home. I’m just so tired of it.” Reagan sounded like her heart was breaking. “He spends more time at the office every month.” She sniffed a few times. “First it was Monday nights. Then it was a few nights a week.” A shaky sigh came from her. “Now it’s every day except Sunday.” A sob cut her off before she seemed to find her words again. “I know he’s important. He’s a big-time religious freedom fighter. People need him. I get that.” She sniffed again. “But the kids and I . . . We need him, too.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure how much more I can take, Ash.”

  “Awww, I hear you, Reagan. I do.” Ashley felt the urgency. “Have you talked to Luke? Told him how you feel?”

  “I’ve tried.” Defeat filled her tone. “He’s too busy to listen.” She started crying again. “I had to call.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Ashley wished she and Reagan could talk in person. But her brother lived nearly an hour away, and even now she could see Devin, Amy and Janessa walking up the driveway. “Let’s do this. I’ll call you back in half an hour and we can make a plan.”

  Reagan agreed, and by the time Ashley called her back Reagan sounded more in control. “What you asked me before made me think. If I tell him it’s important, he’ll listen to me. I know Luke.”

  Relief took the edge off. Ashley smiled. “That’s what I think.”

  “I’ll call him now.” A new determination came from Reagan. “Maybe he and I can talk tonight.”

  “Yes. Good plan.” Ashley paused. “I’ll pray that it’ll be a breakthrough. Then maybe call me later. Let me know how it goes.”

  “I will.” Reagan’s voice held the beginning of a smile. “It’ll be okay. God will give me the words.”

  “There you go!” Ashley had taken the call outside, in case it needed to be private. Now that it was over, she headed inside. The kids were doing homework at the kitchen table. Amy looked up, her eyes tinged with fear. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, honey.” Ashley’s answer was quick on purpose. She smiled at her niece. “Aunt Reagan and I were just catching up.”

  “Okay.” Worry lingered in the girl’s eyes for a few beats. Then she returned to her schoolwork.

  Ashley felt for the girl. Poor Amy. More than any of the kids, Ashley’s young niece was very aware of potential bad news. And of course. After losing her parents and sisters in the terrible car accident years ago, Amy was bound to be sensitive. Ashley walked closer and put her hands on Amy’s shoulders. “Math today?”

  Amy nodded. “First test tomorrow.”

  “Well, if it’s like your other math tests, you’ll ace it no problem.”

  Amy grinned up at her. “You think so?”

  Ashley kissed the top of Amy’s head. “Absolutely.”

  She made her way around the table. Devin was working on flash cards for a science exam. “You and Dad can quiz me later.” He grinned at Ashley. “I feel good about it. But still . . .”

  “Flash cards are our favorite.” Ashley loved that Devin had his older brother Cole’s confidence. They were different in many ways. Cole was more of a leader. But Devin was learning, and in moments like this there was no denying they were siblings.

  “Look at my work, Mommy.” Janessa waved Ashley to her end of the table. “I’m coloring a picture for you.”

  Once a week Janessa had spelling homework. But Ashley’s heart soared over the fact that her little girl still had plenty of time to color. Like Ashley, Janessa loved to create. Ashley pulled up a chair and studied her artwork. “Tell me about it.”

  “Well.” Janessa drew a long dramatic breath, like her explanation was coming to life in that very moment. “The blue trees are because the sky is shining on them.” She lifted her eyes to Ashley. “That’s pretty, right?”

  “So pretty.”

  A half hour later Ashley was still at the kitchen table with the kids when Cole and Landon got home. Dinner and laughter and details about everyone’s days came next. In between the moments she didn’t want to miss, Ashley did as she’d said she would.

  She prayed.

  God, please open Luke’s heart. Help him to see the changes he needs to make for Reagan and the kids. Yes, he was working for his faith. But if he won cases at the expense of his family, the wins would all end up as one big irredeemable loss.

  Nothing more.

  Janessa was in bed and the others were playing badminton with Landon out back when Reagan finally called back.

  “Ashley!” Her voice was lighter than air. “You were right! I should’ve talked to him sooner.”

  “What did he say?” Ashley loved that her sister-in-law trusted her. Luke was one of Ashley’s best friends. From the beginning Ashley could say that about Reagan also. A soft laugh came from Reagan. “Well, let’s just say he’s very sorry. He’s going to work less and the two of us are going to date more.” Her tone grew more serious. “Really, Ash. He had tears in his eyes. He’s going to change. I believe it.”

  The conversation lasted another few minutes, before Ashley hung up and joined Landon and the kids. She was grateful Luke had so easily come to see things Reagan’s way. It was Luke’s nature to give everything to his job. The balance he was promising Reagan now was exactly what he needed.

  Ashley could only pray that over time Luke wouldn’t forget his promise.

  3

  Anger had long been Cami Nelson’s constant companion. So it was that—and no other reason—that caused her to be one of the first students through the door of Room 422. Not because she was curious about God or because she wanted to know about the praying Principal Quinn had talked about at the assembly. Or even because she had the slightest belief something hopeful might come from attending.

  No, Cami was angry. Angry that Principal Quinn was starting something so ridiculous, and angry that some of her classmates were actually interested in the program. Angry for a hundred other reasons.

  As if God could possibly make a difference for any of them at Hamilton High.

  Besides, Cami was on Facebook. She watched the news. It was illegal to talk about Go
d at school—or in any public place, for that matter. If Principal Quinn thought he was going to get away with this, he was wrong. Cami would call the police herself.

  Raise the Bar. Ludicrous. If they were going to raise the bar at Hamilton High, Principal Quinn would have to personally put the families of a thousand kids back together. All the kids Cami knew at Hamilton were like her. Too angry to care about homework or whether they might get pregnant or overdose on drugs. At least those things made you feel alive. School certainly didn’t. And God wouldn’t, either.

  Cami didn’t believe God was real. He had stopped being real a long time ago. This was her junior year at Hamilton High, nearly two years since Cami came home one afternoon and found her mother’s note.

  I’ve moved on. You deserve better.

  What her mom meant was that she’d taken up with some married guy from their church twenty minutes east of Indianapolis, a guy she’d met during a midweek Bible class. Church girl on Sundays, home wrecker on Wednesdays. That’s what Cami’s dad said.

  Cami knew the note also meant her mother, Audrey Nelson, was tired of sneaking around, hiding and tricking people into thinking she was a good little church member. Tired of lying that she was at the gym or the grocery store or the library every Monday. That was Cami’s favorite one. The library. As if her mother had been spending her days reading books.

  That day her mother must’ve been tired of it all, so she wrote the note and she left. And that was that. Cami and her twin sisters, Ensley and Ellie, hadn’t seen their mother since. Their father saw her a few times at court during the divorce and custody hearing. From what Cami understood it wasn’t much of an ordeal.

  Cami’s mother signed away her rights and left the courtroom without saying goodbye. At least that’s what her father reported. Left with no regret, no remorse. No message for the girls. Just signed the papers and left. When Cami and her sisters came home from school their father blurted out the news.

  “We’re done with your mother.” He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top and drank down half of it.