He’d started out okay and then stumbled over that one, which had given him the excuse not to do a thorough searching and fearless moral inventory of his life. It was still easier for him to take Kathryn’s inventory than look at the havoc his own behavior had caused in their marriage and their lives. He’d gone back to living by old habits, rationalizing and justifying his behavior and attitudes.
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
Stephen winced. Even sitting in the back row—head down, eyes shut—he saw his shortcomings and the areas of his life that needed cleansing. It was easy not to face up to things when you stayed away from people who might actually tell you the truth. He had held off coming to church because he thought he was strong enough to go it alone. And why did he want to go it alone? Because he didn’t want to have to apologize if he fell off the wagon. Alone, he could pretend he was accountable to no one. Alone, he could go on pretending his life was his own, that his actions didn’t affect anyone but himself, that what he did didn’t matter. He could view one drink as a small slip instead of a hard tumble into sin.
I’m here and I’m listening, Jesus. You know I’m fighting for my life. There isn’t a soul in this place who knows where I’ve been or what I’m struggling with. Why should they care? I sat here in the back because I thought I could get up quietly, unnoticed, and walk out that door and do whatever I please without anyone knowing the difference. But You’d know, Lord. You know. That’s why everything that’s coming out of this guy’s mouth is cutting me to the quick. I can’t make it on my own. I’m setting myself up for another fall if I try to make it alone. And every time I fall, it’s a little harder to get back up.
The congregation stood. Disoriented, Stephen followed suit, bowing his head as Hudson prayed for all those present, that they would heed the calling of Christ on their lives, whatever that calling might entail.
When the service ended, Stephen lingered. Instead of making a beeline for his car, he went out the side door and down the steps to the courtyard, where coffee and cookies were being served. He recognized a few people. An elderly gentleman approached and extended his hand. “Glad to have you join us. My name’s Samuel Mason and this is my wife, Abigail.”
“Stephen Decker.”
“Are you new to the community, Mr. Decker?”
“Call me Stephen, ma’am.”
“Only if you call me Abby, Mr. Decker.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He laughed. “Abby.” She had blue eyes that glowed from the inside. “Yes, I’m new to Centerville. Temporary relocation. I’m building a house up on Vine Hill.”
“Oh, you’re a carpenter, then.”
“More like a jack-of-all-trades.”
Samuel chuckled. “Mr. Decker is being modest, Abby. He’s the architect and contractor. Am I correct? I read about you in the Sacramento Bee. You built several homes in Granite Bay, as I remember. One was purchased by a movie star.”
The article had been written almost two years ago. “You have a long memory.”
“I liked the looks of the house.”
“What movie star?” Abby said.
“Nobody you’d recognize,” Samuel said. “We don’t attend many movies.”
“Last one we went to was Return to Snowy River.”
Stephen laughed with them.
Paul Hudson approached, the pretty blonde beside him, a little boy in a neat Sunday suit holding her hand. “Stephen, good to see you again.” They shook hands. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Eunice. Eunice, this is Stephen Decker. He dropped in on the Wednesday night Bible study last week. I hope you’ll keep coming.”
“I plan to.”
“You haven’t made it to the refreshment table yet, Mr. Decker,” Eunice said. “Can I get you something?”
“Don’t trouble yourself.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.” When she smiled up at him, he was caught off guard by the shock of attraction. He’d never felt a jolt like that, even in the early days with Kathryn. “Timmy and I were on our way to the plate of cookies.”
Others joined their small party. They offered small talk and friendly greetings to make an outsider feel welcome.
Eunice handed Stephen a cup of punch and a small plate on which were several homemade cookies. His fingers brushed hers accidentally. “I enjoyed your music, Eunice.”
“Thank you.” She blushed.
Was he staring?
An old man with a cane and a sour look interrupted. “Excuse me, Paul, but I’d like a word with you.”
Stephen caught the irritation in Hudson’s eyes before he covered it. “Of course, Hollis. But first, let me introduce you to Stephen Decker. Stephen, this is Hollis Sawyer, one of our elders.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m sure,” Hollis said in perfunctory fashion before he glowered at Hudson again. “I’ll only take a minute of your precious time, and then you can come back to your hobnobbing.”
Paul Hudson’s face reddened. He extended his arm and turned aside with the old man.
“Oh dear,” Abby said softly.
“If you’ll excuse me, Stephen.” Samuel joined the two men heading for the edge of the gathering.
It was obvious Hollis Sawyer was upset about something, and Eunice was distressed as well. An elderly lady drew Abby Mason aside. Eunice glanced toward her husband again, and bit her lip.
“Where did you study music, Eunice?”
She looked up at him. “Excuse me?”
“Music. Where did you study?”
She said the name of Midwest something or other. He’d never heard of it.
Stephen nodded toward the three men talking near the front corner of the church building. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Your husband looks like a man who can handle himself in a crisis. Besides, it’s refreshing for someone like me to know everyone in a church isn’t perfect.”
Hollis turned and hobbled away. He jammed his cane into the ground with every step. Samuel said something to Hudson. Hudson’s head came up and he said something back.
“We’re far from perfect,” Eunice said softly.
Stephen smiled wryly. “Ah, then, maybe there is space for a divorced recovering alcoholic.”
She looked up at him. “That’s not the sort of information I would expect anyone to share on first acquaintance.”
He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily and gave a soft laugh. “No, it isn’t, and I’m not exactly sure why I did.” He never blurted out private business. Kathryn complained all the time about how little he shared of himself. She claimed that was one of the dozen reasons she decided to file for divorce. The trouble was every time he did share something, she’d used it as a weapon against him.
Now, he had the programmed excuse: anonymity was an integral part of his recovery. He had to fight his own demons without adding the beast of public condemnation to the mix. So what was he doing blabbing his personal life to this young woman? He didn’t know her from Adam, and he’d just put information in her hands that could ruin him in the community as well as the church before he’d even tried to sink in roots.
Maybe he was hoping the opportunity would evaporate.
“It’s all right, Mr. Decker.” Her smile was gentle and made him weak in the knees. “I’ll remember to forget.”
Time would tell if she was a woman of her word.
Just to be safe, Stephen decided to shut his mouth and leave before he blurted out the fact that she was the most attractive woman he had met in a long, long time.
Paul watched Stephen Decker leave the gathering in the courtyard. Annoyed and depressed, he let his shoulders slump. “I am sick and tired of Hollis Sawyer’s complaints.”
“I won’t make excuses for him, Paul, but traditions do have their place and should be taken into account.”
He wasn’t in the mood for more sage advice from Samuel Mason, either. If these old men had their way, the church would continue to die, shrouded i
n tradition. “It’s tradition that’s strangling this church.” He strove to keep his voice quiet, his emotions hidden from onlookers. He didn’t want people noticing that something was amiss between him and another elder. It was bad enough that Hollis had chosen to break up his conversation with Stephen Decker and then march off in a huff. Centerville Christian needed more men like Stephen Decker coming through its doors, affluent professionals in their mid-thirties with years of service ahead of them. Instead, the church was glutted with tired, broken-down old men and women convinced a church could function without changing its old ways. This church hadn’t been working for a long time. “What difference does it make if the Bible on the pulpit is King James or the New International Version?”
“It matters to Hollis. As well as others.”
“The idea is to communicate the gospel, not cloak it in language no one uses anymore, let alone understands.”
“And they shall know us by our love, Paul.”
Heat came up inside Paul. Those gently spoken words cut him to the quick. Was Samuel saying he lacked love? Hadn’t he shown his love by pouring every bit of his energy into getting this church back on its feet? “I can love Hollis, Samuel, and I do. He’s my Christian brother. But that doesn’t mean I have to give in to him on everything.”
“It isn’t a matter of giving in. The King James Bible in question was given to the church by one of the founding members.”
“Jesus is the founder of this church, Samuel.”
“I won’t debate you on that point.”
“I would hope not.”
“Still, it never pays to burn bridges.”
Why not, if they were rotting wooden structures that should be replaced with steel and macadam? The elder’s remark roused the old fear of failure. “I’m not trying to burn bridges, Samuel. I’m trying to build a church.”
“Then a little compromise is in order.”
The word compromise raised Paul’s hackles. When would these old people get it through their heads that the church was a living, breathing organism and stop looking at it like a diorama in a museum? If he gave in to Hollis, he’d have Otis Harrison in his office next, trying to have all the music changed back to dry old hymns. Or some other member would want the order of worship changed back to the way Henry Porter did it for four decades! Their fear of change was what was behind every complaint. Their cry was always the same:Don’t change anything! The sooner Paul filled this church with new blood, the sooner he would have help in making this church something that would please God.
In the meantime, he had to resign himself to dealing with these cantankerous old men and women. At the last elders’ meeting, Paul had suggested recruiting deacons and deaconesses from the growing congregation. In typical fashion, Hollis and Otis balked. They said they didn’t know enough about the newcomers to nominate any of them. Otis insisted men and women should be members in good standing for five years minimum before they should be considered for any kind of leadership. Which, of course, effectively eliminated everyone in the congregation who was under the age of fifty. What better way to deadlock a growing congregation and keep it under the tightfisted reign of a couple of elders?
The meeting had ended with nothing being accomplished. Again. Samuel Mason said, again, to be patient, to pray, and to wait upon the Lord. What were they waiting for? Paul was never quite sure where Samuel Mason stood. Was he just another one of the good old boys who had been around since the beginning of time and wanted everything to stay the same? Or was he a progressive thinker? Was he willing to risk old friendships to bring the revival he claimed he’d been praying for over the past ten years?
Paul didn’t know. So he kept his own counsel and didn’t share his thoughts with Mason. Paul thought it better to seek out allies of his own generation who would come alongside him and move this church successfully into the twentieth century where it belonged, rather than try to change the mind-set of two old men determined to keep things status quo.
And now, here they were again, going over the same old ground.
“I’ll pray about it, Samuel.” Mason wouldn’t argue with that. “Why don’t we join the others and have some coffee?”
Eunice had that worried look in her eyes. “Is everything all right, Paul?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Mingle.”
As the gathering thinned out, several of the ladies carried the punch bowl and empty cookie trays into the kitchen. The extra paper plates and napkins were put away. Eunice shook out the yellow tablecloths and gathered them up as she headed home with Timmy. She would wash, iron, and bring them back for next week’s fellowship hour.
“I’ll just be a minute.” Paul headed back to lock up the doors of the church. He glanced through the notes in the suggestion box. Mostly complaints from old members. He wadded them up and threw them into the trash can in his office. He went back into the kitchen and encouraged the ladies to move their gab session to a local coffee shop so he could lock up the fellowship hall and head home. They departed quickly.
It was a little after two when he walked in the front door of the parsonage. Eunice had classical music playing on the radio. Timmy sat at the small kitchen table, dipping his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich into his tomato soup.
“I’m sorry we didn’t wait,” Eunice said. “He was starving, and I wasn’t sure how long you’d be.”
He kissed her. “Gladys was the last one out the door, and you know how she is. I walked her to her car. Even got her into it, but then she rolled down her window and asked me another one of her philosophical questions that would take a college course to answer.”
“She’s a retired teacher.”
“I should’ve guessed.” He sank into a chair with a sigh of relief. Eunice gave him a large mug of hot soup. Then she set a sandwich in front of him and sat with him. Paul took her hand. “Thank You, Father, for all who came to our Sunday service today. We ask that those who were new felt welcome and will return. We ask that You would soften the hearts of others. Give them Your vision so that they can see what can be, instead of what has been. Thank You for this food and for the hands that prepared it. Please bless it for our bodies’ use. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The troubled look on Eunice’s face bothered Paul. What was wrong now?
“Can I play, Mommy?”
“Ask your father.”
“Can I, Daddy?”
Paul excused him. “Put your mug and plate on the sink counter, Tim. That’ll help your mother.” Timmy gathered his things and did as asked.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Eunice kissed their son and gave him a loving pat on his backside. “You can play for a while and then it’ll be bath-time.”
Paul saw the crestfallen look on his son’s face and scooped him up. “Maybe we can play later this afternoon.” He kissed him and set him down.
“You haven’t had much time with him lately,” Eunice said.
“I know.” When was the last time he’d played in the yard with his son? He’d try hard to make time. “Hollis Sawyer was upset because I put away the King James Bible.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “He wants it put back on the pulpit. Samuel wants me to compromise.”
“Abby thought it might have something to do with the Bible. She said one of the founders—”
“Samuel told me. It was all right to use the King James Version when it was only the original members attending services, Euny, but we have new members who give me blank stares when I read from it. I’m not using it anymore.”
“Where did you put it?”
“In my office.”
“In a box or on a shelf?”
He was fast losing his appetite. Was she reminding him of the stir of outrage when he had boxed up all of Henry Porter’s old reference books? “On the shelf.”
“Maybe you could put it on a stand in the narthex.”
“To satisfy Hollis?”
“To give it a place of honor. The Bible is the basis of all your teaching. You agree w
ith these men on that. And this particular Bible has historical significance to Centerville Christian. It would comfort the older members of our congregation to see it before entering the sanctuary. It would give them a sense of continuity. You could talk to Samuel about it first. See what he thinks about the idea. You know he will do everything he can to encourage the others to work with you for the good of the congregation.”
He resented being made to feel like a little boy who had to check everything through his elder. But what Eunice said made sense. He had enough trouble with Hollis and Otis without creating more. Until he was able to add new elders who could understand what he was doing, he was going to have to do whatever he could to prevent more waves from swelling and sinking the ship.
“It’s too bad Hollis Sawyer and Otis Harrison don’t have something better to do with their time than hunt for things to cause dissension.”
Eunice smiled tenderly. “I don’t think they willfully cause dissension, Paul. They are the last of the old guard who have kept this congregation alive. They think you don’t value their traditions and the hard work it took to keep Centerville Christian Church alive.”
“They would’ve had better luck if they’d changed with the times.”
“Not all things should change, Paul, least of all our love for one another as brothers and sisters.”
His stomach knotted. “I have nothing but respect for their faithfulness.”
“I know that, but they don’t. You have to show them.”
“How, Eunice? Neither Hollis nor Otis can get through a meeting without digressing. And now, Hollis is so mad, I doubt he’ll listen to Samuel, let alone me.” He was sick of these old men trying to run his church.
“First of all, apologize for removing the Bible, and don’t make any excuses.”
“Now just a minute!”
“Hear me out, Paul. Please.”
He struggled for control over his temper. “Okay. What do you suggest?”
“You could set aside ten minutes in the next few services and have each of them give their testimonies to the congregation. How did they come to Christ? How has this church helped them walk in faith over the decades? What are their hopes for Centerville Christian?”