Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [31]
Thomas detected a strange silence at that last comment, a stillness even in the body language of the crowd. People had been attentive enough anyway—Grace was easy to admire. But perhaps many had wayward children. He couldn’t put a finger on the response. Maybe he had imagined it.
Grace finished by telling how she and Thomas had met on a blind date at Bible college and how their life of service to God had been all and more than she ever could have hoped for. “We believe being here is a divine appointment, and we look forward to worshiping with all of you.”
Thomas breathed a sigh at the applause, grateful she had changed her mind about publicly asking for prayer for their daughter. He admired Grace’s transparency and agreed that often it was good to show that pastors’ families were normal too. But when she had raised the subject that afternoon, he had counseled her to let the people get to know them a little better before revealing that their own daughter was going through a rough patch of searching.
When finally it was Thomas’s turn, he ran through Paul’s counsel on his way to the pulpit. Boorish as the man was, and wrong as he may have been about Thomas shortening his sermons, he was likely right that tonight was not the time for a message. He simply said “a few words,” as the euphemism went, thanking one and all, briefly giving a testimony remarkably similar to Grace’s, and finishing with an anecdote that people always seemed to appreciate.
“When I was in grade school,” he said, “I came down with rheumatic fever and spent three weeks in the hospital and the rest of the summer and a month or so into the fall in bed. I never felt that ill, and frankly I enjoyed the attention, but I believe something during that time made me a pastor. My mother sang with me, prayed with me, and read the Bible with me and to me. But more, she urged me to begin memorizing not just verses but also chapters and even books of the Bible. I continue that practice to this day. After first learning the entirety of John chapter 3, I memorized all four Gospels, most of Paul’s epistles, and all of the so-called postcard books of the New Testament.
“I recommend memorizing, believing that the Word will never return void. Psalm 119:11 says, ‘I have hidden Your word in my heart, that I might not sin against You.’”
Nearly everyone stayed for pie and coffee downstairs, and while Thomas enjoyed standing with Grace and shaking hands and trading pleasantries, he hoped she didn’t notice that Patricia was keeping her distance. Paul was nowhere to be seen.
“I hope it doesn’t appear rude, Thomas,” Grace said, “but I’m going to need to sit down.” He quickly found her a chair. “I haven’t seen any of the elders,” she whispered as the receiving line continued.
“I’m sure they’re around somewhere,” he said, noticing that occasionally one of the leaders of the other congregations was summoned to slip away too.
When the crowd finally thinned, Thomas looked forward to getting Grace home. She looked pale and exhausted. But finally Patricia Pierce approached, all business. “Paul asked if you both could meet with the elders before you left.”
Touhy Trailer Park
“You’re moping around here like you lost your best friend, Brady,” his mother said. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’.”
Truth was, he was dreading a call. And when it came, he rushed to beat his mother to the phone. Tatlock.
“Time’s up, Brady. I’m waiting at the Laundromat.”
Brady dumped his last four dollars and thirty-eight cents into his jacket pocket. He had begged and tried to borrow and even thought of stealing, but he’d had no luck. He had interviewed at Leon Dennis Asphalt & Paving, which bordered the trailer park to the east, and was waiting for word on a job. But the Hispanic foreman had laughed when Brady asked if the job—provided he got it—could be worked around his school activities