Birth Pains

1/6/1996

This is what the Lord says,“Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?”Isaiah 66:90

47

“HEY, YOU!” The shout emerged from the large, burly man while smoke and saliva trailed from his cigar. “Get a move on! We don’t have all day. This is a worksite, not a playground.”

It was Wayne’s third day on his latest temp job. He wasn’t much of a construction worker. The sting in his palms after each new task made it clear that his white-collar hands were not accustomed to this kind of hard labor. I’ve got to find another line of work. He grimaced in his mind. This is gonna kill me!

Wayne finished filling the wheelbarrow with debris and hauled it over to the rented dumpster. Salt stung his eyes as sweat poured down from his forehead. The edge where his T-shirt met his sunburned neck provided an additional painful distraction.

Lord…I’m thankful for a job. I really am. But I’m not sure I’m cut out for this. A quick glance from his foreman jolted Wayne from his brief pause and brought him back to earth. I know, I know, suffering produces character. Wayne threw himself back into his work and knew in his heart that, for a time, this was exactly where he needed to be.

As a stream of sweat broke loose from his brow, channeling its way into his left eye, the thought struck him, “This is Adam and Eve’s fault!” He chuckled to himself as he committed to persevere.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Ted Stone peeked eagerly over the top of his book. “Sounds like someone just picked up the phone.”

Amy laid down her cross-stitch and raced behind Ted into the kitchen. Arriving on the scene within moments, they almost dog-piled Carolyn as she hung up the phone.

“Who were you calling?” they playfully demanded in unison.

“Why, no one.” Carolyn took a step backward to regain her balance. “I was just checking to make sure there was still a dial tone. This phone’s hardly rung in the two weeks we’ve lived here.”

“I know.” Ted opened the refrigerator and began to forage. “And we’re paying good money for that phone. It had better start pulling its own weight around here.”

Amy laughed. “I guess most people out in the real world aren’t accustomed to getting a dozen calls a night, like we used to.”

“I wonder what most people do with all this time on their hands,” Carolyn mused. “They must be awfully lonely.”

Ted stood up and shut the refrigerator door. “Well, I don’t know about most people, but I’ll tell you one thing: If I have to sit around this house one more night playing Scrabble, I’m gonna go nuts!”

Carolyn placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know how you feel. In fact, as much as I hate shopping malls, I’ve actually thought about going down to one just so we can see some people.”

Ted grinned. “Now there’s an idea!”

RRRRRRING!

All eyes were transfixed on the little phone by the toaster. It had rung. Yes, and it was ringing again.

RRRRRRING!

Three hands grabbed at the receiver, but only one was rewarded. Ted pressed the device against his face and cleared his throat.

“Hello? Yes, this is Ted Stone.”

Amy and Carolyn watched his countenance fall. Ted sat down at the table and waited for a break in the monologue.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I just don’t need another credit card right now.”

Ted hung up and propped his elbows on the table. Carolyn and Amy sat down with him, half-resigned to another night of “bored” games. But something different was brewing inside of Ted, something he’d never given much thought until now.

“Why don’t we spend some time asking God to help us meet some people who really care?”

“That sounds great.” Carolyn perked up.

Ted looked up and pleaded, “Jesus, it was You who led us out here. You’re the Good Shepherd. Please show us what to do next. We feel lost, not sure who to spend time with or even how to find them. Please, Father, bring people into our lives that we can care about. Please lead us out of this desert.”

Silence followed as they each considered the implications of the request. Carolyn weighed her motives as she waited. She spoke up softly. “Jesus, we know You have a purpose for our lives. It was no accident that You led us to this place. Surely there are people out there who care — who want to know You. Please cause our paths to cross so we can share Your life together — for Your sake — not just because we’re lonely.”

48

GEORGE ARCHER PACED between the kitchen and the den with his cordless phone. As the phone rang on the other end, he reflected on his budding friendship with the Davidsons.

“Hello, is this Emily?”

“Hi, George. What’s up?”

“I’m glad you’re home!”

“Yeah, I…live here.”

George chuckled at Emily’s sarcasm. “There’s someone I’d really like you to meet! She’s a former student of mine.” He walked to the window and watched a hummingbird at the feeder. “I’ve thought about getting in touch with her several times before, but — well, I didn’t know any sisters for her to meet.”

“Yes,” Emily replied, “I know what you mean.”

“So, that’s where you come in.” George sat down on a dark green sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “What do you think about inviting her to dinner or something?”

Emily paused, considering. “I don’t see why not. She might be a little uncomfortable eating with just Wayne and me, though. Maybe the four of us could go out somewhere.”

“That could work.” He hesitated. “But it still might be best if you called her. If you don’t mind?”

“Sure, I can do that. Hold on while I find a pen.”

He could hear her rummaging through a drawer while he waited. Finally, she returned. “Okay, I’m ready. What is her name?”

“Amy…Amy Hart.”

“HI, I BELIEVE WE HAVE A RESERVATION, probably under the name Davidson.”

Vito, a short, plump man with rosy-red cheeks and thinning black and gray hair — combed straight back — inspected a chart with a short, chubby finger. “Ah, here it is,” he announced. He read the inscription off the paper as if to give it some kind of official honor. “Davidson. Party of six, for seven o’clock.” He looked up and said, with Italian pride, “Welcome to Vito’s real Italian Kitchen, Mr. Davidson.”

“Thank you, but actually I’m not Mr. Davidson. I’m George Archer. But I assume Mr. Davidson will be here shortly.”

“Ah, of course,” the restaurant owner recovered. He removed six menus from a rack on the side of his podium and gestured for George, Ted, Carolyn and Amy to follow him. They were seated in a large, wooden booth and began absorbing their surroundings.

“So,” Carolyn asked, “how did you find this place?”

“Oh…Wayne brought me here for the first time a few months ago. It’s a great place.” George laughed. “There’s a waiter here you’ve got to meet. He’s a real character.”

They all browsed their menus as Italian Muzak softened the noise of the busy restaurant. “I like the manicotti here,” George said.

“Now there’s a man who knows his manicotti, let me tell ya.” All eyes looked up, startled by the unexpected voice of the tall waiter looming over them with a warm smile. “Hi, I’m Tony. I’ll be ya waida tonight.” Ted, Amy and Carolyn looked at each another in amusement, then turned again to Tony. “What, is my hair stickin’ up or somethin’?”

“No, your hair’s fine. They’ve just never seen an Italian before.” George introduced his three friends while Tony wiped his hand on his trousers.

“Pleased ta meetcha.”

Just then, the host announced the arrival of Wayne and Emily.

“Hey, Wayne, is this the Mrs?” Tony gestured toward Emily with feigned amazement. “Did he tell ya he’s plannin’ to buy my ’71 Chevy Impala?” He surrendered a deep chuckle and looked at Wayne to be sure he hadn’t offended him with his playfulness. Emily also looked at Wayne, conveying genuine concern.

“He’s just kidding, Em. He’s been trying to get me to buy that car for months.”

“Da offer’s still good.” Tony winked, then moved out of the way. Wayne and Emily slid into the booth, while Tony began taking drink orders.

“Da usual for you, Wayne?” Tony raised an eyebrow, pleased with his personal service.

“Sure.”

George promptly introduced the Davidsons to Amy, Carolyn and Ted.

Ted looked at Wayne and asked, “So, how do you and George know each other? Are you part of the same Church?”

“Well, no, not really.” Wayne groped for words. “I guess we’re just — brothers. We were both looking for some real life and a chance to grow closer. We only met a few months ago, though it seems like forever.” Wayne ribbed George. “We’ve been learning some of the same things lately, and I think we’re starting to rub off on each other.”

“And what about you, Emily? Is that true for you?” Carolyn surprised herself with her forwardness.

Emily’s face betrayed her struggle for words. “Well, I have been searching also. But I’m not sure…how…”

“Yeah, she’s with us.” Wayne interrupted. “Sometimes she just has trouble finding the right words.” He laughed uncomfortably, and the lack of response from the others felt like a kick in the stomach. He sensed Emily’s embarrassment.

Carolyn sat back in silence, wondering what would happen. She recalled how often tense moments like these had come up in the community — and how rarely anything was done.

Dodging the silence, they all began studying their menus. Behind his menu, George asked God for wisdom. Father, please provide a way for me to talk to my brother without embarrassing him. I want to help. But I also want to cover over.

Just then, Vito walked up to the table. “Mr. Davidson, you left the lights on in your mini-van.”

“Thanks, Vito.” Wayne scooted to the edge of the booth. “Excuse me for a minute, everyone.”

George watched as Wayne walked toward the front doors. “Thanks, Father,” he whispered, then stood up. “I think I’ll join him.”

George caught up with Wayne in the restaurant lobby. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all.”

Once outside, they slowly made their way to the car. George forced himself to talk. “Wayne, I’m not used to getting involved in these kinds of things, and I feel a little awkward. But could I mention something to you?”

“About Emily?” Wayne cocked his head toward the restaurant, subtly referring to the incident that had just taken place.

“Yes,” George agreed, nodding his head. “I think you hurt her feelings. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Wayne nodded. “I sure do. I’ve been miserable ever since.” He put his hands in his pockets and sighed. “I feel like such a jerk. I know it’s wrong and I hate doing that to her.”

Wayne looked through stinging eyes at his friend. “Please keep asking the Spirit of God to help me, and feel free to offer your input any time you sense something off in my life.”

“Okay. Well, for starters, I think you ought to make things right with Emily.” George waited as Wayne unlocked the van door and turned off the lights. “I think sometimes God is more interested in our willingness to be humble than in removing our weaknesses. It’s unlikely God will change us unless we’re willing to humble ourselves and ask for forgiveness when we’ve blown it.”

“Should I apologize right now with everyone?”

“That’s up to you.” George initiated the walk back to the restaurant. “But everyone did hear you say it.”

Butterflies churned in Wayne’s stomach. A thousand sermons seemed easier than saying, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, George.” Wayne squeezed George’s shoulder firmly.

“Can we talk to Jesus for a minute?”

Wayne nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Master Teacher, thank You for what You’re doing in our lives. We don’t want You to stop leading us. Help us to remain soft.” George swallowed hard. “Jesus, we know that part of being soft is learning how to confess our sins and stay open with each other. Wayne needs Your help. Please help him make things right with his wife. Give him humility and courage. Also, Lord, please change his heart so that he will love his wife like You do.”

As Wayne and George came through the entrance of Vito’s, they could hear Tony’s voice from across the room. To Wayne’s chagrin, Tony was positioned in front of their booth talking with Emily. Wayne’s stomach muscles tightened. She’s laughing now. Maybe this can wait.

They closed in on the table. Seeing the women lock eyes on the approaching men, Tony turned and moved out of the way.

“But like I said, that’s just the way Papa was. He didn’t put up with that kinda stuff.” Tony jerked his head in two swift motions toward a booth across the room where two young children were shoveling spaghetti into their soda glasses, disregarding their parents’ idle threats. “He woulda takin’ us out to the car and let us have it. But, I mean, it was for our own good, right?”

George caught Wayne’s eye and lifted his eyebrows, noting the irony.

“Right,” Ted agreed with a smile, amused by their waiter’s transparency.

“So, anyway. You guys ready to orda yet?”

“I think we need a few more minutes, Tony,” George answered.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few.”

As Tony left, Wayne sat up straight. Appealing to Jesus for help, he spoke slowly. “I need to apologize to everyone here.” Ted and Carolyn listened intently, their eyes fixed on Wayne. “I really blew it earlier by being rude to my wife and interrupting her. I want you all to know I was wrong.” Wayne looked straight at Emily. “Will you forgive me? I’m sorry, Honey.”

“I forgive you.” Her eyes sparkled. “We’re on the same team, right?” She beamed at Wayne.

“You bet.” Wayne felt a ton of bricks lifting. Why did I even hesitate? Satan, you’re such a liar. It feels good to wash it all clean —not bad!

The moment was packed with implications. Such simple words: “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” — but this was the threshold of the Kingdom.

It was a pivotal time for George, as well. It’s always easier to let moments slip by, undealt with. It requires courage, wisdom, patience, and a love of righteousness to take responsibility.

“I’M STUFFED!” Ted exhaled as he started the mini-van. “I don’t remember the last time I had lasagna that good.” He peered at Carolyn. “Except when you make it, Honey.”

Carolyn rolled her eyes. “It was good.”

Amy leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of Carolyn’s seat. “Isn’t God awesome?”

“Yes!” the Stones answered in stereo.

“I mean…” Amy scooted between the two bucket seats. “We ask Him to let us meet some people who care…and the next thing you know, Emily calls me up and invites us to dinner!”

“You’re right. It’s incredible how God worked it out so we could see what kind of people they are — in just one dinner.” Carolyn closed her eyes. “God is good.”

Ted was quiet. He smiled as he considered the evening.

Carolyn stared out the window, watching the stream of cars pouring by. Where are they all going, what are they doing with their lives? “Don’t forget to stop by Teresa Parker’s house.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about Marie.” Ted blushed, moving quickly back into the right lane.

Amy shifted back into her seat, hunting for a comfortable position. “I hope we can see those guys again soon.”

“Oh, we will,” Ted assured her. “I got Wayne’s phone number. They’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of us now.”

49

IT WAS FRIDAY NIGHT, and the Just Puttin’ Around miniature golf center was packed as usual. The owners wanted to cultivate a “family atmosphere,” with bright lighting, a safari theme for the children and frequent family discount specials.

Wayne swung into the parking lot, heading for the closest parking space he could find.

“I hope my directions were accurate enough,” Emily said as she scanned a knot of people for any sign of Ted and Carolyn.

George eyed the two-story replica of a giraffe and an elephant spewing water from its trunk atop a tiered fountain in the middle of the park. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe they could miss this place if they came within a mile of it.”

“Come on, George! I gotta show you the hippos on the other side of that building!” Wayne’s eight-year-old son, Blake, nearly climbed over George in the back seat trying to get to the door. “There’s three big ones in a lake!” George made no attempt to hide the warmth of heart that had been growing for Blake. It was dawning on him that since God is building a family, not a compartmentalized organization, someone over fifty is free to build a relationship with someone under ten. Barriers of age, race and financial status need not exist in God’s Kingdom. He smiled. God truly sets the lonely in families.

As they walked through the front gate, Wayne turned to Emily. “Hey, Em, did Virginia decide to come?”

“She said she would be a little late, but she’ll be here.”

“Great!”

“I called Eric,” George added. “He may come as well.”

Wayne and his crew rounded the corner of the clubhouse to find Carolyn and Amy sitting at a cluster of picnic tables. Ted, standing near the ticket window, was sorting through a pile of putters. Carolyn spotted them right away and rose to meet them.

“Hi, Emily, glad to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. Have you been waiting long?”

“No. Don’t worry, you’re right on time. We were a little early.”

Wayne and George pulled away from the ladies and slipped up quietly behind Ted.

Wayne whispered to Ted, “Choose your weapon carefully. My friend here is a pro.”

Ted wheeled around to face them. “Hey, guys! Take your pick. They all look about the same, though. Besides, the trick is not in the putter but in he who swings it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said George, “but I guess I can’t do too much damage just putting, right?”

“Don’t buy it,” Wayne cut in. “I’ve never beaten him yet.”

Wayne and Ted bought tickets while George outfitted everyone with clubs and colored balls.

Amy hit first. She gripped the club awkwardly, but managed a good shot. The ball banked off the left wall, just past the swinging monkey’s tail, and rested a few inches from the hole. The other ladies nodded with approval as Amy, surprised, headed for the nearest bench to sit down.

“Are you pretty uncomfortable these days?” Emily asked as Amy sighed with relief.

“Not too bad. I just tire out faster than I used to. It feels like I’m carrying a fifty-pound sack of flour around my waist!”

“Be patient,” Emily comforted. “It will happen before you know it.”

“You’re right. I can’t believe I’m due in less than a month.”

Carolyn and Emily went in turn, and the ladies moved on to the next hole, not bothering to keep score.

“So, Emily, how long were you and Wayne part of Hampton Street?” Carolyn asked as Amy finished up the next hole.

“A little over eight years.”

“Were you close to anyone?”

“Oh, I had some friends. But no close ones.”

“Why was that?” Carolyn asked as she positioned her ball for hole number three.

“I used to think it was all their fault…but I’m certain now that how we build His Church makes a huge difference as to how deep the relationships go.” Emily sat down and pulled Ashley into her lap. “I was just telling Wayne last night that I’m starting to see more and more how shallow my own life has been.” She stroked Ashley’s hair. “And you can’t have deep relationships if you’re a shallow person.”

Carolyn sent her orange ball rolling across the green astro turf. “I know what you mean.” She walked toward Emily, forgetting to watch her ball. Five-year-old Amanda Davidson let out a squeal of laughter as she eyed Carolyn’s ball returning to it’s starting place.

“I guess I’d better hit it harder on the hills.” Carolyn laughed with her young friend.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to mention to you,” Emily began again. “I’m sorry for the awkwardness the other night at the restaurant. In reality, your question startled me.”

Carolyn sat down on the bench beside Emily.

Emily took a deep breath. “I’ve spent so much of my life being a passive listener, and as a result, I never had to develop my own convictions. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been the dutiful ‘pastor’s wife’ — teaching Sunday school classes and active in all the church programs. But spiritual things have never been the passion of my life. I fell into a role and I learned to play it well.”

“Well, Emily, just the fact that you are able to see that shows me those things are changing.” Carolyn’s eyes sparkled with hope. “And I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”

50

AMY LAY QUIETLY on the hospital bed, hoping to regain some of her strength before the others arrived. She closed her eyes and tried to rest. In the rocking chair next to her, Carolyn gently cuddled the baby girl sleeping in her arms. It was a special time for both women. They had worked hard today, but the joy of the moment overshadowed the pain.

They heard a knock at the door and Emily peeked inside. “Did we come at a bad time?” she asked. “Virginia’s with me.”

“No, this is perfect.” Amy sat up slowly, offering a pain-filled smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carolyn stood up and brought the baby closer.

“Oh, she’s beautiful!” Virginia exclaimed. “So little.” She put her finger in the baby’s clenched fist. “Hi there, precious. Aren’t you special?” Virginia looked over at Amy. “Does she have a name?”

“Did you decide yet?” Carolyn asked.

Amy beamed. “Well, it’s taken me quite a while, but I think I’ve found a name that just seems to fit.” She paused, letting anticipation mount. “Her name is Hope.”

“Oh, that’s a great name,” Carolyn applauded. “Very fitting.”

Hope was still gripping Virginia’s index finger, digging in with her little nails. “You’re a strong one, Hope.” She gently pried herself free.

“Would you like to hold her?” Carolyn offered.

Virginia took the infant into her arms and sat down to rock.

Emily stood beside the bed. “Another August baby! You know you missed Amanda’s birthday by one day?”

“Oh, that’s right! August 16th. Is she excited?”

“You know she is.” Emily looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, I promised the guys I’d let them know when they could come in. Would that be okay?”

“Sure…that’d be fine,” Amy said shyly as Emily headed for the door.

“Amy,” Virginia whispered, rocking back and forth, “where’s your mom?”

“She and Dad went down to the cafeteria for dinner.” Amy looked over at her baby. “Could you pull that cap a little tighter over her head? I don’t want her to get cold.”

There was a rap at the door. Wayne, George and Ted came in, making the room seem much smaller. Emily had stayed with the children back in the waiting room. For the next several minutes, each of the men took a turn holding and cuddling Hope. George seemed captivated by the little bundle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a baby.

“All right! All right! The party’s over. Let’s all clear out of here and let this girl get some rest! She’s been working hard.” The authoritative announcement came from a nurse dressed in a surgical gown.

Her voice reminded Ted of his high school football coach. He snapped to his feet. “Yes, Ma’am!”

The nurse didn’t miss a beat. “That’s more like it.” She walked over to Amy’s bed and said over her shoulder, “Hospital policy: only two visitors at a time.”

Carolyn smiled and whispered to Ted, “She’s really not that bad.”

The nurse focused her attention on Amy. “Now, how are you feeling, Dearie?”

Carolyn laid the baby back into the bassinet as they quietly left the room.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Wayne stopped in the hallway. “Carolyn, would you take this in to Amy for me?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope. “It’s a poem Emily wrote for Amy yesterday.”

“Sure.” Carolyn took the envelope and headed back into the room.

Amy pulled out the sheet of paper and felt her eyes tear up as she read the title: “A Promise of Hope.”

51

SIX MONTHS LATER…

The front door creaked open as Wayne dragged his tired body into the living room. With painstaking effort, he managed to remove his tool belt and work boots, leaving them on the mat beside the door. Then, with sincere gratitude, he sank his aching muscles into the inviting La-Z-Boy.

“Is that you, Wayne?” Emily called from the kitchen. “Carolyn and I need your thoughts on something.”

“You’ll have to come in here,” Wayne groaned. “I can’t move.”

Emily strolled into the living room and kissed Wayne on the forehead. “Aren’t you glad you don’t do construction for a living anymore?”

“Yes,” Wayne chortled. “In fact, I can’t believe I let Ted talk me into reroofing that house, especially when it’s this cold.”

“Now, Honey, that was for George’s sake.”

“But,” Wayne teased, “we should have helped him by paying someone else to do it.”

Carolyn arrived from the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. “Can I get you anything, Wayne?”

He grinned. “No, I think I just want to lie here and die peacefully.”

Emily knelt beside the recliner. “Wayne, I was wondering if you’d like to go to a concert next week.”

Wayne managed a blank stare. “A what?”

“It’s a Christian concert. Some guy named David Trueblood,” Carolyn chimed in. “My old roommate from college, Teresa Parker, goes to Metro Chapel. She called today and invited us. I’ve wanted her to meet you guys, so I asked if I could bring some friends along.”

“Did you say David Trueblood?” Wayne interrupted.

“Have you heard of him?” Emily perked up.

Wayne sat up straight in his chair. “Well, yeah, if we’re talking about the same David Trueblood. He visited the school back when I was in seminary.”

“So you’ve heard him before?” Carolyn was encouraged. “What are his concerts like?”

“You know, I wouldn’t exactly call it a concert,” Wayne recollected. “It was more like a devotional. It made quite an impression on me at the time.”

Emily took a sip of her coffee. “What impressed you?”

“I remember he had a lot of energy, but it wasn’t showmanship. It was more like Godly zeal!” Wayne stroked his chin. “And the songs he shared were about real things he was going through. Like, one of them was written just after God had exposed some things in his heart. It was about true repentance and being changed by God.”

“Well,” Emily prodded, “can we go?”

“Sounds great,” Wayne consented, leaning back into his chair. “I’d like to see what he’s up to these days.”

52

AS THEY WALKED IN, they were struck by the sheer size of Metro Chapel. The concert atmosphere gave the place a stadium aura. It was big.

Ted and Carolyn cut their way through the crowd, leading their friends to the left wing in order to meet Steve and Teresa Parker. The foyer was buzzing with young adults and giddy teenage girls, many with too much makeup and sweet perfume. Wayne began to wonder if this was the same David Trueblood he’d seen when he was in college.

Teresa’s exaggerated waves and large smiles guided the Stones and their friends to their destination. They spent the next several minutes in cordial conversation with the Parkers, leaning close in order to compensate for the roar of conversation around them.

“That’s the lights,” Steve Parker noted to Wayne. “I think it’s time to start.”

The noise level dropped as everyone scurried toward their seats.

Carolyn whispered to Amy, “I’m really looking forward to this.”

The spotlight targeted the center stage. A tall, thin man in a dark sport coat emerged from a breach in the ruby curtain. He introduced himself as the music minister and welcomed everyone.

“We, of course, are very privileged tonight to have as our special guest, David Trueblood.” At this, deafening cheers and teenage screams erupted from various pockets of the auditorium. The music minister smiled broadly, proud to have this musical acquisition to his credit, then continued. “However, before we present to you this first class act, Metro Chapel is proud to present to you our very own budding young Christian artists, ‘Altared Ego.’”

The spotlight disappeared and the sound of the stage curtain retracting could be heard as people shifted and folded programs, preparing to be entertained.

Light began flooding the stage, revealing a five-man rock band. A young man with shoulder length hair stepped up to the microphone and greeted the audience. “We just wanted to thank you all and God for giving us an opportunity to play on the same billing as David Trueblood. It’s really a privilege.”

Wayne surveyed the stage and found his eyes drawn again and again to a young man with a guitar. He had similar attire and a rock star haircut. Wayne could not place the face. As the band began to play, loud power chords and riffs crescendoed from the young guitarist. As he buried himself in his role, a sinister sneer flashed across his upper lip. Where have I seen him before? Wayne picked up a concert program and began searching for a familiar name. “Lead Guitarist: Philip Malone, Jr.” Wayne remembered. I don’t believe it. That’s the boy I gave a ride to. His dad must be one of the pastors here.

WAYNE’S DISCOMFORT INCREASED as the evening unfolded. The shock of the opening act was now superceded by David Trueblood’s polished presentation. What happened to this brother? Laser lights danced through clouds of manufactured fog, contributing to the carnival atmosphere.

George sat stone-faced, wishing for earplugs — unaccustomed to the decibel level of this cacophony.

Carolyn leaned over and whispered to Amy, “If you didn’t speak English, would you know this was a Christian concert?”

Amy shrugged. “No, I don’t think so…unfortunately.”

During a much quieter song, Wayne was able to gather his thoughts. He tried to determine what was different from the David he’d seen a decade ago. Both appeared to have energy and enthusiasm. But this David seemed driven from without, motivated by the cheering crowd and enamored with his own stage production. Lyrics that had at one time brought tears of conviction to Wayne’s eyes were now recited like an incantation used to exact devotion and homage — but not to Jesus. Even certain phrases in the thoughts he offered between songs and in his prayer were verbatim to those that had so touched Wayne’s heart at seminary. How could this be?

SMOKE EVERYWHERE. Laser lights danced across the ceiling. In a flurry of dramatic chords, David Trueblood introduced his final song of the night.

“Where’s George?” Wayne shouted into Ted’s ear.

“I think he’s in the lobby with Amy and the baby,” Ted yelled in reply. “I say we find them and try to get out of here before the traffic jams up like it did on the way in.”

The Stones and Davidsons stood up, waved goodbye to the Parkers, and tried in vain to slip past twenty teenagers without making a scene.

After they found Amy in the lobby, the sisters excused themselves to the ladies’ room. George was standing next to one of the ministry tables, gazing in disbelief at a life-size cutout of tonight’s star.

“There you are!” Wayne called as he approached the table. “Are you about ready to go?”

George fumbled through a stack of flyers depicting David in numerous poses. There was the two-day stubble look. The Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses motif. And a shot of David sitting on the hood of a red Corvette. “Well, I was hoping to talk with David,” George said nervously. “Could we wait just a few minutes?”

“What is all this stuff?” Wayne picked up a CD and read the title aloud. “Greatest Hits, Volume 2?”

George put down the T-shirt he was inspecting and looked at Wayne. “What do you think it was?” George asked, the pain in his eyes obvious. “Did the money just get to him after awhile?”

“No…I think there’s more to it than that. If we conform to the patterns of this world — the stage shows, the roadies, the contracts, the promos, the secular studio musicians — it’s bound to have an effect on us. It’s inevitable. You can’t do business like the world system and not be slowly submerged into it — justified by the lyrics, condemned by the reality.”

“Isn’t there any way to avoid it?” Ted’s question was swallowed by the sound of screaming fans as the doors to the auditorium burst open. The pastor who spoke earlier was back at the microphone.

Wayne cringed as he heard something about autographs. “Surely not,” Wayne said with wide eyes. How could a true man of God allow himself to be exalted in any way? How does singing songs make one follower of Jesus more worthy of signing autographs than any other saint of God?! Who dares to steal God’s Glory or exalt himself above other saints?!

Seconds later, the lobby was brimming with eager shoppers. All along the walls, the once-peaceful tables were transformed into vast centers of economic exchange. Ted tried not to be critical, though he couldn’t help but think of the money changers at the temple.

Just then, David Trueblood emerged from a side door and took a chair behind a nearby table. Youthful admirers lined up in front of him, delighted at the prospect of having their purchases signed by the artist. George seized the opportunity to slip into line behind only a half dozen others.

Carolyn, Emily and Amy joined Wayne and Ted by the doors.

“Where’s George?”

Wayne pointed to the table nearest the auditorium. “I think he’s gonna try to talk to David Trueblood. He seems pretty broken up by the whole extravaganza.”

Crowds were beginning to retreat through the glass doorway, so the five friends decided to move outside.

It wasn’t long before George reached the front of the line.

“Hey! One of my more mature fans.” David Trueblood reached instinctively for something to sign. When he realized that George had nothing to give him, David’s cheeks reddened. Catching himself, he pretended to straighten a stack of flyers lying on the table in front of George.

“Hi, Mr. Trueblood…my name’s George Archer. I was wondering if I might ask you a question.”

David glanced around the room, hoping his manager was close by. “Um…sure. Why not?”

George drew a deep breath and leaned over the table in an effort to speak privately. “All these CD’s you have here…do you feel like they contain the Word of God?”

“You bet! People are always telling me how the Lord has used these songs to minister to them. Why? Is there something in a song you disagree with?”

George shook his head. “Oh, no. Not at all. I found most of your lyrics to be very encouraging. I just don’t understand how selling the Word of God is even possible? I mean, can you imagine Peter selling ‘sermon notes’ to make a living? I promise you, I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just want us both to serve God on the highest possible ground.”

David Trueblood was becoming uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, the believers in the parking lot decided to make good use of their time. “Please, Lord. Don’t let it just be words that George shares. Give him the ability to see the heart. Bring your living and active word into this situation and lay bare the motives and intents of the heart.”

David scanned the room again. Where is my manager?

He could hear his manager’s squeaky voice nearby: “Now, you know, it’s common knowledge in the Christian music industry that if a song lasts more than two minutes and forty-two seconds, the audience tends to lose interest. So, that’s why we felt as though…”

David abandoned his search and, forcing a smile, managed a civil reply. “Well, I don’t really know exactly what it costs to put together a project, with the studio costs and the manufacturing and all. The label I record for handles all that. I suppose they would have to make some sort of profit in order to pay everybody.”

“Maybe you’ve never thought about it this way, but there’s a verse in Second Corinthians I’d like to share with you.” George maintained eye contact as he spoke, trying desperately to care for David. “‘Unlike so many, we do not peddle the Word of God for profit. On the contrary, in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, like men sent from God.’”

David was no longer able to conceal his irritation. “What are you getting at?”

“Well…it looks like this verse is saying that you either sell your gift to make a living or, on the contrary, you offer your gift freely as one sent from God. It’s either for money or for God, not both. See what I mean? I’m really not trying to pester you. I care about you because of Jesus. Does any of this make sense?”

Hoards of impatient fans were pressing against the table. David snatched a poster from the hands of the girl next to George and signed it.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered brusquely. “I’ve got a lot of people here I need to meet. Nice talking to you.”

The conversation was over. George stood motionless for several seconds, pushed slowly away from the table by the surging tide of admirers.

“May I help you?”

Only now did George realize he was standing in front of one of the concert souvenir tables. Borrowing a pen from the friendly clerk, he scribbled a note on the back of a tour schedule.

Dear David,

I imagine no one has ever talked to you about these sorts of things before. The whole idea is probably new to your way of thinking. I believe you began writing and singing Christian music because you had a genuine desire to encourage the Body of Christ and honor Jesus. But I couldn’t help noticing that it’s your name and your photograph that are literally all over your stuff. I don’t see much about Jesus. Yet you make your living selling His Word. Something just doesn’t seem right about that. Is that what God wants His children to do with the gifts He’s so freely given to them? “Each one of you should sell whatever gift he has received to others, faithfully marketing God’s grace in its various forms.” Could you really imagine 1 Peter 4:10 saying that? Please take the time to look it up. And would you please talk to Jesus about these things and find out what He thinks? If I can help in any way, please call. 

George Archer, 555-0410

On the way to the van, all ears were attuned to George as he carefully related the story of his encounter. He gave his friends some specifics to pray about and learn from while avoiding, as best he could, anything that would grieve the Spirit as he spoke.

Carolyn detected remorse in George’s voice. “Are you all right?” she asked, climbing into her seat.

Ted started the engine and turned around to listen.

George shook his head. “I think so. I…just hope he knows I said those things because I care, not because I have some axe to grind…Would it be okay if we prayed for him before we leave?”

Carolyn couldn’t help smiling to herself. This is so different. This is the way You meant it to be, Jesus. Isn’t it?