Skeletons

1/6/1996

This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.John 3:19-20

10

WALKING AWAY FROM Amy’s dorm, Rick ached inside. His conscience told him he was treading on dangerous ground, while his mind tried desperately to justify the feelings he was struggling with. His heart and body were engaged in a dreadful battle. He feared the outcome.

“Who can I talk to?” he wondered aloud.

Rounding the corner, Rick passed the administration building and quickened his pace as his thoughts again retraced the evening’s events. It’s not that they were doing anything wrong…or were they? He wished he could know for sure. The one thing he did know: every time he and Amy were together, he felt like a freight train heading for certain disaster. He knew he couldn’t trust himself when he was alone with her. In fact, something inside told him a line had already been crossed. And that hurt. She was special.

How do you tell somebody you’re afraid something might happen without making them think it already has? How does a Christian send out an SOS without taking the risk of losing everything? He passed the psychology building for the third time and only then realized he was walking in circles.

At that moment, Rick thought he saw a familiar face coming up the sidewalk. He lowered his gaze and took off across the lawn to avoid interaction. Finding a dark, private place beneath a tree, he tried to reel in his tangled thoughts. He wasn’t far from the grassy area where the student body held their Friday night devotionals.

There are a lot of people with fragile faith looking up to me. Rick winced as he recalled a freshman who came to him in tears after the last devotional. So many looked to Rick as a spiritual leader on campus, solid as a rock, and somehow untouched by the normal struggles of life. What would they think if they could see into his heart now? Would they be surprised to find he felt more like a confused child than a mighty warrior? Some might be relieved by his weakness, but most would surely be disappointed. The last thing he wanted was to shipwreck someone’s faith.

Rick glanced at his watch and quickly scrambled to his feet. As he jogged toward the dorm, the tragic irony of the whole thing began to dawn on him. He wished people could see inside him and really know him — not just the things he said! Deep inside this paragon of a college student lived a real person with real fears, real hurts and real temptations.

Nearing the dorm, he passed a little too close to a parked car with a couple inside. A few months ago, he might have looked at them with disdain. Now he realized that unless something changed, he would end up in the same place. Or worse.

As he mounted the steps in front of the dorm, he pounded the rail in determination. “I’ve gotta get help!”

“GOOD AFTERNOON, Campus Ministries. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering, uh…if I could make an appointment.” Rick gripped the phone tightly in his moist palm. Pacing over to the door of his dorm room, he locked it just in case Eric returned from class early.

“Certainly. Can I have your name and phone number?”

Rick nervously provided the various details necessary to establish an appointment. Why does it seem so hard just to reveal my name? he wondered. What am I going to do when I have to explain the whole situation to a total stranger?

The secretary paused for a moment to flip through her calendar. “Would this Friday or early next week be better for you?”

Rick’s heart fell. “Four days from now? This is important! Isn’t there anything earlier than that?”

“I’m sorry, sir. The Campus Minister is terribly busy this week.” She sounded sympathetic, but it was clear to Rick she had missed the urgency of his need. After all, this was his life they were talking about.

“Well, let’s see,” she said accommodatingly. “I think I can work you in as early as 1:30 Friday. Would that be all right?”

“Friday?” Rick sighed as he sank to his chair.

“I could call you if anyone cancels.”

“No, that’s okay…it’s not necessary. I’m probably just making too much out of it.” Rick began to run through a mental list of people he knew. Who else…?

RICK STROLLED NERVOUSLY through the cafeteria toward the lone corner table he had eyed when he first walked in. As he walked, he didn’t want to avoid people, but somehow the knot in his stomach wouldn’t allow him to face any of them with more than a painted smile. This isn’t easy, he thought, fiddling with the straw poking from the lid of his Coke.

He saw two girls heading toward the table he had placed mental “dibs” on. His heart jumped — no! He felt a surge of relief when they chose another table, and the privacy of his rendezvous was secured. He threw himself into one of the two chairs and, fumbling with his cup, mentally rehearsed his opening line. Inside he felt silly. Why all the fuss, all the anxiety? It was just going to be a conversation with someone he knew he could trust. This is serious! This isn’t about whether or not I should take Greek. What’s he going to think? Can he really help me, anyway? Although Rick was experienced in giving help, he was not accustomed to needing it. Despite the hesitations, he knew this was what he had to do.

Just then Professor Archer walked in. He looked around, obviously feeling out of place. He saw Rick sitting in the back corner of the cafeteria and quickly walked to the table.

“Rick, good to see you. Sorry I’m a bit late. One of my other students had a question after class.”

“That’s all right. I just got here myself,” Rick said, staring at his cup.

Professor Archer looked around and commented, “Is this place always this crowded?”

Rick didn’t seem to notice. The professor sensed Rick was preoccupied and asked, “So, what’s on your mind?”

“Uh…something’s been bothering me lately. It’s not much. Umm…” Rick slurped the remaining liquid from his cup. “It’s about Amy and me.”

“Are things getting serious?” Professor Archer smiled.

Rick’s eyes widened as the empty cup threatened to fall from his trembling hand.

“You wouldn’t be the first of my students to get married before graduation.”

Rick breathed a sigh of relief, knowing how close the professor had come to the bull’s-eye. Rick still wasn’t sure he wanted to bare his heart. The struggle inside began to heat up.

“No…not exactly. I was just wondering…about the relationship between a man and a woman. You see, I just don’t know…we’ve been seeing each other a lot lately and it’s been pretty good. I mean, Amy and I feel strongly about each other and we’ve been holding hands and, you know, I kiss her good night, and I’m just not sure about—”

“Rick.” A knowing smile came to Professor Archer’s face. “I’m sure you and Amy will do just fine. Remember, an attraction between a man and a woman is a natural thing that God created. It’s beautiful and proper in the right situation — marriage. I’ve known you for a little over two years and have confidence you will make the right decisions concerning your future.”

I don’t think he’s seeing my problem. Rick let out a long, low breath and sat back in his chair.

“If you’re wanting to know my opinion…” The professor leaned forward on his elbows and looked from side to side in mock preparation for revealing a secret. “I think Amy is an excellent choice.”

Rick tossed the mangled straw on the table in confused disappointment. His mind, his heart and his body were at war. I know I’ll get married one day. I’m worried about NOW!

11

WAYNE DAVIDSON’S FAVORITE danish awaited him on the breakfast table. Next to it was a glass of orange juice and a folded cloth napkin — the kind reserved for guests. Had he not already decided to apologize, his wife’s kindness would have compelled him.

He looked at her from across the room, nervous but determined. “Emily…I’m so sorry…There is absolutely no excuse for the way I spoke to you in the van last night. I know it’s not your fault Blake needs new shoes. Can you forgive me?”

Emily blinked back the tears and gave her husband a big hug. She didn’t quite know how to act. Apologies were a new thing. “I…I forgive you.” She smiled and then ended the awkwardness by inviting him to the table.

“Ohhh…I’m sorry, honey, I forgot to tell you. I’m supposed to meet John Carley for breakfast.” He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “And, I’m almost late now…” He cut himself short as he remembered what a heel he’d been the night before. “But, I can stay for one danish. They smell delicious.” He sat down to eat, convinced by Emily’s demeanor that he had made the right choice.

WAYNE’S DOUR MOOD made his little office at Hampton Street seem darker than normal. He wanted to sink into his swivel chair and disappear.

His breakfast with John Carley had been a flop.

John, converted by Wayne three months before, was a construction worker with a rough history. His mother was an alcoholic and his father…who knows? So, he had been raised with his mother’s maiden name. Although only twenty-four, his skin had a brazen, leather-like appearance, and his arms were a menagerie of tattoos. Despite his rugged appearance, he had earned respect through his quiet manner and relentless labor.

As Wayne mindlessly fidgeted with a paper clip, he recalled their first meeting. It was back in June. A summer thunderstorm had downed one of the large oak trees in the Davidsons’ backyard, collapsing the roof of their screened porch. When John had first come out to begin the rebuilding, he had seemed cold and hard — never a smile, only a stern, sweaty brow that kept about his work. The only thing that had ever slowed his pace was an occasional break to light a quick cigarette.

While playing in the backyard, little Ashley Davidson inadvertently had revealed that John wasn’t as hard and tough as he appeared. Unintimidated by his six-foot-one, 210-pound frame, she had offered a small rubber ball to him during his lunch break. Watching this brief game of catch, Wayne had found a way into John’s heart, and from there, his life.

Wayne was brought back to the present by the sound of footsteps on the tiled hallway outside his office. Relieved to see Tom’s familiar pin-striped suit move on past his doorway, he once again retreated into his dispirited reminiscence.

John had a small daughter of his own, born out of wedlock. His voice quivered when he spoke of her, wondering where she even lived.

For most men, the pain of life only makes them harder and more resistant to the truth. But for John it was different. God had drawn him with cords of human kindness, and Wayne was never more grateful for a damaged porch.

It seemed like a genuine conversion…how rare. It was refreshing to see God open a man’s heart and watch him leap for the Gospel as if it were a hidden treasure he had always wanted. He was so alive, so on fire…

Recently though, things had begun to sour. John seemed more distant, less open. Wayne tossed the paper clip onto his desk and slid deeper into his chair. I think we’re losing him.

It was no mystery. The young men in the Church had taken an immediate liking to John. They were “good ol’ boys.” They liked to hunt and fish, enjoy a rough game of football and — if Wayne’s hunch was right — drink a little on the weekends. Their effect on John was obvious.

In the beginning, there was a certain fresh quality to John’s prayers. They weren’t sterile, raised-in-the-church kinds of prayers. They came from the heart.

But lately, he sat in the back of the assembly with the rest of the “boys” — though they were legally men by age. He hung out with them on evenings and weekends, and it had taken its toll. Now, when he prayed, he merely sheepishly parroted religious clichés. Such an obvious difference! Where had the life gone?

Wayne slid from his chair onto his knees and let out a long sigh. Oh, God, You’ve rescued this lamb from the WORLD…now how do I protect him from the leavening in the Church?

A QUICK KNOCK at the partially open door brought Wayne, fumbling, back up into his chair.

“Can…I come in?” asked Tom Hartley from just outside the doorway.

“Uh…sure, come on in.”

“You seemed kind of out of it when I walked by earlier. To be honest, you’re not looking much better now. Do you have a lot on your mind?”

Wayne instinctively straightened his tie, quickly composing his thoughts. “Yeah…I’m just kinda worried about John Carley. That’s all.”

“Something up with John? He’s not in any kind of trouble, is he?” the elder asked with exaggerated concern.

“Well, not physical trouble…it’s spiritual. I had a lot of hope for him. He seemed so alive, so serious about following God. Now he’s fallen back into a lot of old habits.” Wayne lowered his gaze. “I think he’s drinking again. His attitude and perspective seem more worldly than ever.”

Tom made his way further into the room, stroking his chin as he carefully selected the next words from his storehouse of fatherly advice. “Well, you’ve got to keep in mind, not even Jesus saved everybody. He told us to just scatter the seed. And remember, He said that some spring up with great joy, but later wither because they have no root. Maybe this is what’s happening with John.” Tom leaned forward, placing a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t take it so personally, Wayne.”

“I…don’t think that’s the case this time.” Wayne eyed him nervously, gathered his resolve and continued. “This time I think it’s a matter of bad company corrupting good morals.”

“Bad company?” Tom peered more intently at Wayne and asked, “Any idea who?”

“Tom…I wish I could say it’s old influences from the past. But I can’t.” Wayne shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s some of the young men in this Church.”

“This Church? You’ve got to be kidding.” Tom folded his arms across his chest, reflexively protecting. “I think, for the most part, we’ve got a fine group of young people here. I know things aren’t perfect, but they’re better than average.”

Wayne dropped his head, frustrating Tom with his silent rebuttal.

Tom abdicated. “All right…who here at Hampton Street do you think has been a bad influence on Mr. Carley?”

Wayne stared past the tenured elder, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t want to hurt Tom’s feelings. He forced himself to meet Tom’s questioning gaze. “I don’t know how to say this…it’s your son, Tom. The main negative influence on John is your son.”

Tom’s face flushed. “Is that an accusation?”

“No, Tom, it’s not an accusation. Just an answer to your question. You initiated this conversation. Remember?”

Tom clenched his jaw, controlling his initial impulse. “Let me give you some advice. You worry about John. I’ll worry about my son. You’ve got to understand, Wayne, these young men don’t have to meet your rigid expectations. They need space to sow their wild oats. If you push stuff down their throats, they’ll leave. That wouldn’t solve anything, now would it?”

12

IT WAS THURSDAY NIGHT and Wayne was working late at the church building. As he was about to leave, he spotted Hal in the eastern wing. “Hey, Hal, you got a minute?”

Hal Ramsey lifted his lean, six-foot frame from the water fountain. “Sure, Wayne…hey, before I forget — great message last Sunday.” He lowered his voice a fraction as Wayne drew closer. “I know some people may not be as ready to hear that as I am, but…be patient. Like I’ve told you before, it takes time to turn big ships.”

Hal allowed a generous smile to overtake his ruddy face as he shook Wayne’s hand firmly. He enjoyed this role as his pastor’s confidant.

“Are you sure the ship is really turning?” Wayne made no effort to conceal his uncertainty. He led the way into a vacant classroom and began unloading his burdened heart. The situation with Tom’s son and John Carley was tying Wayne in knots and he longed to get to the bottom of it.

Hal intercepted Wayne’s consternation. “Relax, Wayne. I already know about Tom Hartley. I’ve talked with him. He’ll cool off in a few days.”

“I’m not worried about Tom, Hal. I’m worried about John. Why is it that a young man like John can be so on fire and then have the wind knocked out of his sails? And not by the world, but by other so-called ‘Christian’ peers. Like Hartley’s son, for instance?”

“Let’s not overreact. Let’s think this through…slowly. Here, grab a chair.”

Wayne chuckled involuntarily.

“What’s so funny?”

“We’re in the second grade classroom, Hal. Do you want the little red chair…or the little blue one?”

Both men laughed as Hal congratulated himself for inadvertently disarming Wayne. As he leaned against the cinder-block wall, Hal regained a sober composure. “Wayne, there’s one thing you’ve got to realize. Even in the Church, some people are good and some people are bad. There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s like Jesus said in the parable of the wheat and the tares.” He picked up a piece of chalk and, almost without thinking, drew a rough picture of a field on the chalkboard. “Some of the crop is good.” He pointed to one part of the drawing. “And some of it is bad. But you don’t know for sure which is which, and there’s really nothing you can do about it. Besides, Jesus said the harvesting angels would separate…” he drew a line through the middle of the field, “…the good from the bad at the end of the age.

“Relax! Don’t have a messiah complex. You can’t save everybody, and you’ll only wear yourself out if you try.” Hal picked up the eraser and cleared the board. “I know you’re worried about Carley and you care a lot about him. But you can rest easy. If he has a good heart, then God will take care of him.” Hal punctuated his conclusion, brushing the chalk from his hands.

Something in Wayne recoiled at Hal’s logic. But how can I dispute a parable of Jesus? If Jesus said it, it must be true. Right? So what do I do in the meantime? Just watch people’s lives get trashed? Sickening! Why even care about people if you can’t really help them or keep the “members” from being a bad influence on them? And what could Paul have meant when he commanded us to remove the leaven from the batch? Wayne was sure the Scriptures did not contradict each other, though this apparent paradox between the words of Paul and the words of Jesus was perplexing.

“Thanks, Hal,” Wayne responded. “I’ll think about what you said.”

“Sure,” Hal replied. “Why don’t you take some time to look over the parable of the wheat and the tares? Read it tonight. It’ll help you see things more clearly.”

The conversation was over. Hal knew Wayne was still unconvinced — but at least temporarily defused. He’s got to learn that he can’t change the whole world by himself.

AS WAYNE DROVE HOME, his mind was still tangled in confusion. I just don’t get it. Why is this so hard to understand? Maybe Hal is right? But…

He hit the brakes suddenly. He was so deep in thought ,he had missed the entrance to his subdivision. As he turned the car around he concluded, I guess head knowledge doesn’t automatically equal discernment.

He coasted into the driveway and prayed, Lord, please give me wisdom. I don’t want all my scholarship to get in the way of knowing You, like it did for Nicodemus. Help me to SEE the Kingdom. Give me a childlike heart.

Wayne walked in the door and laid his briefcase and coat on the table in the hallway. He kissed Emily, who was in the kitchen peeling potatoes, and made his way to the bedroom. He plopped down at his desk and opened his Bible.

This parable will drive me crazy until I read it again for myself.

He started to read Matthew 13 aloud to himself:

“The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared. The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.

The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

Hal was right, he conceded. I guess even Jesus accepted that there would be pretenders and hypocrites in the Church. If He wants to wait until the end to pull them up so as to protect the good plants…I have to, too.

But a wave of despair began to crash over Wayne as he thought about John and the life he had seen in John’s eyes. That life was so precious in a new believer, yet it had been choked out because of the “weeds” he’d met in the very house of God! Lord, I just don’t get it! I am only a servant. This is Your Church, and I will do as You say! But I must confess I cannot see how leaving these bad influences in Your Church is less harmful than uprooting them. Some show little or no evidence that they know You or love You or wish to obey You! Would You leave Your body diseased instead of expelling a harmful virus?

His eyes moistened with regret, but he read on — compelled. He noticed, a few verses later, the disciples’ question: “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.”

Yes, Master, Wayne agreed.

“He answered, ‘The one who sowed the good seed is the Son of Man. The field is the world, and the good seed stands for the sons of the kingdom.’”

Wait just a minute! his mind shouted. A sensation like wind blowing on the back of his neck hit Wayne as he read the words. What did He say?! His eyebrows raised as he reread the verse to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. “The field is the WORLD!” he shouted.

He heard Emily in the kitchen turn the faucet off and respond, “Wayne, did you call me?”

“I said, the field is the WORLD!”

“Are you reading the African Missions Newsletter?” she queried.

Wayne jumped up from his chair and ran into the kitchen. Emily was chopping carrots at the counter as he rushed up and shoved the Bible between her and the cutting board.

“No, no, Honey,” he blurted out. “Don’t you understand? The field in the parable of the weeds is the world, not the Church! The good seeds are Christians! The bad seeds are sons of the devil!”

Emily stared blankly at her husband, perplexed by his enthusiasm.

Wayne tried again. “In the world, but not of it — get it? The enemy mixed the bad seeds in the world, not the Church. Paul’s command to ‘expel them from your midst’ when they won’t repent doesn’t contradict Jesus at all!”

Wayne continued, even more excited, “Honey, you don’t know how happy this makes me! I don’t have to stand by and watch people die! There must be some way Jesus has provided for us to deal with leaven…but how? I’ve got to figure this out. I know legalism isn’t the answer, but what is?” He strained for a solution.

“Does this have something to do with John Carley?”

“It sure does! John Carley and every other vulnerable lamb.”

He picked up his Bible, speaking aloud to himself as he walked back toward the study. “The only thing I can’t figure out is why Hal hasn’t seen it. He seemed to think this meant we shouldn’t deal with sin to protect God’s lambs. Why hasn’t this verse ever jumped out at him?”

“Wayne, dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”

“Great. Just call me when it’s ready.”

13

IT WAS A NIGHT like many others in the community of believers in Pine Ridge. Some women worked side-by-side in the kitchen preparing some of Marsha’s famous chili. Rain continued to beat steadily down, as it had for hours. The children were settling down in a back room where some of the older ones were planning to read to the toddlers. Though the wind and rain tormented all those outdoors, those gathered at the Harts’ that evening found it quite soothing. The sounds of the heavy rain and full gutters transformed the rolling thunder into a beautiful bass in tonight’s environmental symphony. The men, poised on the edge of their chairs, discussed the day’s events, strategizing what to do about the emptiness in their workplaces.

“It’s getting worse every day. I can’t even go into a meeting or ride the elevator without facing a slew of vulgar language, gossip and darkness. It is especially heartbreaking because I know several of them claim to be Christians.”

“Yes, I know God wants us to be a light shining out of darkness—”

The front door burst open, bringing in a rush of chilling autumn wind, rain and two saturated, desperate men.

“The old Turner house…” Brian paused to catch his breath. “The tarp…it’s blown off. We tried to get it back in place. But with just the two of us…”

Some of the men were already out the door. Others, realizing what had happened, began grabbing raincoats and hats and entered the tempest.

The women and children watched from the front porch as the men scattered down the street toward the distressed property. Wives could barely identify their husbands through the silver sheets of rain blowing under the blackened sky. They tried to calm the questioning children who had been roused by the sudden uproar. The thunder, which had seemed almost playful from indoors, exploded from the darkness, terrifying the children.

Marsha tried to soothe them. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about. I’m sure the tarp hasn’t been off for that long. I’ll bet everything will be just fine.” She was trying to encourage herself as well as the others in the sullen crowd.

The women went on to feed the fussing, hungry children, periodically moving back curtains to peek out the windows and door.

After forty-five minutes, the dripping men returned with red, downcast faces.

Alan spoke up to answer the huddle of questioning looks. “Hard to tell for sure how much we’ll lose. We’ll know more in the morning when it’s light. We all knew it would be risky trying to fix that roof after we were so far along, but at the time it didn’t seem like we had a choice. We had to do it.”

“What does the damage look like?”

Ted spoke up. “It doesn’t look good. We only had the flashlights, but water is dripping from the first floor ceiling and the second story floor is buckling. That whole floor could be ruined. The big stack of drywall at the top of the stairs is saturated, and it looks like we’ll lose most of the drywall we hung last weekend.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We can’t possibly come up with the money to replace all that.”

“Is there any use in going on?”

“Even if we had the money, we were already working double time to be done by the end of the year. Now there is no way we could finish by then.”

There was a hush over the room as everyone considered the ramifications. They all knew it was true.

Carolyn spoke up. “I have to think that if this was my own house and my own situation, I would be forced to find a way to make it work. It seems to me, if the Richardson’s are coming here to be a part of our lives, then we might as well be completely committed to them…starting right now.”

THE NEXT NIGHT, Carolyn sat on the couch, surrounded by stacks of laundry. It had been a long day, and after several nights of being up with the baby, her body craved sleep. It was 10:30 p.m., but the luxury of sleep must wait because three loads of laundry and caring for a one-year-old took precedence.

Despite fatigue, her mind was restless. Carolyn could not stop thinking about their early days at Pine Ridge. She remembered the things that made them want to move there — the warmth, the level of commitment, the possibility of close, daily relationships. It had all seemed so exciting.

Carolyn’s collage of memories was interrupted as her husband came through the front door.

“Hi, Ted. How did it go at the old Turner place tonight?”

“Actually, it went okay. It looks as though the damage may not be as bad as we thought. Now that the floor is dry, the buckling doesn’t seem that bad. I think it can be salvaged.” Ted left the living room to go to the kitchen, and Carolyn returned to her laundry.

He returned minutes later with two corn dogs and a root beer and plopped down beside Carolyn. “You look thoughtful, Honey. What are you thinking about?”

“Do you know what day today is?”

Ted hesitated, smearing one of his corn dogs in a large puddle of mustard and running through his mental list of important dates. “For a minute I thought I had forgotten your birthday or our anniversary. But today is November 15th. Is there anything special about November 15th?”

“It was four years ago today, Ted, that we moved to Pine Ridge.”

“No kidding. Boy, how time flies.”

“Do you remember that day?”

“How could I ever forget it! I’ll never forget the look on your face when I dropped the fish bowl on the driveway and Marsha’s cat ate them.” Ted grinned. “I told you we should have flushed those fish before we left.”

“That’s enough, Dear.” She laughed softly. “It was a fun day. Remember how crazy our parents and friends thought we were.”

“They just couldn’t understand us moving out of state without jobs. I remember your dad.” Ted shook his finger as he imitated Carolyn’s father, “‘Now, Ted, this is a very irresponsible thing you are doing…’” Ted let out a deep sigh, then became more serious. “But God sure came through for us, didn’t He? I got a job. And look — He’s given us a beautiful daughter, a nice home and a wonderful group of brothers and sisters to share our lives with. God has been very good to us.”

“Those were some good days,” Carolyn agreed. “Remember how excited we were? It was such a time of growth. We seemed to see God answer our prayers on a daily basis. God was so real, so alive to us.”

Carolyn placed the last stack of laundry into the basket and started upstairs. Ted rinsed his dishes and shut off the downstairs lights for the night. When he walked into the bedroom, Carolyn looked up from the dresser. “Do you think we’re the same?”

“The same? What do you mean?”

“My relationship with God seems different now — not as fresh, not as exciting. Does it seem that way to you?”

“I guess so. That’s the way it is with anything, isn’t it? When things are new, there is always something exciting about it. But it’s nothing to get upset about. I think we’re both doing okay. You’ve been so busy lately, and Marie has been up for the last four nights in a row. You just need to get some rest.”

14

WAYNE WAS NOT PREPARED for his next discovery.

It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. A half-dozen families had gathered at Hal and Virginia Ramsey’s house to take in the local college football rivalry. Ed Lowrey, another one of the elders at Hampton Street, was sitting in front of the TV with a mason jar full of sweet tea, prepared to rib the opposition. He didn’t plan on missing a single play.

The smell of fresh-baked bread still lingered in the air, with faint traces of cinnamon from the homemade cider and just a scent now and then of turkey and dressing. Most of the men sat huddled around the screen, each giving his synopsis of the last play and his opinion of the coaching. The ladies stood idle in the kitchen, struggling to make conversation. They defaulted to discussing the latest capers with the children and their favorite recipes.

Cheers erupted from the living room. It was a touchdown play. During the commotion, Ashley, the Davidsons’ eighteen-month-old daughter, wandered down the hall and into the master bedroom, whose door was slightly ajar.

When Wayne realized she was missing, he began looking for her. He had seen the messes this little one could make in a matter of seconds — a few loose crayons, a fragile lamp, a box of laundry detergent left a little too low…Wayne’s memories dictated that he had better find this little culprit, before she struck again.

A brief journey down the hall revealed a now fully-opened door to the master bedroom, the only clue Wayne needed.

It looked like the room was safe, at least from any major damage. Just a few seconds of cleaning and stacking and everything would be back to normal. She had waddled her way over to the mini-entertainment center in the bedroom, and several rows of VCR tapes now lay scattered across the floor.

Most were the usual, worldly videos Wayne knew most of his congregation watched — Back to the Future, Terminator, An Officer and a Gentleman, Die Hard and a few other blockbusters. He was still wondering how to address this subject with the congregation, but he never expected to find one of his elders watching this sort of thing.

As he reached to straighten the tapes in the back row, he felt his stomach knotting. They were plain black cases without pictures, but the words on the sides sent a shriek of terror through his soul. Triple-X movies, at least a dozen, with names too perverse to repeat. He hastily shoved everything back into the cabinet, grabbed Ashley and headed for the door.

He could feel the surge of tears about to explode through his face. He was hoping to make it through the living room and into the yard without being noticed. He quickly handed Ashley to Emily and bolted out the back door.

He sat and wept for what seemed like hours in the open field outside the now distant home. Waves of emotions swept over him as he heaved and prayed and sobbed. The dreams were beginning to make sense — too much sense.

Wayne recalled Hal’s compromising counsel about the tares. It was all making sense now…except what to do next.

15

THAT SAME NIGHT, on the college campus, Rick Adams sat alone in the corner of the vacant cafeteria, at the same table where he and Professor Archer had talked a month earlier. On the table lay an open theology book — the kind normally found only in the reference section of a library — an untouched tray of food and a closed Bible. He stared out into the dark night, watching the light mist fall onto the holiday-emptied sidewalks.

The sound of approaching steps brought him back into the room. “Hey, Rick. I’ve been looking for you.” It was the campus minister.

Rick acknowledged his beaming visitor with a nod and gestured toward an empty chair across the table.

“Listen. I know it’s late, but I’m in a tight spot,” the campus minister began, sliding into the chair. “Here’s the deal.” He leaned forward onto his elbows. “The pastor at the college Church came down with bronchitis, and we need somebody to fill in for tomorrow morning’s sermon. I recommended you, and the elders concurred. We’ve definitely appreciated the times you’ve helped out in the past.”

Rick was quiet. “I’m sorry. I’d rather not.”

The campus minister cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You know it really wouldn’t have to be a big thing. Not like you’d have to prepare ten hours for it. Just something simple.”

“It’s not the time factor,” Rick countered softly. “It’s just…it’s just I don’t feel like I have anything to say right now. That’s all.”

16

AS WAYNE DAVIDSON STOOD in the pulpit of Hampton Street Bible Church the next morning, the gravity of the moment began to close in on him. All night long he had wrestled for a solution, finally concluding that his only course of action was to address this problem through the pulpit.

As he stood there looking out on his congregation, Wayne spotted Hal Ramsey seated in the middle of the crowd. He thought for a moment he would lose his balance when Hal offered him a warm smile. Wayne grasped the sides of the pulpit, took a deep breath and looked down at his notes. He knew what he needed to do. After arranging his notes and taking a drink of water, Wayne looked at his congregation and greeted them. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” answered the majority of those present.

“Well, I trust the Lord has blessed you this week. If we—”

“Our team won!” volunteered Ed Lowrey in support of Wayne’s statement. Many of the younger members laughed, while most of the elderly sat stone-faced, still not completely comfortable with such modern informality in the worship. Wayne was startled only by the poignant reminder of the discovery made the preceding day.

“Yes, well, thank you for sharing that, Ed. I’m sure each of us has reasons to be thankful.” Wayne cleared his throat as a small chuckle in the auditorium concluded the matter.

“If we could, I’d like to ask God to bless our time together here this morning.” Wayne allowed a few seconds for folks to shift into a more comfortable position, then petitioned, “Our Heavenly Father, we ask that You would be with us here this morning as we study Your Word. We ask that You would give me wisdom as I teach from the Scriptures, and that You would show each one of us how to apply Your truth to our lives, individually, starting today. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation echoed. They shuffled Bibles, notebooks, pens and pencils as they prepared to study together. Wayne looked out on those entrusted to his care. Things were not as pure as they looked, and he knew it.

He saw Hal slip on a pair of reading glasses, legs crossed, note pad on his knee, pen in hand. Hypocrite! Wayne charged in his mind. Wait! I can’t react that way. Jesus never compromises, but He is always redemptive. God, please give me wisdom. Please reach my brother with this message.

Wayne realized he had lost track of time when Hal’s eyes narrowed in unison with the smile on his face. He quickly snapped to attention and addressed his congregation. “This morning, I’d like to deviate a little bit from our exposition of Matthew and share with you a message I feel is more…urgent right now.” There was some shifting in the auditorium, including some whispered conversation. Wayne could see anxiety on his wife’s face. She was looking across the aisle at Ron Beuford and his wife Katie, seated in the second row.

Ron and Katie were a middle-aged couple who had been unable to have children. Ron poured himself into his work at a mortgage company, and his wife found solace in volunteering at the Church. She was a meticulous woman who had overseen the Sunday school curriculum for the last eight years. She planned the classes months ahead of time to match the sermons, and then fretted as she waited for things to come off as planned. Wayne sometimes wondered why she tortured herself.

Wayne noticed Emily taking a second look at Katie. He knew Katie was taking this personally, imagining she had let everyone down because he was departing from the preprinted schedule. Wayne also knew what Emily was thinking. Ron, a generous contributor to the needs of Hampton Street, was determined to keep Katie happy. Wayne recognized this as the source of the anxiety that flashed across Emily’s face. He was not entirely unsympathetic. But I have to do this.

Wayne continued, “We’ll pick up with our study in Matthew next week. I know this is a bit unusual — but as your pastor, I feel the message I’m planning to share this morning is more needed at this point.” Wayne took note of Ron and Katie’s expressions as he scanned the faces of those in front of him.

“I’m calling today’s message ‘The Corinthian Excuse.’” Wayne waited a few seconds while papers shuffled. “The Corinthian Excuse. What is the Corinthian Excuse? Well, I’m sure you’ve heard it. We’ve all heard it in one form or another at some point in our lives as Christians.” Wayne paused dramatically, then continued in a probing tone. “You may have even used the Corinthian Excuse. What is it?” Wayne gestured with a shrug. “Well, it comes in many styles and forms. Please open your Bibles to First Corinthians.

“What do we usually think of when we think of the Corinthian believers?” Wayne scanned the room for a response. “Ed, what are some things we usually think of when we consider the Church in Corinth?”

“Carnality. Sin,” Ed Lowrey answered in a loud voice.

“Good, good. Carnality and sin.” Wayne proceeded to write these words on the left side of a large white board behind him. “What kind of sin?”

Several others volunteered details. “Divisions. Selfishness. Pride…”

Wayne wrote hurriedly as descriptions were offered. Encouraged by the response so far, he capped the marker and faced the audience again. “Okay, we’ve got divisions, selfishness, pride, drunkenness, gluttony, boasting. Anything else you can think of?”

Wayne froze as Hal’s hand went up. He looked him in the eye and nodded involuntarily. Wayne thought he was going to be sick when Hal suggested, “How about immorality?” Wayne couldn’t move. Hal continued, somewhat uncomfortable with his pastor’s delayed acknowledgment. “It certainly was a problem there.” That was the answer Wayne was soliciting, but he never envisioned it coming from Hal.

Wayne spun around to add it to the list. “Yes, it certainly was.” He gathered himself as he wrote on the board. “Okay, now I’d like to know some things you think of when you consider the Corinthian Church that are more positive in nature. What are some of the good things?” Wayne recognized a hand on the front row. “Yes?”

“Paul said they had every spiritual gift.”

“Every spiritual gift,” Wayne repeated as he wrote on the white board. “What else?”

After others offered positive attributes of Corinth, Wayne began to make his point. “Now—” Wayne paused to make sure everyone was following him, “what do people say when someone challenges the sin in their lives or the level of worldliness in their congregation? What is their reply if someone suggests that God isn’t amused at sin — that He will bring judgment if there is no repentance?”

Wayne paused again to let the full weight of the questions sink in.

“They say, ‘What about Corinth?’” Ed Lowrey offered. “‘There was a lot of sin there and they were still God’s Church.’”

“Exactly!” commended Wayne. “And what is the motive for bringing up the sin in Corinth after someone offers a challenge?”

“It keeps the heat off you, it’s a smoke screen,” another member retorted.

“And it makes it seem like sin’s not that bad,” volunteered someone else.

“Now, before I expose that myth,” Wayne began, “let me ask one more side question. Tell me why any true follower of Jesus would want to pick the weakest Church in all of the Bible as a role model? Have we really slid that far to where the heroes of the faith are no longer the role models? Do we now, instead, search through our Bibles trying — on purpose — to find the weakest acceptable standard?” The rhetorical questions left silence in the air.

After enough silence had passed to convince Wayne the point was made, he began again. “It is true that Paul still addresses these folks as ‘a Church’ despite the corruption that had slipped in. But keep in mind that he had made some pretty bold statements. He also said in the same letter that ‘their meetings did more harm than good’ and that what they thought was the Lord’s Supper was, in fact, a cup of demons instead.

“Whew! Some pretty tough language, don’t you think?” Wayne began to pace the rostrum. “It’s always puzzled me — this Church is in such a mess and Paul speaks so harshly to them. Yet, at the same time, he still seemed to have a confidence that things would be all right. It puzzled me — that is, until I found a few other verses that complete this story. Turn in your Bibles to Second Corinthians chapter seven.

“In this passage, Paul unlocks the mystery of his confidence in this weak, infant Church. In fact, in this same passage he goes on to say that he had already bragged to Titus that he knew they would repent of the sins he had brought to their attention in his previous letter. Where does he get the confidence that would cause him to brag about how they would respond to his first letter?” Wayne returned to the podium and flipped the pages of his Bible. “What clues does the text give us about how they responded to his first letter? Let’s look.”

He lifted his Bible from the podium and began to read:

“See what this Godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. AT EVERY POINT YOU HAVE PROVED YOURSELVES TO BE INNOCENT IN THIS MATTER…”

Wayne returned his Bible to its resting place and began pacing again. “Now, stay with me,” he pled. “His confidence in them was not based on their condition! It was based on his knowledge of how they would respond! He knew things were a mess! A big mess! But, and you’ve got to see this, he also knew that ‘the — sheep — know — the — shepherd’s — voice.’ He knew in his heart of hearts that they would respond with repentance. And what a massive repentance it was!

“They didn’t say, ‘What about Ephesus — they’re not so hot.’ They didn’t try to blame-shift or to hide behind the Galatians, who were also in a bit of a mess, if you remember. What did they do? They were cut to the heart and they repented!

“I got excited the other day — someone brought up Corinth.” His voice was raised, but it wasn’t theatrics. “That used to make me nervous. Not any more. I said, Yep, Corinth was a weak Church. Maybe the weakest Church in the whole Bible. But let this be a commentary on us today: We don’t even measure up to the weakest Church in the Bible. Here’s why.” Wayne held up two fingers. “Number one, when their sins were exposed they responded with violent, sweeping repentance. And two, when the Corinthian Church withdrew from the immoral brother, the text implies in chapter two, that not eating with him almost killed the man!

“What do you think of that? To be ‘disfellowshiped’ in the weakest Church in the Bible was more painful than going through a divorce. An intense, painful separation. Oh, that we were as weak as they…”

Wayne finished out the hour by admonishing his congregation to turn from sin. He pleaded with them to not let the leaven of private sin destroy their whole lives and work its way into the lives of the whole Church as Paul had warned. Many in the congregation were moved emotionally by the passion Wayne displayed as he begged them to be honest with themselves about their lives.

Wayne could usually tell if his message had been delivered and received successfully. This morning, he was confident it had. It occurred to him there was a healthy sobriety when the service ended, and he was fairly certain Hal had taken his message to heart. He knew he would see him when the service was over and was eager to find out how he was taking it. As the congregation sang the concluding hymn, Wayne noticed Hal wasn’t singing. God, I knew You’d come through. Help him to turn to You. Wayne prayed silently.

As was his custom, Wayne went to stand at the front doors and exchange pleasantries with families as they poured into the parking lot. Occasionally, he scanned the sea of faces, hoping to find Hal. I hope he’s not avoiding me.

“That was a wonderful sermon, young man,” an elderly woman greeted him.

Wayne looked down and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Rugger.” There he is! Wayne now saw Hal talking jovially with Ed Lowrey. Mrs. Rugger released Wayne’s hand and surrendered to the tide of the vacating crowd.

Slowly the throng dissipated, and Hal approached Wayne with a placid expression on his face. They were relatively alone, as those remaining were turning out lights and locking doors. Wayne breathed another prayer for wisdom and placed his hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Are you doing okay, Hal?” Wayne asked cautiously.

Hal cocked his head and donned a confused grin, “Sure. What do you mean?”

Wayne stumbled for words, “Well, I mean with…with what was said this morning. I just thought that maybe…”

“Oh, that,” Hal interrupted.

Wayne lit up, seeing the realization on Hal’s face.

Hal continued, “Hey, listen. I’m sorry if what I said this morning was…um…if what I said was inappropriate.”

Now Wayne was confused. “Inappropriate? What do you mean?”

“You know, the comment about there being a lot of immorality in Corinth. I wondered after I said it if maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“No. I mean…” Wayne wasn’t sure what to make of this. He could see Emily walking with Hal’s wife, Virginia, down the hall toward the exit. He quickly steered Hal out the front door and walked slowly toward the parking lot. The fresh air cleared his mind and he again groped for Hal’s inner thoughts. “So what did you think of the…message this morning?” Wayne searched Hal’s face for a sign of conviction.

Hal looked up with a comfortable smile, “It was good, Wayne. Real good.” Hal sensed that perhaps he hadn’t said exactly what Wayne wanted to hear. He tried again. “I think your delivery was very effective. You were really able to solicit a lot of participation.”

Wayne stared at Hal incredulously. He didn’t get it.

Hal wasn’t sure why Wayne looked so stoic. “Hey, Wayne, if you’re worried about Katie Beuford and her Sunday School curriculum getting side-tracked,” he continued consolingly, “I really wouldn’t let it bother you. She’ll get over it.”

Emily and Virginia were rapidly approaching with their children. The knot in Wayne’s stomach confirmed that the issue was still unresolved. “Listen, Wayne, I promised Virginia I’d take her to the mall today and get the kids some new clothes.” Wayne still stood like a monument. “Are you going to be all right?”

Wayne yielded to reality. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Hal moved across the parking lot toward his car, where his wife and children were buckling in. “You need to relax, Wayne,” Hal advised loudly. “You seem stressed. Hey, why don’t you and Emily take a couple of days off this week. The children can stay at our house.”

Wayne felt nauseous.