“And you think all that is a sign of God’s approval? Your father never brought a single soul to salvation. I thought you understood. Salvation is a work of the Holy Spirit, Paul. It’s God who saves. It’s Jesus. No man can or should take credit for anyone’s salvation. I tried to teach you the truth. I tried to teach you the proper way to walk. Without compromise. To strive to live a holy life. I tried to tell you the Christian life isn’t a sprint. It’s a grueling marathon. And you used to believe. Your heart was tender toward God. And your faith earned your father’s disdain. Do you remember?”
“He was a little tough on me, I guess.”
“You guess? May God help you to remember the way it really was. You wanted your father’s attention, Paul. You craved his approval. I didn’t know how much until I heard you preach. I said you were more like your father than I realized. You took it as a compliment. I didn’t mean it that way. I should have made it clear.”
He stood. “I’m not sure I want to hear my own mother rip my father’s reputation apart when he’s dead and can’t even defend himself.”
“There was a time when you didn’t run away from the truth.”
“I had an affair. I admit it. It’s over. I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”
“That’s what he said—in the same unrepentant, unconscionable tone. Did you also tell Eunice it was her fault? That she wasn’t enough of a wife to keep you happy? Did you lay the blame for your sins at her feet the same way your father laid his at mine? I can see by your face you did. Sit down!”
He sat. Shocked. His mother had never spoken to him like this before.
“Your father didn’t choose to retire, Paul. He was forced to retire. One of the elders found out your father was having an affair with a woman he was counseling. And it wasn’t his first, I can tell you.
“The elder confronted your father. He wouldn’t listen. Then two elders went to talk with him. He put an end to the affair and thought that was the end of the trouble. But he’d grown careless. He was involved with more than one woman at a time. One found out about the other and came to the elders.
“They told him if he didn’t tender his resignation, they would expose him before the congregation. If he agreed to step down, nothing would be said about it. The women would be asked to leave the church. His reputation would remain intact. He agreed; they kept their word. Nothing was ever said. We all swept the sordid episode under the carpet along with all the other sordid little episodes he’d conducted over the years. We all thought we were protecting the church.”
She paused, tears filling her eyes again. “But we were just adding to the corruption . . . because here you are, his son, following in his footsteps.”
“I’ve only had one affair.”
“You lie to me as easily as you lie to yourself.”
“Sheila’s the only one, I swear, Mom. It’s over. It was a mistake. The biggest of my life.” He was shaking. He felt cold inside.
“Oh, Paul, you’re so blind! You’ve been cheating on God for years. I’ve been in your church. I’ve seen how you work people, how you charm and manipulate them. You’ve become just like your father. He used people up and threw them away. I was the first one of a long line of people who loved him and prayed for him. He used my love to control me, to keep me silent. And you’ve done the same thing to Eunice. You used her talents, too. Until she refused to compromise. And then you set her aside because you were more interested in pleasing people than doing what was right in God’s eyes.”
He felt a shiver up his spine, hair standing on end. He rubbed his neck, trying to rub the feeling away.
She leaned forward, hands clasped. “Do you think God doesn’t see what you do? Do you think the Lord doesn’t know what you think about Him? You use His name to get your way. You water down His Word in order to entertain your people. You’ve been spitting in the face of the One who saved you and loved you as your father never did!”
Her words cut into him. Never in his life had he faced her condemnation. Clenching his fists, he fought tears. “I’ve worked hard to build that church. It was dying when I came to Centerville. I have over three thousand people in my congregation now!”
“And you think that makes you a success?” She leaned back, hands resting on the arms of the chair. “And what does your church stand for but your own pride of accomplishment?”
He drew back. “It stands for Christ.”
“No, it doesn’t. A visitor doesn’t have a clue what kind of doctrine they’ll hear when they walk through the doors. They don’t even know what doctrine is. What do they hear, Paul? What truth? The gospel? No. All they get is an hour of entertainment. Exciting music. Special effects. A titillating speech to rouse their emotions. You care more about the number of people sitting in your pews than who they are—lost souls in need of a Savior. People can’t be healed and made whole by Christ until their hearts are broken over their sin, and you’ve made them comfortable with it—and your-self right along with them.”
He couldn’t look her in the eyes.
His mother wilted. She covered her face. “I was wrong to protect your father. I was wrong to cover for him. I tried to convince myself that I was protecting the church by protecting him.” She looked up, face ravaged. “God, forgive me. Eunice was right. I lived a lie. I was protecting myself from the humiliation and the shame.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “I didn’t want people to know I wasn’t enough of a woman to hold my man.” She gave a bleak laugh. “The truth is, no woman could’ve held him. It was a game he played. Maybe if he’d been held accountable, some things would have changed. The discipline would’ve put the fear of God into others. Like you. You wouldn’t have thought you could do things your own way. You would’ve learned that God is merciful, but He doesn’t compromise.”
“Dad was a good man. I can’t believe you’re saying all this.” He didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want to feel the conviction.
Lois shuddered. “The Lord gave your father opportunities to repent, Paul. He gave him chance after chance. Instead, your father’s heart grew harder and more proud. Sometimes I think the Lord struck him down on that airplane. God took his life before he could do any more damage.”
“He built a church, Mom.”
“He drew a crowd.” She leaned forward again, hands outstretched. “Listen to me, Paul. Listen carefully. Your father was never a shepherd. He was a cattleman driving his herd to market. He tried to drive you. Don’t you remember? He belittled and mocked you. He pushed and prodded. He did everything he could to mold you and make you into what he was. And you resisted him. I saw how tender your heart was. You were more like your grandfather Ezra than your father.”
“My grandfather was a failure.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong. All Ezra ever wanted to do was serve the Lord, to spread the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ. And he did! If you go back to the places where he preached, you’ll find churches, Paul. Small but living churches, centered on Christ and the Bible. Your grandfather served the Lord more faithfully than your father ever did.”
“But Dad said—”
“Your father only saw there was never enough money for the things he wanted. Your father hated him for that. He wanted no part of the kind of life your grandfather led, a life of self-sacrifice. He wanted a big house and a fancy car. He wanted fame. So he used the talents God gave him for his own aggrandizement. He used preaching to live exactly as he pleased. And God gave him over to his sin.”
“I thought you loved him.”
“I loved the man I thought I married. And when I knew who and what he really was, I loved him out of obedience to Christ. I didn’t always succeed. Divorce was never an option for me. But there came a time . . . ” She shook her head and stared down at her hands. “I stopped sleeping with your father after the fourth affair.” She raised her head. “Eunice knew. Not everything I’ve told you. Not how many times your father cheated, but she knew enough of what I was suffering and why. She
never broke trust with me, Paul. And I’ve been wondering since she left this morning. Did I tell her about your father because I hoped she would do my dirty work and tell you? What a terrible burden she’s carried for me all these years.”
Paul held his head. He couldn’t shut out the ring of truth, nor the flood of memories. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I need to sleep on it. I need to think things over.”
“You can do all that somewhere else.” His mother stood. “I love you, Paul, but it’s time for you to go.”
He raised his head and stared at her. “You’re kicking me out? Mom, I hardly slept last night. I drove five hours to get here. It’s not my fault Eunice isn’t here. I’m too tired to—”
“I, I, I!” She looked at him in disgust. “You got yourself into this mess, and it’s going to take more than whining and excuses and self-pity to get you out of it.”
“I understand. It’s just that—”
“You haven’t even considered what you’ve put Eunice through, have you? Not really.”
“Of course I have.”
“God help you. You’re a liar just like your father. I made things easy for him. And now look at the trouble it’s brought upon all of us.” She went to the door and opened it. “I’m not going to offer a safe haven to the one who sent Eunice out into the night.”
“I don’t know where she is, Mom. I haven’t a clue.”
“Then you’d better find out.” Her voice broke. “That poor girl. What you’ve done to her. What I helped you do.” She drew herself up and spoke firmly. “You’re not welcome in my house until you make things right with your wife.” Tears spilled over her cheeks as she made a cutting gesture toward the open doorway.
Paul picked up his jacket and went out the door. When he turned and looked into his mother’s eyes, his heart plunged. She’d always been there for him, always his ally. No one loved a son like his own mother. She looked at him as though he were a stranger she didn’t want to know.
“Wait just a minute.” She disappeared for only a moment. “Take this.” She thrust his wedding picture into his hand. “It might make you think about what you stand to lose.” She closed the door and turned the dead bolt.
The first flight to Philadelphia was full. There was no choice but to wait. Eunice took a seat by the windows, looking out over the runways. She was so tired, she thought about stretching out on the floor and tucking her purse under her head. But it wasn’t to be done. What would people think? A Starbucks was just down the concourse. Maybe a caramel latte would give her a boost, and maybe the courage she’d need for her first airplane flight.
It didn’t.
She tried not to think about anything, especially Paul’s possible reaction when he arrived in Reseda and found her gone. She could guess. What would he say to the congregation about her absence? Assuming anyone bothered to ask. Family emergency? A cousin died? Thank you for your condolences. Of course, there were no cousins.
Bitter thoughts ran through her head. She prayed God would stop them. She prayed for help to get through the racking pain, prayed to know what to do, prayed the Lord would just swoop down like an eagle and rescue her.
Her cell phone rang. She took it out of her purse, pressed a button, and looked at the caller’s number. Paul. She tossed the cell phone back into her purse.
Four hours crawled by before she boarded the plane with nothing but her purse.
“Would you like a pillow and blanket?”
“Please.” She smiled her thanks at the attendant. Scrunching up the pillow, she tucked it into the curve of her shoulder and leaned against the window.
She awakened once as an in-flight meal was being served. As soon as she finished the lasagna, she went back to sleep, and didn’t awaken until the flight attendant tapped her on the shoulder. “You’ll have to put your seat into the full upright position. Is your seat belt fastened?” She nodded, dozing again as the plane landed.
Everyone was out of their seats and pulling luggage out of overhead compartments and from under seats. People stood in the aisle, loaded down and eager to depart the aircraft. Eunice watched their faces as they passed. As the line of passengers trickled, she stood, looped the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and stepped out into the aisle. She was the last one to leave the airplane.
“Thank you,” she said as she passed the pilot and senior flight attendant, “for the smooth flight.” A pity she had slept through the experience and missed looking out the window at the tapestry of America below. She’d been too tired to keep her eyes open. She had been lulled to sleep by the hum of the engine.
She found the line of rental-car agencies and went from one to the next. But the prices were higher than she had imagined. She didn’t want to buy the car, just rent it. Finally, she gave in and handed over her credit card for a small compact that was doable and came with unlimited mileage. An agency bus picked her up and dropped her off next to the car. She sat in the driver’s seat for a long while, looking through the owner’s manual to learn how to turn on the headlights and windshield wipers, and how to release the brake. It was the first time she’d driven a new car, and she didn’t want to put a dent into it before she drove off the lot.
It was late. Most travelers were probably checking into hotels, but she had slept all the way across the country and knew that renting a room would be a waste of money. She found her way onto the main highway.
She missed Tim. Her throat closed up thinking about him. Perhaps she should have called and told him she was in Southern California. But if she had done that, he would have come over, and he would have known immediately something was wrong.
Jesus, in Your mercy, let it be Paul who tells him. Or Lois. I can’t do it. Don’t let me be the one to see the disappointment come into Tim’s eyes, the realization that everything he said was true. “This church is full of hypocrites, and Dad’s the biggest one of all.” Her son had seen more clearly than she had.
Headlights flashed by, one pair after another, passing her in the night.
Had Paul ever really loved her? She’d wondered why he even looked twice at her in college. A little backwoods girl. Unsophisticated.
What now, Lord? Didn’t You say infidelity is reason for divorce?
She unclenched her hands on the wheel and changed positions. A friend had told her once that the horror of divorce was never over. Especially when children were involved. But Tim wasn’t a child anymore. He was a young man, ready to embark upon whatever adventures the Lord had in store for him.
Give my son a faithful, loving wife, God—a girl who will cherish him and fight for their marriage. Someone he will love and hold dear all the days of his life. Let him be a man who keeps his promises.
Paul spent a restless night in a Hilton off Interstate 5 near Santa Clarita. It hadn’t occurred to him when he headed south that he would need a change of clothing, his razor, and toothbrush. He’d purchased the necessities last night before he checked in. He’d watched a movie to stop thinking about what his mother had said.
It didn’t help.
He had to get back to the church. He had to see if anything had been said, any questions raised. He needed to write a sermon for Sunday. No matter what disaster had befallen his life, he still had to stand up in that pulpit and give some kind of message to the people filling the pews. He sat up and fought the nausea of exhaustion and emotional upheaval.
Maybe a shower would help clear his head.
He turned the water all the way up and stood in the hard, hot stream. It didn’t make him feel any better. Nor did he feel clean. He couldn’t shut out the memory of Sheila’s contempt or Eunice’s eyes so full of pain.
The photograph his mother had given him was still in the car. He hadn’t wanted to bring it into the hotel room with him, to wake up to it this morning.
He nicked himself shaving. Cursing, he finished more carefully, then threw the toiletries into the
wastebasket, dressed, and went down to the lobby restaurant to have a continental breakfast. They wouldn’t be serving until six. He wasn’t willing to wait. He checked out. He could always stop on the other side of the Grapevine and have breakfast.
Samuel listened. He heard birds, the soft hum of bees in the honeysuckle, the trickle of the water fountain in the center of the courtyard, the metallic glide of a window opening, and the muted sound of a television game show.
In the midst of such peaceful surroundings, he imagined the sound of the shofar. The Lord was calling, and the sound resonated in his heart. It carried. Stephen had heard it, too. God no longer needed men to blast the ram’s horn to hear His Word. He was writing on men’s hearts through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. But few listened. Few leaned in and sought out God’s will for their lives.
Once, on Mount Sinai, the Lord Himself had blasted the shofar as He was giving the law to Moses. It must have been a sound so intense and beckoning it made the human heart tremble.
Oh, God, how I long for You to sound the shofar again! Let deaf men hear You so that they will never doubt again that there is a God in heaven. You are Creator, Father, almighty God, and Son. Oh, Lord, I know You speak to us through the Holy Spirit now, but You blew the shofar once. Please blow it again so that Paul—and indeed, all men—will turn back from destruction. How long must I listen to the hollow words of a man who claims he speaks for You and yet lives in the shadow of judgment and death? I hear Your quiet voice, but his ears are shut. Blast him out of his complacency before it’s too late, Lord. Shake him up. I see the evidence of You in every dawn and sunset . . . and his eyes are closed.
The sun was rising at her back as Eunice approached the bridge half a mile outside of her hometown. She used to sit on this bridge when she was a girl and drop pebbles into the water. Coal Ridge seemed deserted except for two old men sitting in rocking chairs outside the general store. They watched her drive past. She turned up Colton Avenue and slowed almost to a stop as she drove by the home in which she had been raised. It was boarded up, weeds overgrown in the yard, an old For Sale sign posted on the white picket fence. She parked in front.