“Missy, will you come with me to the grocery store. I need to pick up a few things for your mom.” My dad normally makes this type of request in an attempt to have father-daughter time.
I suppose since I’m getting older he wants to know what I’m thinking. I don’t get to talk to him very often especially as of lately. He has been going on more and more missions trips. Sometimes, I wonder if he will just move abroad. But I know he won’t leave my mom here because he loves her way too much to be apart from her that long.
After twenty-six years, they still act like teenagers in love. I pray I’ll have a relationship like theirs one day. My mom is such a strong woman. She’s got that whole “stand by your man” thing down pat. I know my dad is a good man, but I don’t know if I could do all she does for him or us for that matter. She gives so much and doesn’t expect anything in return. Don’t get me wrong my dad takes care of her. He treats her like a queen. I guess that’s why she does all she can for him.
“Sure dad,” I almost forgot to respond. “I’ll go.”
I pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. There is no need to be fancy. There is never a need to be fancy. I grabbed some tennis shoes and went to the living room.
“Ok. We will see you in a bit.” He said, as he gave my mom a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you,” My mom responded.
“I love you too.”
No matter what, they always say I love you before leaving each other. They don’t even leave a conversation on the phone without saying “I love you.” My mom does the same thing with us. I guess they don’t want a moment to pass where they miss the opportunity to say it. You hear stories all the time of people dying all of a sudden and their loved ones regret not having told them of their love for them. Maybe that’s why my parents make a point of doing it so very often.
“So Missy, have you made any decisions about college?” My dad interrupted my thoughts.
“Kind of, sort of, I guess.” I heard the question, but my thoughts were too preoccupied to engage.
We had taken his Ford 150 to the store. It is a white double cab that stays clean. It was actually a gift from the church.
The truck he had before had definitely seen better days. It kept breaking down, but he kept pushing it. I was so embarrassed to see him coming because of the awful screech it made when he pressed the brake. More embarrassing was the smoke that circled it like it was setting the mood for a concert, when it was parked. I had to pretend I could breathe as I hurried to get inside. I didn’t want to draw attention by coughing or panting. Most of the time, I would just hold my breath. Then, when I did finally get in the car, praying all my friends and peers forget they ever saw it, he’d roll the window down and carry on conversations with the teachers. These same teachers are members of the church whom he could ask these questions to on Sunday. I am so glad I grew up past that stage. I’m embarrassed just reliving the horror in memory.
Thankfully, the church wanted him to have a more reliable means of transportation since he spends so much time visiting members. They surprised him with it a few months ago. I still can’t believe he wanted to keep the old one after he got the new one. The only reason he didn’t keep it is a man desperately needed a vehicle so he donated it to him. The man said he could patch up some of the issues and make it work.
We have some very wealthy people in our congregation. I have only discovered a few in conversations. The ones with real money don’t make it known. They blend in like camouflage. They don’t come in fancy clothes and cars or flash big spending. I just know from talking to the kids. They may make mention of going to one of their vacation homes or donating expensive items to charity. You know they aren’t of average breed. Regardless of what, some of them pulled together and got him a brand new Ford 150 off the lot! I believe it’s some sort of limited edition. I’m not that into vehicles, so I don’t really know.
“Missy, seriously, I know you understand the importance of the decision. We just want to help or maybe just be in the loop. The choice is yours to make, but can we at least share the moment?”
Now, he had my attention. I didn’t know they were so affected by my lack of conversation about schools. I just don’t want them to try and take over and tell me what Jesus would do. I want this to be about me. It’s for and by me. I earned it. I don’t want them to sway my decision, but I don’t want to hurt them either. I love them.
“Sorry Dad, I know you don’t mean any harm and neither do I. I just want to make this decision by myself, but I will keep you informed. I do want you to share it with me. As of right now, I’m still researching. I have a couple of schools that are high on my list, but I haven’t decided.” I waited for the follow up question.
“Which ones are at the top of your list?”
Just the question I was expecting. I suppose I could have said the ones I’m looking at in the beginning. I just don’t know if I want them to know. They may start trying to talk me out of my choice.
I don’t want to stay here. I need to get away and I want to go as far away as possible. I need to find out who I am without a million eyes staring at trying to capture my failures. I want to make mistakes. I want to learn from my own mistakes not just hear about everyone else’s. I know it sounds weird. I’m just tired of the stress associated with trying to be a people pleaser; to be perfect.
“I’m considering Atlanta.” I looked at him to see his responses beyond his words.
Even though I said I would try and keep them involved, I want to test just how much of this moment they want to share.
“Atlanta. That’s 10 hours from here. Do you really have to go that far away from home? I guess we could fly and visit you. It may only be a one hour or so flight.” My dad interjected as soon as the word left my lips.
I hadn’t considered them flying to check up on me. In that case, I could go to the edges of the states and they would still visit frequently. I should have known. If he can spend every other week flying to a foreign country, then he could surely fly to visit me every other weekend...or maybe even more!
“Does the school have a good pharmacy program?”
Originally, I said I would major in pharmacy. I don’t know if I still want to do that or not. The more I think about it, the more I realize I have no idea what I want to do.
“I don’t know Dad. I don’t even know if I still want to do pharmacy.”
I didn’t want to lie because I never even looked at the programs at the school. I was just testing him to see his response to my leaving the state. We pulled up to the store. My dad checked his pockets for the list mom gave him.
“If you are not sure about pharmacy, what else are you considering?”
I expected this question too, but I still don’t have an answer.
“I don’t know. I’m praying and seeking God’s direction.” That should definitely work. Any response including God is usually a good response.
“I’ll agree in prayer with you. When we get home, we will all pray together about it. God knows how he wants to use you.”
Maybe they really would trust my decision and not push me. We got the items mom wanted and headed to the car. As soon as we crossed the threshold of the store, a man approached my father.
“Pastor, I tried to come to church Sunday, but I couldn’t find a way. I really could use a little change to buy something to eat. I’m looking for a job, but no one wants to hire me.”
It never fails. Every time we go somewhere there has got to be at least one person begging. If the person genuinely needed help, it would be a different story. But these people don’t need help. They just want to drop a guilt trip to take your money and buy drugs or alcohol.
“Sure. Here you go. Remember Jesus loves you. Maybe I’ll see you next Sunday. God can change your situation if you let him.”
And every time, my dad gives it
to them. It seems more like enabling the habit than helping them. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just keep walking. We need our money. His income is the only income for the family. Even though he gets paid very well by the church, he also travels outside the country on mission trips a lot and that expense is paid by him personally. Not to mention, all the activities we are in and the bills. I may not know our financial situation, but I know money doesn’t grow on trees.
If he wants to give money to someone, he can give it to me and I’ll put it towards my college spending. Yet if I ever said that out loud, I would get so many disapproving looks. How dare I ever think such thoughts about helping the needy? How unchristlike of me to want to save money as opposed to flushing it through an addict’s veins. My face must have echoed my thoughts.
“What’s wrong Missy?” My dad asked me.
“Nothing” I replied probably too quickly. I don’t even want to have this conversation. I may get condemned to Hell.
“Missy, you can talk to me. You can ask me anything you want. I won’t judge you. I know it’s hard having a pastor for a dad, but remember I spent the majority of my younger days as an unsaved person. I know you will have struggles. We all have struggles. I just want to help you as best I can.”
I know my dad’s testimony, but it’s still hard to talk to him about “ungodly” thoughts or opinions. Although I can appreciate his laid back nature, I also have to consider his ordained path and sermons. At least, he doesn’t talk down to us. He also doesn’t quote the Bible to chastise every little thing we do wrong. I know I can talk to him. I just don’t want him to be disappointed in me.
“Missy?” My dad noticed I had drifted in my thoughts again.
“I don’t understand why you always give those addicts money. It’s like you are feeding their habits. I know the Bible says to help your neighbor. I know it could be an angel or Jesus testing us to see if we would help the less fortunate. But those people are less fortunate because they choose to be. I don’t think Jesus would come to us as a “crack head” to test our generosity. Why should we help them to burn in Hell by feeding the addiction?” I finally said it.
This is something I have been holding for years. I must admit it feels good to get it out. It feels so ludicrous to continually feed this mentality. In my most humble opinion, there’s no way to justify it. Yet, I am curious to know his answer.
“I have to do what God requires of me. I am to love my neighbor. Sometimes, we get so caught up in our opinion of what others are doing that we lose sight of what we should be doing. And the fact that our opinion is insignificant when compared to God’s commandments. God’s word is not conditional on the actions of others, but an independent model. We are to do as he commands, regardless of how it is received or returned.
God shows no prejudice. Even the murderer, who hung beside Jesus, was saved in his final hour. Who are we to decide their judgment or even their need? We are but a vessel of God’s love.
Perhaps the money I gave him will be used for his addiction, but how will the seed I planted be used? Maybe one day he may want more in life or maybe he will need help; a safe house. He will remember how willing I was to help him. He will think about what I said about Jesus and come to church. It may even be a different church I don’t know.
But what if enough of us stopped judging and started showing God’s unconditional love. The world says seeing is believing. They can’t see God. They can only see you and me. We are their window to Christ, the Savior. All can come and be saved. If our noses are lifted up, then how can we pick their heads up? What image would you show them of God’s love?
Besides, God will provide for me. Obedience is better than sacrifice. I don’t want to lose a dollar trying to hold on to a dime. I do as God tells me to do. Once it’s done, it’s up to them to choose their own way. Don’t allow other’s actions to hinder your growth.”
I must admit this is an unexpected answer. “I guess I never thought about it that way before,” was all I could say.
I have been so consumed with what the person was doing that I forgot about what I should be doing. More importantly, I forgot about what God was doing.
“Dad,” I almost forgot I need to ask him about the dream I had while they were on their anniversary trip. “While you and mom were gone, I had a very weird dream. Can you tell me what it means, if anything?”
My dad seemed more interested in my dream than I expected. “Yeah, sure, tell me about it.”
I told him about how I stopped Jesus from being hung on the cross. I told him how everything was destroyed by fire and I was eaten by a snake. For a moment, he was quiet.
“Missy, there are some very strange things happening. It’s important for you to understand we are fighting forces of evil. We are in the last days, Missy. I know you have been hearing that ever since before you were old enough to understand. But, I believe the time is coming very soon.”
He looked at me as if trying to gauge whether or not he should continue.
“Missy, I have been fighting demonic spirits for the entirety of my years as a pastor. I’m talking about real demonic possessions. God is using me and his angels use my body when necessary to send the spirits back to Hell. That is why I am called on so many mission trips. The demons are getting stronger and the spirits more difficult to remove. I too have been seeing images and having nightmares. Something big is about to happen.” He paused and glanced at me perhaps trying to gauge my acceptance or to allow me to insert any questions. But I was still trying to understand what he was saying.
Has Dad finally cracked up on all this religion? The things he is saying make absolutely no sense. This isn’t a horror movie, it’s real life. This is a tricky situation; sadly, I don’t know how to question him without making him sound like a nut. I definitely don’t want to be disrespectful to him or God. So, I think it best I not say anything at all.
“Missy, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true I wouldn’t lie to you honey. I have wanted to tell you for a long time because…” he stopped talking and switched the subject.
He must have figured it out that he lost me a long time ago, back with the demonic spirits and angels using human bodies.
“I think your dream is another hint of what is to happen in the last days. I don’t know the meaning, but I will pray and ask God to reveal it to me.”
I tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t pull anything. “Ok Dad,” I know I shouldn’t say more, but I am worried about him. I know it is rough being a pastor and holding the weight of everyone’s problems. It’s not unusual to be overcome with the stress of limitless commitments and requests. Maybe it’s all finally catching up with him. “Dad, you have been running a lot lately. Maybe you should take a break, a real break. You are not as young as you used to be.” I forced a smile to lighten the mood.
“Yeah I know… time waits for no man.”
I couldn’t tell if this was a serious statement or an attempt at humor. Judging from his facial expression, it wasn’t the latter. It is an expression I don’t understand, perhaps concern. But for what?
We pulled into the driveway. Dad parked the car and looked at me as if he was about to say something. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. He came out shortly after. He was probably second guessing the way the conversation turned, but I feel there is nothing to be said right now. I went to the already popped trunk and started unloading.
Phillip must have been eyeing our return because he came out and grabbed some bags too. He’s always so anxious to do extra stuff. I wonder why Dad didn’t have that conversation with him. I’m sure he would have eaten that up. He’d love to be an angel warrior. I guess he chose me because I’m the oldest.
“Hey Dad, the game is about to come on. You ready to get beat like scrambled eggs.” Phillip said redirecting Dad’s attention. Dad j
ust laughed.
“Yeah right! Your team doesn’t stand a chance. Besides I think tonight the eggs will be sunny side up.”
As they laughed, we all went inside to get ready for dinner and the game.
CHAPTER 15—PASTOR MIKE