When Sunday morning rolled around, Samuel and Abigail Mason were first to arrive. Samuel offered to pass out the bulletins Paul had printed off the computer he’d set up in Hank’s old office. Abby took charge of Timmy, eager to return to her old post as Sunday school teacher. A large arrangement of flowers had been sent by Paul’s parents and placed on the altar, and candles were lit on each side.
Eunice came down the side aisle of the sanctuary and took her seat at the piano.
Hollis sat beside Samuel and read the bulletin. He leaned over. “Says here we should pray for our youth group.” He snorted. “What youth group?”
“Paul hired four students from Centerville High to help him move into the parsonage. They’re all coming back Tuesday evening for a Bible study on the book of Daniel.”
Hollis’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say!”
Otis leaned forward from the pew behind. “He’s wearing a suit! Why isn’t he wearing a robe like Hank always did?”
“You can ask him when we have coffee and cookies after the service,” Mabel wheezed testily. “In the meanwhile, stop your bellyaching.”
Otis harrumphed, sat back, and crossed his arms.
Samuel looked around. Every church member who wasn’t in a hospital or convalescent home was in attendance. Some whispered, nodded, smiled, their eyes alight with hope for the first time in years. Others, like Otis, sat alert and searched for anything out of order, anything that might press the boundaries of tradition.
“Well, I can say one thing for sure,” Hollis said out of the corner of his mouth, gazing at young Eunice Hudson at the piano. “She is a sight for sore eyes.”
“And ears,” Durbin Huxley said on the other side of him.
Elmira Huxley leaned forward. “I hear she’s already been out to visit Mitzi Pike at Vine Hill.”
“She took roses with her,” Samuel told them softly. Abby had told Eunice that Fergus had been a high school English teacher and Mitzi won prizes at the fair for her roses. When Eunice came by the house the next morning to pick up Abby, she had a bouquet of yellow roses for Mitzi and a tape player and several tapes of classic novels for Fergus.
“Oh, you should’ve seen Mitzi’s face, Samuel.” Abby had dabbed tears. “And Fergus . . . Eunice won their hearts before I even had a chance to introduce them.”
Within moments, Eunice’s piano playing silenced everyone in the sanctuary. They all sat moist-eyed, listening to a beautiful medley of familiar hymns.
Paul Hudson came up the center aisle, went up the steps, and sat in the pastor’s chair against the wall. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head while his young wife continued to play.
Samuel studied Paul Hudson. How strange it was to see such a young man sitting in Hank Porter’s place. He prayed for the old friends scattered around the sanctuary, knowing some would see Paul Hudson as a boy to be coddled and cajoled, or controlled and commanded. A new pastor was bound to bring new ways. Lord, only one thing is important. You are Lord, our Lord. Keep us united in Spirit and in love.
Trust wouldn’t come overnight. He hoped Paul was up there praying for wisdom as he sat in Hank’s old chair. Hank may not have lit fires in the hearts of his parishioners, but he had kept them safe in the sheepfold through four long decades. Samuel hoped when Paul Hudson looked out over his small flock that he wouldn’t see just age and infirmities, but hearts needing to be built up in the Spirit of the Lord.
Eunice’s prelude ended with a melodious cascade of notes and a delicate chord. She rose gracefully, came down the steps, and took a seat in the front pew. A waiting silence fell over the congregation. Samuel doubted he was the only one holding his breath when Paul rose and stepped up to the pulpit.
Paul hoped those looking up at him couldn’t tell how nervous he was. His palms were sweating, his heart pounding, his throat dry. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled through his nose as he looked out over his small flock of elderly parishioners.
Samuel Mason was sitting in the second row, flanked by an older man with a cane and another elderly couple. Paul smiled at him, thankful for his presence. Old couples were scattered around the sanctuary, probably sitting in seats they had occupied for the past forty-plus years, the empty spaces between vacated by those who had gone to be with the Lord. He looked at Eunice in the front row, relieved at the love shining in her eyes. She smiled, and his heart ached with love for her. He wanted to make her proud.
Oh, Father, give me Your words to speak to these people. I’m like a frightened child. I don’t want to fail You. I want to build Your church so that Your light will shine in their hearts. They look so old and frail.
“I am humbled to be called here to serve you.” Paul made eye contact with as many as he could. He acknowledged his youth and inexperience and talked about youth and passion, using the apostle John and disciple Timothy as examples. He talked about how the Lord measured success, and how God chose farmers and shepherds to do His work. He spoke of the few faithful who had stood at the cross, and the frightened disciples who had hidden themselves behind locked doors until the risen Jesus had appeared to them. He spoke of the small number of faithful disciples who returned from witnessing Jesus’ ascension and waited in the upper room, of one mind and heart, continually devoting themselves to prayer as they waited for the fulfillment of God’s promise of the Holy Spirit.
“And when the Lord Himself indwelled them, those few faithful saints carried the gospel of salvation out into a dying world and brought new life to thousands.” Paul held his hands out, palms up. “From a small handful of people, the Lord spread His Word to the world.” He looked into the faces of the people God had given him to shepherd and felt a welling love for them. Some listened intently. Some dozed. “Yes, we are only a few. But God only needs a few to accomplish much. On the Day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit filled the disciples. They ran into the streets of Jerusalem, and proclaimed God’s message of redemption and salvation! Three thousand souls were saved that day. And from those three thousand came thousands more as they carried the message back to their homes in Crete, Mesopotamia, Asia, Cappadocia, Greece, Rome.” He smiled tenderly at the elderly men and women. Lord, revive them. “We are few in number, but strong in faith. Let us pray.”
Eunice returned to the piano and led the congregation in several hymns. Paul stood before the altar, a plate of crackers in one hand and a tray of small glasses of grape juice in the other. “The Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread: And when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me. After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till he come.”
Eunice played and sang another medley of hymns as Paul served Communion to each member of the congregation. “May the Lord renew your strength and bless you,” he said softly to each member of his congregation.
He spoke briefly about the blessings God promised to pour upon a cheerful giver and gave the brass offering plates to Samuel and Otis. After collecting the gifts, Samuel stacked the plates and brought them forward, placing them on the altar before returning to his seat.
Paul stood on the platform before the altar and prayed for the congregation. He prayed for open hearts and passion for the Lord. He prayed for the power of the Holy Spirit to renew their strength so that each could carry the message of salvation out into the world. And he asked for the Lord’s blessing on each individual who had come to the service that morning. Then he and Eunice walked up the aisle to the front door of the church and shook hands as the parishioners filed out, inviting each to stay for coffee, tea, and cookies in the fellowship hall.
“I hope he doesn’t expect us to go into the mission field,” one old man said, taking his wife’s arm before hobbling down the steps.
“Why would we be
going to a missile field?”
“Mission field, I said. Mission field!”
His wife tapped her hearing aid. “I think my battery is dead.”
Paul’s shoulders drooped. His sermon had been received by deaf ears.
Samuel Mason was the last one out of the church. His eyes were moist, his handshake firm. “Good sermon.”
Eunice put her arm around Paul’s waist as the last couple went down the steps. “Your sermon brought tears to my eyes and a song in my heart.”
Paul wished everyone else was as easy to please.
Samuel took Abby to Denny’s for lunch. “Timmy was good as gold.” She sang the boy’s praises for fifteen minutes before she asked about Paul and Eunice.
“He has passion, and she plays piano and sings like an angel.” He smiled wryly. “You told Mabel about Eunice’s visit to Vine Hill the other day, didn’t you?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I knew it was the best way to get the word out to everyone else about what a wonderful young lady Eunice is. What about Paul’s sermon?”
Samuel told her, “He’s trying to raise the dead.”
“Good!” She sipped her decaf laced with cream and sugar. “You’re pleased, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“What about the others?”
“He shook ’em up.”
“We all need a little shaking up now and then.”
Samuel chuckled. “I don’t think it’s going to be a matter of now and then, Abby, but a matter of from now on.”
Paul retreated to his church office and spent the rest of the day planning out a schedule for the week. He started up his computer, made a full list of the church members, elders first, with addresses and telephone numbers, and made lines and columns to keep track of future visits. He was going to meet every member of the church and find out how best to serve them. But he needed to meet others outside the congregation as well. The church would need younger people if it was going to survive.
He started another list. He’d call the chamber of commerce and see if there was a newcomers club. He’d drop by the high school hangout, get to know the proprietor, meet some more kids. He would make a point of meeting some of the merchants on Main Street. He would attend city council meetings and see what was going on in town. He needed to get involved in the community and let people know that the doors of Centerville Christian Church were wide open to everyone.
It wasn’t until Eunice called him at five and said dinner was ready that Paul remembered he hadn’t eaten all day. He’d been too excited before the service, and a little queasy before he entered the fellowship hall. He locked up the church and went home.
The kitchen counter was lined and stacked with crockery, pots, Tupperware containers, and Pyrex dishes. The mountain of food that had arrived over the last three days was gone. Euny saw his look and grinned. With a flourish of her hand, she opened the freezer so he could see the neatly packaged, family-sized portions in freezer bags sardine-packed onto the shelves. “I won’t have to shop or cook for weeks.”
“You can put the dishes in the fellowship hall and ask everyone to pick them up next Sunday.”
She closed the freezer door. “I’d rather hand deliver everything. It’ll give me the opportunity to get to know members of our little flock. And talk up my husband.”
He sat at the table. “I could use a public-relations representative right now.” She had put a nice tablecloth out, and a small bouquet of roses beside which stood a single red candle. He wished he felt more like celebrating. Instead, he felt as though he had failed.
“It’s your first Sunday, Paul.” She stood behind him, kneading his shoulders. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. “People need time to get to know you, Paul, not just what you want to do for the church.”
“Where’s Timmy?”
“Asleep. I fed him earlier, gave him his bath, and put him to bed.” She laughed. “Abby wore him out. Bless her heart.”
Paul turned his chair and drew her onto his lap. He kissed her long and hard. She tasted like heaven. What would he do without her? “I’m going to start visitations tomorrow.”
She ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “They’ll love you.”
“It didn’t feel like love.”
“They’re still mourning the loss of Henry Porter, Paul. But these people are eager to get to know you. Ask them a few questions; encourage them to talk about their lives. You’ll be amazed.”
“You were born with people skills, Euny. I had to take classes.”
She kissed him again. “You’re very good with people.”
Five years of marriage and she still stirred him as much as she had when he first met her.
“Abby called a while ago and said Samuel was tickled with your sermon.”
“Tickled.” He wanted to stir them, light them up, get them off their pews and out into the community, not tickle them.
Euny ran her fingers through his hair again. “Samuel has been praying for revival in this church for the past ten years.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Abby told me, right after she said Samuel felt some hope after hearing you speak today.”
His worries seemed smaller as her hand glided down his neck and across his shoulder. She whispered a laugh in his ear. “Paul, your stomach is growling.”
“I didn’t eat this morning.”
“Or in the fellowship hall.” She rose and went to the stove.
He followed her. “I am hungry.” Smiling, he put his hands on her hips and kissed the side of her neck as she ladled thick beef stew into a bowl. He inhaled her scent, loving it. His stomach growled again.
She laughed. “You have a wolf in your belly.” She nudged him aside and set two bowls on the table. She took a book of matches from her apron pocket and lit the candle. He took his seat again and watched her turn off the kitchen light. When she sat, he stared at her. She raised her brows in question.
“I love you, Eunice.” So much it hurt sometimes, and scared him.
Her eyes softened and glowed. “I love you, too.”
She was sweet and wise, beautiful and so strong in faith; he was sometimes in awe of her. Lord, I never thought I’d marry an angel. His throat closed as gratitude overwhelmed him.
Euny leaned toward him, her hands outstretched. “It took you more than one day to win my heart, Paul Hudson. It may take them a little time, too. Be patient. You’ll win their hearts just as you did mine. Give them time.”
He took her hands, kissed her palms, and gave humble thanks to the Lord for His blessings.
CHAPTER 3
AT SIX-THIRTY, Stephen Decker entered Charlie’s Diner and took a seat at the counter with the other early risers. He put his Wall Street Journal down as the waitress turned from the cook’s counter with two breakfast plates in her hands. She gave him a double take and smiled before turning her attention to two customers several stools away. She set an omelet in front of a man in oil-stained coveralls and eggs Benedict in front of a man in a brown UPS uniform. In a fluid motion, she turned, picked up the coffeepot from its hot plate, refilled their cups, picked up another cup, and walked the length of the counter. She smiled. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
She set the cup down and filled it to the brim. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine, thanks.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m sure I’d remember if I had.”
Lifting his cup, he smiled back over the brim and took a sip of the scalding brew.
“My name’s Sally Wentworth, by the way. And yours?”
“Stephen Decker.”
She looked from the Wall Street Journal to his work shirt. Stephen wondered if she was trying to get a fix on who and what he was. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like Tom Selleck?”
“Once or twice.” He smiled. “He’s older.”
She laughed. “Well, aren’t we all? What sort of work do you do?”
“Carpenter?”
“A little of everything.”
“You’re not exactly an open book, are you?”
The cook slapped the bell twice. “Hey, Sally, quit pestering the customers. Pancakes and a Denver omelet up.”
“One of these days I’m going to take that bell away from you, Charlie!” She looked back at Stephen and jerked her head. “My husband.”
“I like to see you jump!” Charlie hollered from the back.
“Yeah, yeah.” Laughing, she put the coffeepot onto the burner and picked up the two plates. She carried them out to an elderly couple sitting in a booth by the front windows. Stephen could hear her talking to her customers. Apparently, they were regulars because she told them to say hello to their daughter and asked about their grandchildren by name.
“Hey, you there at the counter!” Charlie peered at him. “If Sally asks too many questions, just tell her to mind her own business!”
Stephen laughed. “This is quite a place you have here.”
Sally sauntered back behind the counter. “We like to treat our customers like family.” She pulled her tablet out of her apron pocket and her pencil from the blonde bun on her head. “Now, what can Charlie fix you for breakfast? Something lean and mean or something loaded with fat and flavor?”
“Three eggs over easy, hash browns, and a steak, medium rare.”
“Good for you. You only live once. Might as well enjoy yourself while you’re filling up on cholesterol.” She called over her shoulder. “One he-man breakfast, Charlie! And get a move on! This guy looks hungry!” She winked at Stephen. “Want a little OJ to wet your whistle while you’re waiting?”
“Sure. Why not?”
She left him alone after that, talking with the UPS driver and auto mechanic.
And the Shofar Blew Page 5