And the Shofar Blew

by Francine Rivers

  “Eunice, do you know these men at all?”

  “Yes, I do.” She spoke quietly.

  “Then you’re aware that neither one can say anything in under thirty minutes. If I gave Otis a microphone, we’d be sitting in Sunday services until the Second Coming.”

  “Paul . . . ”

  “No way.”

  “Aren’t you interested in knowing anything about them?”

  “The point isn’t whether I’d be interested, but whether the congregation would be interested.”

  “As pastor, it’s your job to teach your people how to love one another. How can you teach them to love these men who are their elders if you can’t love them yourself?”

  “I do love them.”

  She looked at him. She didn’t have to say another word for him to know what she was thinking. And grudgingly he had to admit she was right. He had been neither patient nor kind to these two venerable old gentlemen. They grated on his nerves and he resented their interference. He had ignored their suggestions and done what he thought best for the church. “Someone has to be in charge, Eunice. Otherwise this place will be in complete confusion.”

  “Jesus is in charge, Paul. You know that better than anyone. You know, too, that Samuel has prayed for years for this church to be revived.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do! I’d think you of all people would understand how hard I’m working to that end.”

  “You’ve been called here to fan the flame, Paul, not throw fuel on a fire that could burn this church down.”

  He tossed his napkin on the table. “And removing the Bible from the pulpit could bring everything down? You’re a woman. You don’t understand about managing a church or—”

  Her eyes flashed. “You’ve always told me I should speak up when I see anything amiss.”

  “Why are you so determined to find fault with my ministry?” Even as he said it, he knew he was being unfair, but he wasn’t about to apologize.

  “I’m not finding fault, Paul. I’m trying to help you understand these men.”

  Her eyes were shiny with tears. For whom? Her husband or those men who were always giving him trouble?

  She leaned toward him. “Hollis Sawyer served in the Philippines during World War II. He survived the Bataan death march. Most of the men he served with were not so fortunate. He said it was during that time that he turned to Christ. He needed his faith because when he returned stateside, he found out the high school sweetheart he had married was living with someone she’d met while working in a factory. No one had ever been divorced in his family. He was the first and it was devastating. But then, he met and married his second wife, Denise, after he was in a construction accident. She was the nurse who took care of him. They had three children together. One daughter was born with Down syndrome and died in her early twenties. His two sons married and moved to the East Coast. Denise died of bone cancer eight years ago. Hollis took care of her in their own home up until the last.”

  She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Otis Harrison served in the army during the war, but he was on the European front as a medic. He was mayor of Centerville from 1972 until 1976. He was reelected in 1986 and then stepped down due to Mabel’s health and served on the town council for another three years. He’s now taking care of his wife of forty-eight years. Mabel suffers from congenital heart disease. She’s famous around Centerville, Paul. Did you know she won two national cooking contests?

  “And Samuel Mason. Samuel was a B-17 gunner and flew more than thirty bombing runs over Germany before being shot down. Abby was a teacher at the local high school. She taught civics. Students still stop by to visit her. One came by the last time I was visiting, and he told me Abby was the one who believed in him and got him to apply to college.”

  “Okay. Okay, I get your point.”

  “Do you, Paul? Did you know that Samuel has paid the property taxes on the church for three years running, and Otis and Hollis paid to have the parsonage roof replaced?”

  His anger seeped away. “Who told you all these things?”

  “I’ve learned a lot from the people I’ve been visiting at Vine Hill Convalescent Hospital. They’re a wealth of information about the history of the church, Paul, and who has served diligently over the years.” She smiled tenderly. “All you have to do is ask a question or two and then sit back and listen.”

  She amazed him at times. A pity he didn’t have her talent or the time to develop it. “Can you understand when I tell you I don’t have time to spend hours listening to everyone’s life story like you do?” He saw the shadow come into her eyes and tightened his hand around hers. “I can respect them for all they’ve done and love them as Christian brothers and sisters, but I have to move this church out of the past and into the twentieth century, Euny, or it’s going to die.”

  “These people are the church, Paul.”

  His father was right. A woman should learn to be silent and submissive! He ’t have talked with her about his problems. “They’re part of the church.” He would concede that much. “But they’re already in the minority.” Why was it necessary to explain? “There were less than sixty when we arrived, and our attendance is up, way up from what it was. Every Sunday we have visitors now. Every Sunday! And that’s not because Hollis or Otis or even Samuel has been out knocking on doors and talking to people all over town or getting involved in community youth activities. I have! It’s the younger generations we need to reach. They’re the future of the church. And we’re accomplishing that. You with your music. Music they didn’t like, if you’ll remember. I’m not going to allow these old men to ride roughshod over the entire congregation and hold us captive to their personal comforts. I want to build this church, Eunice, not stand by and watch it choke to death on outdated ideas and methods!”

  “You have the best of intentions, Paul. I know that.”

  He could hear the caveat. “Why are you taking their side?”

  “It’s not a matter of sides, Paul. It’s a matter of being united with one another, being at peace with one another. We are all members of the body of Christ. We are all needed.”

  “So I’m supposed to make peace at any price?”

  “Is placing the Bible in the narthex ‘any price’? What is the real issue here, Paul?”

  “You’re my wife, Eunice! That’s the issue! You’re supposed to stand beside me, not countermand everything I do.”

  She paled at his words, and spoke quietly, gently. “What is the real issue?”

  “The real issue is not allowing those old men to dictate what I should and shouldn’t do to turn this church around!”

  She bowed her head.

  “Daddy? Why are you mad at Mommy?”

  Ashamed, Paul winced. “I’m not mad at Mommy, Tim. We’re just talking. Go and play with your toys.” When his son was out of sight, he looked at Eunice beseechingly. “What’s the matter with you lately? You used to stand by me, Euny. Why are you bucking me now when everything is going so well? I fought for you. Remember? They didn’t like the music you were playing two months ago. I had to talk myself blue in the face before they agreed to let us have a mix of contemporary and traditional hymns.” It might have been his idea in the first place, but she had gone along with him.

  Her eyes filled, but she said no more.

  Paul felt that jab of conscience again. He resented it. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. Had she considered how much her words hurt him? She ought to think about that instead of giving him that doe-eyed look of hers. He was her husband. If she owed loyalty to anyone, it was him. Why did she have to make an issue of this? Couldn’t she understand that he was trying to sweep the cobwebs out of Centerville Christian? It was on his tongue to say exactly that, but he didn’t because he knew she’d say he was sweeping old members out the back door as the new came in the front. That wasn’t his intention. She ought to know that.

  Eunice said nothing more about Hollis or the Bible. She asked him if he’d like some more soup. He sa
id no. She cleared the table, squirted liquid detergent into the sink, and ran hot water. He had the feeling she was praying while she washed the dishes. Paul went into the living room and sat in his easy chair. Maybe he should call his father and ask his advice. But why bother? He knew already what his father would say: “Put the Bible away and let God deal with the old men. Get on with building the church and stop worrying about what a few disgruntled people think. There are always enemies in the church, men and women who want to tear down what you’re building.”

  But Euny, Lord? Euny has never fought me before.

  A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. And Euny was virtuous. Wasn’t that why he’d fallen in love with her? For all that, and her beautiful blue eyes and sweet smile. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. Euny had always talked with him about his work for the Lord. She had always backed him. She had always been his helpmate, his encourager.

  “What is the real issue here, Paul?”

  His pride is what she meant, and the question hurt. What about those two old men? Talk about pride! Hollis was insubordinate. In church council meetings, he and Otis spent half their time in idle chatter about the past rather than getting the business of the church done. Was he supposed to give in every time one of them had a fit about some tradition? Pride had hardened them so that they wouldn’t listen.

  Paul wanted them to stand aside and allow him to move this church forward unfettered. He wanted them to stop hindering his plans and work alongside him. He wanted Centerville Christian Church to be a beacon in the town. As pastor, he should have their respect.

  Eunice came into the living room. She put her hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and kissed him. “I love you, Paul.” She went into Timmy’s room and told their son it was time to pick up his toys and have a bath. Timmy loved baths. It wasn’t long before he was jabbering away in the bathroom, the water running. Eunice laughed and talked with him.

  Paul put his hand on his Bible.

  You know what I’m trying to do here, Jesus. This church was dry as dust when I came. It was like a valley of dead bones. That’s why Samuel called the dean. The elders knew they were in trouble. That’s why You called me here. To change things. So why do they fight me at every turn? Why do they quibble and fuss like old ladies over every change I make?

  Timmy came out with his wet hair slicked back and his favorite book tucked under his arm. Paul was in no mood to read The Little Engine That Could for the five millionth time. “Not today, Timmy.” Timmy came closer and held the book out. “I said no.” Eunice stood in the hall doorway. “Could you give me a little help here? He’s got a library of books in his room and he wants this one. Again.”

  “It’s his favorite.” She smiled and sat on the edge of the sofa. “Your mom told me you loved Peter Rabbit. She told me she must have read it to you a thousand times.”

  He remembered and relented. “Okay, Timmy.” He set his son on his lap and opened the book. The sooner he read the story, the sooner his son would go to bed. Paul wanted to get back to thinking about more important matters than toy engines and good little boys and girls on the other side of the mountain. “ ‘I think I can, I think I can . . . ’ ” Timmy tried to hold the page open, but Paul brushed his hand away and turned to the next page. “ ‘I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could . . . ’ ” He closed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table. “All done. Time for your nap.” Paul kissed his son as he lifted him down off his lap.

  “Come on, Timmy.” Eunice held out her hand.

  The boy’s shoulders drooped. Eunice took Timmy’s hand and they disappeared into the hallway. He heard her speaking softly. “Daddy has a lot on his mind. No, he’s not mad at you.” And then she began reading in the other room, slowly, dramatically, rhythmically so that he could almost hear the chug-chug of the little toy train.

  So what do I do, Lord?

  “What is the real issue here, Paul?”

  Pride, he thought. Theirs and mine. He felt ashamed that he had let his anger get hold of him, but it was understandable. He had been struggling for patience with Hollis and Otis for months. Was it any wonder he lost it when Hollis made an issue of the old Bible missing from the pulpit? He hadn’t listened to what was behind Hollis’s complaint. Maybe he had been a little short with Samuel. Hollis would undoubtedly go to Otis and complain, and then he’d have two elders mad at him. Three if Samuel held a grudge. No, that wasn’t like Samuel. His head throbbed.

  Timmy’s bedroom door closed softly and Eunice appeared in the hall. “I’m going to take a bubble bath.”

  “I’m sorry I was impatient with Timmy.” He gave her a bleak smile. “Maybe you could hide that book for a while and he’d let me read something else to him for a change.”

  He knew he’d hurt her earlier. She’d always stood beside him and listened to his problems, advising where she could. He knew he’d said all the wrong things to Hollis. And now, no matter how much it galled him, he was going to have to try to make peace with Hollis. “I’ll call Samuel. If it’ll soothe ruffled feathers to put that shabby old King James Bible under glass in the narthex, I’ll do it.”

  She glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s still early, Paul. You shouldn’t wait.” She put her hand on the door frame. “I’m going to take my bath. I’ll be praying for you, Paul. It’ll all work out if you trust the Lord.”

  “Trust the Lord.”

  He waited until he heard the bathwater running before he lifted the telephone. He hesitated for a moment, and then punched in Samuel Mason’s number.

  Samuel put the phone back on the receiver.

  “So?” Abby looked at him over her glasses, her brows raised. She’d stopped rocking her chair when the telephone rang and was still sitting pensively, the pillowcase she had been embroidering resting on her lap, while she waited for him to tell her what the conversation was all about.

  “How’s the pillowcase coming along?” Every year, she made a new set of embroidered pillowcases for their daughter and son-in-law as well as new ones for their two grandchildren.

  “Just fine. Now, what was ‘a good idea’?”

  “Paul wanted to know what I thought about putting the church’s King James Bible into a special glass case in the narthex.”

  She smiled broadly. “Well, good for her.” She lifted the embroidery hoop.

  “Good for who?”

  “Eunice, of course.”

  “You think it was her idea?”

  “Well, you don’t think Paul came up with an idea like that all on his own, do you? It smacks of humility and making amends.”

  “Abby . . . ”

  “Oh, don’t Abby me. That boy is like a racehorse with the bit in his teeth.”

  He chuckled. “What do you know about racehorses?”

  “Is Paul going to talk with Hollis?”

  “He didn’t say, but I doubt an apology would get anywhere with Hollis right now, anyway.”

  “Oh, you can talk Hollis down off his high horse, and then start building a bridge.”

  He’d do his best. Samuel picked up his book and pretended to read. Instead, he started praying again, praying that if he did manage to build a bridge, Paul Hudson would have sense enough to walk across it.

  Stephen was sitting at the counter in Charlie’s Diner, sipping coffee and bantering with Sally, when Paul Hudson came in, hair wet with perspiration, sweatshirt tied around his waist and T-shirt sticking to his chest. He slid onto a stool next to Stephen, greeted him, and ordered an orange juice.

  “How many miles this morning, Pastor Paul?” Sally called.

  “Five, at least,” Paul said, puffing.

  Stephen’s mouth tipped in a half smile. “Something bothering you?”

  Paul gave him a sideways glance and grinned. “Human relations.”

  “Ah.” Stephen lifted his mug. “Life’s obstacle course.”

  “I barreled into a hurdle and fell flat on my face last Sun
day.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his face and neck.

  “The gentleman who looked ready to hang you up by your thumbs.”

  “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “I’m always watchful in new surroundings.” The world had plenty of minefields.

  “Was Sunday your first time in church?”

  “Nope. But it’s been a while.”

  “Bad experience?”

  “Life-changing experience. Good one. I just wasn’t sure I’d find anything close to what I had.”

  “And?”

  If Hudson had been older, Stephen would have figured he was angling for a compliment. Maybe he was just too young to know his power. “I’ll be back.”

  “Good.” Thanking Sally, Paul picked up the glass of orange juice and downed half of it. “You’re an architect, aren’t you?”

  “He’s building that big place up on the hill,” Sally said.

  “Then you’d know some craftsmen.”

  Uh-oh. “A few.” He’d been told by a few cynical second-timers at the Salvation Army facility that a church always wanted parishioners to work and give money. “What sort of craftsman did you have in mind?”

  “Someone who could build a display cabinet for our narthex.”

  Stephen thought of Tree House: big, bulky, looked dumb as a post, but was one of the most skilled wood craftsmen around. Tree House built furniture as a hobby. He liked using old tools and methods. “Maybe. I’ll see what I can find out for you. How much are you willing to pay and how soon do you need the job done?”

  “I’d need an estimate, and the sooner we can get it finished the better.”

  “The man I have in mind does beautiful work, but it’s a sideline, not his occupation. If he’s interested, I’ll have him stop by the church and you can tell him what you’re looking for.”

  “Great! Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Won’t be cheap. Might be a whole lot easier and faster to go to a furniture store and see what you can find.”