by Neta Jackson
The lakeside parks were full of picnickers—and, Kat had to admit, the pungent smell of chicken and hamburgers sizzling on a dozen grills made her mouth water. But she couldn’t help but remember the faces of some of the people who’d come to the food pantry the other night—like Lady Lolla and the old man who’d showed up in his stocking feet. How many of them were able to celebrate the Fourth with a picnic in the park? How many of them were still hungry?
Kat’s mind was so distracted she almost ran into Rochelle and Nick, who’d stopped their bikes at the edge of a man-made lagoon with a little island in the middle. Nick turned around as Bree caught up and he pointed to the far end. “That’s where the band will be playing. They’re setting up now. Where do you guys want to picnic?”
“I’m hungry!” Conny announced.
“Me too.” Nick laughed, lifting him out of the kid seat. “That was some bike hike. But you, young man, got a free ride while I did all the work.”
Bike hike was right. Kat’s legs felt wobbly as she locked up her bike with the others to a park sign and unloaded the food. Bree had snatched a few towels from the apartment to serve as blankets. “At least they’re dark-colored and won’t show any grass stains—I hope,” she said, eyeing Kat guiltily. Kat made a face back at her. It was sometimes hard to remember they were just subletting the Candys’ apartment and using a lot of their stuff.
The concert band from one of the neighboring suburbs struck up some great tunes, both classical and popular, and the music backdrop made the tuna sandwiches, nibble food, and sodas taste just right for a picnic. Kat leaned back on her elbows, soaking in the holiday atmosphere as Joplin and Mozart and Motown filled the air. Amazing that so many different kinds of people had all descended on the parks, just having a good time. Maybe heaven was a little bit like this . . .
Funny. Kat had rarely thought about heaven before Pastor Clark died . . . how many weeks ago? She quickly pushed the thought away. His death and all the talk about seeing him again in heaven had made her think about her parents in a new way. Would they be in heaven? A heaven they didn’t believe in?
“I gotta go to the ba’froom!” Conny announced. Reluctantly Rochelle started to get up, but Conny said loudly, “I want Nick to take me to the boys’ ba’froom. They got those pee potties!”
A few heads turned in their direction and smiled. Rochelle seemed flustered, but Nick scrambled to his feet, laughing. “No problem. Come on, Conny.” The two ambled off, hand in hand, to the brick beach house at the other end of the lagoon.
Rochelle watched them go. “Nick would make a good dad,” she murmured.
Kat caught Bree shooting her a look. “Don’t even go there,” she mouthed back.
The Evanston fireworks had been spectacular. It was especially fun to see Conny’s delight as red and blue rockets streaked skyward and exploded with ear-splitting booms or snap-crackle-and-pop, and sparkling stars rained down like celestial willow trees. The little boy sat high on Nick’s shoulders as they’d moved with the crowd closer to the beach where the trees didn’t obscure the view, creating an undulating wall of people “oohing” and “aahing” together as if a Leviathan monster had emerged from the lake.
And then it was over in a frenzy of exploding colors.
The trek home in the dark by bicycle turned out to be a mad-house as the hordes of people moved out of the parks. The streets were full of cars moving bumper to bumper, horns honking as people threaded in and out with their folding chairs and food coolers. But they finally made it back to the three-flat with no major mishaps and one sleepy boy who’d fallen asleep against Nick’s back.
Everyone said they were going to sleep in . . . but for some reason Kat woke up early, felt wide awake, and got up. She padded quietly to the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, and took a steaming cup out onto the back porch along with her backpack. The sky—what she could see of it—was brilliant blue without a cloud anywhere, the early morning sun flashing golden in the windows on the top floors of the buildings around her.
What a spectacular day! And because she’d worked a long holiday shift on the Fourth, she had the rest of the weekend free. She sipped her coffee, feet up on another porch chair, enjoying the slight breeze kissing her face and reliving the fun evening they’d had biking to the Evanston fireworks.
But her mind tripped over Rochelle’s comment when Nick had trundled Conny off to the “ba’frooms.” “Nick would make a good dad.” Had she been just talking in general? Sure, seeing how Nick related to Conny in such an easygoing way had given Kat a new appreciation for him too. At school she’d never had a chance to see him around little kids.
But . . . what if Rochelle meant he’d make a good dad for Conny? If so, it took some nerve to just come out and say it— like she had designs on him or something.
Kat squirmed. Was something more going on with Rochelle and Nick than met the eye? Yeah, he’d always been a tease and sometimes a flirt, but he was definitely more than that . . . In fact, he’d always been the glue that held their little foursome together back at CCU, mostly by knowing when to be funny and when to be serious and say the right thing. Part of it was that pastor thing he had going. As a new Christian, she appreciated knowing Nick knew the Scriptures and could give her a straight word from the Bible.
But come to think of it, he seemed a lot more serious lately—not so goofy and laid back. She kind of missed that side of Nick—but she also missed the long talks they used to have. Almost seemed like there was something he was holding back, a part of himself he wasn’t sharing with her. Or maybe he was just bent out of shape because he had to do that membership thing alone—not sure what was up with that.
Or did it have something to do with Rochelle and Conny?
Kat didn’t like not knowing what was going on with Nick. He was one of her best friends! And lately she’d found herself hoping . . . more than a friend. Hanging around so many seminary students at CCU, she’d told herself she did not want to be a pastor’s wife. But what if that pastor was Nick? Her face flushed right there on the back porch for even thinking it. He’d never remotely hinted at such a thing. But someday she did want to get married, have kids, raise a family—and what guy did she know better than Nick? In fact, knowing Nick raised the bar pretty high for any other guy to leap over. Even the way he related to Conny had given her another glimpse into the man he was becoming . . .
Help! She had to stop this. Any moment now one of the others would wander out onto the porch and probably read her face like a book. Might even be Nick!
Jumping up, Kat slipped quietly into the kitchen to refill her coffee, then settled down again on the porch. She hadn’t done much with the Bible study she’d wanted to do . . . now would be a perfect time. Digging into her backpack, she found her Bible and the list of scriptures Nick had found for her. Starting with the first one, she paged through the Old Testament until she found Isaiah, chapter 55, and began reading. “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!”
Whoa! Kat’s eyes widened. Sounded like Isaiah was talking to poor people—people without money—calling them to “come, buy, eat.” Just like that food pantry they’d visited. People who had no money could come, “shop,” and go home with something to eat. But was that just an image to talk about something else?
She read further and ended up reading the whole chapter. Then she sat there thinking a long time . . . until a childish voice at the screen door said, “Miss Kat? Mommy’s still sleeping, but I’m hungry. Can I have some cereal?”
Kat jumped up and grinned at the little boy. “Got any money?”
Conny’s forehead puckered in confusion. “No-o.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place, little man. No money gets you a big bowl of cereal!”
Chapter 18
Today’s the day!” Kat grinned at Nick as she and Brygitta walked on either side of him to church on Sunday morning. The TV weatherman had said the temperature was headed into t
he eighties, but at the moment it was only a cool sixty degrees, perfect for a walk. Rochelle and Conny had already gone with her parents since Avis was preaching and wanted to go early. “Are you excited or nervous?”
Dressed in nice khaki slacks and a pale blue summer dress shirt, no tie, Nick looked the picture of cool—until he let slip a nervous smile. “Both.” He sent a sideways glance at them. “Wish you two were doing it with me.”
“Oh, Nick,” Bree moaned, “don’t start.”
“I know, I know. But hey . . . we took the Urban Experience class together, moved to this neighborhood together, and got involved at SouledOut together. Can’t blame a guy for wishing we were doing the membership thing together.” He said it lightly and grinned, but Kat sensed there was more feeling there than he let on.
She took his arm playfully. “Hey, I’m going to look into that baptism thing, then I’ll play catch-up. Deal?”
Nick gave her a smile and nodded, but she left her hand in the crook of his arm as a show of support until they turned into the parking lot of the Howard Street shopping center. Making their way into the “sanctuary” of SouledOut, with its floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the shopping center, the three of them settled into their usual row toward the back.
Justin Barnes was the worship leader that morning. Kat didn’t know the young man very well, just that he also worked with Josh Baxter and the youth group, and she’d heard him share his story at the Memorial Day beach outing, how God had saved him off the streets and turned his life around. He sure acted like he had a lot to be thankful for when he led worship. And today was no different.
“Good morning, church!” Justin boomed. “Let’s get on our feet and give God some praise this morning!” The rest of what he said was drowned out by a surround-sound of hallelujahs, amens, and shouts of “Glory!” as the praise team launched into a spirited rendition of “I’m trading my sorrows . . . for the joy of the Lord!”
Trading sorrows . . . shame . . . sickness . . . pain—for joy. As she sang the words, Kat again envisioned some of the faces she’d seen at the food pantry. So many people crammed into that little foyer! Not many looked as if they had the joy of the Lord, though almost everyone had expressed appreciation for the food and clothes they’d received. So many hungry people in just this Chicago neighborhood? And it was only one neighborhood out of hundreds!
Kat was mulling over the food pantry so hard she barely realized the praise and worship time was over until Pastor Cobbs announced Nick Taylor’s membership. “This young man received a vote of confidence from the congregation a week or so ago about doing his pastoral internship here at SouledOut— and praise God, he wants to make his commitment to this church official by becoming a member, even though he is still a seminary student. So, Brother Nick, let’s do this thing!”
The congregation laughed and nodded and said “Amen!” as Nick joined the shorter man on the low platform and responded affirmatively to the membership questions. Did he acknowledge Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior? Yes. Did he desire to enter into a covenant with the members here at SouledOut Community Church as part of the family of God? Yes.
Kat listened intently. The questions Nick was asked somehow took on a deeper meaning when asked in person rather than just being words on paper. Could she make those commitments? She wasn’t regular in her Bible study and prayer. And what did it mean to relate to brothers and sisters in the body of Christ in a spirit of love? To maintain unity by reconciling differences? It all sounded good, but—just like that one about “courtesy in speech”—not so easy to actually live out.
As he finished the questions, the pastor asked the congregation if they could make these same commitments to Nick as their brother in Christ, to which there was a chorus of “We do!” accompanied by the usual happy hallelujahs. But for a moment Kat felt bereft, as if she’d just been left behind. Why hadn’t she ever considered baptism before now? It had never occurred to her it would stand in the way of becoming a member. But no one had said anything about baptism when she’d taken her first step of faith, and she’d mostly done church-hopping while going to CCU. SouledOut was the first church she’d ever been serious about.
Nick returned to his seat as Justin got up again to make announcements. Kat gave Nick’s arm a quick squeeze and whispered, “You did good. I—” But she stopped before adding she wished she could’ve been up there with him.
It was what it was.
Pastor Cobbs announced that Sister Avis would be giving the sermon that morning. Kat eyed her through half-closed lids as the pastor prayed for her. She’d always enjoyed the way Mrs. D led worship and was curious to hear her preach. The woman looked calm and dignified in the modest royal-blue suit she was wearing. Her very dignity was a little intimidating. But . . . this was the same woman who’d wrapped Kat in a big embrace outside the coffee shop that day after Kat had witnessed Mrs. D’s reunion with her daughter, causing Kat to weep at the distance she felt from her own mother, too busy with her social life in Phoenix to even write or call very often. There were times when Kat wished for another one of those hugs—but Mrs. D had her own daughter and grandson back now.
Get over it, Kat, she told herself. She was getting too emotional today. What was up with that?
But when Mrs. Douglass introduced her text, Kat nearly fell off her chair. “Brothers and sisters, turn in your Bibles to Isaiah 55 . . .”
That was the same chapter she’d just read yesterday morning! The one that had really made her think.
“As you all know,” Avis went on, “today is communion Sunday, and we will all share the bread and wine as Christ commanded us, to remember His death until He returns. But sometimes we do so almost automatically, its rich meaning diminished simply because we do it so often. Why did Jesus choose bread and wine for His memorial? What is significant about these common elements? Let’s read.”
Kat hastily turned her own Bible to Isaiah and read along the words that were now somewhat familiar to her.
“‘Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost,’” Avis Douglass read in her rich voice. “‘Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare . . . I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David . . .’”
Kat sat mesmerized as Mrs. Douglass talked about what good news it would be to people who were hungry and thirsty but had no money to be told they could eat and drink without having to pay. Well, yeah! Like Lady Lolla, the scrawny would-be model who looked as if she hadn’t had a decent meal in ages. Or the single moms who came with their kids, getting honest-to-goodness food without having to pay for it. Those food pantries really were good news!
She turned her attention back to Mrs. D, who was saying that all of us are spiritually hungry and thirsty, even though we may not always realize it. And through the prophet Isaiah, God was announcing good news! God was calling all of us—people who have nothing as well as people who seem to have “everything”— to come and be part of the “everlasting covenant,” the family of God.
There was more from the chapter—but Kat kept thinking about the food pantry. One of the food shoppers from Manna House, what’s-her-name, had said that’s what this city really needed, more food pantries.
More food pantries.
And Rochelle had gone a step further, saying she thought more churches ought to start food pantries.
As Mrs. Douglass wrapped up her sermon, she emphasized that God had taken the initiative, sending out His invitation to all who were hungry and thirsty. “And so we come to the Lord’s Table today, remembering Jesus who came to offer us that spiritual food and drink, sealed by His sacrifice on the cross.”
Taking the initiative, like God did.
Mrs. Douglass stood aside as Pastor Cobbs stood up and called Nick Taylor to come up and join them. “As our newest member and pastoral intern, Nick will be helping to serve c
ommunion,” the pastor said as the praise team members returned to their instruments and began to play softly. “All believers are welcome to come to the Lord’s Table to receive the bread and the wine.”
Kat felt a flicker of surprise as Nick left his seat and helped Pastor Cobbs bring the communion table forward. He hadn’t mentioned he was going to help serve communion. The older pastor read the familiar passage of Scripture when Jesus shared the Passover bread with His disciples and said, “Take, eat, this is My body. Do this in remembrance of Me . . .” He did the same with the wine. Pastor Cobbs then broke the loaf of bread on the table and gave half to Avis Douglass and the other half to Nick. Lines started to form as people received a small piece of bread from either Mrs. D or Nick, then dipped it in the cup of wine held by Pastor Cobbs before eating it.
Kat followed Bree in the line going toward Nick. As she got closer, she noticed the cloth covering the communion table— why hadn’t she noticed it before? They’d been at the church a couple of months, and communion was served the first Sunday of each month. But somehow she’d missed the table covering. But today her eyes locked on the cloth, which had been embroidered all around its edge with figures of many races and nationalities.
She drew in a quick breath . . . so beautifully done. So like the people she’d seen at the food pantry. All kinds. All ages. Hungry. Thirsty. Without money to pay—
“Kat?”
Nick was whispering to her. Oh my goodness, she was next. She held out her hands like a cup and he put the piece of bread into them, murmuring, “The body of Christ, broken for you, Kat.”
Kat nodded and gave him a little smile. He was in his element, bless him. Then she stepped over to Pastor Cobbs, dipped her bread, and put it in her mouth.
But all the way back to her seat, her eyes were searching for Edesa Baxter. She had to talk to her right after the service!