The Heart Reader

by Terri Blackstock

  Sam felt suddenly overwhelmed. He dropped his face into his hands and began to cry, something he hadn’t done since his mother’s funeral years ago. This was too much for one man to handle.

  John laid his hand on the back of Sam’s neck. “Sam, I want to pray for you. This seems like a lot, I know. But God gave it to you. You need to thank him and acknowledge that you can’t use it without him. It’s his power.”

  Sam could accept that; this wasn’t something of his own doing. Only God could have come up with something this amazing. He bowed his head, still crying, and listened as John prayed for him. He wished he could believe that the Lord would just fill him with words and courage and that Sam could tell everyone he saw how to meet those needs, just like Paul or Peter. But he had trouble seeing himself in that role. Since when was Sam Bennett a missionary evangelist? When John whispered, “Amen,” Sam looked helplessly up at him.

  “Sam, I’ll help you,” John said. “How about if we each take the day off? We can go somewhere and sit. You can just tell me everything you hear. I’ll take it from there. I’ll teach you how to let God direct.”

  Sam felt the first calm of the day washing over him like a warm tide, and he squinted up at John through his tears. “You could do that?”

  “Of course I could. I can’t wait to see how this works.”

  He opened his hands. “All right. Where will we go?”

  John thought a moment. “The bus station? It’s sometimes pretty crowded this time of day. Think of all those lost souls. All those voices.”

  “No.” Sam shook his head adamantly. “I can’t handle that. Just a few at a time. Let’s go someplace I’m used to. Let’s go back to the diner.”

  “All right,” John said. “Let me just leave a note for the staff.”

  But as they headed back out to John’s car, Sam felt a sinking, sick feeling deep in his gut that God had made his first mistake.

  4

  Since Sam was so distracted, John drove following Sam’s directions to the diner. The place was even more crowded than it had been when he’d been here earlier. Sam looked at his watch and realized that it wasn’t that late in the day; it was only 9:30 A.M. He’d gotten an awfully early start today. Dozens of people still crammed in to grab breakfast before heading to work.

  John followed him in and looked around for a booth. Janie, the waitress, lifted her voice over the noise. “Good thing you came back, Sam, since you ran out of here without paying me this morning.”

  Sam hadn’t thought of it until now. Embarrassed, he made his way to the counter. “I’m sorry, Janie. I wasn’t thinking clearly. But you knew I’d be back, didn’t you?”

  “Sure,” Janie said, waving him off. “You’ve never stiffed me before.” She pointed to the booth in the corner. Two orderlies from the hospital were just leaving it. “Why don’t you take that one, and I’ll get Joe to come out and wipe the table for you. Joe!”

  John looked around as if he was a little shell-shocked at the noise and crowd as they took the sticky table. Sam gestured toward Janie as they sat down. “I heard her voice this morning.”

  “What did it say?” John asked.

  “Something about rest. That it could change her whole life. That doesn’t sound like a spiritual need to me, does it to you?”

  John considered that for a moment. “Jesus said, ‘Come to me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”

  Sam rubbed his jaw. “Sure did, didn’t he? How about that?”

  “So did you tell her that?”

  “No, I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t know what was happening. It surprised me when I realized she didn’t know I’d heard her. And then that lady next to me said that thing about gravity letting her go, and—”

  “Is she here now?”

  Sam looked around. “No, she’s gone.”

  “So how did you answer her?”

  Sam grunted out his annoyance. “I didn’t. She got irritated when I tried, so I moved to another table.”

  “Oh.” John was clearly disappointed. “Did you talk to anybody about what you heard?”

  “Of course not. They would have called the police or something.” He stared across the table at his pastor, wondering what he expected.

  “So what are you hearing right now?” John asked.

  Sam drew in a deep breath and sat back in his booth, listening.

  “I can’t do this alone.” The voice startled him, and he turned to the table next to theirs and saw a pregnant girl with a toddler.

  He turned back to John and tried to cover his mouth. “The woman next to us—she said she can’t do this alone.”

  John’s eyes danced like those of a kid at the gates of an amusement park. “Go tell her she doesn’t have to.”

  Sam shifted in his seat. He was sorry he’d ever brought John into this. “I can’t do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. She doesn’t know I heard her thoughts. She’ll think it’s a pickup line.”

  “No, she won’t. If you go up and address her deepest spiritual need, you think she’s gonna turn you away?”

  “Well, no, but . . . come on, John. I come here every day. I know some of these people. I don’t want them to start running from me.”

  John’s expression fell. “He hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.” The words didn’t come through his lips, and Sam’s face grew hot.

  He leaned forward, locking eyes with his pastor. “I have too heard what you’ve said, John. Stop thinking you’re a failure because I’m not Billy Graham.”

  “God isn’t asking you to be Billy Graham,” John said. “Sam, why do you think God gave you this ability?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that all morning. I guess it’s punishment for being lukewarm or something.”

  “It’s not a punishment,” John whispered. “It’s a wonderful gift. What are you afraid of?”

  “I don’t know. Of messing somebody’s head up. Of telling them the wrong thing. Of turning them off to religion altogether because they think I’m some kind of Bible-waving maniac.”

  John seemed to look right into him. Sam hated that about him. “It’s not really any of those things, is it, Sam?”

  “You got the gift too?” Sam demanded. “You think you can look into my heart and see what I’m feeling? Well, why don’t you just tell me what it is?”

  John kept his eyes locked on Sam’s. “I think you’re embarrassed. Ashamed.”

  “Ashamed!” He thought of leaving—just storming out in righteous indignation. “I’m not ashamed of my faith!”

  “Then how many times have you told anybody else about it?”

  “Plenty!” he said. “They can see by my life. People know that I don’t do business the same way they do. I treat others kindly. They know I’m active at church. They know, okay?”

  “But how many times have you shared it out loud? In words? How many people have you led to Christ?”

  “None that I know of, but that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed. It just means that the situation hasn’t come up.” He stopped and stared at his preacher across the table. Even without his gift, Sam knew what John was thinking. He was making excuses. Sam rubbed his face. “Look, John, there’s nothing I’d like better than to be able to say I’ve led a bunch of people to Christ. Every Christian would like to think that. But I’m not like you. That’s not my gift. I’m not bold that way. I mean, what if I get over there and start telling that woman about Jesus, and she asks me some theological question that I can’t answer, because frankly—and I’ll just be honest here—I haven’t studied the Bible all that much.”

  “Do you know Jesus?” John asked.

  Sam looked at him, astonished. “Yes, John! Can you really ask me that? You baptized me. I may not be the greatest Christian who ever lived, but I do have a relationship with Christ.”

  “Then tell her about that,” John said. “That’s all she needs to know right now. That’s all you need to
know right now.”

  Sam couldn’t believe the pastor was putting him on the spot this way. Did John think it was that simple? “I don’t even know how to start the conversation. I mean, what do I do? Go plop down at her table and tell her that she doesn’t have to do this alone? What if she doesn’t even realize that was what she was thinking? What if—”

  John’s eyes were laughing. “You know, Sam, Satan doesn’t have to do anything to foil your attempts to get the word out. You’re doing his job for him.”

  Sam leaned back hard in his booth. “Oh, that’s low. That’s really low, John.”

  “Why do you think God is letting you hear these voices?”

  He clenched his hands into fists. “To drive me crazy.”

  “No,” John said. “He obviously wants you to respond to them. You wouldn’t just be hearing these things if you weren’t supposed to respond in some way.”

  “So you’re saying that every time I hear these voices I’m supposed to launch into some kind of amateur sermon?”

  “Maybe that’s the plan.”

  “I probably heard six voices at one time in the grocery store. Was I supposed to climb up on an egg crate and start preaching to them?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Come on, John!”

  John looked over at the woman, and Sam followed his gaze. She was helping the child eat some hash browns while her other hand rubbed the top of her belly. “I’m scared,” Sam heard her say, though she hadn’t really said it. “I don’t want to do this.”

  He wondered if she was headed to the hospital for an appointment. If there was a husband in her life. If she really was alone or just felt alone. Suddenly, he forgot where he and John were in their argument.

  John had obviously forgotten too. The pastor slid out of the booth.

  Sam caught his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “Just right here to talk to this lady,” he whispered.

  Sam let go and watched John approach her. “Ma’am, I’m John Ingalls, Pastor of Church of the Savior over on Post Road,” he said gently, “and I was just noticing this precious little girl.”

  The young woman smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Do you mind if I sit down for just a second? I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute.”

  She shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.”

  That was it, Sam thought. That was the place where he would have struck out. She would have taken one look at him and yelled for help. He’d often had that effect on women.

  But John had that kind, non-threatening face. It was clear from a mile away that the man was a preacher.

  Janie brought Sam coffee, and he began meticulously mixing the sugar and cream into it as he listened to the conversation at the next table.

  “I noticed the way you kept rubbing your stomach,” John said. “I just wondered if you’re all right.”

  She breathed a laugh. “Well, frankly, I may not be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m kind of in labor.”

  Sam’s head came up.

  “Why aren’t you in the hospital?” John asked.

  “I’ve been there already,” she said. “They told me I’m just in the early stages. That I should come back when the contractions are closer together. They said to walk around a little, relax . . .”

  “Well, have you notified your husband?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have a husband.”

  “Well, the baby’s father, then. Isn’t there—?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she put her hand over her mouth. The little girl looked up at her, touched her, as if the tears were familiar, yet still dreadful.

  John leaned forward on the table and met her eyes. “You must be feeling pretty alone right now.”

  Sam’s eyes shot across to John. He was using what Sam had told him about her need. She nodded fiercely. “That’s exactly how I’m feeling.”

  “Do you have someone to keep this sweet little girl while you’re in the hospital?”

  She wiped her eyes. “No. Social Services is going to take her until I get out. I don’t see why she can’t just stay there with me. She’s real good . . .” Her voice trailed off as she put her arm around the tiny child’s shoulders.

  John was shaking his head. “Look, my wife and I would love to baby-sit for you while you’re in the hospital. We love kids, and our baby just went off to college this year. She could stay with us for as long as you want her to.”

  The prospect seemed to trouble her more. She took the child’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Thank you, but I don’t know . . .”

  “Of course you wouldn’t trust me just like that,” John said. “Call my church and ask about me. I could get my wife to come here so you could meet her. If you don’t feel good about us after all that, then we’ll just go our separate ways and leave you alone.”

  She stared across the table. “Why would you do that? Baby-sit for someone you’ve never met?”

  “Because something told me that you were alone and you needed it. And to be perfectly honest, I needed an opening so I could explain to you that you’re not really alone, that there’s someone who loved you enough to die for you. And because he loves you so much, he sat me down at the table next to you, so I could come and tell you.”

  As if he was the one to whom John referred, she looked over at Sam, still alone at the next table. “Someone loved me?” she asked, almost disgusted. “Who?”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said.

  Her face changed, and he saw the cynicism that lined her young face. “Oh, come on. Give me a break.”

  “No, listen to me,” John said, brooking no debate. “You are not alone. You may feel like you are, but there are people out there who can love you and care for you, and the only reason they can is that Jesus does.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “If only I could believe that.”

  “You can believe it,” he said. “It’s true.”

  The woman’s face began to redden, and it twisted as she began to weep. The little girl set down her spoon and stared up at her mother. John touched the woman’s shoulder. “Ma’am, this doesn’t have to go on, this feeling of solitude. When you bring that baby into the world today, you could bring it into a Christian home.”

  She looked down at her stomach, then over at the child. “I’ve never taken her to church,” she said. “I’ve never taught her anything about the Bible. There’s so much I would have to learn.”

  “You don’t have to learn anything before you come to Christ,” John said. “All you have to do is pray and tell Jesus that you want him to take over your life. Do you want to do that?”

  Still weeping, she nodded her head. “It couldn’t be any worse than it’s been.” She breathed in a sob. “Yes, I’d like to do that.”

  John met Sam’s eyes, quietly saying, See? You could do this. But Sam knew better—John was a natural. “Let’s pray,” John said.

  She looked awkwardly around her. “I don’t know if I can do this right out in public . . .”

  “He died right out in public,” John whispered. “Don’t let embarrassment keep you from that kind of love.”

  John closed his eyes, and the woman followed. Sam listened as John began to lead her in prayer, and he felt the thrill of witnessing a new convert being ushered into the kingdom of God. He couldn’t believe it had been so easy. He’d heard stories of doors being slammed in people’s faces, persecutions, even. He’d read about that in the Bible.

  Then the thought came to him. I’ve made it easy for you, Sam.

  He drew in a deep breath as they came out of the prayer, and the tension on the woman’s face began to drain away as she laughed through her tears. She was not much more than a teenager, he realized. Practically a kid. About his daughter’s age. His heart jolted at the thought of Jennifer, a college freshman, in labor with no one beside her. How could that have happened to this young woman?

  John kept talking to her, and after a
moment, he got up and went to the pay phone. Sam knew he was calling his wife to come and get the little girl. He wondered how often John put Christ’s love into such concrete action. Maybe that was what they were all supposed to do, he thought. Maybe Christians, like doctors, were supposed to heal fatal spiritual ills, terminal diseases of the soul.

  When John came back, he put Sam on the spot. “Sam, come here for a minute. I want you to meet the newest member of our family.”

  Sam got awkwardly up and reached for her hand.

  “You’re brothers?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Sam said quickly.

  “Brothers in Christ,” John said. “And now you’re our sister.”

  Her eyes filled again as she laughed softly. “Oh. Right.”

  Sam sat down at the table. He didn’t know what to say.

  The child stood up, revealing her wet pants. “Uh-oh,” she said. “We haven’t quite got this potty training down.” She got to her feet, her hand on her stomach. “Would you all excuse me for a minute, please? I’m leaving my bag here.”

  Sam looked under the table and saw her duffel bag for the hospital. She carried a diaper bag and purse on her shoulder.

  “If you’d just keep an eye on it, I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure,” John said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve probably got hours yet. I’ll just yell out if anything happens.”

  They disappeared into the rest room, and John grinned back at Sam. “So what do you think about that?”

  “I think that was amazing,” Sam said. “The most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You could do it too. It’s very simple. You know their needs. Address them.”

  But Sam was still skeptical. It was one thing to know their needs. It was another to meet them.

  “I’m so dirty.” The voice behind him was as loud as if it had been whispered right in his ear, and he turned around and saw the man sitting there, in a clean, pressed suit, reading the newspaper as if nothing was wrong. “I can’t stand my life anymore. I’m filthy, tainted.”

  Sam turned back to John. “The man behind me,” he said. “He said he feels dirty, tainted, filthy.”