In His Place: A Modern-Day Challenge for Readers of In His Steps

by Harry C. Griffith

  Finally, his thoughts burst through. “This whole thing sucks! It’s not fair. Why is this happening to me?”

  “It’s happening to all of us, Brandon. You’re right that it’s not fair, but we have to stick together and make the best of it we can.”

  I was glad Jayne had responded before I could. I swallowed my anger. I heard my seminary pastoral counselor’s wisdom in my head. Teenagers are often self-oriented. It’s all part of the growing-up process.

  Brandon mumbled something that sounded like profanity and stormed out of the room. Deep down, I wondered if, in addition to everything else, he blamed me for getting us into a situation I could have easily avoided.

  Hannah looked tearfully and wide-eyed at Jayne and me. Her world was also falling apart.

  I pulled her into a hug. “Somehow, sweetheart, it will all work out. Maybe not like we want it to, but we know God has plans for us. Let’s try to look forward to what they might be.”

  Chapter 27

  Friday, October 20

  On the Monday afternoon of the shooting, I had gone into the intensive care room at the hospital and prayed for Tyler after the doctor had informed Connie that the attempt to save him had failed. Having agreed to do a service for Tyler, I told her that the one for Flora Stoner would have to come first. Connie understood and said that her brother, who lived in a neighboring town, would make arrangements for the body in the meantime at the local funeral parlor. She would wait for my call concerning further arrangements. In the days that followed, after an exchange of telephone calls, Friday morning at ten was decided on as the time for the service.

  I met with Connie Wooten at nine thirty at the funeral parlor chapel where the service would be held. The first step in the process was looking the place over and getting the lay of the land. And even that didn’t lie well.

  Part of it was my fault. A funeral parlor as a substitute for a church seemed so phony at times like this. Where the overwhelming smell of flowers didn’t permeate the rooms, the smell of furniture wax did. Everything was always too neat, and the smiles of the staff seemed glued on.

  Over the years I had had many dealings with funeral homes, including this one. Usually the funeral service would be held in the church, but the bereaved often wanted their pastor with them when making the arrangements at the funeral home. And almost always, the people at the funeral home were overly gracious. They recognized what those who had lost a loved one were going through, and they wanted to impress on them their sympathy and their care for detail.

  Such was not the case in this instance. The people at the funeral home were standoffish, to say the least. They were doing something they were expected to do, but they weren’t happy about doing it. The frozen smiles were the best we got. Connie Wooten showed real character in being able to size up what was going on and not comment on it.

  Accepting the situation and preparing for the service itself, I needed to say some things to Connie in advance.

  “Connie, before this service starts, there are things we need to talk about. Even though this is taking place in a funeral home, it is going to be a Christian service. Are you a Christian?”

  She looked away. “I’d say that I was, but I don’t know I really am. My parents didn’t go to church or show any signs of being Christians, but they’d probably have said they were Christians, too. The only time I ever went in a church was with school friends who would talk me into going to Sunday school and youth activities with them from time to time. Lou and I got married in a church by promising the pastor that we would attend, but then it just seemed like too much trouble. Though I had to work some Sundays, that was the only day both of us ever had off from work, so it was time we spent with each other and with Tyler.”

  “Let me put it another way. Do you remember being baptized, and have you ever given your life to Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”

  Connie seemed thoughtful for a moment as she reflected back on her life. “No, I don’t remember anything like that. But I knew enough about Jesus to know that He wanted us to do the right thing, and that’s what I’ve tried to do.”

  Same old story. I remembered how, in my own life, I had thought that Christianity was simply about living a moral life. So I had tried to “do the right thing” just like Connie in order to be acceptable to God. It was only after Christ had burst into my life that I realized my focus had been one of pure selfishness, trying to manipulate God by appearing always to do the right thing. And then the Holy Spirit had convicted me of my selfishness—how I had always taken the moral high ground because that was what worked for me. It made me look good in the eyes of others, but in truth I had seldom shown love and compassion for others.

  “That’s how I used to look at things, too, Connie. Jesus does want us to live a moral life, but faith is so much more than that. God isn’t a judge who lives up in the sky checking to see if we do more good things than bad. God loves us and wants to be in contact with us. Just like in that old story about Adam and Eve, God knows that we are selfish by nature. But because He wants to be in relationship with us, He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to live and die for us, that our selfishness might be forgiven and we might be right with him. When we give ourselves to Jesus, it’s a whole new way of life, and it is an eternal life. We will be with God forever.”

  I didn’t expect this simple Gospel presentation to lead Connie Wooten to a sudden conversion, but I hoped it would get her thinking along the right path.

  She nodded, her eyes soft. “Thanks, I never looked at it that way.” Then her face paled. “But what about Tyler? As far as I know, he didn’t really know anything about Jesus.”

  I gave her an empathetic smile. “God knows what it’s like to lose a son. Let’s entrust Tyler to Him.”

  The contrast between the service for Flora Stoner and the one for Tyler Wooten was stark. There were no flowers, and to say the service was sparsely attended would be an exaggeration. In attendance, other than Connie and myself, were Connie’s brother and sister-in-law, two friends of Connie’s from work, two neighbors from her trailer park, the high school principal, Mrs. Cook, and Jayne, who had come to be supportive of me.

  But there was a major—and unwelcome—surprise. Seated at the very back of the funeral parlor chapel were Clifton Stoner and two other members of the Incarnation Church board. They sat, stony-faced and arms crossed, there to observe who might be in attendance and to hear what I would say. Silent purveyors of disapproval and judgment.

  As disconcerting as this hostile presence felt, I couldn’t let it affect what I planned to say. When the recorded music ended, I got to my feet, looked out on the tiny group sitting together in the front of the chapel, and began. “Dear ones, let’s be honest with one another—we are here in shock, speechless and heartbroken.”

  Connie Wooten, whose life had fallen apart and who had already shed so many tears, let her grief flow in another shower of sorrow as her brother put an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her.

  I read Psalm 46, through the eighth verse, then explained the meaning. “Despite what has happened, God is in charge. He truly is ‘our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble,’ and this is a time of trouble for us because we can’t understand how all of this could have happened. But God is merciful and just and will do what is right because it is His nature to do so. As I told Connie before this service, God knows what it is like to lose a son because He gave His Son, Jesus, to show us how much He loves us. Let’s lean into that love.”

  Connie looked up at me through the tears, and everyone else focused on my words, including the three in the back—though they smirked in disbelief at my message.

  Encouraged by Connie’s group, I then read Isaiah 61:1–3. “This passage from the Old Testament tells us of the nature of God. Jesus quoted from this passage when He taught in His hometown, saying that it was being fulfilled in their very presence. In other words, Jesus completed in His life what God had promised all along—to preach good news t
o the poor, freedom for those in prison, sight for the blind and release of the oppressed. That’s us, folks. We’re the ones who are poor, in prison, blind, and oppressed until we come into a right relationship with God through Jesus Christ. But God is here for us regardless.”

  There was some restlessness among the attendants at this point. I didn’t know their faith background. They may not have liked the categories I was placing them in, but I continued. “It’s God’s nature to comfort those who mourn. We need an extra measure of that comfort because of the circumstances. I pray that you will sense that comfort in your lives and that you will bring some good from this tragedy by giving your lives to Jesus Christ so that the service at your death may be one of celebration because you have entered eternity with God. And I’m available to any of you who are ready to make that commitment.”

  The three in the back of the room continued to glare. The others glanced back and forth at one another, but no one moved.

  I paused and smiled. “Now, let’s adjourn to the grave site where we can put Tyler’s body to rest.”

  At the brief graveside service—which the three Incarnation people did not attend—I prayed, “O God, whose mercies cannot be numbered, accept our prayers on behalf of Tyler Wooten, whose tortured mind led him astray. We place him in Your loving hands. May he rest in a peace that he could not find on this earth. And bless his mother, Connie, who loved him, that she may find peace in this world and in the world to come. Amen.”

  Following the service, three things happened. Connie’s brother tried to give me an honorarium in compensation for performing the service. I appreciated the thought but felt it would have been inappropriate to accept anything—even on behalf of Incarnation Church. So I thanked him for his thoughtfulness but declined. Much more significantly, Connie asked me to pray for her to receive Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. Then she asked me to come by her home later in the day to talk about some things she wasn’t comfortable discussing with her family and others around.

  As she had requested, I met with Connie Wooten in her somewhat dilapidated home in the local trailer park in the early afternoon. The area was decidedly run-down. The other trailers scattered around the park showed the same degree of wear as Connie’s: paint peeling off, rust showing through in some places and mold in others, scraggly grass and weeds, clutter everywhere. Connie’s aged little car was parked next to the side of the house.

  I couldn’t help but compare Connie’s living conditions with those of Otis Huntington on the other side of town. Both were in bad repair, showing age, reflecting the low economic status of those who lived there and perhaps their hopelessness. Of course this was a trailer park and Otis had lived in an apartment complex. That was one difference, but there was another. Otis’s neighborhood was the scene of drugs and danger, whereas this area seemed calm and peaceful. At least for now.

  Connie met me at the door, slump-shouldered and fidgety, as she led me into her small “everything room”—entry way, living/family room, breakfast/dining room, and kitchen all rolled into one. The furniture was well worn but not soiled, and the few possessions she had were neatly placed around the room. It had the sweet smell of soap. The area around Connie’s trailer might be shabby, but she was personally clean and tidy.

  Connie offered coffee. Once we were settled around the Formica-topped breakfast table in metal folding chairs with mugs of coffee in front of us, she straightened in her chair but looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “Mr. Long, what am I going to do?”

  “First of all, I think it’s time for you to start calling me Steve. I’m going to be your friend through all of this. I want you to bring me up-to-date on what’s been happening that we didn’t have a chance to talk about this morning.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “But I also want to remind you that you indicated you want to accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, and I want to help you do that.”

  “St–St–Steve”—she paused, unsure of our new relationship—“I’ve lost my job and have no means of income—”

  Before she could say more, I interrupted. “I may have lost mine as well.”

  The shock on her face spoke for itself, but she asked anyway. “Surely not because of me…you doing the service for Tyler?”

  I patted her hand. “No, other things going on at church.” Well, in a sense, it was only a half-truth, but the woman was carrying enough burden. “Losing your job is a tough deal. What a lousy thing to happen in the middle of all you have lost. I imagine you are wondering why anyone would want you to suffer more than you already have. It’s sure easy to get disappointed with the human race at times like this.”

  Connie sat there with fear in her eyes and hesitation in her manner, and I realized there was more she wanted to say.

  “I’m getting threats about getting out of town.”

  I knew it was coming, but I felt it best to play ignorant until I heard it from her own mouth. “What kind of threats?”

  “Nasty ones. Phone calls and even a brick thrown at the trailer with a note on it: ‘Get out of town or you’ll be sorry.’ ”

  I took a deep breath, trying to tamp down my anger and frustration at the meanness of the small-minded people who had threatened to harm her and were carrying out that threat. Here was this helpless, distraught woman being bullied by Mike Troutman and possibly others out of vengeance for something she had not done, something that had destroyed her life. The injustice of it all was beyond me.

  “Connie, this is so unfair. I can’t explain how people can be like this. Ignorance may be an excuse, I don’t know. I guess we need a strategy to deal with it, some way to get you some protection.”

  Connie just shook her head, the picture of despair.

  “Let me have that note and the brick so I can take them to Clyde Matthews, the police chief.”

  She sighed. “I will, but he probably wants me gone from here as much as anyone else. You know he and another policeman came by and questioned me the day after the shooting. They said they just wanted to try to figure out the circumstances of why and how Tyler did it so as to prevent something like that in the future. But I felt like they were treating me as a criminal.

  “They tore Tyler’s room apart and questioned me for what seemed like hours. Then they took any weapons that were still in the trailer.” She screwed up her face and looked on the verge of rage. “I didn’t want them, but what authority did they have for doing that, and what are they going to do with them?”

  Once she had gotten onto the topic of the police, Connie became more animated and agitated, her voice quivering with emotion as she related the events. This woman, in spite of everything, was tired of being a doormat. She had some backbone! And some heat with regard to the police chief.

  “In addition to all that, everyone seems to be shunning me. Former friends, neighbors—they don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, act as though I don’t exist. What am I going to do?”

  “What about your brother and sister-in-law? Can’t you go live with them?”

  “Not really. Their little house is already overcrowded with them and their children. They have no place for me, and Bill doesn’t have much income. He was a great help in paying for Tyler’s funeral, but there isn’t anything else.”

  “If things weren’t so bad on my end, I might be able to offer you a job. We’re always in need of good workers around the church, but that’s out of the picture right now.”

  I knew I didn’t have an answer for her, but I needed to do what I could, at least for the moment. I opened my wallet and gave Connie some money.

  Her eyes widened, her forehead wrinkled. “I can’t take this.”

  “You don’t have much choice. Until we can figure something out, you’ve got to survive.”

  Her body shook slightly and her face contorted, tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t stay here. What can I do?”

  “Again, you don’t seem to have much choice. It wouldn’t work for you to come live with us because we’re in turmoil right now our
selves, even though, if things continue to get worse, of course you could stay with us for a few days. Let me go see Chief Matthews to find out if we can get you some protection.”

  Based on her episode with the police chief, she was about to give me a “lots of luck” response. I redirected our conversation. “Let’s talk about where you are about committing your life to the Lord.”

  Frankly, I didn’t know what to do about this woman and the problems she faced. It might seem to some a cop-out to shift from the practical to the spiritual, but as a pastor, it was my natural focus and the most important thing I could do at that moment.

  Connie’s face bloomed into wonderment. “You know I don’t really know anything about being a real Christian. It’s just that you showed me something about what God is really like by what you’ve said and done in my situation. And my life is a complete mess. I know that something is missing, and I want it. It looks to me like God is the answer.”

  I sat forward in my chair. “Okay, let me put it this way. This is what I say to people who seem to be where you are. Admit a need for God in your life. Then ask Him to come into your heart and make you whole. You can do that with a simple prayer such as: ‘Lord, please accept me as I am and make me into the person You want me to be.’ Would you be willing to pray this?”

  Connie hesitated then said, “I think I can, but there’s a lot more that I will need to learn to know what all of that means. And what will happen to me when I pray that prayer?”

  She became animated, pressing me. “Will I feel anything? Will I hear God speaking to me?”

  I took a breath. “The essential thing, Connie, is having your heart in the right place. God is calling you to come to Him through a commitment like this; it’s His idea. If that speaks to your heart, you are ready to make the commitment even though there is so much you don’t understand. I’ve been a Christian for many years and have even gone to a school to teach me more so that I could be a pastor, but there’s still a great deal more that I don’t know. We are to spend our lives studying the Bible, praying, worshiping with other Christians, and serving others in Christ’s name in order to grow in our relationship with God. But we all have to start somewhere.”