“It's okay to have feelings, after all God created us to have them, but we should base our faith on the evidence and not on our feelings. If we only worship God when we feel like it, we might not worship him very often, but our sacrifice of praise is that we worship him with our lives day in and day out, whether things are going our way or not.”
Christopher paused for a moment, rubbing his chin. “You know, John the Baptist never did leave that cell that he was in. He was beheaded a short time after this story. But don't feel too sorry for him, he's been walking the streets of gold ever since. He's enjoying a life that we can only dream about. A life that we can only believe by faith. But my faith is based on the facts and not on my feelings.”
Christopher invited people to come to the front to pray with him or to make a decision about joining the church or accepting Christ. He stood during the invitation hymn, then gave a couple of announcements and led the congregation in a closing prayer.
It was warm on the front steps of the church as people filed out, shaking his hand. Christopher tried to speak to each one, asking how they were feeling, and asking about their family members for whom he had been praying.
Phyllis Eastland hugged him as she came by. “Thank you for that sermon. That's what I needed today,” she said.
“Thank you.”
An elder came up next and shook Christopher's hand. “Good sermon, Rev.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“We're having a meeting tonight at six. Can you come at that time?”
Christopher was stunned. He had been on the post-church high, and this brought him back to reality. “Uh, tonight? Yes, I can be there.”
“Good, we'll see you then.”
This can't be good, Christopher thought. He continued to shake hands and tell people goodbye.
His wife, Rachel, stood and talked to several people, then made her way to the car, along with their sons, Jason and Stephen. After everyone had passed by, Christopher made his way to the car. It was hot inside the vehicle and he left the doors open a minute to let the cool air outside flow in. Then he started it and headed toward their home.
The Forrests lived a mile from the church in a mature neighborhood on a hillside in eastern Springfield. It was a nice three-bedroom, two-story brick home. They had always felt blessed to have found it when he came to the church five years ago. The boys were only five and seven when they moved in, and the neighborhood was perfect for bringing them up. They had been married fifteen years, ten of them in Texas, where he began his ministry as a youth pastor at a church near Dallas. He was from a small town near Tyler, and she grew up in Bolivar Missouri, ten miles north of Springfield. He met her at her home church, where he visited when he was in school at Southwest Baptist University there in Bolivar. They had fallen in love and surrendered to a life of ministry together. Christopher was struggling to keep his weight under control and his dark hair had begun to turn gray a couple of years ago when he hit his forties. Now his hair was mostly turning loose. Christopher felt Rachel was still as youthful and beautiful as she was the day he met her. Her father was Hispanic and she had inherited his large, dark eyes and flowing brown hair. And she was full of life and personality. He liked to call her “shorty”, but not because she was only five-foot-two, but because that's what singers were calling their girlfriends on the radio and it drove their oldest son crazy when he did. Rachel had an accounting degree and had worked for most of the time they had been married, but she had been laid off for more than a year now, and had not been able to find another job. Her lack of income was taking a toll on them.
She set a plate of spaghetti in front of Christopher as he sat at the table.
“Oh, thanks, I would have gotten it,” he said.
“No, this is for a good sermon today. You just rest and eat up.”
The four of them sat at the table and ate. Christopher asked the boys how their Sunday school classes had gone. They didn't offer much information. Soon, they were out in the back yard and Christopher and Rachel were alone in the kitchen.
“I have a meeting tonight with the elders,” he said, taking a sip of iced tea.
“Well, I want you to ask for a raise.”
That angered him. “Think about it. Our numbers are slipping, our giving is down – there's no way.” He stood up to take his plate to the sink. “I'm afraid they're going to fire me.”
“Fire you! No way. Everyone loves you.”
“So why were there only seventy people there today? Where is everybody?”
“You know church attendance is cyclical. We have up and down years. This is just a bad year.”
“It's not just a bad year, we're running out of money. People don't give like they used to. We've been sliding for a couple of years and I think it’s gotten to the point where they might have to let me go.”
“I just don't believe it. I'm sure they just want to discuss a plan for growth or something.” She rinsed a small plate in the sink and set it in the dishwasher. “Just don't let them blame you for anything. You are doing a great job.”
“I'm nervous about this. We're barely making it now. What if they fire me? What if they cut my salary?”
“Then we have to move out of this house.” She thought a moment. “We'll have to move in with my folks.”
“Don't even say that.”
“I don't like it either,” she said. “But I was late on the electric bill this month. We aren't making it.” Her voice was elevated now. “Either they give you a raise, or we have to move.”
He lowered his voice to a more soothing tone. “God is going to take care of us.”
“Of course he is. Now you get down there and fight for that raise.”
He didn't answer, but walked out of the kitchen to the living room. He sat down in his easy chair and turned on the television. He was glad to see the Cowboys playing and was able to forget about the meeting for the next couple of hours.
His hands were cold as he sat in the conference room of the church. The “conference room” being the adult Sunday school classroom with the nicest, most padded chairs. The elders came in, one at a time until they were all there. Six of them verses just one of him. Christopher had always felt he had a good relationship with them, but their faces told him this meeting wasn't about giving him a raise.
The chairman of the board began the meeting. “We like you, Chris. We think you’re a great preacher and doing a good job, but our numbers are dropping and we need to try to figure out what to do.”
“We don’t blame you, Reverend Forrest,” another member said, “but the reality is the money is running out.”
Christopher looked around the room. “I'm upset about it too. I don't know what to – ”
The chairman cut him off. “We know you’re trying. That’s not why we called this meeting.”
As the board members spoke, the purpose of the meeting came into a painful, but clear focus. The chairman put a sharp point on the discussion. “The bottom line is that we can’t pay our bills and keep paying you what you’re making.”
Oh no, this was exactly what I cannot be hearing, Christopher thought.
“We need to cut your salary by six hundred a month,” the chairman said. “If we do, we think we can keep the doors open a little longer.” The chairman cleared his throat. “And there’s more, Brother Chris. I’m afraid we also have to let your insurance policy go for now. It’s become too expensive.”
It was going from bad to horribly worse for Christopher. “You can’t do this to me,” he said. “You’re leaving my family exposed.”
“We don’t want to do this to you, but your premiums are more than a thousand per month and the church just doesn’t have it right now.” The chairman put his fist on the table. “But I promise this is only temporary. The first thing we’re going to do is get your coverage back as soon as we can. I promise you that.”
“The money’s just not there right now,” another member said. “We can’t even pay Joyce anymore. We’re
going to have to let her go and use volunteers for her job.”
“You’re firing Joyce?” Christopher said, his voice an octave higher than normal. Joyce was not just his secretary, she was more like his right hand.
“We’re truly sorry about all of this, Brother Chris,” the elder said, “but this is what it has come to. We just don’t see any other way out right now.”
A tear ran down Christopher's cheek and dripped off his jaw bone, splattering on the table. “Are you forcing me to leave? Is that what you want? Is that what this meeting is about?”
The board chairman stood to his feet and raised his voice. “No! I promise it's not. We want you to stay.” He paused. “We're begging you to stay. But people just aren't giving like they used to. It's this economy. He pointed the open check register in front of him with his finger. “See for yourself. We can't pay you with money that doesn't exist. I know it will get better, and when it does your salary will go right back to where it was.” He remained on his feet and no one else spoke.
Christopher didn't speak again. He knew they were only doing what they had to do. He wiped his cheek. The meeting was over. There was nothing more to discuss. The money in the bank was nearly gone and they all knew it. Christopher sat silently in his chair as the board members filed out.
“Please know none of us wanted any of this,” an elder with sympathetic eyes said. “If we had any other choice, you know we would take it.”
Several elders shook his hand. Some hugged him. One was crying as she left. That made him feel a little better, but it didn’t alleviate the dread he felt as he thought about going home and telling Rachel the bad news.
Chapter Five
Christopher put the last of his belongings in the back of the rented trailer. He had boxed it up and was moving it out. There was no way to stay in the house on his new, reduced salary. Rachel was more concerned about the loss of insurance than the loss of salary. They would continue to be covered through the holidays, but she couldn't stand the idea of it ending on January first. Christopher was most upset about losing their beautiful home. And not just losing the home, but moving in with her parents. He loved her folks and got along well with them, but everyone knew it was going to be crowded and inconvenient when they moved in. The boys would have to be in one spare bedroom and he and Rachel the other, but they would have to share the one bathroom in the house with everyone. He hoped their stay wasn't going to be very long.
Their rental contract was ending at the end of November, so Christopher was moving them out a few days before then, on the Friday after Thanksgiving. He had already stored most of their furniture and belongings and was taking the last of what they needed to stay at the Garcia's.
They drove around the loop, past the church, and to Highway 13, north to Bolivar.
Evelyn Garcia, Rachel's mom, seemed genuinely glad to see them when they arrived at the front door. She had turkey and rolls and all the trimmings on the table. She got flour from her apron on Christopher's shirt when she hugged him. Victor was happy as well. He loved the idea of Rachel moving back into her old bedroom, but he loved the grandkids and Christopher too. He took the Forrest's dachshund from Jason and held him as Evelyn flitted around the kitchen. Christopher and Rachel had eaten at home on Thursday, so this was the Garcia Thanksgiving. Evelyn wanted it to be just right and she wanted Christopher and Rachel to feel as much at home as possible. Christopher liked to stay only an hour or so, then kiss the Garcia's goodbye and head home, but he wouldn't be leaving after this meal. This was his home now, and it would be for the holidays and he could only guess how long afterward.
The sheets smelled musty the first week from not being used for a while, but Christopher and his family settled in and got into the rhythm of living in their new place. Waiting on the bathroom was the worst of it, but Christopher knew it would be and tried to keep his sense of humor about him.
On Christmas Eve, Christopher and Rachel reclined on the Garcia's couch, laughing at Rachel’s brother Rick, who was entertaining them with his latest jokes. He always had a new funny story to tell and Christopher wasn’t disappointed at the new crop.
“This man comes into a pub and orders three Scotch whiskeys,” Rick said, “and tells the bartender his two brothers just moved away and the three of them vowed to have a drink in honor of each other every day at four o’clock. So he comes in every afternoon at four and drinks three Scotches. Then, one day he comes in and only orders two whiskeys. The bartender nods his head and says ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I guess one of your brothers must have died.’ The man says, ‘Oh no, my brothers are fine, but I just joined the Baptist church and so I don’t drink anymore.’ ”
Christopher laughed out loud.
Later, he watched Jason, Stephen and their cousins open some of their presents. They always got to open their presents from aunts, uncles, and the other cousins on Christmas Eve.
Evelyn brought out slices of pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top. “Everyone has to sample my homemade pie,” she said, doling it out.
Christopher had already enjoyed turkey and dressing, but the desserts kept coming in a sweet stream. Victor kept the fire going in the fireplace, and everyone shared what they were thankful for from the past year.
“I’m grateful for my parents,” Rachel said. “We had to move out of our place, but I’m glad Mom and Dad agreed to take us in.”
“I’m thankful for this time together,” Christopher said. “It’s not what you have, it’s who you love, and who loves you that makes you happy. We’ve had a rough year, but moments like this remind me that everything is going to be okay.”
Rachel blew dust from a song book and opened it to play carols. Rick took his guitar out of its case and sang some old and new standards, including a Christmas song he had written himself.
Eventually, the fire died down and the families began to make their way out into the night. Christopher brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas. The house was cold and drafty, but that felt appropriate to him this night. He looked in on the boys to make sure they were settled and sleepy. It was near midnight when Christopher and Rachel held each other under the covers in their quarters.
“I’m sorry I’ve been selfish about this,” Christopher whispered. “The truth is, I think we’ll look back fondly on this Christmas. We’re a little cramped in here, but we’re all together. One day, I’ll wish the boys were right next to our room again.”
“Remember when we first brought Jason home from the hospital?” Rachel said. “We were a happy little family weren't we?” She snuggled up next to him. “Then Stephen came along and gave him someone to play with and get into trouble with.”
Christopher couldn't help but smile. “Yeah, God's been good to us.”
By the middle of February, whatever novelty and closeness Christopher felt was long gone. He was ready for them to be in their own place again. But the money just wasn't there. He had saved some, but not enough to pay deposits and rent. His patience was wearing thin.
Toward the end of the month, he was sitting in his office late on a Thursday afternoon. He was finishing up his sermon notes. It startled him when someone walked into his office. He looked up. “Hello, Mrs. Baker.”
Coreen Baker was a faithful member of the church. She was a widow who attended the services every Sunday and Wednesday. “Good afternoon, Brother Chris,” she said as she came and stood in front of his desk.
He felt guilty for feeling this way, but he hoped she wasn’t coming in to ask for help. It seemed to him that was what every visitor wanted anymore. They were all facing eviction, or losing their electricity, or had starving babies at home. So many were in despair. He tried to figure out ways to help them with what little there was to give. It was always a challenge and he wasn't sure he was up to it. He smiled at her. “How are you today?”
“Just fine. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am that our church cut your salary and made you move out of your home. I think that’s just terrible.”
&
nbsp; “Oh, thank you. I don’t blame anyone. These things just happen sometime.”
She nodded. “I remember one time my husband lost his job and we had to move in with my sister in Ohio. It was so hard on us. I thought we were going to get a divorce over it.”
“Oh, yes ma'am. It can be challenging, that's for sure.”
“Well, I think I might be able to help your family if you’re interested.”
Christopher couldn't stop his eyebrows from going up. “How’s that, Mrs. Baker?”
“You may know that I have a rent house.”
Christopher shook his head from side to side.
“Well I do, and my renter moved out yesterday, so I was wondering if you might want to move in.”
“That is very generous of you.” Christopher could only imagine what kind of place she might be talking about. Some run-down rat shack in the worst part of town, or if it was nice, he couldn’t afford it. “Sure, I would be interested.”
“If you like, we can go by and see it.”
Christopher glanced at his study notes. He was at a good stopping place. “Uh okay, sure.” He stood up and reached into his pocket for his keys. No matter what, he knew he had to go see the place to appease her. He would have to come up with a reason later why he couldn’t move in if it was next door to a crack house or something. He was curious to see it, though. After all, he was living with his in-laws.
“I remember when preachers lived in the church parsonage,” Coreen said. “I wish we still owned a house for you to live in. That would have prevented all of this.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I guess so.” Christopher hadn’t thought of living in a parsonage in a long time. Like most churches, East Springfield Fellowship had gotten out of the real estate business long ago. When his predecessor left the field, the for-sale sign went up in the yard and the church built an education wing with the proceeds.
The Dead Peasants File Page 4