by Lea Sims
When Claire had told Delaney that there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Elizabeth, she meant it. The most beautiful gift she could give to her best friend now would be to love and rescue Delaney.
“Worship songs can’t just be rooted in culture - they won’t be deep enough. They have to be rooted in scripture.”
—Matt Redman
After checking into the hotel and getting Rogue settled into their room, Delaney made her way over to the church. When she pulled into the parking lot of Refresh Station Church on Monday evening, she was surprised by what she saw. It was hard to wrap her mind around the fact that she was even sitting in front of a church. Her mental picture of churches was shaped by Shady Oaks Community Church, the church of her childhood—a prototypical southern church with white Hardie board siding, wide front entryway steps, heavy double wooden doors, and stained-glass windows. It even had a steeple. But the congregation of Refresh was meeting in a refurbished fire station a few blocks from Forsyth Park. It was a gorgeous two-story building of brick and stone with two red antique bay doors and vintage gooseneck light fixtures at each door. A short wrought-iron fence wrapped all the way around the building framing pristinely manicured green grass and several large river oaks. A mossy brick walkway led from the street through a wrought-iron arch to the front door.
A beautiful wooden sign hung across the arch that read “Refresh Station Church,” whose logo included a partially coiled fire hose emitting a stream of water that puddled around the letters of the church name. Okay, that’s adorable, Delaney thought, taking it all in.
She parked in the little parking lot across the street and walked up the brick walkway to the front door. She looked down and noticed that interspersed among the bricks were larger flagstones and that some of them had words etched into them. Things like Welcome home! and You were missed! and Family were scattered here and there along the walkway to greet those who made their way to the front entrance.
When she stepped through the door into the entrance hallway, her designer’s heart feasted on the renovation work that had been done inside. Long walls of weathered shiplap, exposed brick, and a plethora of blown glass pendant lights hanging at varying lengths from the ceiling took her breath away. Hand-lettered down one of the shiplap planks were the words, “A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will themselves be refreshed.” Proverbs 11:25.
She looked around hoping to see a staff member or clergyman who could tell her where she needed to go. She was here to walk through the memorial service details with Claire and the pastor who would be officiating the service Wednesday. She peeked into a few open office doors but did not see anyone she could ask. She could hear music coming from somewhere in the building and wandered down the hallway trying to figure out where it was coming from.
Where the heck is the sanctuary? Delaney wondered. Coming to a set of double doors, she opened one, expecting to find a room sufficient for church services. What she found instead was a very large open room filled with farmhouse tables, benches and chairs. Like everything else in the building, the tables were beautifully crafted, stained and distressed. Hurricane lamps and pots of verdant succulents sat in the middle of each table, and along one wall, a platform had been built of decking wood to provide a small stage. At one end of the room, doors led into what Delaney could see was a kitchen with pass-thru windows. At the other end of the room were the bay doors she had seen from the outside.
This is where the fire engines used to park, she thought, impressed with how the space was being used. But if she had calculated correctly, this room and the offices she’d seen took up most of the first floor. She was beginning to think that the church services were held in this large room of tables, but then she realized she had not yet located the source of the music she had heard in the hallway. That only left the upstairs. She went back to the front entrance hallway, located a pair of sliding barn doors that opened to a wide flight of stairs up to the second floor. She ascended the staircase and realized it opened immediately at the top into a breathtaking space that stopped her short and had her mouth hanging open in wonder.
The entire second floor had been converted and acoustically designed to serve as a sanctuary. Reclaimed wood floors stretched beautifully from wall to wall, and rows and rows of the most gorgeous vintage chairs Delaney had ever seen filled the space. Tall arching windows with red frames and red muntins lined the long walls and flooded the space with the radiant hues of the setting sun. But it was the electrical lighting that had Delaney wide-eyed. What had to be a hundred or more Edison bulb pendant lights hung by pulleys from the highly vaulted and open-beamed ceiling. For anyone sitting in the sanctuary chairs, the view upward would look like a starry night sky.
Let the King of my heart be the mountain where I run
The fountain I drink from, Oh He is my song
Delaney turned to locate the source of the music. At the front of the room in the center of the stage, a man and a woman sat on two stools. He was playing an acoustic guitar and they were both singing. Delaney paused halfway down the aisle, stepped into one of the rows, and sat down in a chair. For a long while, she simply sat and listened in mesmerized silence. The man and young woman on the stage were unbelievably talented. Their rich harmonies bathed the room from floor to rafters, and the complex and dulcet notes being plucked from the guitar resonated achingly around the room. But it wasn’t just their singing that captivated her. Delaney had heard a lot of great singing. No, this was something else altogether.
You are good, good…oh-oh
You are good, good…oh-oh
There was such a raw reverence in their voices. The girl had her arms raised, palms out and eyes closed. She rocked slightly on her stool, lips curving upward in tender smile as she sang. The man playing the guitar also had his eyes closed. This wasn’t a hymn being sung by a choir or a performance by a soloist. This was tender and personal. Delaney almost felt like an intruder, as though she were witnessing an intimate declaration between lovers.
Let the King of my heart be the wind inside my sails
The anchor in the waves, Oh He is my song
She was vaguely aware that Christian music had evolved from the hymns she had sung as a girl in church. She knew there was a whole industry of contemporary Christian artists and worship leaders who had emerged out of the 1990s to take “church music” to a whole new level. She was familiar with cross-over groups like Evanescence and Skillet, but she had no idea songs like these were being sung in church. What she was listening to was inarguably worshipful. She closed her eyes and simply listened. And felt. This music tugged on the heart.
You’re never gonna let, never gonna let me down
The words of the refrain sank in suddenly, jerking her attention from the music to the lyrics. She had forgotten momentarily that they were singing to someone. The “he” they were referring to was God. The love they were declaring was to God. Something deep inside her stirred as if awakening from sleep. A door in her heart that had long been closed creaked open, just barely and only for a moment, but it was long enough for a warm and familiar sensation to seep in. As a young girl, she had been just as quick and unashamed to declare her love for God. It was a belief she had held onto desperately—until it became very apparent that God was never coming to her rescue. The one the psalmist had declared to be “a very present help in time of trouble” had been so utterly absent from her times of trouble that she had been forced to assume that one of two things was true: God was either a cruel and indifferent deity or he simply didn’t exist at all.
And just like that, the door that had creaked slightly open closed shut again. Delaney stood up and walked forward down the aisle, shaking off the moment of reverie and noticing for the first time a few people sitting on the front row of chairs. As she approached them, the woman on the end turned to look up at her. It was Claire Sheffield. She was in her early fifties and conside
rably grayer than when Delaney had seen her last. She was also much thinner. Delaney remembered Claire as a rather buxom redhead in a tight choir robe with the big booming soprano voice of an opera singer.
“Oh, Laney, you’re here!” Claire exclaimed, eyes widening in delight and jumping up to greet her. “Oh honey, it’s so good to see you.” She threw her arms around Delaney and squeezed her hard. Well she may be thinner, but her hugs are no less vigorous, Delaney thought wryly. She wasn’t overly fond of people stepping into her personal space and hugging her. It violated her boundaries. But there was so much genuine affection in the hug, Delaney could hardly rebuff it.
“Hello, Claire,” she said, pulling back and looking down at her aunt’s friend with a warm smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Goodness, girl,” Claire exhaled in wonder, looking her up and down. “You are breathtaking! You were always a pretty child, but heavens to Betsy, you need to be on a fashion magazine cover.”
Delaney blushed in spite of herself. She wasn’t used to such unabashed praise. People in New York weren’t quite as quick with their compliments. “Thank you, Claire. That’s very kind of you.” Uncomfortable, she turned to set her purse down and looked up to see a man standing next to Claire. He was in his late thirties and was wearing jeans and a chambray linen cargo shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She looked down to see a pair of red canvas Doc Marten’s on his feet.
“Laney, this is Pastor Jason,” Claire said, introducing her to the man beside her. “He’ll be the one officiating Elizabeth’s service tomorrow.”
The man stuck out his hand in greeting and said softly, “Hello, Delaney. It’s nice to meet you. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Delaney had a hard time hiding her surprise. “Pastor?” she asked, eyebrows raised, looking back and forth between the man and Claire. “You’re not what I would have expected, I guess.” Delaney realized she had probably just insulted the man, but she was so surprised by him. He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie, he didn’t have his hair parted on one side and slicked down neatly, and he didn’t give her the crinkly-eyed, patronizing smile she had so often received from pastors and ministers. He also didn’t give her the requisite patting on the hand to convey comfort in her time of grief. He had the reassuring look of a friend—a kind and casual demeanor that was without pretense or posturing.
The man smiled widely and laughed out loud. “Yes, I’m the senior pastor here, but please call me Jason,” he said, surprising her even more. “My wife and I founded Refresh about twelve years ago, though we’ve only been in this beautiful building for the last six years. Isn’t it amazing?”
“Oh heavens, yes,” Delaney said with a reverent exhale, unable to hide her delight and admiration for the building and its renovation. Her eyes scanned the room and then looked up again at the ceiling. “The woodwork…the floors…this lighting are absolutely breathtaking. I’m so impressed with whoever designed it.”
“That would be my wife,” Jason said with pride in his voice. “She has fussed and prayed over every board, nail, chair, and lightbulb in this building. She’s the one who saw that this fire station was being auctioned and talked me into checking it out. God gave her such a beautiful vision for what this place could be. She presented those plans to our executive team, and it was evident from the beginning that it was the right thing to do. It’s been a privilege for me and the rest of our staff to serve that vision.”
Delaney was surprised and impressed by his words. She’d never heard any man, much less a preacher, speak about his wife like that. He was bragging on her but in such an honoring way—acknowledging with ease the vision God had given to her for where their church should be. There was no sarcasm or competitive envy in his voice, no jokes about how much shopping she’d done or how much it cost him. Just a deep regard and respect for her efforts. She tamped down the flare of envy she suddenly felt. Danny never spoke to or about her like that. But she’d probably never spoken about him that way either.
“She’s done a beautiful job,” she responded softly to Jason. “This could be featured in a design magazine, Pastor.”
He chuckled. “Oh it has,” he said. “Several of them, actually. We even have HGTV wanting to film something here, which our executive team is considering and praying about right now. I’m not crazy about having too much focus put on our building, as beautiful as it is, unless it will draw attention to our ministries and outreach efforts.”
At that moment, the couple who had been singing on the stage, stepped down from the platform and walked over to them. Pastor Jason turned to introduce them. “Delaney, this is Abby and Drew. They are on our senior worship team, and they’ll be the ones leading worship Wednesday for the service. Claire has worked with them to select some songs that were your aunt’s favorites.”
Delaney turned to greet them both. Abby was in her twenties and cute as a button with warm brown skin, big hazel eyes and a shock of short spikey black hair. Drew looked to be older, probably mid to late thirties. As she reached out to shake his hand, their eyes met and her breath caught. Oh my, she thought, those eyes. They were the most unusual shade of golden brown, almost the color of warm honey, with flecks of copper and gold. He had light brown hair in a short textured cut with faded sides and a short, neatly trimmed beard.
“I’m sorry about your aunt,” Drew said. “We’re all still in a bit of shock about it. I imagine you are too.”
“Did you know my aunt well?” Delaney asked, still not quite grasping the degree to which her aunt had lived her life here. These people were absolute strangers to her, yet they spoke of her aunt as though they were close to her. The realization that they might have been closer to her aunt than she was struck her painfully. I am a terrible person, she thought grimly.
Drew smiled and nodded, as did Abby. “Everyone on our worship team knew Elizabeth,” Abby said sweetly. “She ran our sound for us.” She pointed to the back of the room where the sound booth was, and Delaney found herself shocked again. The dumbfounded look on her face must have registered with Claire because the woman burst out laughing.
“I know what you’re thinking, honey,” Claire said chuckling. “Elizabeth couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but that woman loved music! When we were in the choir at Shady Oaks, she about blew my eardrums out. I used to tease her that she thought she was an alto, but she was really a “belto” …you know, because she belted out all the notes, even if they were the wrong ones, which they usually were. If they had a choir here when we came to Refresh, she would have tripped over people trying to sign up for it. But when she found out they had no choir and that you had to audition for worship team, that put an end to the dream. Thankfully, you can be tone deaf and still run sound equipment.”
“How did she end up in the sound booth?” Delaney asked, joining in the laughter, mostly because it felt good to hear Claire confirm what she’d known her whole life—her aunt could not sing a lick. “As hard as it is to picture my aunt resigning herself to a life without choir, it’s even harder for me to picture her doing anything with technology.” Her Aunt Beth was so daunted by the iPad that Delaney and Danny had given her for Christmas three years ago, she had returned it and bought new pots and pans instead.
Drew smiled and said, “I asked her. I noticed that she always came early on Sunday mornings to sit in the back of the room and listen to our worship team warm up and rehearse. When I asked her why, she said that she had spent her whole life singing in choirs and she missed being part of the worship ministry.” Crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at his shoes, Drew said sheepishly, “I had already heard her singing when I walked by her row one day, so I…um…couldn’t invite her to audition. But I told her we could really use a sound technician for our second service. And I asked her if she’d be willing to learn. She said yes.”
Claire jumped in animatedly, “Oh my goodness, Elizabeth floated home on a cloud that day. She
talked my ear completely off about it all the way home.” Her eyes filled with tears as she recalled the memory. Seeing this, Pastor Jason reached out to squeeze her hand and Abby leaned in to hug her.
“Delaney,” Abby said suddenly, “Did you know that Ms. Elizabeth sponsored several of our worship team members to take classes at Hillsong College?” Delaney shook her head. “I was one of them,” Abby continued, brushing tears from her eyes. “She was everything Refresh is all about…at least to me.”
“Me too,” Drew said quietly.
“If I could get half the people in our church to give their whole heart and life to God the way Elizabeth did, there is so much more we could do for this community,” Pastor Jason said nodding.
Delaney looked from face to face, registering the devotion and sincere sorrow she saw in each of them. She suddenly felt self-conscious and out of place. I don’t belong here, she thought. This wasn’t her home or her church, and these weren’t her friends. She didn’t know what she expected to see when she came home, but this wasn’t it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had always pictured any homecoming being a painful and bitter encounter with all the ugly places and memories she had left behind.
What she had come home to instead was nothing like she’d pictured, though it was equally disturbing. She felt like someone who had bundled themselves up in preparation for the frigid cold of winter only to step out into the warmth of a sunny and flower-filled summer day. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion, and it made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like situations that challenged her preconceptions and her carefully constructed boundaries.