by Delia Latham
Epilogue
In a small alcove off the platform area in the church, Corbin enjoyed the benefit of watching the crowd unobserved through a darkened pane of one-way glass. So far, the Easter program had been amazing and anointed, and despite the large number of visitors, none of the regular church members seemed inclined to hold back. Instead, the congregation had entered into the spirit of praise and worship almost as one. As a result, the presence of the Holy Ghost saturated the atmosphere.
Even during the Easter play, the power of God had moved through the room, touching some people to weep, others to raise their hands and their hearts heavenward as they breathed grateful prayers to the risen Savior.
This is what it’s all about. The sweet peace of Christ...the power and passion that comes with complete surrender to His will. Of course, it helps that some of these people—the WINGS members, at least—are aware that we’ve just won a major warfare with evil.
Corbin drew a deep breath, tired despite his love of life at the moment. The culmination of last week’s emotional and spiritual rollercoaster had sent him on a euphoric adrenalin rush. He’d experienced a lot in a short period of time. How often, in the space of a single week, did a guy have his dark, shameful secret outed to the woman of his dreams, come face to face with an angel, watch a real life battle between good and evil, help pray his town and his church through a threat most of the church members weren’t even aware existed, allow his voice to be used as an instrument for God to speak to a dangerously depressed minister, and fall in love?
The aftermath of it all had left him bone weary—almost physically aching, as if the battle had been fought with a flesh-and-bone enemy. Somehow, he thought that might have been easier.
His attention was drawn back to the praise team as their volume swelled in preparation for the last, lingering note of “He is Risen! Risen Indeed!” Led by a beautiful, dynamic woman with hair like a high-desert sunset and a voice that surely made the angels stop to listen, the group of ministry singers threw every ounce of themselves into making the song come alive, and Corbin’s breath caught in his throat at the riveting result.
Jesus Christ the Lord of glory, He is risen…indeed!
As the last, lingering note of the powerful song faded, Pastor David walked slowly to the pulpit and took a moment to let his gaze travel the small sea of faces, all focused squarely on him. He started to speak, and then stopped, obviously too choked to continue. Tears traced a jagged path down his face, and a quick peek out the dark window told Corbin the pastor was not the only one overcome with emotion on this Easter morning. Half the congregation held tissues or handkerchiefs to their eyes.
He turned back toward the pulpit just in time to see David hold out his hand toward Pia, who sat as she always did, in the first row, where she encouraged her husband with frequent loving smiles and softly spoken amens. Corbin had never seen her on the platform, and she looked less than thrilled about having to approach it this morning. Nevertheless, she rose from her seat to join the pastor behind the podium.
David wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. “Our visitors may not know that this lovely woman is my wife, Pia. I thought I’d set that straight before any seed of gossip can possibly take root.”
A low murmur of laughter swept the room, and Pia’s olive complexion deepened just enough for Corbin to recognize her embarrassment. To his credit, David did not play on it, but moved on, drawing attention away from his wife.
“Before I get into my message, I have something to say to all of you.” He choked up again, and paused to gain control of his voice, and Pia’s slender arm slid around his waist. “As you all know, we recently lost my uncle and dear friend, Andrew Hart, who received an invitation he couldn’t turn down and headed off to Glory.”
Corbin sneaked a quick glance at Viv, who sat in the same pew she’d shared with her husband. Her brother, Lance Dalton, sat with her, one arm draped loosely around her shoulders. Beside him, Viv’s friend Madison also lent her support. Tears dampened the widow’s cheeks, but a smile lit her face, and Corbin knew that eventually Viv would be all right. She possessed a quiet peace that shone from her eyes, and she was blessed with good friends and loving family to help her through.
“We’ll miss Uncle Andy,” David continued, and Corbin returned his attention to the pastor. “But we rejoice in knowing we will see him again. And who knows? That day could come tomorrow. But for however long it is, Andrew Hart will be missed. This old world is a sadder place without him.”
He cleared his throat, looked down at his notes, then up again. “What most of you do not know is that my uncle’s death triggered a spiritual battle in my own life. I won’t go into the details, but I will admit that it was intense. Now that I’m coming out the other side of the valley, I know that I was not fighting alone, and that the battle was not all about me.” A little smile touched his lips. “Funny, isn’t it, how Satan always blinds us to that fact when we’re in the line of fire? This church and the town itself were also under attack, but God provided a warning in advance, and my wife put together a wonderful, powerful group of prayer warriors to help fight off the enemy. Pia calls them Prayer ‘WINGS’—a very fitting acronym for Warriors in God’s Service. I want to extend a special thank you to everyone who was involved in that round-the-clock spiritual stand-off. It was all of you who pulled the church, this town, and me out of the fire. I love you all, and thank God for you every moment.”
A round of applause interrupted David’s heartfelt words, and Pia reached up to touch his face. The pastor smiled into his wife’s misty eyes, and then raised his gaze again to the congregation.
“With all the busyness surrounding Uncle Andy’s passing, and this spiritual warfare stealing the next weeks afterward, I was so busy mourning my uncle’s absence in the gardens at Heart’s Haven that I overlooked the lily God was planting in my own garden.”
He grinned, and looked down to wink at Pia. “But I see it now, and I stand in awe, as always, of God’s impeccable timing. I have an Easter announcement for The Falls Tabernacle saints, and of course, our very welcome visitors. It is our joy and great pleasure—Pia’s and mine—to announce that God has blessed us with new life, even as He removed a life from our midst. I hope you’ll all join with us in praising God for the child my Pia now carries in her womb. We are—”
He was interrupted by a rousing blast of applause, and a roar of whoops and hollers from within the crowd. Shocked, Corbin whipped his gaze back to the glass window, and slowly relaxed. Scattered praises rang out in the large room—”Praise the Lord,” “Awesome God,” “Glory,” “Hallelujah.”
Tears streamed down a number of faces, including Viv’s. She was on her feet, both hands raised, and a light of glory in her eyes. Corbin cleared his own throat and swallowed hard. He’d never seen such a vocal display of emotion and praise during a church service, but no one seemed put off by it…and he had to admit, it warmed him clear through. He’d have to tell his lovely, small-town songbird that there was something to be said for smaller congregations and less “big, fancy” behaviors than he’d been accustomed to in what Aria called his “big, fancy Austin super-church.”
Because what he felt right now, he’d never felt before…but he’d have no objection whatsoever to feeling it again.
“I’m going to let my wife return to her seat,” David went on when the praises died down. “You all probably don’t hear it, but she’s silently screaming at me to get her out of the limelight. But before I do, I want to tell you that we have agreed already on names for our little burst of sunshine into a world that seemed mighty dark. In honor of Andrew Hart, my uncle, my friend, and a friend and brother to all of you, we will call our son—if this child is a boy—Andrew. If our son is a girl—”
Pia poked him hard in the ribs and sent him a playful glare, to the audience’s delight.
David spoke over the laughter. “I apologize. If we have a daughter, she will be called Andrea.”
>
One last time, the crowd rose to their feet and treated their pastor and his wife to heartfelt applause, during which David allowed Pia to escape back into her comfort zone.
“I don’t plan to be lengthy this morning,” the pastor said as he picked up his Bible, which had lain open on the lectern throughout his testimony and announcement. “But this is Easter Sunday, and I think it’s important to recognize the significance of this day, wherein we celebrate our Lord’s victorious rise from the grave.”
He launched into a beautiful sermon, and Corbin found himself riveted by the pastor’s voice, and the message of hope and new life. He’d heard the resurrection story for years, but never saw it so clearly as he did that morning, never been so grateful for the miracle that came to pass when the stone rolled away from the entrance to a tomb that held the no-longer dead body of Jesus Christ.
As David wound his message to a close and extended an invitation to the audience, Corbin finally found himself able to look away from the pastor. He turned to peer out over the crowd again, and tears flowed when he saw a line of several people making their way to the altars. Tears. Again. What had this place done to his mask of indifference? No matter…he rather enjoyed the freedom that came with not wearing the thing.
He moved from his place behind the dark glass to work with David as he prayed with the newcomers, leading them to salvation and new life.
Later, he used the handkerchief someone had tucked into his hand to wipe tears and sweat from his face. Exhaustion pulled at him with powerful hands, but one more man stood in line. One more sinner he could help welcome home.
He’d rest another day.
“Corbin.” A broken voice. A voice he’d never forget.
A wave of something akin to terror hit him squarely in the solar plexus, and Corbin’s gag reflex kicked into gear. His hand dropped away from his face and the handkerchief dropped from his fingers and drifted to the floor as a trembling hand touched his arm.
“Corbin, can you ever forgive me? Please…I want to be right with you, and right with God.”
From out of nowhere, Aria appeared at his side and slipped a hand through his arm, delivering a gentle squeeze and a burst of strength. He cast her a grateful look and squared his shoulders before turning to face the stooped and bent old man that was Kirby Bishop.
How he ended up with his father in his arms while they both cried and prayed, he would never remember. Eventually, David joined them, but only long enough to make sure Corbin was handling the situation with something akin to grace.
He and his father were still standing with their arms around each other when David dismissed the service, and within moments, they were alone, save for David, Pia, and Aria. The three remained nearby, but left Corbin and Kirby until Corbin took a step backward. He beckoned them closer, and then placed his hands on his father’s shoulders, turning him to face the trio of smiling people who stepped uncertainly toward them.
“I want you to meet someone.” Corbin realized that this introduction was the first real confirmation they’d had as to the identity of the visitor who had monopolized Corbin’s attention. And yet, he hadn’t a doubt that they knew. Aria, at the very least, would have put together the pieces and filled them in as much as possible.
Love for the three of them flowed over him in a warm, soothing wave that injected his tired muscles with new energy. He stood a little taller and tried to transmit that love into his voice and his expression for them to see.
Because they should see. They had a right to know how much they meant to him.
“This is Kirby Bishop. He’s my father.” He broke off, and then reached for Aria’s hand. Pulling her close to his side, he slipped one arm around her waist, while shining a smile on David and Pia.
He turned then to his father, who through some miracle he had yet to understand, stood at his side with no bottle in sight. The old man of his nightmares who had, this Easter morning, become a new creature in Christ. “Dad, you’re going to love our new family.”
David pulled the trembling older man into a hearty hug. “Welcome, Mr. Bishop. I’m thrilled to finally meet you.”
Kirby nodded, but seemed incapable of speaking. His gaze flitted from Corbin to Aria and back again, a question simmering in their depths, but he didn’t ask.
“This is Aria Robbins.” Corbin smiled into her eyes, and then looked again at his father. “She’s my best friend, and the love of my life.”
His father’s faded eyes brightened, and his mouth quirked at the corners. Corbin held his breath, desperately longing to see a smile on the lips that, until now, had only hurled insults and curses…rarely kind words, and never a smile.
But Kirby dropped his gaze to his feet and nodded instead. Corbin sighed, but discovered his heart had no room for unhappiness today. His father would learn to smile. He’d help him.
Aria patted his hand where it rested on her waist, and then stepped away to slip an arm through Kirby’s. She brushed his lined and weathered cheek with a light kiss, and then guided him toward the door. “Come with me, Mr. Bishop. We’ve got a special Easter feast out at Heart’s Haven, and it looks like you’re our guest of honor.”
Standing with David and Pia, Corbin watched in utter fascination. The man, whose hands had swung the strap that scarred his back forever, now gazed at Aria with hopeful adoration in his faded eyes. No one moved except Aria and Kirby. Apparently, Corbin wasn’t the only person in the sanctuary who had fallen under the spell cast by the beautiful songbird’s gentle spirit.
Aria stopped and turned to send a questioning glance back at the three of them. A tiny frown pulled at her eyebrows, and she shrugged, completely unaware of the effect of her actions on the others.
“Come on, you three. Heart’s Haven and a hot meal await.” She turned and led Kirby down the aisle toward the door. “Let’s go home.”
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