“Brent, I like Marta. I’m sure that I will win her friendship if she knows that I’m not a threat. I mean, after all, you and I are only friends, right?”
“I…umm,” began Brent, peering at the buzzing insect that suddenly began banging against the screen in a vain attempt to get out. I’m beginning to feel the same way. “I…uhh… I won’t say anything to Marta. But we need to get this sorted out somehow. I don’t want to lose either one of you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to. I just needed to hear it. Brent, I’m sure everything is going to work out just fine.”
Unfortunately for Brent, he couldn’t see the smirk playing on the face of the woman on the other end of the phone.
The drive to church was quiet, and Brent was full of anticipation. It should have been a feeling of excitement. After all, his parents were following behind him in their car, attending church with him for the second straight week.
Instead, all he was feeling was dread. Marta was probably even now waiting for him in the church’s foyer, and he wasn’t sure how to act. Was he really meeting up with a girl that was in love with him? Could he have been so blind?
He knew that the ten-minute drive to the church was the perfect opportunity to do some praying for his parents’ salvations, but his apprehension only allowed him to toss up a bare-minimum prayer asking that God would move in their lives somehow. He couldn’t focus on anything but Marta.
It was a beautiful start to the first full day of summer, but he barely noticed. As he and his parents pulled into the parking lot of Restoration Community Church, he saw people streaming from the parking lot toward the main entrance. They were about fifteen minutes early, but the parking lot was already three-quarters full. Finding two side-by-side spaces, they parked and exited their cars.
“Brent, it appears that last week wasn’t a fluke,” said his dad. “Is this place always this well attended?”
“Usually. Now that summer’s here, though, I’m guessing that we’ll begin to see more empty seats. Some of it due to vacations, but I’m guessing mostly because people find a day like today to be an excuse to do something else.”
“As long as I’m home for this afternoon’s kickoff, we’re good,” his dad said with a grin.
“Keith, don’t even start,” his mom admonished. “We’re here for Brent whether it matches up with your game time or not.”
“Good grief, Sharon. Couldn’t you see that I was joking?”
Brent could see that the grin was gone from his dad’s face, replaced with a look of indignation. These two were masters of getting on each other’s nerves.
Brent sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
9:46 A.M.
MARTA STOOD IN the church’s foyer waiting for Brent. She caught sight of him pulling into the parking lot, then watched as he got out of his car. Hey! His parents are with him! That’s great! She was excited that her prayers for Brent’s family were apparently paying off. “Lord, reach them this morning,” she whispered in prayer. “Direct the Pastor’s message to speak to their hearts and minds.”
Brent and his parents reached the doors and walked in. Marta smiled and walked toward them. Wow, Brent looks tense.
“Good morning, Mr. & Mrs. Lawton! It’s great to see you!” she said walking up to Brent’s mom and giving her a hug.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” said Sharon.
“Hello, Marta. It’s good to see you, too,” said Keith, with what appeared to be a forced smile.
Hmm… Doesn’t look like they’ve had a good start to their day.
Marta walked up to Brent and gave him a quick hug and noticed that it was a little less comfortable than usual.
“I had saved two seats for Brent and me,” Marta began as they started walking toward the sanctuary, “but I think there are still a couple more seats in the row I chose. Hopefully.”
Sharon responded. “That’s okay, dear. We don’t all have to be in the same row.”
“So, Brent, how’s it going?” asked Marta.
“Oh, I’m okay,” he said not looking at her. “Just looking forward to the start of the service.”
“Me, too. It should be interesting. It’s not going to be Pastor Chuck preaching today. It’s going to be his son, Jonathan.”
This caught Brent’s attention. “He’s here? That’s cool. I really like listening to him.”
Pastor Chuck Sagan had been the senior pastor of Restoration Community Church for going on ten years. His son, who was in his late twenties, was an associate pastor of another similar-size church somewhere in the eastern part of Indiana. It was rumored that he wanted to earn his pastoral accreditation apart from his dad’s influences. Pastor Jonathan Sagan was greatly respected by his dad, and they had what appeared to be a great relationship. The younger pastor just didn’t want any favoritism for being the son of one of the area’s most well-known leaders, so he decided to move out of state with his wife, Jenni.
As they cleared the doors into the sanctuary, they were met by a man with a true look of surprise on his face. George Chamberlin stopped and put a big and genuine smile on his face. Extending his hand toward Brent’s father, he said, “Keith and Sharon! It’s great to see the two of you.”
Marta watched as Keith lit up, as well, and took George’s hand. It was obvious that, regardless of their initial disdain for the man who had “made Brent one of those born-againers,” his parents had grown to really like their son’s former coach. “George, fancy meeting you here,” he said with a laugh. “I wondered if I’d see you today. We missed you last week.”
George turned to Brent with a look bordering on amazement, then shifted back to Keith and Sharon. “The two of you were here last week, too?”
This time Sharon responded. “Yes. And where were you? Playing hooky?”
George laughed as he moved to the side of the aisle so as to open it up to foot traffic again. The others followed suit. “Yeah, kind of. Last week was the graduation party for one of my nieces. Cheryl and I drove out to Fort Wayne for a few days with my sister’s family.”
“Is Cheryl here?” asked Sharon.
George turned around and pointed to the center section. “Yes, she’s down there toward the front. There are a couple of extra seats if you’d like to join us, though not enough for all four of you, I’m afraid.” George looked at Brent and Marta. “Good morning, Marta. I must say, you look lovely in that dress.”
Marta momentarily looked down at the floor. It felt good to have a man compliment her. “Thank you, Mr. Chamberlin.”
“Marta, I’ve told you…you can call me George.”
“Sorry. It’s a cultural thing, I guess. Thank you, George.” She smiled. “Still feels strange saying it.”
George smiled and turned to Brent. “How are you feeling? Recovered from the ride yet?”
Brent laughed. “Me? I was expecting to see you using a cane this morning.”
George looked at Keith and said, “Your son thinks he’s better than us.”
Keith looked at Brent, “He is. That is, unless you take him golfing again.”
All five of them laughed.
George told them that he’d return after going out to his car for a moment. Brent suggested that his mom and dad find seats next to Cheryl Chamberlin since Marta wasn’t sure of available seating near them.
In their own seats now, seated about two thirds of the way back and to the left of the center section, Marta tried to engage Brent in conversation.
“It’s great seeing your parents here. Did you have to drag them?”
Brent didn’t turn to face her with his answer. “Nahh. Just asked them if they would like to come. I think they came because they knew that I knew they didn’t have any other plans.”
“Well, it’s good they came, regardless.”
Silence again.
She tried again. “George seems to really like your dad.”
“Yeah.”
Silen
ce.
“Brent, look at me.”
Brent appeared to still himself before turning to look her in the eyes.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
“I am looking at you.”
“Brent,” she said more firmly, “you are avoiding my question and you are avoiding looking at me. There is something going on.”
“Marta, I…”
Brent was cut off by the rapping of a snare drum and the start of the first praise song. He stood up with the rest of the congregation.
Marta stood up as well and leaned into Brent with her shoulder. “This conversation isn’t over, bud.”
With that, she turned her attention, as best she could, to worship. She wasn’t going to let Brent’s weird attitude this morning interrupt her celebration of the King of kings.
10:41 A.M.
PASTOR CHUCK INTRODUCED his son to the congregation following the giving of tithes and offerings. There was no doubt of the pride he had for the younger pastor. Taking the podium, Pastor Jonathan looked into the congregation of nearly fifteen-hundred people and cleared his throat.
“Good morning,” he started off, and the congregation gave him a hearty “Good morning” in response.
“I’m always a little nervous coming to this church. Most preachers who go into another church to speak don’t really care how many people they blow out of the congregation with a word from God.” He looked back at his dad who was seated with his mom and the other associate pastors and their wives. The congregation laughed and his father smiled and shook his head, enjoying the levity. “It’d be a real shame if I never got invited back.” Another laugh.
“This morning, I hope to challenge everyone in this building. No, that’s not quite true. Let me try that again. This morning, I am going to challenge everyone in this building. If any of you have it in your minds that my Christianity isn’t as genuine as my dad’s… If any of you think that I’m a preacher because it’s the family thing to do… I’m about to lay that dead horse to rest.
“I love Jesus Christ. I don’t, and never will, apologize for that.”
A host of “Amens!” went up from the congregation.
“Today I intend to slap the sickness called excusitus out of hopefully everyone in here.” He stopped and looked across the crowd with an intense look. He held it for a few seconds to apparently stress the point. Then he put on a big, cheesy grin. “Father, forgive me for what I’m about to do.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll leave it up to all of you fine people to determine which father I just said that to.” Again, the place erupted in laughter.
“As I just said, I love Jesus. But I also love the Church. I’m not talking about this building or the building in which I pastor back in Indiana; I’m talking about the Body of Christ. I love being a part of the Bride of Christ. Scripture tells us that Jesus is coming back for his bride; a bride without spot or wrinkle.
“Scripture tells us, also, that as Christians we are the ‘righteousness of God in Christ.’ That’s a very important statement, and the most important word in that phrase is the word ‘in’. It literally means ‘a part of.’ If you are a ‘born-again’ believer you are ‘in’. By being ‘in’ you are righteous. Are you grasping this so far?”
Pastor Jonathan paused for affect. “Hello?”
“Yes!” came a loud response from the congregation.
“Remember, preachers, especially visiting ones, appreciate the feedback,” he said with a big grin.
“Knowing what ‘in Christ’ means is very important to this message. It’s important to know how God sees you because of your position in him. Folks, do you understand that you are new creations? New creatures? Now, stay with me here.
“It doesn’t matter how old you are in the Lord. If you’ve been walking with Christ for 50+ years—and there are some of you out there—you are still a new creature. Your newness has not worn off. It makes no difference how many sins you’ve collected in your walk; you are still a new creation because of your station in Christ.
“How are we doing? You’re still not talking to me.” He smiled.
“Yeses” and “amens” abounded.
“Now, here’s the point I’m trying to make. You are—each and every believer in this room is—part of the Bride of Christ. And if Christ is coming back for a bride without spot or wrinkle, then not one of you is going to make it.”
The congregation sat in silence while Pastor Jonathan just stood in the pulpit and looked into the crowd. As he just stood there without another word, more than a few in the congregation began to look to one another for some clue as to the meaning of what he had just said. Then the murmuring began. No one could see the smirk playing at the corners of Pastor Jonathan’s lips as he waited a few moments longer.
The pastor walked to the edge of the platform and took a couple steps down toward the front row of seats. He nodded a signal to the sound booth at the back of the sanctuary and suddenly a loud crack of thunder played through the speakers.
Several gasps could be heard throughout the sanctuary as everybody’s focus suddenly returned to the young pastor. Using his hands to signal a hush over the crowd, he began to speak again.
“That scared you, didn’t it? And I’m not talking about that theatrical thunder clap, which I just had to add to dramatize the situation. I’m a little weird like that.”
Nervous laughter could be heard throughout the room.
“I wanted you to be scared for a moment. I wanted you to feel uncertainty for just a split second. In that small period of time—and please don’t raise your hands—how many of you had your Christian walks flash before your eyes? How many of you were looking back on sinful actions in your life to see which ones might have kept you from making it to Heaven when the Rapture takes place?
“Fear not, beloved of God, you are without spot or wrinkle. Despite our fallen natures, those of us with a relationship with Christ are spotless in the sight of God. I just wanted to make a point; that everyone in here has sins that should keep him out of Heaven. Now, to my message on the Ten Virgins, the Rapture of the church, and the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.
“Though you can be certain that you are going to make it to Heaven because you’ve made Jesus your Savior, can the same be said about you being one of those taken up in the Rapture of the Church for the Wedding Feast of the Lamb which is talked about in Revelation, chapter nineteen? The answer may surprise you.” 1
10:59 A.M.
BRENT WAS TRANSFIXED by what Pastor Jonathan was saying. He had never thought of the parable of the ten virgins quite this way before. He knew, now, that he needed to conduct his own “check up from the neck up” and evaluate his intimacy with the Lord. He’d just learned—or, at least had reinforced— that good things, without the right intentions, were pretty much worthless in God’s eyes. He also knew that he still had struggles; things that he found difficult to lay at the feet of Christ; one of those things being how easily he let his eyes linger on the bodies of attractive women. I definitely need your help here, Lord. He sighed, and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Marta glance his way for a moment.
Following his sermon, Pastor Jonathan transitioned into an altar call. Brent had sat through what must have been hundreds of them in the past. For as far back as he could remember he had always taken them very seriously. Scripture said that those who were forgiven much were grateful much, and the incredible grace that had been shown to him translated into an intensity for the salvation of others. At times he’d found himself with tears streaming down his face as he petitioned God for someone—anyone—in the church to make the most important decision that he or she could make on this earth.
“I’d like to ask everyone in the sanctuary to stand” the pastor said. With the rustle of movement, he continued. “Folks, you may have been in and out of churches your whole life. Doesn’t matter. You may have always believed that since y
ou were raised in a non-Jewish home or a non-Muslim home or a non-Buddhist home, that you are a Christian. But that’s not how it works.
“Let’s take a look at how bizarre that kind of logic is: Would going to a McDonald’s every day to turn you into a hamburger? Of course not. You’d have to go through an awfully big meat grinder first … and I’m pretty sure that you’ve all got limits as to what you’ll do for a good burger.”
The crowd let out a roll of laughter, and Pastor Jonathan laughed as well, and then muttered, “I have no idea where that came from. That thought has never occurred to me before.” He took a quick glimpse back at his parents and said, “My dad is never going to let me preach here again.”
Following another howl of laughter from the crowd he continued, “Okay, my sick sense of humor aside, you do get the point, I’m sure. Association does not get you into Heaven. In the same vein, not driving a Yugo does not mean that your Chevette is really a Corvette. Not being one thing does not make you another. You may not be an atheist, but believing in God does not necessarily make you a believer. You may not be a Muslim, but that does not translate into being a Christian.
“Being a Christian comes only one way; through blood, sweat, and tears. Self-sacrifice, giving up your life for the sake of others, and leaving all of your wealth behind to become humble. It also takes carrying a heavy burden and one very brutal commitment. Now, how many of you are up for that?”
A lone hand went up in the auditorium.
“Sir, you are both a braver and stronger man than I. There is no way that I could live up to that.
“Let’s say for just a moment that you were willing to do all of that, which is the equivalent to keeping the Mosaic Law. There’s still one thing that you would have had to do your entire life before dying—live a life in which you had never done one thing wrong; never having committed a single sin. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that that would eliminate most of us,” he said with a smile.
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