I looked around. Few people, aside from the members of my family, would look at me. Evidently, a massive epidemic of garment malfunctions and smudged eyewear had swept over my parishioners. They fidgeted like kindergartners held hostage in a school assembly extolling the joys of molecular chemistry.
“Not a very good deal for Him, is it? He does all this and infinitely more for us. Us! Each and every one of us. The ones covered with grimy sin and despicable behavior, the ones who have denied Him time and time and time again, the very same ones who ...” I turned to jab my finger at the wooden cross suspended on the back wall of the church. “Hung Him on that cross.” I returned to the pulpit. My Bible lay opened to 2 Chronicles 7:13-14.
I looked up and said, “God is talking to Solomon when He says, ‘When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command locusts to devour the land or send a plague among my people ...’” I paused to emphasis the next verse.“‘… if My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.’”
I glanced at the sea of faces before me. I had their attention now, but I couldn't tell if it was the message itself or the fact that I’d nearly shouted the last verse at them.
“That’s you, my friends. You and me. We are God’s people—at least we profess to be. It’s us He’s talking to when He says He will forgive our sin and heal our land if we will humble ourselves and pray and seek His face and turn from our wicked ways. Are we willing to do that?
“His message is clear. If we want to avoid God’s wrath, in whatever form He chooses to send it, we must be prepared to humble ourselves and give up our other idols—stuff like wealth, glory, pride, status, climbing the corporate or social ladder, vice, greed, lust, apathy, the list goes on and on—and then pray for deliverance and forgiveness and seek His face. We must involve God in our lives, let Him be a part of every decision we make, seek His word, His guidance, His protection, and His blessings.
“What occurred last night was nothing short of divine intervention and anyone who denies that is either a liar or wasn’t in Road’s End to begin with. I firmly believe none of you are liars and all of you were here to witness, at least secondhand, the miracle that occurred at the moment that funnel cloud passed over our town.”
I looked around. Most of them were looking at me now; no one wanted to be called a liar, or heaven forbid, say they weren’t here for the miracle of the century.
“I imagine we all have our personal versions of what happened. As much as I believe in our Heavenly Father and am completely and utterly aware of His love for His children, I am awestruck at what He did for us last night.”
I leaned forward, hands resting on the sides of the pulpit. “But this begs the question: Why us? What makes us special enough for our Lord to grant us this incredible deliverance from certain death? Are we particularly good Christ-followers? Are we sin-free? Are we glowing with the light of the Holy Spirit residing within us? Would a stranger know we were Christians if they overheard our conversations or watched our actions?”
I walked around to the front of the pulpit. “Most importantly, does God see Himself in us?”
For the first time, I looked directly at the president. I held his gaze for just a second or two, but it was obvious he knew I was referring to him as well as to the rest of my congregation.
“If He asked each of you, ‘Do you love Me yet?’ could you honestly say that you do? And if He said, ‘I don’t see any love for Me in your heart,’ would you argue with Him that you’ve been to church, you’ve tithed, you’ve volunteered at church suppers, you say your prayers every night and before meals? What if He said that wasn’t enough? That it wasn’t anything at all, for that matter?”
No arguments, but then who’s going to argue with God? Aside from billions of human beings all over the planet, that is.
“And finally...” I could read their expressions of relief as clearly as if they’d written Thank goodness, he’s done across their foreheads. “because of other events that happened last night, we’re fortunate to still have our president and his right-hand man, Special Agent Ross MacElroy, in our midst. Evil was running rampant among us during the night—in the hearts of men. Before I turn the pulpit over to President Rogers and Sadie Simms, our intrepid, and still-kicking, president-saver, for a continuation of the discussion begun at the rehearsal dinner Friday night, I’d like to leave you with some scripture.”
I paged through my Bible until I found what I wanted. “Okay, in Romans 13:1-3 it says, ‘Obey the government, for God is the One who put it there. All governments have been placed in power by God. So those who refuse to obey the laws of the land are refusing to obey God, and punishment will follow. For the authorities do not frighten people who are doing right, but they frighten those who do wrong. So, do what they say and you will get along well.’
“President Stuart Thomas Rogers has been appointed by God to lead our country during this season of our country’s history. Not only is he accountable to God for his own life, his own choices, sins and mistakes, but he also has to explain his leadership of the United States of America to the One Who appointed him to that exalted position.” I looked around then shook my head. “That’s not for me. But then God didn’t appoint me. He appointed STR.” I pointed to the president. “And as the people he’s governing, we are to do all we can to make his leadership a joy, rather than a burden. That wouldn’t do any of us any good. It’s hard enough to govern this nation without its citizens making it harder than it needs to be.”
That got a few nods and murmurs of agreement from the audience, and a couple of raised fists from Sherman and Dodge.
“Now, not everyone in the country will pay attention—or will ever read—this particular scripture, nor would most of them obey even if they were aware of it. But we have read it, and we are aware of what it says. That doesn’t mean we’ll always agree with his decisions, and of course, as American citizens we have the right to protest or voice our arguments, but he has to take much more into consideration when he makes those decisions than we will ever know. And that’s not taking into account people in the government who are doing their best to oppose him.”
I leaned forward. “Listen, folks, we put him into office. What do you say we let him do his job?”
Chapter 47
Considering her brush with death last night, I thought Sadie might be a little less spry this morning, but she jumped up as quickly as ever and took her place behind the pulpit. If her audience thought they might get out of church a little early this morning because I cut my sermon short, they were sadly mistaken. Sadie blew that misconception right out of the water with her opening remarks.
“All right, listen up, people. This is gonna take a while, so don’t go gettin’ yer britches in a wad. I got a lotta questions to ask and the president has a lotta answerin’ to do. Got that?” She glared at her captive audience then turned her bright, beady eyes toward Stuart Thomas Rogers and tattooed Guilty on his forehead. Getting on Sadie’s bad side isn’t on anyone’s agenda, so everyone, president included, sat up straight and plastered a smile on his or her face. How does she do that?
“Hazel, you takin’ the minutes for me?” Hazel must have signaled assent, because Sadie nodded then continued. “First of all, Mr. Pastorman, this isn’t gonna be a discussion.” She tapped the top of the lectern with her forefinger and emphasized each word. “This meeting’s the First Annual Presidential Promise Breakers Summit of Road’s End, Virginia.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Uh, excuse me, Sadie, but first annual implies the president or subsequent presidents will be coming to Road’s End each year, and ...”
She closed her eyes and pursed her lips as if she’d just about had it with me and my interruptions. “Listen, Hugh, I’ve just about had it with you and your interruptions.” Do I know Sadie or what?
“I’m not implyi
n’ anything. That’s exactly what I’m saying. What’s wrong with Road’s End, Virginia, or any of us that live in this town? Huh? Tell me that, Mr. Jump In and Interrupt Whenever You Get the Hankerin’ To.”
For the first time in my memory, Mel jumped up during one of my church services. “Sadie, let’s keep in mind that Hugh was one of the men who risked their lives last night to find you and brought you in out of that storm.” She smiled gently at Sadie, who had a stunned look on her face, and said, “Don’t you think you could cut him some slack? This is taking place during his church service, you know.”
If it were any other person, Sadie might have acknowledged their comments with a scowl and a karate chop to the neck, but she’s always had a soft spot for Melanie. I think she was truly sorry she’d offended her. A few seconds passed while Mel sat back down and put her hands in her lap, and Sadie blushed. “You’re absolutely right, Melanie. I’ve been so worked up about all this, I plumb went to the scoldin’ before I had any cause to.” She turned to me. I cringed, expecting flames. “Hugh, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
I gave her a smile and a slight nod to indicate all was forgiven.
“Now sit.”
I sat.
“Okay then, let’s get this show on the road. First of all, I want to thank Hugh here and Bristol ... where are ...? Oh, there you are. And Mackerel Boy here …” She pointed to Mack in the front row. “… for bringing me in to the house last night. Don’t know how long I was layin’ out there, but I imagine I’da felt a whole lot worse this mornin’ if it hadn’t been for you three fools comin’ out to get me. Anyway, thanks.”
Humbled by her kind and sensitive words, we said nothing.
“Most of you were at the rehearsal dinner t’other night when the president and me had ourselves a talk about the way he’s been doin’ his job—or not doin’ it, as the case may be.” She looked at STR, and he had the good grace to nod in agreement. “This summit here’s gonna finish that talk and answer any questions I, or the rest of you people, have for the president. That about right?” She was looking at the president. He nodded again. So far, he was being pretty darned accommodating.
“Okay then,” Sadie said. “Let’s git down to business. Me first.” That’s our Sadie, always the polite one. She pointed her finger at STR. “You, Mr. President, promised us you’d lead the country like a Christian man, that you’d bring God back into our government, that you’d reverse, or try to, at least, the evils that have been allowed to go on in Washington, D.C. for far too long now.”
Sadie becomes surprisingly eloquent when she’s not being a shrew. I sometimes wonder which of her personas—the cranky old woman with the razor-like tongue or the sharp-minded, articulate woman we see once in a purple and yellow striped moon—is the real Sadie.
“Now I’m not a stupid woman, President Rogers. I know you have problems we can’t begin to understand when it comes to makin’ sure those other galoots up there in Washington—greasy bunch’a politicians, all of ’em—don’t mess up your ideas or tank your ideals for the American people. All those ridiculous fights you have with one another ’bout who’s doin’ the best job for the American people, who’s got our best interests in mind, who’s gonna get this country back on track again.”
She stretched to her full height, all five feet, two inches of her, not counting her bandage, which might have added another inch, and finished her thought. “The fact is, Mr. President, none of you are! Not a single, darned one of you are doing what you promise your constituents you’ll do while you’re out campaigning and making everything sound all rosy and special when you talk about yer party, and all miserable and slimy when you talk about the other.”
She walked out from behind the lectern and began to pace. “All that to say this: you’re not the only one. You know it, and I know it. Everyone in this room knows it.” She twirled around to face him again then barked, “But that’s no excuse!”
STR actually jumped. I thought Mack might come right out of the pew, toss Sadie over his shoulder, and hand her over to the CIA or FBI, maybe even AARP, just to get her out of his sight. But he didn’t, and I admired his restraint.
“You see, President Rogers, we expected more of you. Not just ’cause you told us what you were gonna do, but because you acted like the Christian man you used to be. We could see it in you. You wouldn’t have had to say a word. But of course, bein’ in a campaign and all, you had to talk. I imagine you had plenty of people tellin’ you what to do, but I gotta hand it to you. You stuck to your guns. You told us the way it was gonna be, and I really thought you meant it. I can only imagine how worked up your advisors and such must’ve been to have you keep promisin’ us that you’d bring God back to the country where He belonged. I’m sure that wasn’t politically correct or however they say it nowadays, but you said it anyway.”
She stopped in front of him, clasped her hands in front of her, and rocked on her heels for a second or two, then said, “That’s why it was so hard to have you back out on your promises.” Before he could say anything, she waved her hand and said, “I know. I know. Your wife died. And that changed the way you look at things. But gee whiz, Mr. President, it’s not like you’re a plumber who backed out on a job ’cause his wife died. You’re the President of the United States. You have a moral and Christian obligation to come through for us. And for the country. Heck, the whole doggoned world, for that matter. You didn’t let down a customer for a couple of days whose bathtub got clogged. You let down the people of the greatest country in the world. You changed the future of this country, and the world—a future based on your belief in God that you promised us!”
Stuart Thomas Rogers stood. Even the day after an assassination attempt, a tornado, and a divine miracle—let alone a tirade by Sadie Simms—STR had a way of looking calm and presidential. “May I say something here, Sadie?”
She nodded. “Yes, you may.” She stepped down and plopped herself on the pew. I heard her mutter, “’Bout time.”
“Thank you, Sadie.” He walked up the two steps to the platform, stood to the right of the podium and leaned his left arm on its side. “What Sadie has said is perfectly true. I don’t think my best speech writers could have done a better job of summarizing both my campaign and my performance.” He nodded in her direction, and she sputtered. Maybe she was looking for a fight and was upset because he agreed with her; maybe she was playing motorboat. You never know with Sadie.
“With that said, I must admit I have no defense whatsoever. I told you my reasons for losing my faith in God and reneging on my campaign promises the other night at the rehearsal dinner. Caroline was my life, all that I had. She was unable to have children and before we could make an informed decision about adopting a child—Caroline would have been a superb mother—my political career took off, and we knew we didn’t have the time to raise a child properly. At least, not the time a child deserves. We didn’t want to bring up a little girl or boy on the campaign trail, so sadly, we decided against taking the path to parenthood. That’s why my nephew, Jonathan, and now his little Tanner have always meant so much to me. And now that Jonathan has married once more, I’m hoping he and his lovely bride, Mandy, will bring another little boy or girl into the world for all of us to love and spoil.”
Mandy grinned and Jonathan blushed. Tanner pumped his fist and said, “Yay, we’s gonna have a baby!” Mandy rushed to correct him, while the president continued.
“So, Caroline was everything to me, but although her death was the reason for my actions, it is by no means an excuse. But more on that in a minute.”
He scratched his chin. “She stayed by my side through all the campaigns, the late nights at the office, the agonizing decisions that had to be made in every office I ever held. And then the chance to become President of the United States presented itself. Boy, oh boy, we prayed over that one. Did God want that for us? Was I just letting my political success go to my head? I knew I wasn’t qualified—believe me, no one is qualified for
this job—but after much prayer, I realized that with God’s help, I could do it. But I wanted to do so as a Christian. As a blatant, in your face, no-holds-barred Christian.”
He moved behind the pulpit and folded his hands on its worn wooden surface. He stood thinking, head down, hands clasped for a moment, then looked up. “And I did. I think that’s been proven. It’s the part about keeping those campaign promises that didn’t happen as it should have. When they told me Caroline was gone, I didn’t believe them. God wouldn’t do that to me, I thought. He wouldn’t do that to Caroline. All this time we were doing His will, following His lead, proclaiming His name, and she dies within sight of our goal? How did He expect me to lead the country without the other half of me?”
He stopped abruptly and stared out one of the windows along the east wall of the church. I followed his gaze. The sun, higher in the sky, but still coming from the east, streamed through the panes, highlighting the dust motes cavorting in the air, highly polished church pews, and flowers still fresh from yesterday’s ceremony. Not a peep or the slightest movement from anyone in the congregation. I was glad, at least, that they managed to show the president more respect than they did me on most Sunday mornings. This had to be gut-wrenching for STR and a fidgety audience would only make it worse. Even Sadie kept her peace.
He slowly turned his gaze from the window and stared out across the room. He blinked then made eye contact with several people, me included, before he continued. “But He did. I don’t know how He thought I could do it, but the important thing is, He did. Looking back on it, I clearly see His patience with me, as well as His prodding.”
The president shrugged. “But being the stubborn fool that I am, I resisted.” He shook his head, as if wondering at his own stubbornness. “And even worse than that, I blamed Him for my stubbornness. ‘You did this to me,’ I said on more than one occasion. ‘This is what You get for putting me in the Oval Office and taking Caroline away. You have no one to blame but Yourself.’ How incredibly prideful I was. How insanely arrogant of me to blame the Creator of all there is for my idiotic behavior.”
Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2) Page 28