by Connie Cook
She forgot for a moment about the seemingly-lifeless congregation surrounding her and closed her eyes, tears squeezing under her eyelids (once the dam had been breached, the water flowed freely at any opportune or inopportune time), to listen to the soporific tones of Rev. Harper reading the ancient and beautiful words.
Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed? For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
Ruth's attention wandered in and out of the sermon, held more by the words on the page of the old Bible than by what the preacher had to say about them. Or by what the preacher had to say. With wandering attention, she couldn't be entirely sure the preacher's words had any connection to the words of Isaiah. The gist of the sermon seemed to be the evils of that new music (if one could call it music. Rev. Harper took issue with the term). Rock and roll. The devil and Elvis Presley's music (but perhaps the two were one and the same to read between Rev. Harper's lines). From there, the sermon marched bravely into, what Ruth presumed to be, well-trodden territory: all the numerous vices that would fall under the general heading of "Other iniquities" – dancing, cinema-going, card-playing.
Ruth's eyes fell to the pages of her Bible that the light summer breeze through the open windows had flipped to Isaiah 54.
Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed: neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame: for thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth, and shalt not remember the reproach of thy widowhood any more. For thy Maker is thine husband; the LORD of hosts is his name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; The God of the whole earth shall he be called. For the LORD hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God. For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the LORD thy Redeemer. For this is as the waters of Noah unto me: for as I have sworn that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth; so I have sworn that I would not be wroth with thee, nor rebuke thee. For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the LORD that hath mercy on thee. O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones. And all thy children shall be taught of the LORD; and great shall be the peace of thy children.
As Ruth read the words, her eyes again filled with tears.
It was as though she was seeing and hearing the words for the first time though it wasn't the first time. But suddenly, she was that woman to whom the promises were given.
Oh, she knew the correct answer – the one she had been taught – that the woman of Isaiah 54 was the church, the New Jerusalem, the bride of Christ. But for almost the first time, she saw her part in that body as personally as if the words had been written just to her.
"Thank you," she whispered under her breath. For the first time, she began to see the deep and terrible privilege in it all. The privilege of being, " ... a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth," who was refused. It certainly wasn't a privilege she would have chosen for herself.
He hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed, she flipped the page over to read again.
There was one person who understood the pain of rejection perfectly. Even the pain of having "no form nor comeliness," the pain of having his body marred. He, too, had been given the deep and terrible privilege of experiencing deep and terrible pain. A deep and terrible pain for her healing.
Her thoughts went back to her rejection of Joshua Bella and his sacrifice for her in the face of her rejection.
"By nature, we all do the same thing to You," she said within herself but not to herself. "The kind of pain Graham caused me, I don't want to do that anyone. I certainly don't ever want to do that to You. Forgive me for the pain I've caused You. Thank You, thank You, thank You. By Your stripes I've been healed. Thank You. Thank You for letting me see it in a new way. Thank You even for the pain if it brings me closer to You, lets me know You a little more.”
* * *
"Thank you for joining us today, Mrs. MacKellum. I hope you'll come again," Rev. Harper said, smiling largely and shaking Ruth's hand as the congregation filed past the preacher into the August sunshine.
"Thank you, I hope to," Ruth said.
"Good, good," the preacher said, "and if you have any questions about anything you heard today, be sure and feel free to ask ..." His last sentence trailed off as he turned his attention and extended his hand to the buxom, middle-aged woman behind Ruth in the hand-shaking line.
"Well, actually, Reverend Harper ... " Ruth said, planting her feet and stalling the smoothly-flowing line.
"Please, there's no reverend here, Mrs. MacKellum. No need to reverence me. I'm just a simple shepherd of the flock. Just Pastor Harper is fine," he said, focusing on Ruth again. He smiled on, but his smile was beginning to wear a little thin.
"And please call me Ruth," Ruth said.
"That's fine. Ruth. Yes. So what was it? Did you have a question about the sermon?"
"I did," she said. "I admit, I wasn't following the whole thing. But I couldn't quite tell where you found the subject of rock and roll music in Isaiah 53."
"Well, if you'd been listening to the whole sermon," the smile was definitely glacial now, "you would know I was preaching on Isaiah 53:6, 'All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.' "
"Meaning that rock and roll music is an iniquity," Ruth said quietly, regretting the crowd still in line, listening with ears (if not mouths) gaping. Maybe she regretted the crowd hearing what she had to say. Maybe she didn't.
"Would you be able to point me to the passage of Scripture that tells us that rock and roll – or for that matter, dances, movies, and card games – are iniquities?" she continued doggedly.
"If you knew the Bible a little better, Ruth, you'd know that 1 John 2:15 tells us to love not the world, neither the things that are in the world, and James 4:4 tells us that friendship with the world is enmity with God." Pastor Harper's smile had disappeared and his face and bald head had taken on a pink tinge that had nothing to do with too much sun. Ruth imagined she could feel the heat radiating from the redness. She was beginning to feel a little heat of her own. Why would he assume she didn't know the Bible?
" 'The world' being left open to definition, I imagine your definition and mine would probably be a little different. Yours is a better definition than mine, no doubt, but then again, Psalm 150 does command us to praise the Lord with trumpets and psalterys and harps and timbrels and stringed instruments and organs and cymbals and high sounding cymbals and dance! 'Let everything that hath breath ... ' (and here Ruth had to stop and gasp to cat
ch her own) ' ... praise the LORD.' So I can't imagine that what makes rock and roll music wrong is the instruments or the style of music. Or that dancing must always be worldly – if it can be used to praise the Lord, after all. But maybe we could agree that the motivation behind those kinds of activities, not the activities themselves, is what makes them worldly."
"I see. And you believe that those activities, which I have ever only seen performed in a worldly way, could be performed for God's glory?"
"All I know is what the Psalmist said."
"But as to the rest of the things you mentioned, I'll just tell you my reasons for saying that those things have no place in the Christian life. As I said in my sermon, a Christian can't be too careful about his testimony. We don't want to put stumbling blocks in anyone's way. We don't want to do anything to bring dishonour to God's holy name. What does the unbelieving world think if they see a Christian at a movie house or a dance hall or a card party?"
"Well, they probably think Christians like to see movies or go to dances or play cards. I'm sorry, Rev ... Pastor Harper. If those kinds of things aren't wrong according to the Bible, then I don't see what doing them or not doing them has to do with a Christian's testimony. 'By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, by the fact that you don't dance, play cards, or see movies?' That wasn't what Jesus said. No, it's by our love for one another. 'For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.' "
"I see you do know a little about the Bible, Mrs. MacKellum."
"Ruth, please."
"Ruth, then. You may know the Bible, but the important question is, do you know God?"
Ruth paused to relive old memories all in a split second. She remembered lying in the grass under her giant firs with the clouds dancing by overhead. She remembered watching a lady bug make its way up and down one blade of grass and then another. She remembered marvelling at the perfection of the little life crawling up and down the blades of grass, and she remembered clearly her awe at the realization that the same Power that had made it must have made her. It was her first conscious knowledge of God, and it stood out in her mind as such. From that time on, that conscious knowledge had never left her. It had only deepened and grown with the years. Then she recalled the moment, sitting on a chesterfield in the Bellas' front room, when she had learned to know God for herself in a new way through the person of Jesus Christ. In all of her losses (and they were many), she still knew, somehow, that there was a God and that He was good. The alternative was unthinkable. She could survive any losses but the loss of God. If she'd lost Him, her own soul would have been irretrievable. She knew that those who were damned damned themselves, and she wasn't willing to take that step.
"Yes, Pastor Harper, I know God," she said softly.
But not One I could recognize from your sermon today, she was tempted to add but refrained. She'd done more than enough damage already, she was sure. She dreaded meeting the eyes of her mother-in-law.
"Well, Ruth, I'm glad to hear that. I'll pray you'll grow in your knowledge of Him and His Word. And do come back and join us again. That's a good way to grow," Pastor Harper said, attempting to replace his smile and regain his poise. His bare head was still visibly red, however.
"Thank you. I plan to attend regularly," Ruth said. She bit back a laugh at the dismay hiding behind the preacher's smile at her words.
Pastor Harper shook the hand of the buxom lady decisively.
"Mrs. Peacock! So nice to see you back after that bad 'flu ..." he said.
Bo Weaver, right behind Mrs. Peacock in the line, had heard every word, and he gave Ruth a wave. He caught up with her on the church lawn as she was fleeing for her car.
"Thanks for the second sermon, Reverend MacKellum," he said in mock seriousness, shaking her hand. "You do speak your mind, don't you? Well, if you start attending, I guarantee there will be less sleeping in church." He laughed outright, and Ruth smiled back weakly, wanting only to disappear.
Mrs. Handy and Philippa also caught up with her before she could get away to tell her they were so glad to see her and hoped she'd come again.
There were a few black looks from some others, but now that the moment and her temper had passed, Ruth knew she deserved them.
* * *
"I'm sorry I embarrassed you," Ruth said quickly, as soon as she and her mother-in-law were in the car.
"I was embarrassed," Mom said.
"I'm sorry," Ruth said humbly. She meant it. Now.
"But not by you," Mom went on, cutting off her apology. "I'm beginning to think the man has an absolute bee in his bonnet. Out of his last ten sermons, seven have brought in Elvis Presley in some way. I started keeping track. It was about time someone said something to him about it. Honestly! Where exactly in Isaiah 53 did he find Elvis Presley?" she asked indignantly.
"He told me. In verse six," Ruth said, catching her mother-in-law's eye with the corner of her own.
They held each other's gaze for a second, and then another "canned peaches" episode erupted. With tears streaming and a stitch in her side, Ruth could hardly keep the car on the road.
When they were both calm again, Ruth said, "I'll have to apologize to him next Sunday. Maybe something did need to be said, but not by me, and not like that. I know it wasn't the time and the place. And if Paul told Timothy to, 'rebuke not an elder,' I know I had no business saying what I said. At least not there and not like that. Besides, I know my motives weren't pure. He just got my dander up by telling me I didn't know the Bible, so I decided to show him he was wrong about that."
"Next Sunday?" Mom said, latching onto the first part of Ruth's statement. "You mean you really are planning on attending with me. I thought after today ... "
"I told your pastor I was planning on attending regularly. After today, if you don't want me to, I can understand why ..."
"No, no, that's not it at all. I just thought you wouldn't want to go back. After that sermon, I mean. And the people weren't exactly friendly. I was embarrassed by them, too, I have to admit. When you said you were planning on attending, I thought you were just being polite. But I should know better than that by now."
"Right! You should know by now I don't worry about being polite," Ruth said, teasing (somewhat).
"I just meant, I should know you don't say things that aren't true just to be polite."
"Can't argue with that one."
"And of course you're welcome to come. At least, I'd be glad to have you there."
"Good! You'll be one, anyways. I can't imagine Reverend, I mean, Pastor Harper, will be thrilled to see me back, but like Bo said, having me there will probably cut down on the snoozing in the pews."
"Oh heavens! You're not going to start correcting the minister during his sermons, are you?"
"I'll try not. But no promises."
The two laughed together again.
Ruth wasn't sure why, but she knew she needed to go back the next Sunday. When a person is hungry, even stale crusts are better than nothing.
* * *
The next Sunday, Pastor Harper made no references to Elvis Presley, rock and roll, dancing, card-playing, or movie-going. The tone of the sermon had gentled greatly, and Pastor Harper preached it with the occasional casting of a wary eye on Ruth's face while trying not to. Ruth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning cheekily back at him.
She duly made her apologies after the sermon, expressing sincere regret for speaking out of turn. But she couldn't regret that her outspokenness had possibly been the cause of the change in the minister's preaching-style that Sunday.
* * *
Mrs. MacKellum held the receiver to her ear without saying anything for so long it was obvious the person on the other end of the line had hung up.
Her face was expressionless.
Besides, "Hello?" and, "Yes, speaking," Ruth had heard her say nothing at all. Not even, "Thank you," or, "Good-bye."
"Mom, what is it? Who was it?"
Still, Ruth brought a chair over to the telephone stand. Mom's knees were anything but weak. They seemed rigid, unable to bend. Ruth made her sit down forcibly.
"He's dead," she whispered.
"Who's dead?" Ruth asked. She'd imagined an unexpected creditor, some long-forgotten repercussion of the mill going under, sending more bad news through the phone line. She hadn't imagined death coming to them over the wires.
"It was the Vancouver R.C.M.P.," Mom said, still seeming unable to raise her voice past a whisper. Or maybe she didn't want to speak full-voice in case saying it aloud would make it true.
"Graham's dead," she whispered.
Every time Ruth had thought of Graham in the past seven months (which was at least half the minutes of all the days since he'd left), the first fresh moment of remembering had always brought searing pain with it – pain so intense she would often literally gasp for breath, sure that this time the pain would suffocate her.
She kept telling herself it wouldn't always feel this way. At first, she told herself that Graham would soon be back. Next week, Graham would be back. Then, as too many next weeks had dragged on, she began telling herself, next week it will be easier. She kept telling herself one month ... three months ... five months was too soon for the pain to stop. But next week ... Surely, the next week it would get easier.
It had been seven months, and she was still saying, "Next week," to herself.
Now for the first time in those seven months, she stopped saying, "Next week." She said nothing at all to herself. For the first time in seven months, the thought of him brought no searing pain, no gasping for breath. She felt nothing.