by Sue Behnke
A HOME
for the
REDEEMED
SUE BEHNKE
Copyright © 2016 Sue Behnke.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
WestBow Press
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ISBN: 978-1-5127-4840-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5127-4842-0 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-5127-4841-3 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016910866
WestBow Press rev. date: 07/12/2016
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1 A Bizarre Encounter
Chapter 2 A Broken Pastor
Chapter 3 An Urchin at the Door
Chapter 4 Looking at Jane
Chapter 5 Looking at the Heavens
Chapter 6 Sunday at Church
Chapter 7 Divorced!
Chapter 8 The Pastor’s Wife
Chapter 9 A Strange Dream
Chapter 10 The Sin that Entangles
Chapter 11 A Vow
Chapter 12 Jane’s Diary
Chapter 13 A Marriage on Unsure Grounds
Chapter 14 Another Unusual Sunday
Chapter 15 A Divine Voyage
Chapter 16 Maria’s Pain
Chapter 17 A Bite of Poison
Chapter 18 A Step Too Far
Chapter 19 Repentance
Chapter 20 A Healing Process
Chapter 21 And Lust Explodes
Chapter 22 And Lust Destroys
Chapter 23 Obeying the Divine Call
Chapter 24 The Stand
Chapter 25 An Unusual Brotherhood
Chapter 26 Storm on Paper
Chapter 27 Carl Restored
Chapter 28 Benjamin and the Angel
Chapter 29 Rejection
Chapter 30 Leaning on a Friend
Chapter 31 Maria the Beautiful
Chapter 32 A Naked Isaiah
Chapter 33 Jane Takes a Stand
Chapter 34 Maria’s Revelation
Chapter 35 A New Day
Chapter 36 Addressing Barb
Chapter 37 A Nightmare
Chapter 38 A Meeting with the Pastor
Chapter 39 Dreams and Reality
Chapter 40 A Man of Prayer
Chapter 41 Benjamin Shares a Prophesy
Chapter 42 A Leader of Leaders
Chapter 43 A Human Pastor
Chapter 44 Pastoring the Supernatural
Chapter 45 Saving the House
Chapter 46 Weighing a Prophesy
Chapter 47 Understanding Jane
Chapter 48 Confronting Lust
Chapter 49 Here Comes the Media
Chapter 50 In the News
Chapter 51 A Prayer Meeting that Shakes the Heavens
Chapter 52 Intercede for the Pastor!
Chapter 53 Maturity for the Storm
Chapter 54 An Advertisement
Chapter 55 A Meeting of Elders
Chapter 56 Preparing for the Storm
Chapter 57 Facing Jamie the Elder
Chapter 58 Facing Finn the Elder
Chapter 59 Redeemed Hearts
Chapter 60 A Fiery Trial
Chapter 61 Getting Real
Chapter 62 A Parting
Chapter 63 A Kingdom Outlook
Chapter 64 Becoming a Patriarch
Chapter 65 Birthing a Ministry
Chapter 66 The Urchin in the Tide
Chapter 67 The Spiritual Positioning
Chapter 68 Family Pain
Chapter 69 Homosexuality and Homosexuals
Chapter 70 A Nightmare at Home
Chapter 71 Benjamin in the Valley of Decision
Chapter 72 An Urchin Sinking
Chapter 73 Heartbreak
Chapter 74 Journaling Grief
Chapter 75 Hugging an Urchin
Chapter 76 Blaming God
Chapter 77 Touching Heaven
Chapter 78 Bob the Wise
Chapter 79 Litany of Self-Pity
Chapter 80 One Last Chance
Chapter 81 Reaching the Community
Chapter 82 A Phase-Two Marriage
Chapter 83 Life as it Happens
Chapter 84 Benjamin’s Call
About the Author
In loving
memory of my grandmother, Virginie, who believed in me and prayed for me.
To my sons, I am eternally grateful and proud of you.
Preface
I have spent long hours and shed so many tears imagining Mary Magdalene, standing in front of the empty tomb, looking for Jesus. Ideally, this would be a snapshot of the person I would so love to be.
Every time I read the account in John 20, it takes my breath away.
Mary seeing two angels was such a wonderful event; her turning her back to these angels in order to question a simple gardener bewilders me.
Her pursuit of the Christ, the love of her life, took her beyond signs and wonders, beyond the grave, and beyond the supernatural. Angels were not enough. Words of knowledge were not enough. Even a prophecy of the return of the Messiah was not enough. She needed her Lord. She was desperate for his presence. Nothing less than him would do. He had to come back for her. Her love required an answer. Her desperate quest demanded his presence. He could not refuse her heart’s desire.
This is the passion of my life—a pilgrim on this earth looking for my Rabboni.
Chapter 1
A Bizarre Encounter
Benjamin Weiss was staring vacantly at the ceiling. He was not sure if he was having an out-of-body experience or seeing a vision. He was no longer in the small gray room. He could see a beautiful creek. He found himself looking toward the opposite end of the creek at a creature that looked like an angel. His gaze shifted, and he noticed people sitting by the water at his feet. No one seemed to notice Benjamin.
He found himself staring at the angel with curiosity. The creature was across the body of water, so he could not discern if it was male or female. The angel just glowed.
What took him aback the most was the flow of love that emanated from the creature. It made his person look so radiant. The angel did not look toward Benjamin. He was too busy giving away stuff to people all around him. Benjamin felt enraptured by the intensity of the moment. The people he saw seemed in awe of the being and were looking up lovingly and gratefully receiving gifts. Benjamin could not discern the nature of the gifts, but the love that was flowing back and forth was breathtaking.
A thought started emerging in him. Maybe this is God.
He did not speak out loud, but in that world he could hear his thoughts loud and clear.
A voice behind him replied, “No, it’s an angel of grace.”
The water and the angel faded, and he had a sense of returning to his chair. He readjusted slowly, staring at the bill he was about to pay.
; Maybe he was just going crazy.
Chapter 2
A Broken Pastor
Carl was a tired pastor. He had spent a couple of decades praying and working ceaselessly to anchor the church he had started. He would like to be proud, but he just felt tired. He envisioned the flock he watched over and felt disillusioned. He would have to give another sermon on tithing and offering if they were to keep the sanctuary open. He felt bitterness well up in him.
He looked at the hundred e-mails waiting for him to answer. People needed reassurance and love. Others wanted to complain, and still others needed guidance. There were, of course, those who needed baptism functions organized and weddings and funerals conducted.
Carl sighed. They wanted it all for free. He expected the rolled eyes during the money sermon, the angry stares, and the occasional silly comments like, “You should be trusting God a bit more, Pastor. He will surely provide!” He bit his lip while trying to control his anger. He wanted to scream at their apathy. He felt used.
Dark thoughts were creeping up. Remember Christmas when an elder had to almost beg the attendants to put a few extra coins in the plate so you could have a bonus? Just to have a few days off with your family? How about all the subtle and continuous nudging to get the roof of the church fixed?
He shook his head in frustration. He was trying to think of a reason to push forward. He had to forgive and love them like he used to.
He remembered his naiveté when he started here. All he wanted was to serve the community and get them to know God loved them. He was so passionate then with the zeal of youth.
He had no idea what was waiting for him. That was all. He had made so many assumptions—another illusion that was busting, another dream buried! Tears started to well up.
He stood up to shake the gloominess taking over his heart. He tried to pray, but not a sound came from his battered soul. He stepped into the kitchen for a coffee.
Chapter 3
An Urchin at the Door
The front door of the church building burst open. The secretary looked up with some trepidation, and in charged Brendan. She half-sighed with relief. She was sure he did not have an appointment, but Brendan very rarely kept to any convention or rule.
She smiled and remembered last year right after he had joined their congregation. An unknown street preacher had gotten a thirst for salvation in him, and he just busted into their lives. Brendan had been a street urchin spending his meager income on drugs and tattoos.
In an effort to clean up his act, Brendan got a small job, reconciled with an ex-girlfriend, and married her. He was trying to be a good dad to the child he had fathered in a cloud of confusion and drugs. He was sincere though, and everyone in the church looked at him with teary eyes and gentle patience.
Still Brendan was rougher than diamond and managed to get upset often. What was he incensed about before? Oh yeah, his tattoos. He had pointed a threatening finger at the pastor, demanding to know why Christians had a problem with his tattoos. Geena had nearly ducked under the desk.
Carl had stayed very kind and held on to his smile (with some obvious effort), and then he clarified the misunderstanding of a scripture.
Geena had never heard anyone expound on the Bible’s views on tattoos before, so she listened intently. The pastor was teaching that the verse that forbids tattooing yourself and cutting your skin for the dead actually was not targeting today’s tattoos (which did not exist in those days) but the habits of heathens to flog and cut their skin in despair while mourning their dead. The spirit behind the scripture was that there was no need to fear death.
Brendan muttered a few expletives about ignorance and stormed out of the office as angry as he had come in.
Geena shook the memory from her mind and looked at Brendan with a tentative smile. He waved a dismissive hand toward her and headed straight to the pastor’s door. She did not dare intervene. She did not have a stomach for violence. Nor was she paid to be a bodyguard. She found his brash behavior fascinating despite her stern upbringing … or maybe because of it. She had to admit to herself that she liked him. As he barged into the pastor’s office, she was glad he did not close the door. His views and comments were always so colorful!
“Hey, Brother Carl. Wassup?”
Carl looked up from behind his desk. “How are you, Brendan? It is good to see you.”
Brendan did not waste much time on pleasantries. “Apparently, God wants me to beat up my child now. I won’t do it, you hear? I won’t whip my baby!”
He went on in a rant until a string of curses started pouring out. He finally checked himself and quieted down.
“Brendan, why do you believe you need to hit your child?”
“She’s been misbehaving and screaming, Pastor, and I just won’t hurt her! Don’t bother counseling me about the rod thing. I won’t hurt her.”
Carl was getting a bit frustrated. “I didn’t ask you to hit her, bro. Just trying to understand the situa—”
Brendan interrupted the pastor. The rant started again about the rod.
Geena sneaked a look into the office. She could always pretend that she wanted to offer a beverage. She chuckled quietly at the look on Carl’s face. She knew he was only half-listening, waiting to be heard. She ducked back when she saw the pastor stand up. He probably decided he needed to stop the flow of anger. “Brendan, I heard you, and I understand the issue. Since you took the trouble of coming to me, would you please listen to me?”
Brendan was hesitating, his voice full of suspicion. His body language was downright hostile.
“Brother, I have been a pastor for a long time. I believe there is another issue here, a trauma that needs to get unearthed, a wound that needs healing. Brendan, God does not want you to whip your child.”
“I thought pastors were supposed to have read the Bible. What are you pushing, man? Can’t you people speak the same language? I’m confused.”
“You’re in the Old Testament again, bro. Check out the New Testament. It says, ‘Don’t provoke your children to anger.’”
“Huh? I spoke to Brother Murphy. He said I needed to hit her with a rod, man. I can’t do that to my baby, man. It’s not cool!”
“Brendan, the Old Testament was written for those who did not have the Holy Spirit. When you know the Lord and his Holy Spirit is in you, able to convict you of sin and cleanse you, he can guide you. You need to pray for your child and discipline her in love, dude. A two-year-old needs her daddy to make her feel like a princess.”
“How do I know who to listen to? This is maybe your interpretation! I’m tired of all these opinions. Nothing makes sense!”
“Brendan, whenever you’re in doubt, remember to look at the life of Jesus. It’s why he came—to be an example for our lives. He was always kind to children. His parable of the prodigal son should be the ultimate example of how a father loves and forgives a child. Does that answer your question?”
“What about Murphy?”
“I’ll speak to him. Maybe I should give a teaching to the whole assembly on the matter.”
“Pphh, I’d say you should. I was ready to leave the church, man.”
He went on and on about his little treasure until the pastor interrupted again.
“Brendan, were you whipped as a child?”
The change in the man’s body language was immediate. His head jerked, and his leg started shaking.
“Man, my whole childhood was a long struggle for survival. My old man used to come home drunk every Friday night and beat the daylight out of us. I would never do that to my baby, dude. I will not become like him.”
Carl walked slowly and sat in the chair opposite Brendan.
“Brendan,” Carl said very softly, “would you indulge me, please? I would like to go through an exercise. I would like you to close your eyes for a moment and remember when your father would be standing in front of you. Go back to when you were five or six in your mind and face him.”
Geena felt so excited as she
peeped in discreetly. The pastor forgot to close the door as he usually did in these situations. She looked at Brendan’s back intently, trying to guess what the pastor saw that prompted this. She could see the young man’s hands gripping the chair. There was almost a smell of terror in the air.
“Pastor,” Brendan spoke slowly, “I can see myself as a little lad, looking at a drunken monster coming through the door, raging mad.”
The calm voice of the pastor came through, gently helping him cope with the nightmare. “Brendan, look at your dad now, and let the boy you were ask him to quit shouting and screaming.”
Brendan started to obey. He muttered a few words at the memory that gripped him. Suddenly, a surge of rage seemed to take him over, and he started screaming and swearing, pouring out his disappointment at the man he was supposed to honor and respect. He sobbed, screaming, “I hate you. I hate you. I will never be like you!” until he was hoarse.