The congregation clapped heartily before he went on. “These last few years I’ve seen a real missionary spirit in Bucky Stone. Going to high school here, he’s been a great witness for God. He helped bring Sam into our church family, and I understand we may have another baptism before too many weeks go by.
“But now, let’s give Bucky a chance at some real mission experience with a whole young army of fellow believers,” the pastor urged. “These two weeks will be a time he’ll never forget as he works side by side with fellow Christian young people to build that dormitory for those students there in Thailand. I want Bucky to come up right now and just say a word telling us how he feels about all this.”
Slowly Bucky made his way up to the platform where he stood next to the pastor. “Go ahead, Bucky,” Pastor Jensen urged. “Just share your thoughts with us.”
The boy took a deep breath. “Well, I . . . I just think it would be great to try, you know, being a missionary for two weeks. It’s a really neat project, building a dorm for the kids over there, and I think it’ll give me a real picture of what mission life is like.” He looked out at the attentive faces of his church family before continuing.
“And I, well . . . I guess to be with a bunch of kids who are all Christians . . .” He left the thought unfinished as a quiet ripple of assent filled his ears.
Pastor Jensen put an arm around the young man. “Now we’ve handed out envelopes for each of you to use. And I want to say again, everything we give toward this trip is mission money for all of us. Bucky represents Christ Our Redeemer over there in Thailand. And I know God is going to use him.”
Twenty minutes later Bucky and Mom sat with the pastor in his office counting up the pledges. “Look at this,” Pastor Jensen commented. “Fifty dollars from old Mrs. Cordell. Bless her heart.”
“And here’s one with just two quarters in it.” Bucky looked at the childish scrawl on the envelope. “From Sissy.”
“Oh, you know who that is,” the pastor smiled. “That little girl who always sits right there on the front row.”
“That’s so sweet.” Mom held the two quarters for a moment, her eyes thoughtful.
Jensen punched in the final figures. “Well, Bucky, you’re on your way. Sort of,” he. added. “Four hundred fifty-five dollars. And fifty cents.” He nodded toward the two quarters with a grin.
“Well, I’ve still got a good share of the summer to come up with the rest,” Bucky observed.
“You’ll make it.” The smiling pastor clapped him on the shoulder.
• • • • •
Wednesday evening Bucky sat in the leather seat of Dan’s sports car. “Boy, I hope this goes OK,” he muttered to his friend.
“You and me both.” Dan squinted as the setting sun glared in his rear view mirror. With a squeal of the tires, he pulled up at the familiar house.
“Is he home?”
“Yeah.” Dan glanced at his watch. “Told me he was going to be in tonight. ‘Stead of at the bar like usual.” The two made their way up to the front door. Easing it open, Dan gave Bucky a friendly little push. “After you, man.”
“That you?” Coming from the back of the house, the words had a slur to them.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m home.” Dan paused. “I got Bucky here with me.”
“Oh. Sure.” There was a loud cough. “Be right out.”
Bucky glanced around the living room. It was cleaner than last winter, he noticed, when he had driven Dan home that painful afternoon the boy had come to basketball practice drunk.
Dan glanced sideways at his friend. “You thinkin’ about the same thing I am?” he muttered with a crooked grin.
Bucky shrugged. “Long time ago.”
A skinny man in his late forties came out of the shadows, dressed in a pair of jeans and undershirt. His stubble looked about two days old. “This your friend?”
“Yeah. Dad, this is Bucky Stone.”
Mr. Litton wiped his hands on his greasy jeans and moved warily toward Bucky. “How are you?” He offered his hand.
“Good.”
The three of them stood awkwardly in the shadows of the dingy living room. “Well, look, have a seat, Bucky.” The older man pushed aside some newspapers and sat down on an old piano bench. “Dan, here, tells me you boys both want to talk to me. Something important, he says.”
Bucky licked his lips. “Yeah. Well . . .” He paused. “You tell him.”
Dan cleared his throat nervously, giving his friend a pained expression. “I . . . I guess you’re right.”
“Come on, come on.” Mr. Litton’s words were impatient. “What’s the matter with you guys? Out with it.”
“Well . . . yeah. It’s like this.” Dan’s normally cocky manner was almost timid. He traced a design in the dirty carpet with his foot. “I’ve been goin’ to church with Bucky, here, for a pretty long time, and I’ve decided to join. So I decided to ask you.”
The older man sat with a blank look on his face. “Come again?”
His response took Dan by surprise. “I’m going to join Bucky’s church. Become a member.”
“What’s it involve?” Mr. Litton flicked some grease off his thumbnail. “I mean, do you have to do anything in particular?”
Dan shrugged, relaxing. “Not really? I’m gonna get baptized. And then . . . well, attend every week. ‘Course I’ve been doin’ that already for kind of a long time.”
“Does it cost anything?”
It was an odd question, and the stocky athlete hesitated. “Well, I’m going to pay tithe there.”
His father leaned forward. “Hang on. What’s that about?”
Dan glanced over at his friend, and then tried to explain. “It means that I support God’s work there. With what I make at the station and all.”
“And how much?”
The athlete shifted in his seat. “Ten percent. That’s what a lot of Christians do.”
The number seemed to surprise the older man. “Are you kidding? Ten percent? That’s a lot of money, young man.”
“No, it ain’t.” Dan shook his head. “I mean, look, Pop. If I pull in four-fifty a month, then I give forty-five to help spread the gospel. What’s wrong with that?”
Mr. Litton glanced from one boy to the other. “It ain’t just your own money, young man. You live here with me, and what you and I bring in . . . that’s Litton money. It’s not just yours to dump in some offering plate without my say-so.” Abruptly he went into the kitchen. From his chair Bucky could see him peering into the refrigerator. The older man muttered a short oath to himself. A moment later he reached into the cupboard. The two boys could hear the splash of liquid.
Bucky gave Dan a nervous look. “What do you think?” he mouthed noiselessly. His friend gave him a quieting gesture.
The father returned to the living room with a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. Before speaking he took a long swallow. “Look,” he said, directing his remarks toward Bucky. “You bein’ friends with Dan, here, that’s fine. I guess you two do pretty good at ball and everything.” Another swallow. “But this business of joining up and signing on the dotted line and getting yourself baptized and then forking over your money to some rip-off outfit . . . no way.”
“But, Dad . . .”
“No!” Mr. Litton scowled at his son. “I said no.”
“Dad . . .”
“You listen to me! I work with people who get sucked into this stuff. And pretty soon, half the money they make is getting signed over to some padre who spends it on first-class plane tickets or whatever. These people will bleed you dry.”
“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dan’s voice tensed up a little bit. “This church isn’t like that.”
“And I’m sayin’ it is!”
Slowly Bucky rose to his feet. “Listen,” he said softly, “why don’t we talk about it some other time?” He took a deep breath. “Mr. Litton, if you’d like, I’d be happy for my pastor to come over and answer any questions you have about our church. About
money or anything you want.”
“I don’t have any questions. See? ‘Cause I wasn’t born yesterday.” The words were clipped, sarcastic.
The boy flushed. “I think it’s good for you to be interested in what your son chooses,” he said evenly. “I mean . . . that shows you care.”
The quiet words had an effect. “Yeah, well, I just don’t want him getting mixed up in some nutball group that takes him to the cleaners.” Mr. Litton snorted. “No offense.”
Bucky looked at his friend. “Can you give me a ride home?”
“Sure.” Dan’s face was a deep red. “Come on.”
The two boys headed toward the front door. “It was nice to meet you,” Bucky offered as they exited.
The older man said nothing, just stood in the doorway with a dour expression on his face.
“Well, that was cheerful,” Dan stormed as the car’s powerful engine eased them out of the driveway.
Bucky forced a laugh. “For a second I thought we were home free. Then everything hit the fan.”
The stocky driver snorted. “You’re so stinking friendly to everybody. ‘Thank you, Mr. Litton, for kicking my tail in.’” He mimicked Bucky with sarcastic accuracy.
Both boys laughed. “Hey, there ain’t no sense in making him mad,” Bucky observed. “One way or another, we’ve got to win your dad over.”
Dan sobered. “Yeah.”
The next day at the bank Mr. Litton’s words kept ringing in the young teller’s ears. “Nutball group. Nutball group.” During a break he breathed a quick prayer, asking God to help him demonstrate the thoughtful wisdom of Christ Our Redeemer’s rich heritage of faith to Dan’s father.
“How’s the trip coming?” Mr. Willis came up behind Bucky with a broad smile.
“Well, I’m getting pretty excited.” Bucky handed over two $20 bills to a customer. “I really appreciate you giving me the two weeks off.”
“Oh, no problem.” The manager’s neatly tailored coat gave him a dignified look that didn’t quite mask his cheerful nature. “Is the fundraising coming all right?”
The young man frowned slightly. “Well, the church raised about $450. Then some of my relatives helped out with a few hundred bucks. I’m still shy about $200, I guess.”
“Boy, that’s no good.” Mr. Willis’s brow furrowed. “And you’ve only got about three weeks left.” The manager thought a moment. “Well,” he said at last, “I don’t want you to be all worried and bothered about that money and scowling at the customers and everything.”
“Oh, I won’t.” What was he getting at?
Trying to mask his broad grin, Mr. Willis pulled a long white envelope out of his pocket. “Maybe this will help keep you a cheerful smiling employee of First California Bank.”
His pulse tingling, Bucky tore the envelope open, “What?”
There in his hand was a check made out for exactly $200.
Bucky’s voice had a note of awe in it. “How’d you know?”
“I didn’t.” Mr. Willis smiled. “But I guess God knew that’s how much you needed.”
The student teller cleared his throat. “Mr. Willis, I . . . sure appreciate this, but is it really OK for the bank to . . .” His voice failed him.
The man put a hand on the teenage boy’s shoulder. “Bucky, this is from me.”
Bucky glanced down at the check. Sure enough, the manager’s home address appeared in the upper-left corner.
“When you started working here, I told you my mother was a faithful Christian,” the older man said softly. “In a way, I guess I want to do this in honor of her. To have you going on this trip for your church . . . well, I just wanted to help.”
“Wow.” There wasn’t much else to say.
“And, of course, you know what I think of you.”
Taking a deep breath, Bucky nodded and stuck out his hand. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Willis. This really means a lot to me.”
The hand on his shoulder tightened. “Just make sure you come back after those two weeks are done. This bank isn’t about to let you get away, and last time I checked, First California didn’t have any branch offices in Bangkok!”
• • • • •
The next three weeks flew by in a flurry of activity as Bucky read brochures, received his passport in the mail, and began counting down the days.
“One more week!” he grinned at Dan as the pair wrapped up their final Bible study.
“Yeah, I’ll be glad when you get out of here and leave me alone.” Dan pretended to scowl. “Zooming through these studies like this – man, this has been harder than Test Week.”
“Hey, you said you wanted to finish before I left.”
Dan filled in the final blank on the youth Bible lessons and slid the paper toward his friend. “I gotta admit, you were dead right on all this stuff. It makes sense.”
“Yeah.” A moment of thoughtful silence. “You know, I think that’s what I want more than anything to tell people. That Christianity makes sense. It’s just . . . right.”
Dan grinned at him, then quickly sobered. “What are we gonna do about my dad?”
Bucky didn’t answer. It was a question that had nagged him ever since the unpleasant visit several weeks earlier.
“I mean, do I just go ahead and get baptized without saying nothin’?”
His friend shook his head. “No way. At least, I think we’ve got to try talking to him again.”
“Oh, man.” Dan grimaced. “You heard what he said.”
“Yeah, but look.” Bucky grappled to find the right words. “He’s upset because he thinks things are a certain way. But they’re not. That’s the whole point. Being a Christian – and committing all your talents and even your money to the Lord – isn’t what he thinks it is. We just gotta find a way to tell him that.”
“Good luck.” Dan examined a long scar on his ankle. “I got another happy challenge for you. What’s old Brayshaw going to do when he finds out he’s got two religious zealots on his basketball team now?”
Bucky began to laugh. “He’ll just have to call the district office and tell ‘em, ‘From now on you can’t schedule Panther games until after prayer meeting is over.’”
That Friday evening it was a reluctant pair of boys who followed Pastor Jensen up the driveway to Dan’s home. “I hope you got a bulletproof vest on,” Dan said to the pastor, his voice tight with apprehension.
“Relax.” The older man clapped him on the back. “I’ve been through things like this more times than I can count.”
Mr. Litton scowled when he saw the visitor, but motioned the three into the dismal living room. “I told Dan he was barkin’ up the wrong tree, but doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to listen to me,” he told Jensen without fanfare.
“Well, I’m just here to see if I can help clear things up,” the pastor said easily. “Why don’t we just all have a seat and chat for a bit?”
The two boys sat down on the couch and looked from one man to the other. “What kind of work are you in, Mr. Litton?” Pastor Jensen began.
Dan’s father chewed on his lip. “Auto service. Over at Sears.”
“Oh really? I’ve had work done over there before. We’ll have to look for you next time.”
Mr. Litton studiously disdained the friendly overture.
The pastor took a breath. “Boy, a lot of that computer diagnostic stuff you guys have now – that’s pretty complicated stuff.”
“Yeah, well, after fifteen years, you get the hang of it.”
Pastor Jensen glanced over at the boys. “Did you grow up with a particular religious background, Mr. Litton?”
Mr. Litton cleared his throat. “Well, my mom kind of leaned toward the Baptist church. At least when she was younger. But we didn’t keep at it once my folks split up.”
“I have a lot of good friends who are Baptists,” the pastor smiled. “In fact, I was at a Bible conference last spring, and I roomed with a terrific young man who pastors a Baptist church up in Oregon. We had a wond
erful time together.”
The dark-haired man showed the first spark of interest. “I always kind of figured each church group kind of stayed to itself.”
“Oh, my, no.” Pastor Jensen shook his head vigorously. “I belong to the Pastors’ Council here in town, and we have a great time worshiping with each other. Every two months we have a big breakfast together and talk about our common problems.” He laughed. “I guess offerings are down in just about every church. What with the economy and all.”
His remark brought out the dour man’s surliness. “Yeah, so now you want to hit my son up for ten percent of his hard-earned pay. Look, preacher, we don’t live real high on the hog here. Know what I mean? And I don’t really go for him having to drop fifty bucks or so in the plate just ‘cause you say so.”
Pastor Jensen leaned forward. “Well, I want you to know that I certainly understand how you feel. At the same time, Dan has come to feel like his new Christian faith is important in his life. He has some core beliefs that matter to him, and he wants to help share the good news.”
Dan’s father absorbed this without comment, his eyes brooding.
“Anyway. I’m happy to spend time answering any questions you have, Mr. Litton. I don’t imagine we can solve every single thing in the world just in one evening here. But the point is, Dan has studied pretty carefully for months now, and from what he’s learned, he thinks that Christ Our Redeemer Church is where he’d like to be. We’re just here to see if you object.”
“He knows I object. There ain’t no debate on it.” Bucky looked over at Dan.
Pastor Jensen nodded slowly. “Well, I appreciate your honesty. You’ve been real open with me about your feelings, and that helps.” He took a breath. “And frankly, if you don’t approve, well, then Dan just won’t be baptized.”
“What?” Dan shifted in his seat, staring at the minister with resentment in his dark eyes.
“Dan, you know how eager I am to have you join,” Pastor Jensen said softly. “But you’re still living here at home, and you owe your dad some loyalty. If he tells you not to be baptized right now, I feel that you should obey him.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 44