“No. On both accounts. But I do have a sweet tooth.”
“I hope one of those isn’t for me.” He raised his left hand and started counting off his fingers. “Eat, meeting, eat, meeting. Yeah, I thought so. This is meeting.”
The corner of her mouth tilted. “Suit yourself. Mom and Dad are outside on the porch swing. The kitchen seems to be the hub of our house. They’ll probably gravitate through here in a few minutes.”
Since their initial encounter on the porch, she’d sent prickly warning signals of her distrust, and his radar told him he needed to change that. One way to convince her that she had nothing to fear from him was to keep their interactions impersonal. He’d focus on the real reason he’d come to Plain City. Hopefully she’d see how he’d changed.
Fishing out his sermon notes, he also took a notepad from his briefcase and started a clean sheet. On the header, he wrote his topic-sensitive title: Set Not Your Heart on Earthly Things. He waited for her to settle in at the table with her cake.
“So did you survive the dunk tank today?” she asked.
“Barely.”
“Can you swim?”
He needed her to realize that she wouldn’t be chasing him away with her subtle threats. “Yes. I swim with the sharks.”
Her hand stopped partway to her mouth. “I should have known.”
“It’s only three hours to the beach. We go to Sandy Hook in New Jersey.”
“Who’s we?”
“Our family, when we were kids. After my folks died, I went with my brother and some of my friends.”
“And the sharks.”
“Right. Those, too.”
He noticed she’d hardly touched her dessert. “You want to finish your cake first?”
“No, I can talk and eat. Just think how much more you’d accomplish if you didn’t have to separate your meetings from your eatings.” She scraped her fork clean to emphasize her point.
He looked away from her lips. “Yeah, but I lose my appetite when people ask me questions.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t.” She studied him. “You can’t afford to lose any weight.”
Her concern amused him. “That why you tried to feed me cake? To make me easier on the eyes?”
She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
He’d always been thin, even though he ate constantly. Genes, he guessed. And his height. But the last couple of years, he’d had to buy larger clothes. He was comfortable with himself—or had been until she’d brought it up just now. He realized he’d allowed their conversation to veer off course. “So why don’t you just tell me what you remember from that sermon. I’ll take some notes.”
She gave him the high points of the sermon, as she remembered them, and this led to a general discussion about the Big Darby congregation, especially the recent changes.
“I had mixed feelings over the prayer-covering debate. My concern was that the church would split over it.”
Grateful to discover that Megan was more open-minded than dogmatic, he asked, “Do you think there’re any hard feelings about it?”
“Oh no.”
Rosedale represented the Conservative Mennonite Conference at large, and at Rosedale, most of the women didn’t wear prayer coverings except to worship. That helped him understand that this congregation was very conservative, yet open to change. He liked that.
He thought his biggest obstacle might be the congregation’s longtime attachment to their previous preacher. The position at Big Darby might be a rebound term, bearing the brunt of the congregation’s confusion and grief. But most congregations seeking a new preacher would be in some sort of transition.
“Sounds like Brother Troyer was a good preacher.”
Megan tilted her face to the side, resting her chin on her hand. “I’ve been a bit angry that the Lord took him. It’s hard to accept.”
He thought about his own losses. “These things take time.” There was much he could share on the subject, but he remembered his resolve to keep their conversation impersonal.
“You mentioned that you lost your parents. Were you young?”
“Yes. A teenager. I lost them in a car crash. My brother and I moved in with my grandparents. Next my grandpa died. My brother got married and moved away. I took care of Grandma toward the end. Then I lost her, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“After Grandma died, my brother wanted me to keep the house. But if I take a post someplace, I’ll have to do something with it. And it holds a lot of memories.”
“You have a lot of decisions ahead of you—no matter what happens this weekend.” She fiddled with her half-empty plate. “Did you feel some kind of call to come here? Besides my dad’s letter?”
“A strong call. But just between you and me, I’m not sure if this weekend will lead to a position or if there’s just a lesson to be learned through it.” He found it impossible to steer away from the personal. Maybe he just needed to be direct. “Even some closure.”
She swallowed. “I haven’t told my parents that we met at Rosedale. Since you came, there hasn’t been time. I don’t know if it’ll even come up. I guess that depends on you.”
Her warning gave indication she wasn’t sharing his need for closure. “Thanks for helping me, even though you still have reservations about me. The only explanation I have for what happened at school is—”
Megan’s hands flew up. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
“Please. Let me try.”
She nodded.
“When I first saw you, you awakened something inside me. An awareness that you would be significant in my life. I was curious about you. I interpreted it as attraction. I couldn’t understand why you didn’t feel it, too.” He scooted closer to her and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What if it was a strong premonition? Given your connection with this congregation. Like an affirmation, even before the call?”
Megan’s eyes widened.
He feared he was frightening her more than ever and shook his head. “I suppose you think that’s dumb.”
“No.” Her eyes held wonderment. “I’m glad you shared that. I—”
“I saw the kitchen light on.” Anita entered the room. She smiled at Micah. “You working on your sermon?”
“A bit.” He glanced at Megan with regret. “If you’re closing up down here, I can go to my room and finish it.”
“We are turning in. But don’t move. There’s not even a desk in your room. Please stay and use the table. Just shut off the light when you’re finished.” She tilted her face and studied her daughter.
Megan rose. “I’m going up, too.”
Micah watched her go to the sink, where she rinsed her plate and put it in a dish drainer. As she passed him, she said, “I look forward to your sermon tomorrow.” She frowned. “You better do something with your hair, though.”
Startled, he pushed his hand through his hair.
“For tomorrow.”
“Megan!” Anita chided.
He bit back a smile. “Thanks for the advice. Night.”
The two women left him, with Anita scolding her daughter as they went up the stairway.
Do something with his hair? For pity’s sake, what kind of encouragement was that? Megan was a confusing woman. Trying not to let his mind get distracted, he glanced back at his notes. He’d let Megan get settled then go up and get the rest of his paperwork. He glanced at the coffeepot, wondering if he’d need to make himself a pot. Although Megan’s help had given him an idea of how to approach his sermon, he knew he was in for a night of it.
CHAPTER 10
Once Big Darby abandoned segregated seating and incorporated the new custom of families sitting together, Megan had felt like a third wheel if she sat next to Katy. Since then, she’d drifted to the singles section, where she now found her place on their designated pew.
Joy Beitzel shifted beside her. “Isn’t this exciting? A young candidate?”
&
nbsp; Megan glanced at the woman, dressed in a crisply ironed cape dress. Although Joy’s freckles and exuberance gave her a youthful air, she was four years Megan’s senior. She gave Joy an unfelt smile. “He’s not the only candidate.”
Joy waved her hand. “Bosh, I know that. I type the search committee’s minutes.”
“Yeah, it’s exciting.” Or nerve-racking. Megan felt almost as anxious as if she were going to deliver the sermon.
She recalled Micah’s story of the previous night, about losing his parents and living with his grandma. The sad determination in his eyes had strummed her heartstrings. The most humbling moment for both of them was when he’d admitted that he might have gotten the wrong message about Megan. Although their conversation had been interrupted, she came away from it with a better understanding. Micah was merely trying to follow God’s call. He wasn’t a timid man, afraid to admit his mistakes. He swam with sharks.
Afterward she’d felt sorry that she’d treated him so poorly at school. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so set against him, they could have fostered a friendship.
“I hear he’s from Rosedale,” Joy Ann whispered.
Megan nodded. But he hadn’t been after friendship at Rosedale. She’d had no choice but to give him that set down. Ludicrous as her silly threats seemed now, it had worked at the time. It had been Lil’s idea.
In hindsight, maybe Micah was right about their relationship, that it’d all been orchestrated to help him through this sermon, this moment. The idea sent a thrill through her. Maybe God wanted Micah here. She found herself hoping so, even though she hadn’t met the other candidate yet.
Her fingers involuntarily fidgeted with her skirt. She glanced around the room. It was no ordinary Sunday. Excitement filled the air. She and Joy Ann weren’t the only ones anticipating Micah’s sermon.
Joy Ann nudged her shoulder. “There he is.”
Megan’s eyes went to the pulpit, where her dad introduced Micah. Her heart leaped with delight to see that the preacher had taken her advice. Somehow he’d managed to control his hair. His bangs glistened, not plastered exactly, but sufficiently tamed for the occasion. Her interest in his makeover caused her to miss the introduction. But when her dad left Micah’s side, it pleased her that he didn’t seem as vulnerable as she last remembered him. Gone was the sad expression. He stood straight with squared shoulders, and his height gave him an air of authority.
Micah cleared his throat. “The Lord is good. Merciful and loving. As I hope you will be with me.” There was a titter of laughter. “I was given a choice of three sermon topics: ‘Set Not Your Heart on Earthly Things,’ ‘Going Forward with Unity,’ or ‘How to Check a Heart against Pride.’ I chose the first one.”
Good for you, Micah Zimmerman, letting them know. Megan hoped it would affect others as it had her, making them more sympathetic to his plight. Even now she saw folks whispering throughout the room.
“If I were to name this sermon, however, I would’ve called it, ‘What Does it Mean to Set Our Hearts, and How Do We Do It?’ The heart is the seat of our affection. It refers to our worldview or beliefs about life. How we set our hearts determines our future actions. Especially in those instances when we don’t have time to think about our actions. The trick is to align our hearts with God’s heart before we are faced with choices and temptations.”
This was new information, something Brother Troyer had not touched upon in his sermon, Megan thought. Joy Ann’s eyes remained riveted to the front of the room, as did many others.
Micah lifted his big black Bible with his right hand. “First from Colossians three, verses one and two, ‘If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.’ ”
His Bible remained lifted because he quoted the verses from memory. “To better understand what is meant by earthly, we go to Luke twelve, verses twenty-nine through thirty-one. ‘And seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind. For all these things do the nations of the world seek after: and your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things. But rather seek ye the kingdom of God; and all these things shall be added unto you.’ ”
He set the Bible on the pulpit and stepped slightly to the side. “Of all the things that the Mennonite church has deemed evil, food isn’t one of them. Without food, we can’t survive. Food isn’t the real issue. Jesus participated in many meals while He lived on earth. I’ve enjoyed lots of good food this weekend. And I understand there’s going to be a potluck after the sermon. Some of you are farmers who produce food. Some of you have beautiful vegetable gardens. If Jesus didn’t really mean food and drink, what did He mean?”
Megan sucked in her breath. The garden reference reminded her of Brother Troyer’s death in the bean patch. Wondering how many minds had drifted to that memory, she glanced at Joy Ann. But the young woman’s expression remained griefless. She was mesmerized by Micah.
“We must not set our hearts on our crops or our doctor bills or our accumulating gray hair. If our crops are good, we can fall under the pride that we’re able to provide for ourselves. That we don’t need God. When our circumstances are bad, if we don’t look to God, our faith weakens. He’s telling us that we need to set our hearts to trust in Him and not our circumstances.”
Micah stepped back behind the pulpit, which was on the same level as the seating for the congregation. As he moved, the congregation also shifted, many leaning to one side, looking through a gap, attesting to the fact that he had their full attention.
“But how do we set our hearts? Did any of you make Jell-O for today’s potluck?”
A few timid hands raised.
“You ladies had to put it in the refrigerator to set it, didn’t you?” There were several nods. “Brothers, when you go fishing, you have to jerk your line at just the right moment to catch a fish. It’s the same with your heart. God provides the ingredients and the tackle. He gives the Bible and opportunities. But we have to set the hook ourselves. Jesus tells us to set our hearts on Him, beforehand.”
Megan related it to Chance. At first, she’d set her heart against dating him. Lately, her heart had become infatuated with him. Chance was increasingly attractive to her. She focused back on Micah’s sermon.
“Setting the hook is agreeing with God, with His truth as it is revealed to us. If you don’t set your heart beforehand, you will find yourself more receptive to the circumstances instead of the God of the circumstances. It is also a continual thing.”
Megan allowed the seed to sink into her spirit, again applying it to her situation with Chance.
“I hope you don’t think I’ve been too vague. It would take many sermons to cover what the Mennonite church calls the doctrine of nonconformity, all the ways we keep ourselves separate from the world. This is a very hot topic. There are more than twenty sects of Mennonites because of various interpretations of this topic. It affects our daily life, business, speech, and our recreation. As the world continues to change, we need to distinguish between the essential and inessential beliefs. I have no doubt that in the years ahead this congregation will face many hard decisions.”
Micah looked earnestly over the believers gathered before him. “I know that I can never fill Brother Troyer’s shoes. But I am young and enthusiastic. My heart is set to follow the Lord. And just as He is merciful and loving, I felt that from you this morning. Thank you.” He stepped away from the pulpit and took a seat in the vacant front row.
Megan followed Joy Ann into Big Darby’s new fellowship hall, her gaze searching for Katy. But her friend wasn’t in sight, probably caught behind the crush of those welcoming Micah, or possibly having to change Jacob’s diaper. She moved alongside the tables laden with potluck dishes and took some cookies from the dessert table. She quietly surveyed the room.
“Meg! Over here.” Joy Ann motioned. They’d barely gotten seated when Joy Ann nudged her. “There he i
s.”
Megan glanced up to see hospitable hands urging Micah to the front of the line. She couldn’t help but remember their private joke. Meeting, eat, sermon, eat. There was even more food than usual, for everyone was trying to impress him with their generosity.
“I’m not even hungry.” With surprise, Megan glanced at Joy Ann’s plate, which was at least as heaping as her own. “I just feel jittery inside.”
“Why? Didn’t you like his sermon? I thought he did a great job.”
“Because Brother Zimmerman’s so handsome. I don’t even know if I can do my job if he becomes our preacher.”
The comment shocked Megan on several accounts. First, that was exactly how she felt about Chance. Secondly, she’d better quit calling Micah by his first name and remember to call him Brother Zimmerman, like everybody else did. Until today, it was hard to think of him that way. And thirdly, handsome? Had that been the reason why Joy Ann had stared at him all through the sermon? Megan tried to school her features from her amusement. “Handsome? You think so?”
“You don’t?”
Megan shrugged, imagining the petite woman with Micah. She turned to one of the other singles. “Ruthie? What about you?”
The heavyset younger woman wore her black hair in a bun and covered it with a doily. She unconsciously wiped her hands on her denim skirt and nodded. “Yeah, he’s cute.”
Lori Longacre, the church librarian, leaned forward, her perfume tickling Megan’s nose. “Well, I wasn’t thinking about his good looks. But I’m impressed that he’s our age. Just think how that could affect the congregation.” Megan had to hide her mirth, because Lori was definitely older than Micah or anyone else in their group, nearing thirty at least. She tilted her pretty head. She had a mole on the flange of her nose that resembled one of those studs outsiders wore on purpose. The only time it was noticeable was when she got excited and flared her nostrils. Like now. “So, Megan, he’s staying at your place. What do you think?”
Megan tapped her fork on her napkin, while her friends waited for her to reveal something wonderful about Micah. “From what I can tell, Brother Zimmerman’s a nice man. He’s been through some hard times. I think he’s seeking God’s will for himself and for us.”
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