Happily Ever After

by Jenn Faulk

~Cammie~

  He did make it happen, less than a week later.

  “Got the keys from Piet,” he told her the night that they were doing their last Bible study of the school term.

  “The keys?” she asked, her attention pulled in several different directions with all they were doing to close out things with the students. Then, with realization, “Oh, David, the keys to the house?”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling. “I can take you by tonight and let you see it all.”

  “We won’t have time,” she said, wishing that they did. “We’ll be up here so late, saying goodbye to everyone. Merry Christmas. All of that.”

  They would be. Every evening led to another couple of hours spent chatting with the youth, leading into early mornings where Camille and David were both worn out, able just to make it over to the Botha house, where he’d drop her off for the night and make plans for the next day and whatever they had on the calendar.

  “Maybe we will,” he said. “And if not, there’s tomorrow. Either way, we’ll get you moved in before Christmas.”

  Oh, the very thought. Having a home of her own to celebrate Christmas in.

  “Is Kait going to be offended?” she asked, thinking of the last week in particular, when Kait and Piet had been around Swakopmund more. As the holidays neared all over the nation, their travels were dwindling down to a slower pace until the new year. She and David had spent more than a few evenings with the two of them, hearing about the plans they had to travel out to South Africa and meet up with Piet’s mother, who was coming in for a surprise visit, along with Piet’s uncle and aunt.

  “Kait was there when Piet gave me the key,” David said. “She wasn’t at all offended. It would take a lot to bother her, you know. She seemed glad to hear that you’re thinking about the long term, that you want a place of your own here.”

  And she did. And the long term was on her mind all night long, of course. Even as she chatted with the students who filled the building later that evening, even as she and David led them in several worship songs, and even as David opened up Scripture to the book of Acts, his message about being sent with the Gospel clear and precise.

  Camille loved the passage, about being witnesses to the goodness of Christ, in all the places He was calling His disciples. It didn’t end there, though. Not with the disciples two thousand years ago, not with the teenagers there in Namibia. Christ had gone a step beyond calling. He had equipped them, going so far as to dwell in them, to be their helper, and to live in them so that His truth would be proclaimed. He would do the work of changing lives, and the world would change forever.

  David said it perfectly.

  Camille had loved sitting under his teaching those last few months, as he’d led newcomers through the book of John and as he’d walked the students who’d been with him for years through the book of Romans. She’d felt herself reminded of truths she’d known from childhood, encouraged by the truth of them here, and challenged in fresh ways by the way David exposited them. How could the same passages, some of which she’d had memorized for years, still impact her in new, relevant ways?

  She wasn’t sure. But she craved these times spent in Scripture, with David Connor sitting on the edge of the stage in the building where they lived and breathed God’s Word, hearing what he had to say.

  “So, as you’re going in the next few weeks,” David said, “back to those places where you’ve come from, back to where God has raised you up, back to what you knew before you knew Christ like you know Him now... well, know that He goes with you. That He’s called you towards home for a very distinct purpose, and that He knows exactly where you’re going so that you’ll share His truth with others and lead them into salvation as well.”

  The students watched him, some of them nodding and even more of them looking quite terrified.

  “Brother David,” a young man named Shati said uncertainly. “My parents will think I’ve joined a cult.”

  There was a little bit of nervous laughter from some other students, along with worried glances over at David.

  But David relieved them all when he himself laughed. “I would imagine so,” he said. “It’s a difficult thing for someone else to understand, how God has been speaking to your heart, you know?”

  “It’s impossible,” Hatutale, another one of the boys, shared. “My family will not understand it.”

  “May I tell you something?” David asked.

  And the students nodded, as did Camille, as they all leaned forward in their seats, eager to hear one of Brother David’s stories.

  “I told my father, back when I was seventeen, that I was going to live in Africa one day and share stories about Jesus with teenagers.” At this he grinned as the students around him smiled back. He was doing it, obviously. Just like he said he would at seventeen.

  “And you have, Brother David,” Esther said.

  “Knew I would,” he answered. “But my father wasn’t so sure. I told him what God wanted me to do, and he told me that it was a waste. That my life would be a waste.”

  Camille suppressed a surprised gasp at this. Of all the sermons she’d heard in her life from Paul Connor, she’d never heard anything but praise for the mission field, admiration for those who went, and urgency for more to go.

  But perhaps it was different when the one being called was your own. Still, though...Paul Connor, saying that his son’s life would be a waste?

  It was hard to grasp.

  “Is your father unredeemed?” Shati asked.

  It wasn’t as hard for these students. They had no idea who Paul Connor was like Camille did. They only heard that he was a father and likely compared him to their own fathers, many of whom were unredeemed, living without Christ even now.

  “Oh, no, Dad’s born again,” David said. “But he has his own ideas about the way God should work. And his son, in Africa? Not the way he thought it should be. So, in the same way your parents might not understand what God is doing in your life... well, my father didn’t understand what God was doing in my life.”

  Elizabeth raised her hand. “Brother David, what does he think now?”

  David smiled sadly. “Does it matter what he thinks now?”

  “He’s your father,” Shati said softly.

  “He is,” David nodded. “Just like your fathers are your fathers. And you will want to share with them, because you love them, because Christ tells you to. But, friends, you will be obedient to Christ, despite what your fathers think. You must answer to the Lord before anyone else on the earth.”

  Good words. Such good words.

  Such hard words, Camille knew, after a lifetime of pleasing her parents, pleasing her teachers, pleasing the board.

  David had learned it early, apparently, this way to be free from needing to please his father, who could never be pleased as long as David did what Christ had called him to do.

  “You need to honor your parents,” David said. “But when their expectations lead you from Christ, you need to follow Jesus first. You can still love your parents even as you do that. And you should love them for the glory of God. But He is first. Always. And you must remember that in all of your relationships. Friendships, marriages –”

  And at this, there were giggles from the girls.

  Camille gave him a smile even as she shook her head. He rolled his eyes at this and smiled at her.

  “Yes, even that,” he said. “Even the people you love most dearly in this world can never take the place of Jesus. I hope if we’ve learned anything this term, we’ve learned that. And if you love Him, you can certainly live for Him, even if you’re not here.”

  “We can share His truth, even when we’re all alone,” Elizabeth murmured softly.

  “We can. We can do all things through Christ, for His glory. Why is that, Camille?” David asked, finding her eyes, nodding encouragement at her, at the answer he knew she would give.

  “It’s because we don’t do the work,” she said softly, thinking of all that they
’d seen happen, even in this short while. How much David must have seen as well, before she even got here.

  “And how is that?” David asked.

  “God does it through us,” she answered. “It’s all Him. Not us.”

  “Exactly,” he murmured. “And that’s our prayer for you. For all of you. That as you go home, He’ll do the work of changing hearts as you follow Him and love Him.”

  And with that, he began to pray over the students, for what they would face as they went home as new people, made new in Christ, transformed for His purpose, on mission for His glory.

  Camille felt so much, loving these students, even now, even as she reached over and put her hands on their hands, their shoulders, squeezing, knowing them so well, already missing them, desperately hoping for the best for them.

  It was another two hours before she was alone with David, waving to the last student, even as he shut down the building.

  “I didn’t know that about your dad,” she said, bringing them back to the words he’d spoken about Paul Connor and the waste he thought his son’s life was.

  “Not a story he likely shares from the pulpit,” David nodded, locking the door and turning to her.

  “I’m sorry that he did that,” she said. “But I’m glad you did what you did, David.”

  And at this? He smiled. A genuine smile. “Some of us didn’t do what our parents wanted us to do, did we?”

  She had. But she was challenged even now to begin to think about life and pleasing God, doing things the way He would have her do them, and being open to the blessings He had for her.

  “You still did something good, David,” she said very sincerely, thinking of all the students already preparing to go back onto their mission field. “Something very, very good.”