by Jan Karon
These High, Green Hills, Ch. 17 (II Timothy 1:7)
HE ADJUSTED HIS glasses and read toward a favorite passage, a passage that, every year, seemed to stand apart for him.
“Continue in the things which you’ve learned and have been assured of, knowing of whom you learned them, and that from a child you’ve known the holy scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.”
He read on, toward the end of the second letter, where the chief apostle made a request. “The cloak that I left at Troas…, when you come, bring it with you….” Because Paul was then almost certainly ill and dying, those few lines never failed to move him.
“Do thy diligence to come before winter,” the letter said in closing.
In other words, Hurry! Don’t let me down. Soon, it will be bitterly cold.
In the end, would he be able to say with Paul, I have fought a good fight! I have finished the course! I have kept the faith!
Time, which tells everything, would tell that, also.
These High, Green Hills, Ch. 17 (II Timothy 3:14–15, 4:13, 4:21)
HE WAS MISSING HER.
How many times had he gone to the phone to call, only to realize she wasn’t there to answer?
When Sadie Baxter died last year at the age of ninety, he felt the very rug yanked from under him. She’d been family to him, and a companionable friend; his sister in Christ, and favorite parishioner. In addition, she was Dooley’s benefactor and, for more than half a century, the most generous donor in the parish. Not only had she given Hope House, the new five-million-dollar nursing home at the top of Old Church Lane, she had faithfully kept a roof on Lord’s Chapel while her own roof went begging.
Sadie Baxter was warbling with the angels, he thought, chuckling at the image. But not because of the money she’d given, no, indeed. Good works, the Scriptures plainly stated, were no passport to heaven. “For by grace are you saved through faith,” Paul wrote in his letter to the Ephesians, “and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God—not of works, lest any man should boast.”
The issue of works versus grace was about as popular as the issue of sin. Nonetheless, he was set to preach on Paul’s remarks, and soon. The whole works ideology was as insidious as so many termites going after the stairs to the altar.
Out to Canaan, Ch. 2 (Ephesians 2:8–9)
“TAKE NO THOUGHT for the morrow…” he muttered, quoting Matthew.
“Don’t worry about anything…” he said aloud, quoting his all-time standby verse in the fourth chapter of Philippians, “but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, make your requests known unto God. And the peace that passes all understanding will fill your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
He’d been doing it all wrong. As usual, he was trying to focus on the big picture.
He glanced at the stepping-stones he and Cynthia had laid together last year, making a path through the hedge. There! right under his nose.
Step by step. That was the answer.
Out to Canaan, Ch. 2 (Matthew 6:34; Philippians 4:6–7)
FOR YEARS, he had feared this whole retirement issue. Even Stuart confessed to dreading it, and had once called retirement “a kind of death.”
For himself, however, he had made peace with his fear last year in the cave. He had been able, finally, to forgive his father, to find healing and go on.
In some way he would never fully understand, he’d thought that by preaching into infinity, he could make up for having been unable to save his father’s soul. Not that he could have saved it, personally—that was God’s job. But he had somehow failed to soften his father’s heart or give him ears to hear, and had believed he could never make up for that failing, except to preach until he fell.
Now he knew otherwise, and felt a tremulous excitement about stepping out on faith and finding his Canaan, wherever it may be. Indeed, the fear he now wrestled with was the fear of the unfamiliar. Hadn’t he been wrapped in a cocoon for the last sixteen years, the very roof over his head provided?
“By faith, Abraham went out,” he often quoted to himself from Hebrews, “not knowing where….”
He knew one thing—he didn’t want to leave the priesthood. He was willing to supply other pulpits here, there, anywhere, as an interim. Wouldn’t that be an adventure, after all? Cynthia Kavanagh certainly thought so. He suspected she had already packed a bag and stashed it in the closet.
Out to Canaan, Ch. 5 (Hebrews 11:8)
HE THOUGHT OF the old needlepoint sampler his grandmother had done, framed and hanging in the rectory kitchen. He had passed it so often over the years, he had quit seeing it. The patient stitching, embellished with faded cabbage roses, quoted a verse from the Sixty-eighth Psalm.
“Blessed be the Lord,” it read, “who daily loadeth us with benefits.”
“Loadeth!” he exclaimed aloud. “Daily!”
Out to Canaan, Ch. 7 (Psalm 68:19)
IN THE KITCHEN, Cynthia said, “You won’t believe this! Look!”
She pointed under the kitchen table, where Barnabas and Violet were sleeping together. The white cat was curled against the black mass of the dog’s coat, against his chest, against the healing wound.
Father Tim sank to his knees, astounded, peering under the table with unbelieving eyes.
“It’s a miracle,” Cynthia told Buck. “They’ve been mortal enemies for years. You can’t imagine how he’s chased her, and how she’s despised him.”
Barnabas opened one eye and peered at the rector, then closed it.
“The lion shall lie down with the lamb!” crowed Cynthia.
“Merry Christmas, one and all!” whooped the rector.
Out to Canaan, Ch. 21 (Isaiah 11:6)
“WHEN WE FOUND the bridge was out, we thought it too far to turn back for a place to sleep,” Cynthia said.
“And we nearly missed the ferry!” exclaimed Father Tim, oddly enjoying the account of their travail. “We made it with two minutes to spare.”
“Oh, my poor souls! That bridge goes out if you hold your mouth wrong. You know the state bigwigs don’t pay attention to little specks of islands like they pay to big cities. Well, we’re thrilled you’re here, and I hope you like perch.”
“We love perch!” they exclaimed in unison.
“‘Where two or more are gathered together in one accord…’” quoted the senior warden, laughing. Sam liked both the looks and the spirit of this pair.
In truth, he was vastly relieved that his prayers had been answered, and, as far as he could see, St. John’s hadn’t been delivered two pigs in a poke.
A New Song, Ch. 5 (Matthew 18:20)
HIS EYE FOLLOWED the aisle to the sanctuary, where a cross made of ship’s timbers hung beneath an impressive stained glass.
In the dimly illumined glass, the figure of Christ stood alone with His hands outstretched to whoever might walk this aisle. Behind Him, a cerulean sea. Above, an azure sky and a white gull. The simplicity and earnestness of the image took his breath away.
“‘Come unto me…’” he read aloud from the familiar Scripture etched on the window in Old English script, “‘all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”
These were his first spoken words in his new church, words that Paul Tillich had chosen from all of Scripture to best express his personal understanding of his faith.
Suddenly feeling the weariness under the joy, he slipped into a pew on the gospel side and sank to his knees, giving thanks.
A New Song, Ch. 5 (Matthew 11:28)
HE TOOK THE Book of Psalms from the bag.
“I brought you something. You may not be able to read it for a while, but keep it near. It’s King David’s songs—they’re about joy and praise, loss and gain, about his battles with the mortal enemy, and his battles with depression.
“Let me read to you….”
As a child, the most comforting thing he knew was being read to. He figured it worked for eve
rybody.
“‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
“‘When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.
“‘Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.’”
He sat silent for a moment.
“David had many foes, Janette, the human kind as well as the foes that have come against you; anger, bitterness, fear, maybe even resentment toward God.
“When I read the psalms, I read them as personal prayers, naming the enemies that come against my own soul.
“‘For in the time of trouble,’” David says, “‘he will hide me in his pavilion: in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me: he shall set me upon a rock.’
“Let Him hide you, Janette, until you gain strength. He will set you upon a rock. Please know that.”
He listened to her quiet, regular breathing. Maybe she really was asleep. He prayed silently for the seeds to fall on fertile ground.
“I’ve marked this psalm for you, the thirtieth. Hear this with your very soul, Janette. ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.’”
Without turning in the bed, she raised her hand slightly, and he stood, and held it.
A New Song, Ch. 9 (I Corinthians 3:6) (Psalm 27:1–5; Psalm 30:5)
BUCK’S THREE MARRIAGES had all ended tragically. His first wife had died of an undiagnosed blood disease, his second wife had committed suicide, and, twelve years ago, his third wife left with his foreman and sued for divorce.
“In those three marriages, you didn’t know Him, you didn’t have a clue who He really is. St. Paul says that when we give our lives to Christ, we become new creatures. ‘If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold all things have become new.’”
There was a grateful silence at the other end.
“I’m praying for you and Pauline and the children. You’ll need His grace on this side of the cross as much as you needed it on the other. Pray for His grace, Buck, to carry you and Pauline from strength to strength as you build this new life together.”
He listened to static on the line as his friend in Alaska struggled to speak.
“Thanks,” said Buck, standing in a phone booth in Juneau, and feeling that a D-8 Cat had just rolled off his chest.
A New Song, Ch. 11 (II Corinthians 5:17)
“BEING BORN INTO this church body confers no special distinctions or ownership. You’ve hurt a great many people here, Jeffrey.”
“There is such a thing as forgiveness, Father.”
“Are you asking forgiveness from the people of St. John’s?”
Jeffrey crossed his legs and moved his left foot rapidly back and forth. “If that’s what it takes.”
“Then you’re admitting you sinned?”
“No. I’m admitting I made a mistake.”
Father Tim looked carefully at the man before him. “There’s a bottom line to asking forgiveness. And it’s something I don’t see or sense in you in the least.”
“A bottom line?”
“Repentance. Forgiveness isn’t some cheap thing to be gotten on a whim. It’s purchased with a deep desire to please God. It’s about renouncing….”
“I have renounced. We aren’t living together anymore.”
“You’re speaking of the flesh; I’m speaking of the heart.”
Jeffrey Tolson’s face blanched. “As choirmaster here for fourteen years, I’ve heard a good deal of Scripture. You aren’t the only one equipped with the so-called truth. I seem to recall that St. Paul said, ‘Forgive one another as God in Christ forgave you.’”
“Do you believe Christ is the divine Son of God?”
Jeffrey Tolson shrugged. “I suppose so. Not necessarily.”
“We’re told that everyone who believes in and relies on Him receives forgiveness of sins through His name. It’s not really about asking me or the vestry or anyone at St. John’s; it’s about hammering it out with Him.”
A New Song, Ch. 15 (Ephesians 4:32)
HE TOOK HIS Bible from the windowsill, opened it in the low light, and closed his eyes and prayed. Thank you, Lord….
Let’s face it, he could have been fished up from the bottom of Judd’s Creek. The nail in the picket could have pierced Cynthia’s eye instead of her hand. If Maude Proffitt hadn’t jumped when she did, her ceiling would have landed on her head instead of her recliner. The list was endless. St. John’s might have been completely demolished, the whole tree could have come down….
Jericho.
He jerked awake, realizing he’d dozed off. Out of the blue, a word had come upon his heart.
He saw the word in his mind as if it were inscribed on a blackboard with white chalk, JERICHO.
“Jericho,” he whispered, puzzled. Barnabas stirred at his feet.
Lord, is this of You? Are You telling me something?
He examined his heart, and realized he felt the peace he always required in order to know whether God was in a particular circumstance.
Intrigued, he turned in his Bible to the Old Testament, to the sixth chapter of Joshua, and began to read:
“Now Jericho was securely shut up….”
A New Song, Ch. 19 (Joshua 6:1)
O Lord, you are my portion and my cup; it is you who upholds my lot. My boundaries enclose a pleasant land; indeed, I have a goodly heritage. I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel; my heart teaches me, night after night.…
He stood before his Sunday school class in his mother’s Baptist church and recited the whole of the Sixteenth Psalm, for which he would be given a coveted gold star to wear on his lapel.
I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand I shall not fall. My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices; my body also shall rest in hope….
You will show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.
In This Mountain, Ch. 6 (Psalm 16)
From: [email protected]
My old friend,
I write to you as St. Paul wrote to the Hebrews.
“How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you?
“Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you face to face and restore whatever is lacking in your faith.” (If anything be lacking, dear brother)
“Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus direct our way to you and may the Lord make you increase and abound in love…just as (Martha and I) abound in love for you.”
I plan to come through Mitford on 28th, en route to mtg in Charlotte. Will see you then unless advised to contrary. Be encouraged.
Stuart
In This Mountain, Ch. 7 (II Corinthians 12:9)
HE HAD NO tranquillity of heart; the blame that he felt from himself and imagined from others was corrosive. He regretted, in some perverse way, that Bill Sprouse would not sue him.
“I’m not a suing man,” Bill had said when they spoke on the phone. “‘Dare any of you, having a matter against another, go to law before the unjust and not before the saints?’ Saint Paul said it, and I trust it! Then over in Luke, we’re told, ‘As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.’ The Lord himself said it, and I trust it! Besides, I wouldn’t want you suing me for something I couldn’t help. You couldn’t help it, brother. Let up on yourself.”
“I’ll be over to see you as soon as I can,” he had said, mopping his eyes.
Bill had laughed. “Whichever cripple is th’ first to get up an’ around calls on th’ other one. How’s that?”
In This Mountain, Ch. 8 (I Corinthians 6:1); (Luke 6:31)
SAVE ME, O GOD; for the waters are come in unto my soul.
I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I
am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.
I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God….
O God, thou knowest my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from thee….
My prayer is unto thee, O Lord, in an acceptable time: O God, in the multitude of thy mercy hear me….
Hear me, O Lord; for thy lovingkindness is good: turn unto me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies.
And hide not thy face from thy servant; for I am in trouble: hear me speedily.
Draw nigh unto my soul, and redeem it: deliver me because of mine enemies.
Thou hast known my reproach, and my shame, and my dishonour: mine adversaries are all before thee.
Pour out thine indignation upon them, and let thy wrathful anger take hold of them….
He sat in the pool of lamplight at three in the morning, Barnabas at his feet. He was praying the Psalms, as he’d done in times past, with the enemies of King David translated into his own enemies of fear and remorse and self-loathing, which, in their legions, had become as armies of darkness.
In This Mountain, Ch. 8 (Psalm 69)
GEORGE GAYNOR GAZED east from the Lord’s Chapel bell tower to the green hills bordering Mitford.
“X marks the spot,” he said. “My soul was saved as I stood in this very place.”
Father Tim crossed himself, moved by the memory of George Gaynor coming down from the church attic one Sunday morning more than eight years ago. Standing barefoot in front of a stunned congregation, he confessed his theft of the jewels, the long months of hiding in the church attic, and his newfound faith in Jesus Christ.
“Sometimes I think it was the singing,” said George. Tears coursed down his cheeks; he wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “Still bawling, Father, when I think of it.”
“It’s the Holy Spirit keeping your heart soft.”
“But of course it was more than the singing. I remember stealing your Bible….”
Father Tim chuckled. “I turned the place upside down looking for it.”
“It took several days to make the decision to open it. I was convinced that if I opened it, something powerful would happen, something…out of my control.”