A New Beginning (8 page)

“A great passion grew within me to help people become complete men and women—to point their eyes toward God, even when all else in life seemed discouraging and without hope. I wanted people to become sons and daughters of their very personal Father. And this was what ultimately got me thinking about the ministry. I never aspired to having letters after my name, only to be used by God.”

Christopher paused, then smiled.

“I told you at the beginning,” he said, “that I wanted to share with you not only my past, but also of my goals and dreams and why I entered the ministry in the first place. And this I have just said goes a long way to clarify those things. But let me continue with the rest of the background story.

“There were two parts of the Bible school—a regular college where, in addition to Bible and religion courses, all the standard academic disciplines were taught, and a seminary for the specific training of ministers. Regular college degrees were given, as well as divinity degrees.

“After two years in the regular college, I applied for the divinity program. I was twenty-one at the time. This seemed the most likely way to tell people what I now knew about God. It seemed to me that the best avenue through which to help people as I wanted to do would be as the pastor of a church. It seemed that in the church I could do the most good in helping people come to know their heavenly Father.

“I was accepted into the program. This now became my goal—to obtain a Doctor of Divinity degree and to enter the ministry. Since I did not yet have a college degree, the school allowed me to continue my studies at both the college and the seminary concurrently. Many of the classes were night classes, and thus I was able to work half days in order to support myself.

“My body had continued growing longer than for most young men, and even in time a bit of muscle began to appear on my once-scrawny frame. By the time I had moved from Ohio down to Richmond two years prior to this, I was able to get jobs fairly easily. Therefore, I worked my way through college and seminary at a granary, hoisting around hundred-pound bags of wheat. So I never actually needed the financial help my brother had offered. Yet his offer at the time had been what had made the difference in my decision.

“I graduated when I was twenty-five and then spent more than two years as pastor of a sizable church there in the city of Richmond, Virginia, which is where I happened to be when the war broke out. My stand on the war, however, fell uncomfortably upon the ears of the leaders of my congregation. My resignation was requested. That rejection caused my doubts and questions about myself to resurface—though never again did I question the love of God the Father.

“From that time until my leaving the East for Miracle Springs, I worked as foreman and caretaker of a small farm outside the city, which is where I was working when the Lord smiled upon me and brought your own Corrie Belle Hollister—as she was then—into my life.”

Christopher paused, let out a breath that seemed to say he was relieved to have everything said, and looked around the room.

“Well, my friends, there you have a brief capsule of my life's story to this point. I do not know if that will help you with your decision, but I feel more comfortable in the realization that you now know these things about me.”

It was such a moving testimony that most of the women, and even some of the men, had tears in their eyes as they listened. Mr. Shaw stood up as soon as Christopher had finished his final prayer and walked to the front.

“I propose we put the matter to a vote before the whole church right now,” he said.

“Then you will not mind if I excuse myself,” said Christopher. “I would not have your discussion hampered by my presence.”

I rose to join him, and we walked down the aisle and outside, everyone smiling up at us from their seats as we passed.

“Oh, Christopher,” I said as soon as we were outside, “all I can think of is how sad it must have been for you after your mother died. I feel the same way whenever I hear that part of your story.”

“The Lord has a story for all our lives to tell,” he replied, “and every good story has its sad times, otherwise the happy parts wouldn't be as wonderful.”

He smiled tenderly at me, and I could see what he meant right in his face. Christopher became very quiet as we walked slowly away from the church.

“I'm so proud of you,” I said.

“I'm afraid it was far too long,” he sighed.

“You said you wanted them to know Christopher Braxton all the way to the bottom. Now they do.”

“But I should perhaps have spread it out over a couple of weeks.”

“We don't have two weeks. Besides, you told me once that if you ever had the chance to preach again you would tell people enough beforehand either to nail your coffin shut or welcome your ministry with open arms. I would say you did just that.”

“I always become self-conscious after I have spent myself with a lengthy outpouring.”

“Self-conscious? That's not how you sounded to me. You sounded sure of every word.”

“I am sure when I am speaking about who God is and what he does. But then often that little boy jumps back to the front—the little fellow I told them about in there, timid and fearful and convinced no one cares for anything he has to say.”

“But that little fellow is just going to have to realize that he is a man now—a strong man, one of God's men—and that people
want
to hear what he has to say.”

Christopher sighed again. “I'll try to remember,” he said, smiling back to me.

“So, Mrs. Braxton,” he said after a moment's pause, now trying to sound cheerful, “what do you think of the prospect of being a minister's wife?”

“It is certainly a new twist to this new life we've started,” I replied, trying to laugh away my lingering sadness. “And not one I expected!”

“You knew what you were getting when you married me . . . didn't you?”

“I don't suppose I ever thought through what it would mean to
me
if the offer of a church did come along. Even though all this time since we decided to go east you have been talking about the ministry, the thought of being a
minister's wife
hadn't really sunk in.”

“Does it frighten you?”

“I don't think so. I suppose I'm a little apprehensive. What woman wouldn't be? What if I don't measure up to people's expectations? Most of these people still think of me as a little girl. But the prospect of being here in Miracle Springs outweighs all those fears.”

“I want you to be as free of doubts about this—if we
do
stay, and if it turns out they want us—as are the people in the church,” he said, motioning back behind us.

“I want you to be where God wants you to be,” I said, “serving him among people as I know your heart yearns to do. Of course I want to stay here. But most important of all is the fact that you are my husband, Christopher. Where you go, I will go. What you do, I will do. You are the head of this marriage. I want you to be happy and fulfilled. That's what will make
me
happy. If it is in the East, I will be thankful, if here in Miracle Springs, I will be thankful. What do
you
think—do you
want
to accept the invitation here?”

“I can honestly say that I could be happy and content either way. Of course, the thought of having a position from which to minister to a wide range of people and to be able to communicate God's truths—the thought of it is wonderful. We might go to the East and have no such opportunity present itself. And now, here
is
such an opportunity right in front of us. Who can deny that it appears to be God's leading? Yet truthfully, Corrie, the ambition toward the pastorate was burned out of me during the years of my pruning at the Lord's hand while at Mrs. Timms' farm. My desire to go east was not born out of ambition, only ministry, and here it seems to be right in Miracle Springs. I want only what God wants, and nothing more. If that means for you and me to take the Rutledges' place as the ministers of the Miracle Springs church, then I will rejoice. What
he
wants will be best.
That
is what I want.”

Before I could say another word, we heard voices. Turning back, we saw people coming out of the church.

“Didn't take them long, did it?” said Christopher.

As Pa and Almeda came out and down the steps, I saw them speak to Tad, Becky, Zack, and Ruth, then the three older ones fell in step behind them, while Almeda took Ruth's hand. Their faces were very serious.

Oh no!
I thought, my heart suddenly sinking,
Pa was telling them not to say anything and let him be the one to break the bad news!
I don't know what I would think myself, but I couldn't stand it for Christopher if the church voted against him!

They walked toward us. I couldn't tell a thing from anyone's face. They looked pretty somber.

I finally couldn't wait any longer!

“Pa!” I said in exasperation.

He glanced up, still with a blank expression, as if he didn't have a notion what I could mean.

“
Pa . . .
what did they say?” I exclaimed.

“About what?”

“You know! Do they want us or not?”

Slowly now Pa's face broke into a grin.

“'Course they want you,” he said, then stuck out his hand to Christopher. “Congratulations, son . . . or should I say Rev. Braxton?”

They shook hands, and then everyone else gathered around us, all talking at once.

“No Reverend, please,” said Christopher with a sigh of thankful relief. “With all due respect to your late minister, it is a title I am not altogether comfortable with. I will be no different as a pastor than as a layman, and
Christopher
will suit me just fine for both roles.”

“They really want Christopher to be the minister?” I asked excitedly. “Why did you all come out of there with such long faces?”

“I thought I'd make you sweat a little,” laughed Pa.

“Oh, Pa . . . how could you do it?”

“Yes, they want you,” said Almeda. “Harriet stood up the instant you were gone and said that she knew beyond any doubt that God had sent you to Miracle Springs to replace her husband. She said she knew Avery would be wonderfully pleased.”

“A few of them said Christopher might be a little radical,” said Tad.

“But then others said some radical religion might be good for 'em,” added Zack.

“Everyone thinks this is quite a young man you found for yourself, Corrie,” said Almeda.

“I agree,” I added, looking up into Christopher's face.

He was smiling now. I was so happy for him!

“Well, come on,” said Pa. “They told us to bring you back in.”

We turned and followed him back up the steps into the church. Mr. Shaw was at the door with a big smile on his face, his hand outstretched.

“The vote was unanimous!” he said, shaking Christopher's hand.

“Come on back inside—both of you,” Mr. Shaw was saying. “The congregation wants to greet its new pastor.”

Christopher smiled and took my hand, and we walked back into the church. The moment we appeared, for the second time that day, everyone broke into applause, and now rose to go. We stood at the back of the church near the door and greeted everyone on their way outside. Christopher made sure Harriet Rutledge shared the greeting time with us. That reminded me of the sad fact that her husband was so soon gone, which was the only reason all this was happening. We stood on one side of the door and she on the other.

It took forever for the church to empty out.

They all wanted to speak personally to the three of us, telling Harriet how much they had loved Rev. Rutledge and expressing their condolences and at the same time telling Christopher and me how glad they were that we were going to be the new minister and minister's wife of Miracle Springs.

In between handshakes, just after Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. Gilly had both said very nearly that same thing, he bent down and whispered laughing in my ear, “I wonder what they'll say about us when they get away from the church!”

Even the banker Mr. Royce seemed moved. The only time I'd ever seen that man show any sensitive emotion at all was when he'd come over to our house for Christmas dinner several years back. But on this day, as he shook hands with Christopher on the way out of church, I could tell that what had been said had gone even deeper inside him. He clutched Christopher's hand longer than usual and just stared at him deeply in the eyes as if he was trying to say something. But he couldn't get any words out. Finally he gave Christopher's hand another shake, mouthed the two words
Thank you
without hardly any sound to them, then hurried off down the steps and to his carriage without a word to anyone.

Even after the enthusiastic vote, the church committee wanted to make the affirmation of their call to Christopher official. They came to the house that same afternoon, about an hour later, said they'd met again, considered everything both Christopher and the congregation had said, and wanted him to know that the call was unanimous and official, then handed him a written letter of invitation containing each of their four signatures, as well as Harriet's.

Christopher thanked them. “But I still intend to give you one final opportunity to change your minds,” he added, “before I shall give you my final answer. I said earlier that I wanted you to hear my story
and
have the chance to weigh its implications.”

“Are we to take that to mean, Mr. Braxton,” asked Mr. Harding, somewhat confused by Christopher's words, “that you will or will not occupy the pulpit this evening?”

“I will be happy to conduct this evening's service,” Christopher replied.

“Well, be assured, Mr. Braxton, that the whole church is behind you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that very much. But I will reserve further comment until after this evening's service, when you shall have the opportunity I mentioned.”

They all shook hands, then the committee turned and left, three of them in Mr. Harding's carriage, and Aunt Katie by foot. As we watched them go, Christopher slipped his arm around my waist. We stood side by side gazing down the road until they were out of sight.

“What did you mean,” I asked, “by saying you wanted to give them one final chance to change their minds?”

“You will have to wait and find out tonight with everyone else,” smiled Christopher.

Christopher let his arm fall. We joined hands and began walking up along the creek, praying as we went.

“Father,”
Christopher said softly,
“we ask for
you to make your will absolutely clear to us. Speak
through the remainder of this day to our hearts and our minds. Place within us the thoughts you want us
to have. Direct our thoughts, Lord. Direct them into the
channels of your choosing in such a way that we can know they are coming from you and that you
mean them to direct the course of our steps. Give
me guidance concerning what I am to say this evening.
Let my words, whatever is your will concerning the future, speak to the people, even if it be but to
one individual, in such a way that life becomes better than it was before—because someone knows you, their Father,
in a more personal way.”

Christopher stopped and sighed. It was a good, contented sigh. I could tell he felt confident that the decision was in God's hands and that we would be shown what to do.

“Lord,”
I said,
“give us both the same direction. Confirm
to us separately whether this offer is truly from your hand. Guide our steps, guide our thoughts, guide our conversations
and prayers as we reflect upon it. We give this
decision over into your hands completely.”

“Yes, Lord,”
Christopher added,
“we place it entirely into your care. We
thank you for this opportunity, and we commit it to you, so that your purposes might be accomplished through it.”

It fell quiet between us. It was a warm afternoon and as we walked, the smells and sounds of the woods and the creek beside us were wonderfully peaceful.

“Would you like to know what I think . . . personally?” I said after we had gone on a little farther in silence.

“Yes . . . yes I would,” replied Christopher.

“I think it sounds rather exciting.”