A New Beginning (9 page)

The church was nearly as full that evening as it had been in the morning. Word had spread throughout the afternoon of what Christopher had told the committee about deferring his decision, so there was a lot of curiosity about what new thing he was going to say. There were those that figured he had decided against taking the position after all and now wanted to explain his reasons.

“I want to express first of all,” Christopher began, “how grateful both my wife Corrie and I are for the warmth of your gracious love toward us. I know how beloved Avery Rutledge was to all of you. In the short time since I have been in Miracle Springs I have been closely enough acquainted with him to know why. Corrie and I spent a good deal of time in the Rutledge home, both before our marriage and since, and we considered Avery and his dear wife to be close and special friends.

“It is not easy for a congregation to lose a man such as Avery—the only pastor this growing church has ever known. In light of that, I consider it a rare honor that you have opened yourselves so quickly and hospitably to me in calling me to fill his now-vacant shoes. Corrie, of course, you have all known as long as you have known your former pastor. But until this morning most of you knew very little about me, and I am humbled that your invitation has been so enthusiastic.

“Naturally, as you might well imagine, my prayers in recent days have been energetic and not without a good deal of emotion. I am, as you know, a native Easterner. Up until a year or two ago, California might as well have been a foreign country as far as I was concerned.”

A few chuckles went around the room.

“Then I had the good fortune to meet and fall in love with the young lady who would become my wife, and suddenly California was the most exciting state in the Union!”

More chuckles followed, and embarrassment on my part. It was always more embarrassing for me to hear someone else talking about me, even than to stand up and do the talking myself.

“To be honest,” Christopher went on, “when I told Corrie that I intended to come from Virginia here to Miracle Springs, the only thing I had in mind at the time was to ask her father for her hand in marriage—which, I want publicly to thank him for granting,” he added, glancing over to where Pa was sitting. Pa nodded with a smile.

“The point is that I did not stop fully to consider what moving here might mean in terms of my own future. My brain was a little too occupied with Corrie at the time to think about anything beyond seeing her again!”

Christopher paused a moment, and his expression became more thoughtful.

“As you know,” he went on, “in recent months I have been planning for us to pursue our future once more in the East. But there has been no clear and distinct leading with regard to that future. Now suddenly I find myself faced with an offer that would essentially make me a
Californian
myself.

“All this is by way of saying that, even though I came to Miracle Springs as a stranger to all but one of you, after the prayer and soul-searching of these past few days since your committee's offer to me, I now realize that I consider this more of a home than any place I have been before. Suddenly thoughts of returning to the East—though Corrie and I are booked on a ship due to leave San Francisco later this very week!—now seem remote and unreal. You heard the story of my early years this morning, and you know what a struggle it has been for me to find a place to call home and to find a family with whom I could know I was loved.

“I
have
found such here, in this place . . . with you. I am more grateful than you can know for the open arms that Drum and Almeda and their family have held out to me. I feel that same love flowing from the rest of you too. That is what I have come to know with a contentment that I believe has come from my heavenly Father—
this
is my home . . . here with you.”

As Christopher paused for a breath, I could tell everyone was touched by what he said. I was dabbing my own eyes, and I saw Almeda doing the same, and here and there a quiet amen sounded in thankful affirmation.

“Therefore, with all that as introduction, I want to reaffirm, as I said this morning, that I
am
prepared to accept your invitation to—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, he was interrupted by more amens and applause from everyone.

Christopher laughed.

“Thank you. You are all very kind. However, you didn't let me finish! And the second thing I was going to say is equally as important as the first.”

Again he paused while everyone settled down, curious about what he was going to add.

“I said that I was
prepared
to accept your invitation to become the minister of the Miracle Springs Community Church,” he said, giving special emphasis to the word. “Yet just as I felt you needed to know more about me and my background before I could accept your invitation, I think it is only fair that you know more about what kind of a pastor I would be as well. In other words, there remains one further proviso to my acceptance, one further opportunity I must give you to speak now or forever hold your peace, as it were.”

There was some shifting around as everyone listened, and Christopher could tell the people were uncertain about what he meant.

“Let me try to explain,” he said. “I am a firm believer in not making hasty decisions. I fear that much damage is done by rushing to the conclusion that God is leading in some matter, when we are listening instead to our own emotions and desires. Rarely does one err by waiting.

“However . . .” and here Christopher smiled, “in this present case, we do not have a great deal of time, as Corrie and I have all our worldly possession packed away in preparation to leave for San Francisco the day after tomorrow! Therefore, I must make a decision—and quickly. In order to prevent my mistaking God's leading, therefore, I felt it wise, notwithstanding your vote of this morning, to allow you one final opportunity to reconsider your decision.

“In order to give you what additional information is possible that might cause you to see me in a different light, I want this evening to tell you very candidly why you might want to do so. I would utter no word to sway anyone favorably, to woo or impress. I would have not a single one among you say six months or a year from now, ‘If only I had known this . . . I would not have voted in favor of the man.'”

Again Christopher paused, this time to draw in a deep breath.

“Therefore,” he continued, “this evening I am going to do my best to tell you what sort of pastor I will likely be. I will say it in a word—I will consider it my sacred duty to
challenge
you, not to pamper you, to challenge you with the same precepts by which I challenge myself.

“If you are uncomfortable with what I say, therefore, it would be good to speak up now and withdraw the call before Corrie and I change our plans. I have seen too many churches get into difficulty with pastors because they knew not what manner of man they were inviting into their pulpit.

“Too often the pulpit is seen as a position of prestige rather than a position of servanthood. I do not see it so. I would have you fully aware of any and every grievance you might someday want to bring against me. I would have us bring our differences into the light ahead of time, so that they do not cause division between us later.

“When I pastored before, in Richmond, the precepts I taught fell unwelcome on many ears. I came to be viewed as something of a radical, as holding fanatical spiritual positions. Most of my congregation wanted a brand of Christianity that would enable them to feel good and retain the comforts to which their societal positions entitled them, but which would exact no cost—no cost to their
selves
, no cost to their pride, no cost to their time or bank accounts. They did not
want
to be challenged. Their desire was for a restful Christianity which made few demands upon the conscience. Servanthood and self-sacrifice were in no wise elements of their spiritual creed. My words, therefore, were unwelcome in their ears.

“The situation grew untenable, and when I finally left that pastorate my vision for the ministry was at death's door. I vowed I would never again seek a pulpit, nor would I ever occupy one without ascertaining first whether the congregation desired the brand of Christianity which burns in my heart. Knowing our late friend Avery Rutledge as I feel I did, I think I know the answer to my question already. After hearing him preach only a time or two, I knew I had discovered a kindred spirit. However, I must be faithful to this commitment I made to myself several years ago.

“This is why I say I am prepared to accept your invitation. I said so this morning, and I say so again. But I want again to give
you
the final say in the matter of a decision. For with me in this pulpit, you
will
be challenged, even as I challenge myself. You
will
be confronted with servanthood and self-denial, even as I attempt to live out those truths in my own life. You
will
be called upon to examine the cost of following Jesus and of heeding the voice of your conscience. What we will seek together will not be cozy, comfortable Christianity, but rather the discipleship of sacrificial Christlikeness.

“If I am your pastor, I will see it as my duty and obligation, as I said, to challenge, not to pamper. I will not hope to send you back to your homes every Sunday not feeling warm and comfortable, but rather with the same prayerful discomforts with which I am myself afflicted.

“Is this what you want? Then I am your man. Is this
not
what you want? Then I am
not
your man.

“Do these bold words strike fear in your hearts? Perhaps you find the spirit of indignation rising up within you, whispering into your ear,
Who does the presumptuous young fellow think he is
?”

Christopher paused and looked throughout the silent church.

“I would have you examine your reactions,” he added, “be they favorable
or
negative. I would have you be anything but lukewarm and noncommittal, because nothing is more killing to a growing faith than that.”

Again he paused, this time with a very serious expression.

“I leave the matter before you one final time,” he said, “—Corrie, if you would join me . . .” Christopher said, stepping down and walking to where I sat. He offered his arm. I stood and took it. “Drum, Almeda, and the rest of you,” Christopher added, looking at Zack, Tad, Becky, and Ruth, “I think it might be best for all of you to come with us as well, so that the church can be free to discuss the matter.”

He now turned and addressed the congregation again.

“We will leave you now and return home. I encourage you to discuss the matter openly and with forthrightness. Anyone with objections, please voice them now, for the good of the church. Patrick,” he said, nodding toward Mr. Shaw, “—I turn the rest of the service over to you. Goodnight and God bless you all.”

Christopher and I walked down the aisle and outside the somber church, followed by the rest of the family.

Mr. Shaw, Mr. Harding, and Agnes Bosely came to the house again the following morning about eleven o'clock. Katie was already there, so we had been expecting them.

“You're still our man, Christopher!” said Patrick Shaw as Christopher and I walked out to greet their buggy.

“Katie tells us there was a lively discussion,” replied Christopher.

“You stirred things up just a bit by what you said.”

“Good!” laughed Christopher. “I was hoping to. A complacent church is a stagnant church.”

“After your message yesterday morning everyone was favorable and sympathetic,” laughed Mr. Harding. “Then last night you gave them more to think about than many expected.”

“Sometimes a good shaking is just what the doctor ordered,” rejoined Christopher.

“Well, the long and the short of it,” now put in Mr. Shaw, “is that nothing has changed. Both the church and we as the committee want you as our next pastor.”

“Thank you, Patrick,” replied Christopher. “Was the vote unanimous this time?”

Mr. Shaw glanced over at the other three a little nervously.

“Actually . . . no, it wasn't,” replied Mr. Harding.

“But tell him, too, Douglas, that there were only three dissenting votes,” added Aunt Katie hastily.

All eyes now turned toward Christopher, waiting to see how he would respond.

“I'm glad to hear it!” he said. “After the things I said last evening, if you had said it was unanimous, I would either not have believed you or else would have known that
somebody
wasn't speaking up. There are
always
objections to Christianity that challenges people. Knowing that some objections
were
aired sets my mind at ease that probably most of the negative reactions had a chance to be voiced. If, after that, the vote was still so close to unanimous, then I am very encouraged.”

“You are not put off by the fact that three individuals voted against you?”

Christopher laughed. “Certainly not. That will keep things interesting!”

“Do you want to know who the three were?”

“I have no interest in knowing. Although,” he laughed, “I'm sure I shall find out soon enough. The objectors in any church usually manage to make their voices heard more determinedly than the rest.”

“Well then . . . ?” said Mrs. Bosely.

“Then . . . what?” rejoined Christopher.

“What is your answer?”

“About the invitation?”

The heads of all four of the committee members nodded up and down in unison.

“I would say that if Corrie and I are going to stay here in Miracle Springs . . . then we have some unpacking to do!”

I shrieked with delight and threw my arms around him.

We were staying!

“And I'd better go straight into town,” Christopher added, “and telegraph San Francisco to see about a refund on our tickets!”