The List (33 page)

“May I help you?” Jo asked.

“You can keep me company,” she answered.

Ambling toward the door, George said, “Come on, Renny, we can go on in the other room.”

Going into the great room, George took his accustomed seat to the left of the fireplace. Renny sat on the sofa.

Renny's earlier irritation was gone, and he saw George Manor in a completely different light. Although his simple words had impact and power, the baron of Zion Hall had the nonthreatening approachability of a giant teddy bear.

“I believe God spoke to me on the deck. Not out loud, but in here,” Renny said, pointing to his chest.

“What did he say?”

“It was short.
‘Read my Word.'”

George nodded. “Then that's what you need to do. You'll find the Bible is a different book today than it was yesterday. Only a Christian can fully understand the Bible's message because it's a spiritual book. In 1 Corinthians 2, it states that the man without the Spirit considers the truth of God foolishness because it is only through the Holy Spirit that the words can be understood. You now have that capacity.”

“OK, I read something similar in John.”

George nodded and continued, “In the new relationship you have with the Lord, you must continue to hear and obey his voice. That's the key to repentance and faith. Those things, together with the assurance that God loves you, are the foundations upon which the Lord will build your life. A lot of people worry about the things they don't understand in the Bible. Mark Twain once wrote, ‘It's not what I don't understand in the Bible that troubles me; it's what I do that worries me.' My focus has always been listening to what God is saying and walking in obedience.”

George picked up the Bible Renny had used earlier and patted the cover. “By understanding, I don't mean knowing the dictionary definition of the words used or memorizing a bunch of principles and rules. The Bible is full of principles and rules that are important, but spiritual understanding produces change the same way a close relationship between a husband and wife can, after the passage of time, cause them to look like one another. God is not as interested in the facts we know about the Bible as how much we look like Jesus in our character and conduct.”

With resolve in his voice, Renny said, “I want this.”

“The strength of your desire is important because God rewards those who diligently seek him. That's your part, to make the right choices by an exercise of your will. But real, lasting change is ultimately the result of God's activity in us. It's like my apple trees. They must stay in constant contact with the soil, moisture, and light—the things that give them life and cause them to grow and produce fruit. Stay connected to the Lord, and you will grow as a Christian.”

George handed Renny the Bible. “Why don't you go upstairs to one of the empty guest rooms and read John 15.”

Helen prepared four pan-fried steaks for supper. Heavily seasoned with pepper and spices, the meat was cooked in its own juices and was complemented by a salad with a homemade apple vinaigrette dressing and scalloped potatoes. Instead of praying before the meal, George led everyone in singing the doxology.

“We've done that a time or two in restaurants,” he said as they sat down. “It definitely attracts attention. One time, most of the people in the place joined in before we got to the end.”

During supper, George entertained them with stories from his past. “Once I spoke to a group of men in a prison-release program. Toward the end of my talk, a big guy in the back raised his hand and said, ‘I have a question. It says in the Bible that you have to turn the other cheek if someone hits you. Do you believe that?'

“Everyone looked at me, wondering what I would say. Not seeing any wiggle room, I said, ‘Yes.'

“The guy jumped up from his seat and came up in front of me with a belligerent look on his face. ‘If I hit you, you won't hit back, right?'

“Trapped by my own words, I said, ‘That's right,' and closed my eyes waiting for the blow to fall.

“But nothing happened. In a few seconds, I opened my eyes and he was gone. I looked down, and he was on his knees, asking God to forgive him. Later, he told me that when I closed my eyes, he lost all interest in hurting me. All he could think about was the mess he'd made of his life.”

Listening to George, Renny lost his fear of becoming a religious fanatic. It was simple—unusual things happened to Christians because the Christian life was not designed to be boring. George had gone to exotic places, seen miraculous events, and met fascinating people.

After supper, Helen cleared the table and brought a pitcher of grape juice, four tumblers, and four large pieces of Jewish matzo from the kitchen.

“Let's celebrate,” George said as he poured a full glass for each of them and gave them each a large square of the unleavened bread.

Eyeing the large glass filled to the brim, Renny asked, “Is this for Communion?”

“Yes. Jesus was not stingy in the way he gave himself for us. He didn't use little plastic cups and tiny bits of crackers at the Last Supper. It was part of a real meal, just like we had this evening.”

George said a few words about the Last Supper and invited them to remember the Lord's sacrifice. As Renny drank the juice and munched on the matzo, he didn't have a vision of the cross or see the wounds on Jesus' body. Rather, he had a deep sense of appreciation for what Jesus had done for him, for Renny Jacobson, a man whose struggles with God had, on one level, come to an end. The prodigal was home.

18

Experiment to me is everyone I meet.

E
MILY
D
ICKINSON

R
enny and Jo drove slowly through the orchard as the sun cast its last rays upward in an arch from behind a hill to the west.

“I'd like to come back when the blossoms are on the trees in early spring,” he said.

“If I lived in North Carolina, I'd come every season of the year,” Jo replied.

The ride to the bottom of the mountain seemed shorter than the trip up. Renny pulled into the parking lot of the Phillips Apple Barn and put up the car top. “We'll have a starlit ride another time,” he said.

Jo settled into her seat as Renny shifted the gears and the car hugged the gentle curves of the road. Neither spoke as their minds traveled separate journeys through the events of the day. In a few minutes, Jo dozed off.

While he drove, Renny admired Jo's face as the lights of passing cars and trucks illuminated her profile. She didn't wake up until the Charlotte skyline came into view.

“Good nap?” he asked as she stretched.

“Yes. That was a quick trip.”

“We should be home in about fifteen minutes.”

When they arrived at the house, a light was on in the kitchen, but Mrs. Stokes was already in bed.

“What's the plan for tomorrow?” Jo asked as Renny quietly opened the door for her.

“I have to go to the office for a few hours.”

Jo yawned. “I'll see you when you get back,” she said, turning toward the hallway.

“OK.” Renny reached for the kitchen door handle, then stopped. “Jo,” he said, and waited until she turned around. “Uh . . . thanks.”

Jo needed time alone. Now, rested from her long nap, she sat in the dark in Mrs. Stokes's prayer closet. Several minutes passed. Then she asked the waiting silence the question that had been at the head of the line in her thoughts: “What am I supposed to do if he asks me to marry him?”

“Thank me.”

“For what?” she asked. “That's not an answer.”

“For saving Renny.”

Jo's eyes watered. “I'm sorry. Thank you, Lord.”

Many would rejoice—Renny's mother, Mama A, Mrs. Stokes, and other unknown voices whose prayers were the coinage of reward in heaven. Then she remembered that one saint who had invested in Renny was close enough to tell the good news in person—she needed to tell Mrs. Stokes.

Leaving her sanctuary and walking quietly down the hall, Jo saw light shining under the closed door to Mrs. Stokes's bedroom. She knocked softly. “Mrs. Stokes, it's Jo. May I come in?”

A sleepy-eyed Daisy Stokes opened the door. “Come in. I fell asleep reading a book. How was your trip?”

“Wonderful. Renny gave his heart to the Lord.”

The news brought Mrs. Stokes fully awake. “Praise the Lord! I thought it would be sooner rather than later, but this
is
soon.”

“I wanted you to know. I'll let you go back to sleep.”

“I want to hear all about it in the morning.”

Jo backed out of the room. “Of course. Good night.”

“Jo?”

“Yes?”

“I have a verse for you. ‘Except the L
ORD
build the house, they labour in vain that build it.' Psalm 127:1. The Lord will build your house, don't you worry about it.”

Jo returned to the prayer closet with the verse reverberating in her heart. It was the answer to her question about marrying Renny, and it gave divine perspective to her circumstances. She prayed, “Thank you, Lord. I ask you to build my house, to oversee every aspect of my relationship with Renny.” God was in control. After a quiet half-hour, she went to sleep, untroubled by worrisome dreams of unknown tomorrows.

It was still dark when Renny woke up the following morning. He lay in bed, replaying the previous day's events. Once fully awake, he got out of bed and brewed a cup of coffee. In a bookshelf in the living room was his Bible, a gift from his mother when he started high school. Opening it, he read a forgotten inscription, “To Renny upon your high school graduation. May this book find its way into your heart and provide light to your path. Psalm 119:105.” Sitting at his kitchen table, Renny took a sip of coffee and turned to the verse. It confirmed George Manor's advice, and its words became the second prayer of his young Christian life.

Turning to the New Testament, he began reading about the life of Jesus recorded by Matthew. At first he read rapidly, but when he came to the Sermon on the Mount, his pace slowed. Jesus' words about the nature of righteousness were disturbing. He stopped.
It's not just doing wrong, it's thinking wrong that Jesus labeled sin. Calling someone a fool, looking at a woman with a lustful thought, hating someone who wrongs me, petty jealousies.
He had done all those things—repeatedly. Renny knelt on the kitchen floor, a posture he'd never assumed except on cue in the Episcopal church.