My newest book is in the proof stage at this moment. In about 4 weeks it will be out on the market.
CHAPTER ONE
THE WALK
Two men, one in casual office clothes and the other in a sweat shirt soaked with sweat, sat in Mug’s Diner talking over coffee cups that were empty, awaiting the waitress. Both wore the total body expressions of frustration. Pastors and preachers can get that way on occasion. The waitress finally brought the coffee pot and topped off both men’s cups, getting a quiet ‘thank you’ from each of the men.
“You two ready to order yet?”
“No. Coffee first and then order. You know the routine,” one said gruffly.
The waitress turned, heading for a table in the other dark corner of the diner. She could tell when she wasn’t wanted.
“Andy, I’m ready to call it quits and move to a quiet place on a mountain top and spend the rest of my days meditating on the presence of God and His Word. Two families left the church Sunday because I said that the nails in Jesus’ hands were probably in the part of the hand we call the wrist and not the palms of his hands as generally presented. I even added it could have been either based on historical information. One of them said I should be using the King James Version only.
“Did it matter that much? Was it really enough for two families to grab their Bibles and run out the door before I could end the closing prayer. Then, my cell started buzzing just as I got out of the car in the driveway. As rapidly as they could talk, I was informed they were leaving the church and wouldn’t be back. I didn’t get a word in edgewise before they were gone. I went to both of their houses after lunch, figuring they’d have had time to cool down, and got the door slammed in my face at one place. The second stop even said, ‘I won’t listen to your speculations and heretical doctrine anymore,’ before he slammed the door.
“Tell me something, Andy. Is the location of the nails that important?”
“Yes, to them.”
Stan looked up from his coffee cup, “Should I just concede to their way and forget what I consider to be the truth?”
“No. Never. How about letting them go? The Bible says, ‘they went out from us because they were not a part of us.’ Do you think they will split the congregation over this? Personally, I am tired of chasing folks who get their feathers ruffled because I or someone else said something they didn’t like.”
“No. Others have called and supported my presentation.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
They both went silent until the waitress said, “You ready to order, Pastors?” She was not happy with them.
They ordered.
The waitress turned to leave.
“Add a piece of pity pie and some sour grapes to Pastor Stan’s order.”
Stan’s look changed from hang dog to defense. “Pity pie? What do you mean?”
“Just joking, Judy.” Andy turned back to Stan. “Athough, I do hear some whine. You want, maybe, cheese and crackers to go with the whine instead of pity pie.”
“Get off it. What kind of a friend are you?” Stan’s voice dripped with incredulousness.
Andy leaned back in his chair and put up both hands as if to defend himself. “Don’t hit me. Don’t hit me.”
Stan just looked with his jaw in his lap. “What?” He got up and walked to the bathroom.
Andy sat with a painted-on smile for those watching, sipping his coffee from time to time until Stan came back to the table.
“Feel better?” Andy asked as Stan sat down.
“Yeah, the pity party is over. It’s been rough, and sometimes, I forget that I’m supposed to count on Christ to carry me through the rough times. I’m okay now, I think. It’s just that my congregation is so messed up and I think it’s because I’m the pastor. What am I doing wrong?”
“From that statement, I’d say you are taking it too personal.”
“Remedy?”
“Prayer and searching the Word. Jesus is always the answer, it’s just the application that can be tricky.”
The meals were set in front of them with a, “Will that be all? Catsup? Hot sauce? Crying towel?” She backed up.
“What?” Stan looked up.
“Pastors, I have been serving you both for a couple years now and I think maybe you are both a bit troubled. I think I know why.”
“Why?” said the two men in unison.
“You are both in love with people and changing people to walk with Jesus. Who’s in charge of that change?”
“God is. We know that,” said Stan.
Judy offered coffee. Both men lifted their cups. She withdrew the pot.
“What?” asked Andy.
“Hey, I want more coffee and you’re supposed to dish it out.”
“Just because you want doesn’t mean you are going to get, boys. I am in charge of the coffee. When and how much I pour is my decision, not yours. You can ask, but it’s still up to me. You can call and ask all you want, but I’m in charge of the coffee.”
“Leave the pot and let us pour our own.”
She walked away and came back with a carafe. “Here’s your pot.”
She turned and walked away.
“What is this all about,” asked Andy.
“Beats me.”
They returned their attention to the food, both heads shaking in frustration.
Stan reached for his cup and found it empty. He found the carafe empty and cold. He raised his cup and said, “Judy,” in a voice just loud enough for her to hear which was the normal method of getting coffee from Judy.
She ignored him.
He yelled louder.
She ignored him.
Finally, he walked over to her and said, “Would you please give us some coffee.”
She answered, “Do you really want it?”
“Yeah, we really want coffee.”
“You have to ask the way I want to be asked, not the way you have done it for these past two years.”
“How’s that?”
“Sincerely, quietly, and with intense feeling of surrender.”
Stan fell to his knees, “I surrender to your way and not my way with all my being I will follow your directions.”
Andy laughed at the show.
“Why, surely I will pour out my blessing of coffee for you, my good man. All who surrender and ask from their very being, I provide their needs.”
The sarcasm rolled, the coffee was poured, and the men continued with their meal.
“I get it,” Andy said, pushing his plate to the side.
Judy walked over, “What do you get, kind sir?”
“At first, you are playing the role of God. We are somehow told how to get your blessing of coffee, but it has to be your way or else. Then, you are the proclaimer of how to achieve a full cup of coffee. We are the folk in the chairs who listen to you and it is up to us to ask and, at the end, you are the one who has total control of the outcome, which is God again. You can choose to deliver or not depending on the sincerity of the needy one and your will.”
Stan piped in with, “Just like we are the teachers and God has His method of delivering the changed life. The people in the chairs are the decision makers who choose yay or nay in following the directions.”
“Gents, God is in control. All either of you can do is teach the sheep in your flock. And, there’s a lot of folks that hate the idea of being sheep. Some are going to stick, and others are going to run.” Judy turned and went to the kitchen.
They ate as they discussed the heavy topics of apathy in the pew, how ten percent of the people carry the church financially and the work, and then there was the modern concept of industrial assembly line made salvation of say this prayer and you’re okay, and the ever-popular personalized gods.
“Okay. I’ll flip ya for the bill.” Andy pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it up.
“Call it.”
“Tails.”
The coin landed on the floor. They both watched it roll under the table and out the other side, rolling until it strangely took a sharp right turn, hitting a man’s shoe. The man promptly stomped the coin.
“Mine.”
Stan said, “Okay by me. Just lift your foot up so we can see who won the honor of paying the bill.”
“Mine.”
Andy turned, pulling another coin from his pocked, “Suits me. Call it.”
The coin turned over and over in the air, landing on the pile of dirty dishes. It stuck edgewise in left over cottage cheese on Stan’s plate.
“How did you do that?” Stan asked.
“Skill. It’s on your plate. You pay.”
Stan agreed.
At the register, Judy told them, “The man going out the door picked up your tab. He said for you to think on who’s in charge a bit more and walked away.”
Andy went out the door, looked in the direction the man had turned. There was no one there. Only three cars were in the parking lot. One was his, another was Stan’s, so the man had to be in the third. A short run to the third car found an empty car. The area around the parking lot was wide open and the man could not have moved far enough to be out of sight.
Stan caught up, “Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know. Let’s adjourn to my office for some prayer time.”