And the Shofar Blew (17 page)

CHAPTER 7

P
AUL STOOD at the front door of the church, shaking hands with people as they filed out of the sanctuary. Several said his message was anointed. Most said they enjoyed the service immensely. Yet his despair deepened. It didn’t matter how many complimented him, his father’s opinion was what mattered most, and all David Hudson had said was, “Not bad. I’ll give you a few pointers later.”

His father could still reduce him to nothing with just a few words.

From the night Eunice had told him his parents were coming, he had worked constantly. Now, his parents were in the fellowship hall, his father undoubtedly surrounded by admirers, feted by the deacons and deaconesses who had prepared an elaborate potluck and program to honor David Hudson, famous TV evangelist.

What was so wrong with the sermon he had given? Flawless alliteration, poignant illustrations, light touches. The congregation had laughed when he’d wanted them to laugh, become silent and thoughtful when he’d wanted them to be silent and thoughtful. He’d even roused their tears.

“Not bad.”

The curse of faint praise.

Days of hard work, and still he didn’t measure up to his father’s expectations. He never had, and probably never would. Several new people came around the corner, talking together. Paul kept the smile tacked to his face. He needed to be upbeat or they might walk out the door and never come back. And he would’ve failed again.

“Great sermon, Pastor.”

“I’m glad you joined us this morning. I hope you’ll come back.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it. Is David Hudson really your father?”

What was that supposed to mean? That his sermon was a shadow to his father’s oratory talents? “Yes, he is.”

“Will he be speaking at the evening service?”

“No.”

“What a pity. We were hoping to hear him in person.”

Paul’s stomach tightened. “My father is here on vacation, but you have an opportunity to meet him in the fellowship hall. We’re having a potluck lunch to honor him.”

The husband and wife looked at one another in dismay. “We didn’t bring anything.”

“We planned for visitors. We have plenty. The fellowship hall is right around the corner. You’re more than welcome to stay and meet my parents as well as members of our congregation. Everyone will make you welcome.” He watched them go down the steps toward the gathering, and then he turned to meet several others filing out of the church.

Maybe he’d disappointed his mother as well. She’d smiled at him, but said nothing before going down the steps with his father. In fact, she had barely looked at him. He wished he could go into his office, close the door, and have a few minutes to get his emotions under control before he joined everyone in the fellowship hall. He felt like smashing something.

Where was Eunice when he needed her? Was she off shooting the breeze with some of the old biddies again? She should be talking to people like LaVonne Lockford and Jessie Boham, women who could actually
do
something for the church.

Never had he been more acutely aware of the small scale of this old church than today with his father sitting in the front pew. CCC must look small and shabby compared to his father’s church. And most of the people were common workers rather than the affluent members of his father’s congregation. But that was changing. The mayor was now coming regularly, and so were the Athertons, as well as others who owned their own businesses. Still, Paul had seen the way his father looked around.

Paul hurried the last few stragglers to the potluck and strode up the aisle. Eunice was tucking her music into the piano bench. “What’s taking you so long? We should be in the fellowship hall.”

She came down the steps. “You asked me to play a postlude. We can use the side doors.” She paused. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’mall right. Let’s go before everyone wonders where we are.”

“You go on ahead. I have to get Timmy.”

“Abby will bring him into the fellowship hall.”

“I need to sign him out. We have new rules. Remember?”

“I forgot.”

“What’s wrong, Paul?”

The same thing that had always been wrong. He wasn’t good enough. “Nothing.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Everyone loved your sermon.”

Eunice was easy to please. Anything he did for the Lord, no matter how insignificant, made her happy. “Not everyone.” He wanted to sit in the last pew and bury his head in his hands. “Apparently, it wasn’t up to my father’s standards.”

Her eyes flashed. “Did he say that?”

“Not exactly. Never mind. We’d better join everyone. I hope the deaconesses got it all together.”

“All the decorations are up, including the banner welcoming your father and mother. And there’s enough food to feed an army. You’ve no need to worry.”

As they came in the door, Paul was stunned by feelings of betrayal and the surge of jealousy that welled up at the sight of his father surrounded by
his
parishioners. Paul swallowed hard. Usually, those same people surrounded
him
the moment he came in the hall. Those same people told
him
how wonderful his message had been. Now, they didn’t even notice him, so intent were they on getting close to the great David Hudson. His father stood with a beatific smile of humility on his handsome face, inclining his head to one and then another like a king before his lowly subjects. Even Hollis Sawyer had showed up to fawn over him!

“I just love your show on television, Dr. Hudson.”

“Thank you.”

“My wife has been watching you for years! She swears by every word you say.”

“I only speak what the Lord gives me.”

“God has anointed you, Pastor Hudson. That’s for sure.”

“We’re so honored you’re here, Pastor Hudson.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“Oh, would you please autograph my Bible?”

“Of course.”

His mother touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Paul.”

“Sorry about what?” Was she going to tell him his sermon stank, too?

“This.” She nodded toward his father.

Paul forced a laugh. “It’s all right, Mom. He’s famous. It stands to reason people would want to shake hands with him and tell him how much he’s meant to them through the years.”

“They don’t know him like we do.”

Paul bristled. “He’s worked hard all his life to be what he is today.”

“Yes, he has worked hard. And made sacrifices along the way.” She watched the crowd around him. “We both know about that.”

“I’m proud of him, Mom. I always have been.” It wasn’t anyone’s fault that these simple people saw David Hudson as ecclesiastical royalty holding court in this humble hall. “People are drawn to him.”

His mother took his hand. “Charisma is a powerful thing, Paul. Your father—”

“I know, Mom. Believe me, I know. As far back as I can remember, I’ve seen how people look up to him. They’re in awe. People hang on his every word.”

Not bad.

“Do you remember how we talked when you were a little boy, Paul? Do you remember your dream?”

“Sure. To serve the Lord.”

“Then you keep your focus on that, Son. Take your lead from the Lord, not your father.”

“It would appear I’m failing dismally at taking a lead from anyone.” This wasn’t the place to catalog his shortcomings. And he didn’t want to talk about his father or what a success David Hudson had always been in the pulpit. He would only feel more inadequate. David Hudson had built one of the biggest churches in the nation, a charismatic evangelical powerhouse that set souls on fire. Paul wanted to know if he was on the right path in his own ministry, if there was any hope of his getting the job done here in Centerville. He was trying so hard, sacrificing so much. “What did you think of my sermon?”

She looked away. “You have your father’s eloquence, Paul. And his charisma.”

He was surprised and pleased. “I thought after what he said, I’d fallen flat on my face.”

She sighed. “You’re very much like him, more like him than I ever realized.”

His spirits rose. “I never thought I’d hear anyone say that to me.”

She looked up at him intently. “I’ve no doubt if you keep on as you are, you’ll end up with a church every bit as large as the one he’s built. But is that what you want?”

His smile came freely this time, set loose by his mother’s praise. “Of course it’s what I want. Hasn’t that always been what I’ve wanted, to build something for the Lord? Something
great
. Something the world would notice.” He lifted his mother’s hand and kissed it. “You’ve always been my mainstay of encouragement.”

Her mouth curved slightly. “Don’t give me any credit, Paul. What you decide to do with your ministry rests on your shoulders.”

“There’s Eunice, Mom.” He waved his wife over, annoyed to see Samuel and Abigail Mason coming with her.

Eunice opened the way for the elderly couple. She smiled radiantly as she kissed his mother’s cheek. Lois scooped up Timmy and kissed him. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Mom. We’ve set up new rules since the congregation has grown. We’re all supposed to sign our children into class and out as well, and I can hardly break the rules. Mom, say hi to Samuel and Abigail Mason, dear friends of ours. Samuel, Abby, this is my mother-in-law, Lois Hudson.”

As greetings were exchanged, Paul excused himself. “I’d better call this gathering to order so we can begin the program.”

Once settled at the head table, David Hudson would be separated from the Centerville flock, and Paul could take charge again.

After the potluck, Paul ushered his father into his church office and offered him the easy chair. “Make yourself comfortable, Dad.”

His father sat and looked around. “Pretty tight space you have here.”

Paul forced a laugh. “Makes reaching everything easy.”

His father leaned over pointedly and ran his hand along a shelf of books. “Doesn’t give you much room for expanding your library.”

“We’re using every room we have for classes.”

“I noticed your service was full.”

“Both
services are full, and the Saturday night service is filling up fast.”

Grimacing, his father flicked a speck of lint off his dark gray slacks. “You’ll need a new facility. This place looks as though it was built a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Pretty close to that. It’s one of the most important historical landmarks in Centerville.”

“Historical landmark? Kiss remodeling this barn good-bye. You should look for a piece of land where you can grow and put this building on the market.”

Paul lolled back in his office chair. “I’ve already thought of that, Dad. I’ve been checking around to see if there are any five-acre plots available.”

“Five acres? Is that all? I started with fifteen.”

“And it was thirty years ago. Prices were a lot less than they are now.”

“It’s all relative, Paul. Think small and you stay small.”

Paul knew better than to say things took time and he had only been pastor of Centerville Christian Church for five years. Within the first five years of his ministry, David Hudson had already laid the foundations for a twenty-thousand-square-foot building with sanctuary and two floors of classrooms. Within ten years, he’d added a Christian school that went from kindergarten through ninth grade. Five years after that, he had a high school on the grounds. They owned a fleet of buses and a media center of which his father made expert use, gaining a nationwide following. Donations flooded in from all parts of the country, filling the coffers for the building program.

Glancing around, Paul could imagine what his father thought of this little backwater church. “We’re not exactly in the same kind of high-density area you were.”

“When word spreads, you’ll be drawing people from Sacramento, Paul. You just haven’t gotten your stride yet. It’ll come, if you want it to come. You have talent, but you need to hone your skills.”

Paul tried not to show how deeply his father’s words hurt. “Could you be a little more specific?”

His father raised his brows. “Are you sure you want to hear this? I don’t remember you ever asking for my advice before.”

Trained in letting the subtle digs glance off, Paul smiled. “I’m grown-up now.”

“Glad to hear it. I was afraid you were going to be a mama’s boy for the rest of your life.”

The barb pricked, but Paul didn’t show it. This wasn’t the time for accusations that would only eliminate any possibility of eliciting his father’s advice. “How did you get your congregation to agree to a building project?”

His father laughed. “Get their agreement? I can see we have our work cut out for us.” He crossed his legs. “Listen to me, Son. You are the shepherd here. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Does a shepherd ask his sheep for directions? You have to remember you’re the leader. The first thing you need is a vision of what Centerville Christian Church can be, and then go for it. You don’t ask them if it’s okay with them. You bring them along. You guide them and grow them up into what they should be. If you wait around for them to tell you what they want to do with this church, you’ll never do anything.”

There was something wrong with what his father was saying, but Paul couldn’t put his finger on it.

His father’s eyes narrowed. “I can see you’re hesitating already. There’s your weakness. You’re supposed to be the one with the vision. You have to act upon it. God anointed you to be pastor of Centerville Christian Church, and God put you here to build His church. And the only one stopping you from doing just that is you.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is easy. The secret is getting to know your people. You have to find out what makes them tick on an individual basis. Figure out what it is they want as a whole. The money and talents of your people should be used to glorify God, but they don’t understand that any more than sheep understand their wool is valuable. You have to teach them. Make them feel good about opening their pockets. Praise them for using their talents. Build them up and make them feel good about themselves while they’re building the kingdom. That’s the secret to success. The real question is, do you want to succeed?”

“Of course I do.”

“Can you make the hard choices along the way?”

“What sort of hard choices do you mean?” He’d already made some hard choices, but he wasn’t going to share them with his father.

His father leaned back. “There are always people who want to keep things the way they are. They’re in a rut and like it.” He raised his hand. “They cling to old buildings and ideas.”

Like Otis Harrison and Hollis Sawyer.
“I’ve had a few of them. Two out of the three elders who called me to this church.” They were gone now, thank God.

“Hold it right there, Paul. Back up a little. You need to change your thinking. The elders of this church did not call you here. God did. You need to remember that every time someone gets in the way of progress. Since this church was probably built around the time of the California gold rush, I’ll use a stagecoach as an illustration. Most of your parishioners are like passengers sitting inside. They bought a ticket. They know where they want to go, and they’re leaving it up to you to get them there. Then you have the horses, the ones who do the work to get you to your destination. You’re the one with the reins, Paul. It’s your job to steer and set the pace so the workers will last and you’ll get everyone to the goal. So what happened with the troublemakers?”

“They made my life miserable for a while.”

“Did you win the battle?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’d call it winning or not. They resigned from their elderships and no longer attend church.” Except today when Hollis showed up to get David Hudson’s autograph.

“Did anybody quibble about them leaving?”

“Not that I heard. We had so many new people coming by then that I don’t think they were missed.”

“Good for you.”

Paul felt a flush of pleasure at his father’s approval. “The only one who was upset about the whole thing was Eunice.”

“Women!” His father chuckled. “You know I love your mother, but she hasn’t always made things easy for me. In fact, I think the hardest battles I’ve fought have been with her over various individuals who caused me trouble. You know your mother. She listens to every complaint as though it had merit.”

As she had listened to him for countless hours as he was growing up. If not for his mother’s love, Paul wondered where he’d be right now.

His father laughed. “If you and I listened to everything everyone had to say, we’d spend the rest of our lives doing nothing else.”

Paul laughed with him. “Isn’t that the truth? I finally got sick of listening to those two old men grumble about everything.”

His father became serious again. “You’re lucky they didn’t poison your ministry.” His eyes hardened. “Next time you run into that kind of trouble, don’t wait for them to resign.”

There was one more thorn in Paul’s side, but the sting was negligible now that he had other men standing with him against any arguments Samuel Mason wanted to raise.

His father stood. He never could sit for long. “Anytime someone starts throwing stumbling blocks in your way, Paul, you’d better get them out of your church fast. If you let them get away with it, you’ll be tripping over yourself every step of the way. Keep close watch. Assess whatever situation arises for its destructive potential, make a decision, and stick to it. Don’t allow yourself to be swayed, especially by your wife. As intelligent as they are, women are run by their emotions.”

It didn’t help Paul that Eunice was so attached to Abigail Mason.

“Is there a good steak house in this town?”

His father probably hadn’t had a chance to eat much at the potluck with all the people vying for his attention. “The golf course has a nice restaurant.” He felt bolstered at the way his father’s brows rose. Paul grinned. “The manager is a member of our church. All I have to do is make a call and he’ll have a table waiting for us.”

“So make the call.”

Paul picked up the phone and pushed the speed-dial while his father glanced through the volumes on the bookshelves. He took one out and leafed through it, shoved it back, took another, scowled.

“Everything’s all set,” Paul said, dropping the receiver back into its cradle. “Table for four.” They could drop Timmy off at the Masons’.

“Let’s leave the women at home, all right? I doubt they’d be interested in shoptalk anyway.”

Paul was flattered that his father wanted to spend more time alone with him. He’d go over to the parsonage and let Eunice know she didn’t have to hold supper for them.

His father snapped the book shut and dropped it on Paul’s desk in disdain. “I know the guy that wrote that.”

“I take it you don’t think much of him.” Eunice had been impressed with the book and asked him to read it.

His father shrugged into his sport coat. “Oh, he writes well enough, but he bleats a lot of nonsense about patience and humility. Both are admirable qualities, but if you took his advice, you’d sit around twiddling your thumbs and waiting for the Spirit to move you.”

Paul frowned slightly. “That bad?”

“Well, go ahead and read it if you don’t believe me. I just thought I’d save you a little time.”

“I’ll pass it along to the library.” Picking up his keys, Paul followed his father out of the church.