Read And the Shofar Blew Online
Authors: Francine Rivers
And the Shofar Blew (51 page)
“I’m going to give it everything I’ve got, Tim. I love your mother.”
“How could anyone not love her?” He shook his head, his expression full of pity and disappointment.
The silence stretched again.
“I didn’t come to throw stones, Dad. I came to tell you and Mom I’ve enlisted. I thought it might be better to tell you in person than over a telephone.” He grimaced, glancing toward the hallway where Euny had gone. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
Paul couldn’t have been more shocked if a terrorist armed with a machine gun had walked into his living room. “Enlisted?” The war hit home.
“In the Marines.”
Paul shut his eyes.
“Ever since 9/11, I’ve been thinking about our country and what freedom costs. And I’ve been thinking about times in history when people have turned their backs on evil and the consequences that came from that. Where would we be if men hadn’t enlisted to fight Hitler? I’ve been praying over this for a long time, Dad. And I’ve had others praying for me as well. It hasn’t been an easy decision.”
Shaken, Paul looked at his son. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Not completely. I don’t have to know everything. I just have to move forward in the direction I believe God is leading me.”
Into war?
“I know America isn’t doing everything right, but we have Christian foundations and the freedom to speak and worship as we choose. Maybe God is showing mercy because we still do. Every time there’s a disaster, Americans are the first to pitch in and help. God has allowed us to prosper, and we’ve tried to help other countries. And not always for political reasons or oil. The kindness we’ve shown other nations might be the only reason God hasn’t taken action against us for all the things we’re doing wrong.”
Timothy stood and paced. “You’ve got to know, Dad. There are a lot of kids my age who don’t have any idea who Jesus Christ is. My roommate’s a good example. He grew up believing Christmas was all about Santa Claus, a pile of presents under a decorated tree, and a January vacation in Vail, Colorado. He’d never set foot in a church until I took him. God was ousted from the schools back in the sixties, and now we’ve got a generation that’s never heard the gospel. Where better to spread it than among the men going out to fight for our country?”
Help him, God.
“They won’t let you preach in the Marines, Son. You’re not going to end up a chaplain. You’ll end up a grunt carrying a rifle.”
“I’m not talking about preaching, Dad. I’m talking about sharing my faith. I’ll use words if I have to.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Although I asked for language school. My high school counselor said I have an aptitude for it.”
Oh, the naiveté of youth. Or was Paul’s own faith so weak he couldn’t trust the Lord to work through a nineteen-year-old boy in a war zone? Would he be cannon fodder? “Did you sign any papers?” Maybe there was still a way out.
“Yes. I gave my boss two weeks’ notice. I’ll have a week after that before I’m to go to the induction center in Los Angeles. I wanted it settled before I came here to talk to you and Mom. For obvious reasons.”
There would be no way to talk him out of it. Or get him out of it. Timothy’s next stop would be boot camp, then specialized training and orders.
Oh, Lord, You gave me nineteen years of opportunity, and I let them pass me
by. And now Tim may never come home
.
“This kind of war isn’t going to be won just with guns, Dad. It’s going to be won with truth. Where better to minister truth than in the military ranks? Maybe I’ll even be able to witness to those who’ve swallowed the lie that murdering people will get them the reward of seventy virgins!”
A military missionary? Was there such a thing?
“You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you? You think I’m being stupid.”
Paul realized his silence had given Timothy the wrong impression. And no wonder, considering their relationship over the years. Paul knew he had been a lousy father. Despite all his good intentions and promises to himself, he had followed his father’s example in more ways than one. Unreasonable demands for perfection. Bouts of verbal abuse followed by long periods of indifference. Did Timothy hunger for his acceptance and approval the same way he had craved them from his father?
Paul wanted to make his feelings clear before it was too late. “No. I’m proud of you for living your convictions. And if anyone’s been stupid, it’s been me for all the years I’ve wasted avoiding my son. And now, there’s so little time.” His voice broke. A week. Seven short days. After all the wasted years.
“You say that as though I’m going off to get myself killed.”
Paul’s eyes burned. “I hope not.”
Timothy smiled gently. “It’s okay, Dad. Whatever happens, I’ll be all right. It’s not like we’re saying good-bye forever, you know.”
Paul didn’t want to let another opportunity slip away. “Would you mind if your mother and I came down and spent some time with you before you have to report?”
Tim looked pleased. “Sure. I’d like that.” He stood. “I was going to go over and see Samuel. I want him to know about my decision before he hears about it from someone else. And then there’s the car. I’m hoping he’ll keep it in storage for me.”
“If he can’t, we will.”
“Thanks.” He took his keys out of his pocket. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back, troubled. “You think we can get Mom to promise she won’t cry the whole week?”
“I’ll try, Son. I can’t promise.” He was perilously close to tears himself.
The front door opened and closed. Paul heard the DeSoto start up.
Poor Eunice. What must she be feeling? In the last few days, she’d walked in on her unfaithful husband, and now she’d come home to receive the news that her only son was going off to war.
His mother came down the hallway. She barely grazed him with a look. “I’m going out for a long walk.” She opened the door. “Eunice said you’re preaching on Sunday.”
“Yes.”
She closed the door firmly behind her.
He couldn’t expect his mother to believe he’d suddenly changed overnight. She’d probably heard plenty of empty promises from his father.
He went down the hall and opened the door to the guest room. His mother’s suitcase was open on the bed he’d been sleeping in. He closed it and put it on the couch, stripped the bed, and changed the sheets. Then he moved the few things he would need over the next few days into his office. He’d sleep on the couch.
Timothy’s room was as it had always been. Eunice had seen to that. She had always hoped their son would come home. Paul realized now the only way Timothy would’ve done that was by personal invitation from his father. Paul put his hands over his face. How much pain had he caused his wife over the years? She’d weathered his neglect and endured his persecution. She’d even given up her son. Adultery was her crown of thorns.
The door of the master bedroom was closed. Paul tapped on the door. “Eunice? May I come in?”
“The door’s unlocked.”
She was sitting in her reading chair near the windows, the drapes open so the sun filtered through the lace curtains. She looked like an angel, even with eyes puffy from crying.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t look at him. “I just called Samuel to tell him I didn’t feel up to coming by today.”
“Tim’s headed over there.”
“I saw him go.” Her voice was choked.
Paul came into the room and shoved his hands into his pockets. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like a truck ran over me. Twice.”
He’d driven the first one. “I’m sorry.” He wondered if she was asking her-self the same questions he was asking himself. “Do you think Tim did it to get my attention?”
Her face crumpled. “I don’t know.” She bent over, sobbing. “I don’t know.”
The sight of her grief filled him to overflowing with sorrow. He took his hands from his pockets and went to her, hunkering and putting his hands on the arms of the chair. “I’d take his place if I could.”
Her weeping softened. She studied him. Then she drew in a shaky breath and leaned back. “You’re too old.” She pulled another tissue angrily from the box in her lap. “I’ve cried enough for a lifetime over the past few days. I’m sick of crying. Just when I think I’m dry, the sea rises.” She blew her nose noisily, glaring at him. She wadded up the tissue in a tight fist. Did she want to hit him? He would let her. “Get up, Paul.”
At least she didn’t say, “Get out.”
He straightened and moved away, standing near the windows, hands in his pockets again.
She sniffed and took a shaky breath. “Knowing Tim, I think he did just as he said. I think he heard the news, got down on his knees and prayed, then got up and did exactly what he believed God was telling him to do.” Her voice wobbled. She pressed her lips together, her chin trembling. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I just have to hope and pray . . . ” She gave up and cried again.
Paul sat on the edge of their bed, staring at his loafers. He wasn’t going to offer any platitudes or pretend he knew what God was thinking.
“God is faithful,” she said softly. “Even when we’re not.” She dropped the damp tissue into the wastebasket and yanked out another.
Paul could think of nothing to say that would bring her comfort. His heart ached for her. If she would have allowed, he would’ve held her.
“Reka called. She said you left her a note. She said she was sorry she didn’t open the door, but she just didn’t feel up to talking to you. She said she hoped you and I would be able to work things out. She’ll be praying for us.”
The silence stretched, but he didn’t try to fill it. The mantle of regret was heavy.
“I know you’re feeling guilty now, Paul. Timothy isn’t a little boy anymore. He makes his own decisions.” She looked at him. She pressed her fingertips against her lips for a moment, then folded her hands in her lap. “Samuel told me you came by earlier. He said you asked for his forgiveness. He said you two talked for almost two hours.” Her blue eyes were so soft and luminous. “Your visit meant a lot to him.”
“He could’ve been the best friend I ever had.”
“He
is
your friend.” She looked down, toying nervously with the tissue she held. “There’s someone else you should see. Someone you hurt deeply. I don’t think he’s over it yet.”
Paul knew who she meant. “Stephen Decker.”
Eunice lifted her head only a little, but enough that he saw a faint flush in her cheeks. “Stephen could have done us both great harm, Paul. But he didn’t. Even when the opportunity was presented, he let it go.”
Paul’s heart sank. He didn’t want to ask what opportunity she meant. He had a feeling he knew already.
Stephen was rolling up a blueprint when he saw Paul’s Mercedes pull up in front. What did Hudson want? Shoving the blueprint into its cubby, Stephen leaned back on his stool and watched Pastor Paul get out of his car, look up at the building, and come around to the sidewalk.
Hudson came to the door and walked in. One of the drawbacks to living in your place of business was having to leave the front door unlocked.
“May I talk to you, Stephen?”
“I gave at the office.” Hudson had better not be coming to him about some problem with the building. Stephen had used the best men and materials. Anything that was wrong now was someone else’s fault and Hudson’s responsibility. Stephen was out of it and glad.
“You tried to warn me I was getting off track,” Paul said. “You said once I wasn’t building a church, I was building a monument for myself. You were right.”
What ploy was this? “What are you after, Hudson?”
“Forgiveness.”
Stephen gave a cynical laugh. “Well, you know where to go for that.”
“I’ve taken my sins to Jesus, but I want to try and make amends with the people I’ve hurt.”
“Eunice should be your first stop.”
“We flew back from Pennsylvania together.”
Stephen raised his brows. He hadn’t heard Eunice was out of town, let alone across the country. Samuel had probably kept that news to himself—if he had known. “You should talk to Samuel.”
“I visited him yesterday. He forgave me. I’m here to ask if you’ll do the same.”
“A lot of rough water has gone under the bridge since you and I went our separate ways, Hudson.” Paul had been the one to wash their friendship right out to the open sea.
“I’d like to make it up to you.”
Stephen gave a derisive laugh. “How? You got another building project in mind?”
“No. An invitation to church on Sunday.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“No. I’m not. I know my apology isn’t worth much, Stephen. I set out to ruin you.”
He spread his hands. “As you can see, you didn’t succeed.”
“I spoke against you. A friend who tried to warn me.”
The guy was dogged. He was determined to confess whether Stephen wanted to listen or not. Angry, Stephen had no choice but to stand there.
Oh, Lord, I know what You want from me, but I haven’t got Samuel’s strength.
Paul kept on with his confession. Finally, he stopped, let out his breath slowly, and said, “I’ve tendered my resignation.”
Walking away from VNLC? Giving up his empire? Stephen was stunned.
“I’m giving my confession on Sunday. I thought you might want to be there to hear it.”
Stephen saw no bid for pity, but he was suddenly filled with compassion for Paul Hudson. He wasn’t sure he could trust him, but he wasn’t going to beat a man when he was down. Stephen remembered when he’d called Paul his closest friend and a brother in Christ. Paul had been the one to extend his hand during the hard, tough early days of recovery, and it had been Paul who’d encouraged his faith.
Now, Stephen was facing some of the same temptations Paul had, and running away because he wasn’t sure he could handle them. He would have to keep his focus so that he didn’t give in to the temptations leadership brought. He’d learned by watching Paul’s mistakes to have a good mentor. Every pastor needed a Samuel in his life. A couple would be even better.
Stephen had seen in the last few weeks how leadership brought power with it. It was heady having people look at you as though you had all the answers and the personal ear of God besides. Heady, and terrifying. He didn’t want to lead people down the wrong path.
“Come on upstairs, Paul. I’ll fix us some coffee.”
Stephen set up the coffeemaker.
Hands in his pockets, Paul looked around. “You’ve always been a craftsman.” He spotted some of Brittany’s things. “Are you married?” He sounded relieved.
“That’s my daughter’s stuff. She finally came home.” Had Paul even known she was missing? Had Paul cared about the months of agony he’d suffered, worrying about his runaway daughter? Probably not. If he even knew. Stephen let it go. “She lives here now. I’m living in the basement.”
“Samuel said that’s where you hold services.”
Stephen glanced at him. “I’m not holding services. Just teaching one class.”
“And doing a good job from what Samuel says.”
“Yeah, well, you know Samuel. He’s full of hope.”
“From what he told me, I think you’re going to turn out to be a fine pastor.”
Flattery? Stephen put two mugs on the table. He wanted to change the subject. Better to hear about Paul’s wakeup call. “What brought your change of heart?”
“The look on Eunice’s face when she walked in on me with another woman. A long talk with my mother. And a close call on Highway 99.”
“That’s all it took, huh?”
Poor Eunice.
“I made my peace with God, but it’s going to be a long time before I can make the amends I need to or repair the damage I’ve done. If I ever can.”
“Did the board ask for your resignation?”
“No. They want me to stay. But I don’t belong in a pulpit or in any leadership position until I’m back on track. Even if the Lord calls me back to ministry, I’m going to need men to hold me accountable.”
Stephen raised his fist and grinned wolfishly. “I’d like to hold you accountable.” Odd, that all the sting was gone.
Paul smiled. “You’d be the second one I’d count on. Samuel has the lead.”
“You’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And hurt a lot of people along the way.”
“I know.”
He looked as though he
did
know. Stephen had never seen such a look of misery on Paul Hudson’s face. Who was he to throw stones? “I guess we do still have some things in common. We’re both major screw-ups. You know, we ought to start our own AA support group. Autocrats Anonymous. What do you think?”
Paul laughed.
Stephen was only half joking. “I’ve been faced with some of the same temptations you’ve dealt with over the years. It’s not easy making people understand that you’re just another human being like they are, struggling to live by faith.”
“It’s when you stop struggling that you’re in trouble,” Paul said. “When you start thinking you know what you’re doing. I thought I had all the answers. I saw anyone who questioned my methods as a threat. My mother put it better. I’ve been a cattleman driving a herd instead of a shepherd leading a flock.”
The coffee was finished. Stephen poured. “Who’s your replacement?”
“I’ve recommended John Deerman.”
“I don’t know him.”
“He’s a solid man of faith. I’ve kept him busy in the background.”
“Ah. Another man who questioned you.”
“John has strong faith and a sound knowledge of the Bible to go with it. If the board gives him the pulpit, the congregation will be hearing the straight gospel from here on.”
Stephen wondered if the membership of VNLC was ready to listen to the truth.
You’ve performed miracles before, Lord. One’s sitting across the table. But it’s
going to take a great big one to pull that church out of the fire.
“Timothy enlisted in the Marines.”
“Oh, man! I didn’t know he was old enough.”
“He’s nineteen.”
“How’d Eunice take the news?”
“She’s crying.”
Two heavy blows. Stephen hoped they hadn’t rocked her faith.
“I drove by the church on the way here,” Paul said. “You really built something to last, Stephen. It’s a beautiful facility. I wish there were some way . . . ”
Stephen recognized the temptation of hanging on to things. “See it for what it is, Paul. A building. A monument to one man’s endeavor. Let it go.” He lifted his mug in faint salute. “If I walked away from it, so can you.”
They made small talk, then dug a little deeper. Paul asked about Kathryn. Stephen was surprised he remembered her name. Paul did remember Brittany. Stephen told him she was doing okay. She was getting her GED and hoping to go to junior college. When Paul asked for a tour, Stephen showed him the rest of the house.
They talked cautiously, around the edges of past hurts and failures, feeling their way. Maybe they could be friends again, but it wouldn’t happen overnight. They’d have to pick their way through the debris. Forgiveness was a decision; trust took time.
“I’d better get back.” When Paul extended his hand at the front door, Stephen hesitated.
“Before we shake hands, there are a few things I need to confess, Paul.” Color ebbed from Paul’s cheeks even as Stephen felt the heat coming up into his own. “You’re already aware that I’ve harbored bitterness against you since I left Centerville, but beyond that . . . ”
Get it said. Get it out in the
open
. “I’ve been in love with your wife for ten years. There have been a lot of times when I wished your marriage would fold so I could ride in like Prince Charming and sweep Eunice off her feet.”
“Euny told me this afternoon that you could’ve done serious harm. I knew what she meant.”
The attraction had been mutual. He hadn’t intended to mention that. “Nothing happened, Paul.”
“Because you and Eunice were wise enough to make sure it didn’t.”
It hadn’t been easy to show her the door the last time he saw her. Having his feelings out in the open would keep him accountable. “She’s something special.”
“In the words of my son, how could anyone not love her?”
It was good Paul understood what wasn’t being said. Sometimes Stephen wondered if he’d ever get over Eunice Hudson. There weren’t many women like her, and she should be treated like a treasure straight from heaven. But at least the Lord was building hedges. If Paul cherished Eunice the way he should, Stephen would never again have to face the temptation of finding her alone on his doorstep. Stephen had the feeling Paul would be more careful with the treasure God had given him. “Another thing. You didn’t give the name of the woman.”
“No.”
“It was Sheila Atherton, wasn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter who it was. It was wrong.”
“It does matter because I knew her. She tried her games with me while I was building the house in Quail Hollow. I knew what she was up to the minute I saw her in your office. I kept quiet for all the wrong reasons. I was angry and nursing a grudge. I wanted you to fall off your high horse. Or get knocked off it. I should’ve warned you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“At that point, I doubt I would’ve listened to you, but apology accepted.”
“You weren’t the first, Paul. I doubt you’ll be the last.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Whatever Sheila is, I’m without excuse.” Paul extended his hand again. “But thanks for telling me. Especially about Eunice.” He smiled sadly. “I’ll be treating my wife a lot better in the future.”
Stephen closed the door and asked God’s blessing on Eunice and Paul’s marriage and protection for it as well. Then he sat at his drawing board where he had been studying and preparing for the days ahead.