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“Now hold still,” Constance Gaines warned her
husband as she continued to insert stick pins into the material she was sizing
for his new shirt. Pastor Tom was serving as his wife’s real-life mannequin
and had already winced from being pricked.
Constance was in a huff and letting her frustrations
show through the careless placing of a few pins. It was the same attitude
she’d displayed during supper after her husband had told her and their
children about his encounter with Stone Hawkins earlier that morning.
“I can’t believe it,” she lamented. “Blesses
be the Lord God Almighty, I just can’t believe it. Thomas Christopher Gaines,
how could you do such a thing?” Constance asked before sticking Tom again.
“Ow! Constance, please. It wasn’t like I threw him
out on his shirt tales. I simply told the man that we don’t need that kind of
element in our church. Just think of what some of the other folks would say,
having to share a pew with a known outlaw.” Having endured enough of his
wife’s petty torture, Tom removed the fabric and put on another shirt. Each of
their six children were busy washing dishes, finishing homework or getting ready
for bed, but all were close enough to hear the conversation between their
parents.
“How can you call yourself a pastor when you’ve
just turned away one of the Lord’s sheep? You should thank God for the chance
to minister to a man with renewed faith. And think of what an example he could
be to this community.” Constance’s love and compassion for people were two
of the many qualities that Pastor Tom adored in her, but at moments like this,
that love and compassion felt more like a thorn in his side.
“You’re startin’ to sound like Paul and Emily
Henderson. They’ve been goin’ on about what a changed man he is. Hmph. How
would they know? They haven’t seen him for years, and he’s only been in town
for a few days. How can they be so quick to judge?” As he finished buttoning
his shirt, he glanced at Constance, who was looking at him so sternly it was a
wonder that he didn’t fall over.
“Constance, I can’t jeopardize my congregation.”
“Well let’s talk about your congregation, pastor. We’ve been here over four years now, and
from what I can tell there’s only a bout a handful of ‘em who hear your
preachin’ and take it to heart. Others come into that church like it’s their
duty, and let’s not forget those who settle in for a good Sunday mornin’
nap.” The children snickered quietly in the background, knowing how true this
was. “And then there’s some men folk who show up lookin’ all slick and
shiny with their Bibles in hand, but come Monday you can hear ‘em talkin’ in
town, foul enough to make your ears fall off. Why is that Tom Gaines?” she
asked with her hands on her hips, though she already knew the answer.
“Because it’s a sin-filled world. All I can do is
preach to ‘em; I can’t make ‘em live right.”
Ever since Tom had held the pastoral position at Ash
Falls Community Church, the congregation had only experienced mild growth. It
seemed that much of the town had grown weary in faith and turned to other
pursuits in life, while some of those who remained faithful believed more in
attending church than in the power and love of Jesus Christ.
“Don’t you think your preachin’ ought to inspire
them to live right? And have you been preachin’ lately?”
Tom merely looked at her with confusion.
“Your sermons have been so dull lately that Jesus
would fall asleep in that buildin’. Even your own children have noticed that
you don’t preach the uncompromised word of God anymore. It’s like you’re
giving those people meat with no flavor to it.”
The eyes of the children grew wide with amazement, as
it seemed their mother’s boldness was unstoppable.
“Yes, I reckon you could say I’ve adjusted my
preachin’. I’m tryin’ to be sensitive to the few folks we have left. Not
much point in bein’ a pastor if I ain’t got a body to minister to. And you
know a lot of ‘em don’t want to hear about tithin’, havin’ faith, or
bein’ led by the Holy Spirit. Some of ‘em just don’t believe that way.
What kind of pastor would I be if I just stood up there and chased them off?”
“What kind of pastor can you be if you don’t preach the truth? How can you do anything
for God if you yourself ain’t willin’ to be led by the Holy Spirit?” Her
voice reigned like a true evangelist. “It’s sad, really. You don’t have
your own life in order, so how can you possibly minister to others?”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m talkin’ about this self-righteous attitude
of yours that you’ve let get out of hand. You’re lookin’ for popularity
and adoration that you don’t deserve. That church ain’t suppose to be about
you!”
“That’s enough!” Tom shouted. He stared angrily
at his wife.
Silence fell over the house.
“You’re my wife, Constance, and you need to
remember your place. Now I think I know what I’m doin’, and I think I know
what’s best for my own church.” He tried to gather his composure once he
realized that several of his children were looking at him like he had suddenly
transformed into a wild animal.
“I’m gonna go work on my sermon,” Tom said
gently as he walked to the back room that he used for an office.
“Pa, can you help me with my ‘rithmatic?” asked
his young son, Luke, hesitantly.
“Not now,” Tom replied firmly.
His family stared quietly as Tom walked into the
office and closed the door. Then everyone’s attention cautiously turned to
Constance. She kept her gaze on the door, and refused to let an ounce of hurt
show on her face.
“I’ll help you, honey, though I was never really
good in math,” she said with a smile and a spark of cheer, trying to ease the
tension that hang heavily in the room.
As she settled in beside her son, no one noticed that
she was able to swallow the tears that wanted to pour from her eyes.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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