Angels of Humility: A Novel (22 page)

“I must have been a terrible mother,” she said. “All my sons are in jail.”

She slowly peeled the lid off the clear plastic container and walked to each cell offering her chocolate chip cookies. “Thanks, Mom,” they said. “Bless you, son,” she replied.

There were only 15 inmates now, but it would fill up as jails in different counties sent their overflow to Bradbury. There were two cookies left, which Sarah offered to the guard. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow with more cookies,” she said. Several inmates waved or shouted, “Bye, Mom.”

She made it back to her car and sat down. The armpits of her blouse were saturated and her heart was still pounding.
Well, contact is established. What do I do next, Lord? Yes, that’s a good idea
. She pulled up in front of Wilhelm’s grocery store, went inside and asked the stock boy to please bring all the Slice ‘N Bake cookies to the register for her. Cookies from scratch were very time consuming for her now. If any of the inmates noticed the difference, they never complained.

She, her cane, her cookies, and Joel and Malta were at the jail every day for the next six days. Most of the inmates were quickly conditioned like Pavlov’s dogs. “Hi, Mom. Got cookies?” they said when they caught a glimpse of her. Some were only interested in the treats of course, but others felt comfortable chatting with and even confiding in Sarah. As she felt more acceptance, she also became bolder, asking certain inmates if she could pray for them, telling them the story of her land and how the jail got here, and presenting the plan of salvation, which she read from Gospel tracts she carried in her pockets.

The Lord highlighted a specific inmate named Will. His arms were covered with tattoos of dragons and other angry looking beings. He wasn’t very friendly to Sarah, or anybody, for that matter. When Sarah visited with his cellmate, Stan, Will turned away. When she spoke of religious things, he would sneer or make derisive, profane comments. The Lord told Sarah to pray for him, which she did daily. One evening, she was fed up with his abrasive comments to her. She began praying
about
Will, not
for
him. “
Lord, I don’t think I can tolerate him anymore. He’s rude and crass. He needs to learn some manners.”

“Time for a lesson in compassion,” said Joel. Malta nodded.

The Lord showed Sarah an image of William when he was about 3-years-old; he dropped a glass of milk in the kitchen. The glass shattered. His father turned, took several quick steps, swooped down on his son, and beat him. It was horrible for Sarah to watch, and she cried out, “Stop, make him stop.”

When the image was finally over, Joel began, “The Lord looks on all His children with great love and compassion, even those who curse His name. William is lost, but he’s no more lost than you were when He had compassion and saved you. You were a criminal, found guilty in the Heavenly courts. Sarah, you were dead in your trespasses and sins
³
and a child of disobedience. You were God’s enemy. Don’t ever forget; you did not choose Him. In His great mercy, He chose you. Each of William’s sins can be completely forgiven by the blood of Jesus, just as your sins also needed to be covered—and still do. To the Lord, William’s status is no different than yours was a year ago. God just saved you first.”

“Remember, the vilest sinner is just one revelation from the Kingdom of God,” added Malta. “The Lord is grieved that in spite of His willingness to forgive, William still identifies himself by the worst moment of his life.”

Joel drew his sword. It ignited as he pulled it out of the engraved golden sheath. Without hesitation he plunged it into Sarah’s chest, piercing her spirit. She wept, grieving over the ugliness of her judgmental attitude. In her spirit she saw God’s great love for William and for all the inmates who had been victimized and, in their brokenness, had victimized others.

“Don’t ever forget, Sarah, that pride comes before a fall.
⁴
The Lord requires humility from His followers. Pride has crept in over the works you’ve done for Father. You can never repay the gift He’s given you nor can you impress Him with your attempts at holiness. Repent of your attitude and ask the Lord to cleanse you. The Lord says if
you
humble yourself, He will exalt you. If
He
has to humble you, He doesn’t promise you anything.”

When that truth pierced Sarah’s heart, she couldn’t repent fast enough. Through her tears she prayed,
God, I repent for the pride I feel for the things I’ve done. Instead I offer them to You as a sacrifice of praise, not trying to impress You or use them as leverage. I’m sorry I judge people so quickly. Help me to see all people as You see them
. Joel replaced the dull, drab mantle of humility that pride had caused her to shed. Malta played a melody on his lyre; the music washed over her like waves of the Father’s love. She felt it go through her again and again—the Lord’s great love for the lost—the Lord’s great love for her.

From then on, she prayed daily that the Lord would help
her
to humble herself.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see which of those two choices is best
.

“No peas,” said Jordan. “Yes peas,” replied Paul.

“NO PEAS!”

“YES PEAS!” said Paul, raising his voice to match Jordan’s increased volume.

“Honey,” said Kathy, touching Paul on the hand. Then she turned to Jordan. “Jordan, eat your peas, like the good boy you are. Peas pleeeease,” she said, exaggerating her enunciation.

“Peas please, peas please, peas please,” he repeated giggling. Then he made a face, took two big bites, and declared, “Done.”

“Yes, you are. And I thank you.” Let me wipe off your hands and you may get down and play.”

“Honey, have I told you you’re amazing?” said Paul, putting his arms around her.

“Yes, but I like to hear it frequently. You can’t say that too much to a woman!”

“OK, you’re amazing, you’re amazing, you’re amazing,” he said kissing her between compliments.

“Thank you.”

As Kathy was reveling in his kind words, the topic changed to church, which it frequently and predictably did. Fueled by Sarah’s prayers and the prayers of other members, the church’s growth continued. There were visitors at almost every service. The Wednesday evening prayer meetings were well attended, as were the Thursday visitations. And of course, every pastor’s dream, the offering was up.

“Kathy, I was talking to Mike today, and we’re thinking that with the growth that we’re seeing, maybe we should jump ahead with the building campaign. If the growth we’re experiencing now keeps up, we’re going to have to go to two Sunday services. Wouldn’t that be great? We’re almost the biggest church in town, numerically. I think the Catholic Church is still ahead of us by about 30.”

Kathy didn’t say anything, but a sick feeling rose in her gut. Paul always seemed so proud of what was going on at the church, but in a bad way, like he was solely responsible. It seemed like he was manifesting all the signs of pride that she had been reading about.

“Honey, why don’t you take a week off and we could get away? You’ve been working six, sometimes seven days a week, and you never get home before 7:00.”

“I can’t take time off—things are really moving.”

“But I really need some time with you.” She put her arms around his shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I feel so disconnected. We used to be partners back in seminary when we’d talk about what ministry would be
like. You used to ask my opinions and you valued my prayers. Maybe we can just go away for a weekend. Mary could watch Jordan, and we could just spend some time alone.”

Paul pulled away from her and stated incredulously, “A weekend? I can’t be gone on a
Sunday
. I need to be here to preach. What are you thinking?”

She was thinking that he was so insecure that he didn’t want anyone in “his” pulpit for fear they would preach a better sermon, but she refrained from saying it. “Sorry,” she mumbled and turned away to hide her tears. She’d initially been attracted to Paul for his ambition; now that trait had come back to bite her.

“We used to pray together, but now you’ve pushed me to the outside. Now you’re making all these ministry decisions and all you want me to do is blindly follow you,” she finished the rest of the sentence in her mind,
even when I feel you’re wrong
.

He rolled his eyes and went to his office.
Things are going so well at the church. Why are they so hard at home?
He picked up a piece of paper off his desk and perused it. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he’d called the radio station at Mt. Peilor to get their rates.
Airtime is really reasonable. Maybe in a few months we can start broadcasting Sunday’s message
.

“Paul,” suggested Saldu, “It’s better to be a well-done, good, and faithful servant than a half-baked famous preacher.”
²

In her bed that night Kathy prayed, through silent tears, as she had for the past several months.
Lord, please, I need a husband, and Jordan needs a dad. Don’t let our marriage become a casualty of his ministry. Help him to find a balance. We used to be a team. He’d confide in me, and he valued my prayers. He respected my input. Now it’s like a big door has slammed shut in my face. He won’t even let me inside his thoughts, much less his heart
. Valoe stood watching over her, echoing her prayers, as he did every night.

She fell asleep and dreamed that she was on the roof hammering away at hundreds of loose shingles. It seemed like for every one she would hammer down, two would pop loose. She was exhausted, sweaty, and frustrated. In spite of the fact that she was actually losing ground, her determination kept her at it.

Valoe appeared in her dream. “Kathy,” he said reaching for the hammer from her aching hands, “you need a rest.”

“No, I can’t stop,” she said refusing to let go. “I have to get these shingles fixed before it rains. I have to save our house. It’s all up to me.”

“No Kathy, it’s not all up to you,” said Valoe, taking the hammer and holding her blistered hands in his. “You’re in danger of falling into the same trap that Paul has. ‘It’s all up to me. Work, work, work.’ I know that Paul’s preoccupied, but don’t look to yourself; look to the Lord. By yourself you can never be enough or do enough. You can’t change Paul; you can only pray for him. You need to push into the Lord even more. He’ll help you find that place of rest in the middle of the storm. He’s the only one who can. The storm might not abate, but He wants to give you grace to dance in the rain. You must learn to cast your burdens on Him. He wants to comfort you and has sent a Scripture for you, Psalm 127:1–2.”

Kathy woke up and wondered,
That was bizarre. Roof repair? An angel? Was that from the Lord? It sounds like a pizza dream. I guess there’s one way to tell. S
he grabbed her Bible and book light off the nightstand and read,
“Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord guards the city, the guard keeps watch in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for He gives sleep to His beloved.”

For the first time in a very long time, Kathy felt the peace of God rest on her.
Lord, it was You. You know my situation and see my frustrations. Thank You for listening to my prayers. Lord, I can’t do anything in my own efforts. Help me to remember that when I get frustrated, especially with Paul. God, will You build my house?
Kathy fell asleep meditating on those verses. She would faithfully cling to them each day and they would bring a measure of peace to the disappointment and loneliness she felt.