Angels of Humility: A Novel (5 page)

She bent over to let Jordan down and scanned the living room. Boxes of all sizes were strewn from one end to the other. She shook her head.
Where to even start?
“I guess I’ll heat lunch. Mike’s wife, Jessica, brought lasagna and salad last night. What a blessing. We can get started unpacking after we eat.”

After lunch, Kathy loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and closed the harvest gold colored door. I
hope this works
, she thought.
Judging by the color, this dishwasher has to be at least 25 years old
.

After putting Jordan down for a nap she surveyed the mess: clothes, bedding, toys, pots, pans, and boxes of books.
How did we get so many books?
She moved a box off the couch and sighed the kind of deep sigh reserved for the challenges of moving.
It would have been nice
, she thought,
if the church had the money to move us. Poor Paul. He worked so hard; he must have made 20 trips with our little Toyota and didn’t complain once. I guess that’s the bright side to not owning a lot of worldly goods
.

“Paul, let’s unpack while Jordan is napping.” No answer. “Where are you?”

“I’m in my study, honey.”

Kathy walked down the hall, peeked in the door, and saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor writing in a spiral notebook.

“What are you doing? Why don’t you set up your desk?”

“Honey, I don’t have time. I’m inspired. I’m writing out a five-year plan for the church.”

“A five-year plan! You’re the interim pastor,” she said, throwing her arms in the air. “Besides, I need help unpacking.”

“Honey, you can put away the towels and hang the clothes, you know, the light stuff. Trust me, I think this is God.”

Kathy left the room shaking her head. In frustration she grabbed a towel and threw it toward the laundry basket. It passed through Valoe and hit its mark.

“She’s got a wicked curve ball. I’d hate to have to try and hit off her,” Valoe said as he grinned toward Saldu.

“You and me both,” Saldu replied.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” says Valoe, “why Father seems to call some of the most inconsiderate men to the ministry. They’ll drive across town in the middle of the night to comfort a parishioner, but won’t lift a finger to help their wives at home.”

“I guess He wants them in the ministry so He can keep a close eye on them. Who knows what they’d do unchecked?”

“Yes, unfortunately we’ve seen that a few times.”

“Well, Kathy’s got her hands full with Paul. Right now, let’s help her deal with the attitude that resulted in that wicked curve ball.”

The telephone wires were on fire this Sunday afternoon. The trio of Wilma, Bernice, and Carol, three members from the lady’s over-60 Sunday school class, plus the spirits of Gossip and Slander, made sure of that. Not even in seminary was one of Paul’s sermons exposed to the scrutiny it received today.

Wilma pulled the handle that sent her recliner sprawling. “Getting a cell phone was the best thing I ever did,” she said to Oreo, the big black and white cat grooming himself on the area rug. She arranged her ample frame, comfortably fitted in a pink bathrobe and matching slippers, in the recliner, and with her left hand, she pushed her first auto dial button. With her right hand she picked up a cup of coffee from the end table.

Her ten pre-programmed numbers were like a prayer chain in reverse, a destructive gossip network that spread rumors at the speed of light. It
resembled a multilevel marketing pyramid of friends phoning friends. It was so fast and efficient that if it were Amway® Wilma would have been a billionaire by now.

Bernice set down her watering can beside her African violets displayed on her kitchen windowsill and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”

“Hi Bernice. It’s Wilma. What’d you think of the new interim today?” Before Bernice could answer, a thought popped in her head,
The mouths of fools are their ruin; their lips get them into trouble.
²

Bernice was so surprised by this thought that she didn’t respond.
Is that a verse from Proverbs?
she wondered. After a few seconds, Wilma broke the silence.

“Well, frankly Bernice, I’ve heard better sermons. And what’s with all that Greek mumbo jumbo?”

“Yes, the Greek, well that was, um, interesting.”

“Interesting? I just thought that it was a big front he put up to try to impress us. He thinks we’re all a bunch of small-town hicks and don’t know anything.”

The term “small-town hicks” was enough to play on Bernice’s insecurities and suck her into the gossip session.

“I was pulling for him, Wilma, but I just don’t think he’s gonna make it. He’s got awfully big shoes to fill, awfully big shoes to fill. Pastor Hall’s retirement is just so hard to accept.”

Twenty minutes later, Wilma sipped her coffee and punched speed-dial button number two as the spirits of Slander and Faultfinding perched on her shoulder. Across town, Carol hit the television remote’s mute button, silencing the replay of her favorite soap opera. “Hello.”

“Hi, Carol, it’s Wilma. What’d you think of Pastor Paul today?”

Ardare, Wilma’s guardian angel, stood behind the plush gray recliner—eight feet tall and radiating with celestial light.

As he listened, his countenance disintegrated. “Oh, I can feel Father’s heart breaking even now.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Wilma, you have no idea. If you only knew how grievous this is to Father, you would never spread your poison.”

As Wilma hit the third number, a thought interrupted her,
As surely as a wind from the north brings rain, so a gossiping tongue causes anger!
³
She shifted her weight uncomfortably in the recliner.

Joan put down her knitting and picked up the phone, “Hello.”

Silence.

“Hello, hello, is anybody there?”

Wilma was distracted from Ardare’s thoughts by Joan. “Hello, Joan, it’s Wilma. How are you?”

“I’m fine Wilma. What’d you think of Pastor Paul today?”

Wilma haltingly began, “Um, well, I think, I think…”

“He’s got awfully big shoes to fill,” whispered Gossip.

“I think He’s got awfully big shoes to fill,” repeated Wilma, “and I don’t know who he was trying to impress with all his high fallutin’ Greek words….”

Ardare continued bringing conviction to Wilma, and each time she made an effort to resist. Finally, she threw off his conviction totally for the pleasure of gossiping with her friends. By the time Wilma had hit auto dial number ten, she had no memory of the verse from Ardare.

Number ten was Sarah Edwards; she was not a close friend, not even really a friend, after all, that’s why she’s number ten, but she was a new Sunday school member. Wilma was on a roll; the recliner felt comfy, and the phone had been charging all night.

The phone rang at Sarah’s, but Sarah wasn’t answering. She’d had a call from Bernice after Bernice hung up from Wilma. Carol called too after chatting with Wilma, and so did speed dial numbers five and seven. She’d enjoyed talking with Carol; it was just nice to feel included, but something
happened when she was talking to Bernice. She couldn’t get that verse out of her head:

Telling lies about others is as harmful as hitting them with an ax, wounding them with a sword, or shooting them with a sharp arrow.
⁴
Those are all dangerous, destructive weapons
, she thought.

In her devotional yesterday she had read in the book of James that if a person can’t control his tongue his religion is worthless.
⁵
She breathed a sigh of relief when the phone stopped ringing. She couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach.
Oh, God, help me. Help me to be a mature woman. I’ve got so much to learn. Please forgive me for gossiping just to fit in. Put a zipper on my big fat mouth
.

Malta looked at Joel and burst out laughing. Soon both angels were chuckling. “Prayers don’t get any more sincere than that!” said Malta.

“Sarah,” said Joel, “the Lord, in His mercy, is entrusting you with spiritual gifts, intercession for Pastor Paul and others. Instead of gossiping about him, now you’ll be praying fervently. You’ll even weep for him.”

Sarah’s gift of intercession was beginning with a burden for the new interim pastor and her local church, but before she departed for Heaven, it would encompass the world.

Sarah, still mulling over the meaning of the verse from Joel and Malta, repented again for her gossiping.
Forgive me, Lord. I’ve slandered Pastor Paul, and I don’t know anything about him. He comes to our church the very first day, just out of seminary. The poor man; he must have been so nervous. I’m sure he wanted to do well. Lord bless Paul and his family. Bless his time here, whether short or long. Speak to him about his future and the church’s
.

She continued praying, and when she glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, 20 minutes had passed.
Maybe I am an intercessor
, she thought. She smiled as she remembered the last meeting she had with Pastor Hall before he left. Sarah had her dog-eared humility book marked up with questions. She was so grateful that she’d had Pastor Hall to go to for answers.

“I’ve been studying about prayer, and I do like to pray.”

“You could very well have a gift of intercession.”

“But it’s not even on the list of gifts.”

“My opinion is that it’s not on the list because every Christian is supposed to do it. It’s like tithing; it’s not on the list, either.” Sarah nodded. “My gift is as a pastor and a teacher; that’s a very public gift. Intercession is a gift that comes with hiddenness. You’ll be alone praying in your home for people you don’t even know, and they will be touched by your prayers. You can pray for individuals; you can pray for war-torn nations. God is not limited by time or distance. Intercessors are the hidden workhorses of the Kingdom, but that’s ok. God says He sees what we do in hiddenness, and He will reward us openly.
⁶

“Can you explain something else about pride? The book said there is pride in my heart and that there is a demon of pride. That confused me.”

“We get hit from the inside and the outside, don’t we? We all struggle with certain internal areas; it could be temper, addiction, selfishness, pride, anything. These are in us and we are to actively fight against them. For instance, if I have greed in my heart I can bet that demon will be trying to take advantage of me and make me stumble because it’s a place of weakness. Remember last week we said that we don’t fight against people, but against evil spirits?”

Sarah shook her head but remained quiet. “What’s going on?” asked Pastor Hall leaning toward her. “It’s just that I lived 71 years thinking that demons were like werewolves and monsters. It makes me so sad. I guess it’s better to know the truth late, than never.”

“Sarah, it’s no sin to be untaught, only unteachable. Remember, nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”
⁷

More revelation about prayer came the next day in the grocery store checkout line when she glanced at the cover of a woman’s magazine. The model looked about 14 years old and wasn’t wearing much more than a sultry, come-hither look.
Dear Lord, what kind of parents would let their child pose like that?
She stopped; she hadn’t really meant it as a prayer so much as just a comment, but Joel whispered to her, “Pray for her, she’s anorexic. She’s 15
years old, and the pressure she feels to look perfect and the shame from her anorexia causes her to cut herself.”

Sarah realized right then that she didn’t have to limit her prayers to people that she knew.

From then on, she prayed for every model and movie star on every magazine cover at the grocery store, for every person on billboards or in advertisements, to be saved. She also prayed for whoever was at the receiving end of any siren she heard. While waiting for a train to pass, she prayed for each of the drifters who painted the graffiti on the speeding railway cars.
And God, don’t forget those who painted on the other side where I can’t see
. Once she even tuned in to the baseball game just so she could pray for the players.