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Issue 6
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Summer
Summer and Matt slid into the back row of chairs in the dim auditorium. Summer looked around, observing the other church-goers. Lots of families, mostly younger people. The sound of a guitar came from the stage, and a dark-haired man in tight jeans approached the microphone. “There’s Joe!” she said to Matt.
“Good morning Life Church!” A few murmured good morning’s came from the crowd. “I said GOOD MORNING, LIFE CHURCH!” “Good morning!” the crowd answered more energetically. “How blessed are we to be in the house of the Lord this morning? I’m Joe, and I am so excited to be here with you today, ready to sing praises to our God! Let’s lift our voices up to him!” The band came in behind him and they started an upbeat song. The lights went down until it was almost dark in the auditorium. Summer stood next to her husband, Matt, and sang quietly along with the rest of the congregation. They’d recently moved to the area, and they’d been church hunting for weeks. Their Southern city had more churches than they could count, but they couldn’t find one they really loved. The one they attended two weeks ago was smaller than they’d expected, and everyone knew they were visitors. The pastor looked at them every time he made a joke to see if they laughed. The church they visited last week had a pastor whose skin was orange from self-tanning lotion, and he spit every time he yelled, which was a lot. Summer and Joe were work friends, both part-time baristas at a local coffee shop. He’d overheard her talking about the orange yelling pastor and invited her to go to his new church. Summer was surprised–Joe didn’t exactly seem like the church going type. She laughed out loud when he said he was actually the worship leader. Still, she was intrigued, and she agreed to try it out that Sunday. He was very good on stage, leading the congregation in energetic worship. “Are you sure he’s not into you?” Matt had asked when Summer told him about Joe’s invitation. Summer snorted. “No. I’m not his type. I’m a few decades too young, I think.” “What? Decades??” “Yup!” Summer said. “I’ve caught him flirting with older women lots of times at work, and someone at the shop swears they saw him kissing an old woman in the parking lot one night.” Matt raised his eyebrows, but he had agreed to check out Joe’s church. The band played for a while, eventually winding down with a slow song. A man came up on stage as the band left. The congregation sat down. Summer saw Joe in the front row. The man on stage introduced himself as Pastor David. He was probably in his early forties. Trim, dressed casually but smartly, and had a bright smile that he flashed as he looked over the crowd. The way he talked about how much God loved his children made Summer really believe him. Summer dug a pen out of her purse and grabbed a church bulletin. I think I like this place. She passed the bulletin to Matt. Yeah, it’s not bad. Maybe we should actually go to the visitor table after the service. I think I saw welcome baskets with free mugs! YES. Where should we go to lunch? The pastor’s voice rang out, “I’m going to ask all of you to do something for me today.” Summer put her pen away and folded the bulletin. “Everyone bow your heads and close your eyes,” said Pastor David. “I believe that the Lord brought each and every one of you here today. I believe that he loves you, and that he wants you to follow him. Have you taken that first step? Have you admitted that Jesus is Lord? Have you given your life to him? If you’re ready to take that step, raise your hand.” Summer moved her head ever so slightly and looked around. She never closed her eyes when pastors told her to, at least not ones she didn’t know and trust. She’d been told she had a “spirit of rebellion.” Maybe that’s why she’d had such a hard time finding a church she liked. “If you’re ready to let Jesus into your heart, raise your hand as high as you can!” said Pastor David. Summer could see the whole auditorium from the back row. She started to think about what she would order for lunch when she heard-- “I see your hand; you can put it down.” Pastor David’s voice rang confidently through the room. Summer’s eyebrows furrowed. She hadn’t seen any hand. Maybe the person hadn’t raised it very high. “Yes, Lord! I see your hand; you can put it down.” Summer forgot to be subtle as she looked around. No hands. “I see your hand; you can put it down.” She dug her fingers into Matt’s side. “Ouch!” he whispered. “Matt, no one is raising their hands.” “What?” he said. “Look!” Summer stifled a giggle. “Watch the room. No one is raising their hands.” “I see your hand; you can put it down!” Summer couldn’t hold her laughter in anymore. She tried to disguise it as a cough. Pastor David looked right at her. His eyes narrowed. “Oh crap.” She grabbed her purse. “Let’s go. I cannot wait to tell Joe about this.” Summer and Matt snuck out the back, past the visitor mugs, through the doors, and went to lunch. |
SKYLAR CAMP lives in Columbus, Ohio, with her two young kids, her partner, and their fuzzy kitty. Her writing focuses on deconverting from Evangelical Christianity, divorce, polyamory, parenting, and more. Her work appears in Bi Women Quarterly, The Broadkill Review, and JAKE. Find her at skylarcamp.com.
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Pastor David
Pastor David lowered his arms from the air as the last note from the worship song faded away. He walked toward the auditorium stage. He passed the band on the stairs and his shoulder clipped Joe, the young worship pastor he’d recently hired. He smiled and firmly gripped Joe’s shoulder for a moment, looking apologetic and generously forgiving of the man being in his way. Joe gave a half smile and quickly walked down the stairs, away from his hand.
Pastor David stepped behind his wooden podium and into the spotlight. He beamed at the people before him. His people. “Well, aren’t you a good lookin’ crowd this morning!” There were chuckles, and everyone smiled back at him.
“Let me ask you something. How many of you know that God loves you?” A sea of hands went up across the room.
“And how many of you live like God loves you?” A few hands faltered.
Pastor David went seamlessly into his message for the day. God, how he loved Sunday mornings. Getting to the church nice and early, walking through the empty rows in the auditorium, praying quietly over the seats that would soon hold people from all walks of life, shaking hands of the faithful volunteers, greeting the bright-faced people coming into the church, hungry for the Lord. They always looked so pleased when he stopped to say hello, honored that he condescended to speak with them. Standing on this stage and preaching the Word, showing people a better way to live.
He knew there were people who’d doubted his ability to lead as head pastor after his father stepped down. He sure was proving them wrong. Attendance was up. They’d recently purchased new sound equipment for the sanctuary. He’d found a member whose cousin sold the equipment, and he managed to talk him down to a good deal for the Lord. He glanced at the new backdrop on the stage, aware of how good he looked with it behind him. It was what the ladies of the congregation called “shiplap,” with a big wooden cross in the center. A contractor who was a member of the church graciously volunteered his time to build it, and they got a big discount on supplies from a local hardware store. Pastor David had even more plans for improving the building, as soon as they could afford it. The Lord was blessing Life Church, he was sure.
“And how do we live like we know God loves us? Do we walk around with a downturned countenance? Lookin’ grumpy and mean? No! We radiate the joy of the Lord! Others will know his love through us!” He caught Joe yawning out of the corner of his eye. Joe: simultaneously the best decision he’d made as head pastor and the most annoying.
When Pastor David took over, Old Martha was leading worship. A sweet old lady, but just that–old. And stubborn. She preferred hymns and a piano. She resisted any suggestions for improvement. How would they get young blood–and any money–in the church if they weren’t willing to change with the times? No one wanted hymns anymore.
One Sunday, Pastor David filled in at a friend’s church in a neighboring town. That’s when he saw Joe. Joe was young, vibrant, attractive, and talented. When he sang, every person in the room paid attention. The Spirit was so evident in his music. Plus, he’d attracted quite a crowd of young people.
Even now, Pastor David wasn’t sure how he managed to talk Joe into leaving his old church. But he had. And now, every week, Joe led the congregation in energetic, exciting worship. He felt a little guilty about firing Old Martha, but it had to be done. She hadn’t been back to the church since.
Even though Joe was undoubtedly one of the reasons attendance was up, he still annoyed the shit out of Pastor David. He called him “Dave” instead of “Pastor David.” He wasn’t exactly the best example of living a Christian life. At least, not the way they did it in the South. He admitted to listening to secular music. He unbuttoned one too many buttons on his shirts. He wasn’t married, despite being in his thirties. Someone had even seen him having a beer at a restaurant. Now, Pastor David occasionally indulged in a glass of wine, but he did it in the privacy of his own home, where he couldn’t damage his witness to unbelievers. Pastor David initially had tried to assume a mentor role, to guide Joe into the correct way of living a Christian life. But Joe was oddly resistant. He was respectful, but there was an undercurrent in their conversations, almost as if he was amused with Pastor David’s admonitions. Pastor David hated it. He’d have to brainstorm ways to bring Joe under his influence.
He was nearing the end of his sermon. He paused and took a breath, looking affectionately, paternally, over the people. The sanctuary was full today. He saw the regulars, mostly families in their thirties and forties with a good mix of younger singles. There weren’t many old people left. They’d followed Old Martha out the door. Not that Pastor David regretted it much. They’d been around for decades, but they were completely against change of any kind. The church became much more peaceful since the departure of the elderly congregants. The only downside was the significantly lighter offering baskets. The decrease in giving could destroy his entire plan for the growth of the church. He also noticed a few new faces. There was a family with a couple of teenagers; a lone woman in her thirties, and a young couple in the back row. Everyone seemed engaged in his sermon. Hopefully at least one of them was rich and ready to give. He really wanted to renovate his office. And he probably couldn’t put off paying the landscaping company again this month. He felt the energy in the room and the presence of the Lord as he reached his conclusion.
Now for the hook.
“I want you all to do something with me now. Everyone bow your heads and close your eyes. I believe that the Lord brought each and every one of you here today. I believe that he loves you, and that he wants you to follow him. Have you taken that first step? Have you admitted that Jesus is Lord? Have you given your life to him?
‘If you’re ready to take that step, raise your hand.”
He paused. No one moved.
“If you’re ready to let Jesus into your heart, raise your hand as high as you can!”
He saw a little movement in the back row, but still no hands. Well. Sometimes people just need a little encouragement. A trick his father had taught him years ago with a wink.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to sound confident. “I see your hand; you can put it down.”
Still, no one raised their hand. He started to panic a little.
“Yes, Lord! I see your hand; you can put it down!”
Still, not a single person raised their hand. He was getting desperate. What if his sermon hadn’t moved anyone? Would anyone give in the offering after this?
“I see your hand; you can put it down.” He heard a muffled sound, from the same spot in the back row. A little more movement too. He’d give them one more chance.
“I see your hand; you can put it down!”
An unmistakable laugh burst out of the young woman in the back. Pastor David looked right at her as she craned her neck, looking around the room like a scrawny bird. She tried to cover the laughter with a cough, but it was obvious. She’d caught him. Dammit. They probably wouldn’t be back next week. He stifled a sigh and made a mental note to see if he could find volunteers to handle the landscaping. He definitely wouldn’t be able to pay for it this month.
Pastor David stepped behind his wooden podium and into the spotlight. He beamed at the people before him. His people. “Well, aren’t you a good lookin’ crowd this morning!” There were chuckles, and everyone smiled back at him.
“Let me ask you something. How many of you know that God loves you?” A sea of hands went up across the room.
“And how many of you live like God loves you?” A few hands faltered.
Pastor David went seamlessly into his message for the day. God, how he loved Sunday mornings. Getting to the church nice and early, walking through the empty rows in the auditorium, praying quietly over the seats that would soon hold people from all walks of life, shaking hands of the faithful volunteers, greeting the bright-faced people coming into the church, hungry for the Lord. They always looked so pleased when he stopped to say hello, honored that he condescended to speak with them. Standing on this stage and preaching the Word, showing people a better way to live.
He knew there were people who’d doubted his ability to lead as head pastor after his father stepped down. He sure was proving them wrong. Attendance was up. They’d recently purchased new sound equipment for the sanctuary. He’d found a member whose cousin sold the equipment, and he managed to talk him down to a good deal for the Lord. He glanced at the new backdrop on the stage, aware of how good he looked with it behind him. It was what the ladies of the congregation called “shiplap,” with a big wooden cross in the center. A contractor who was a member of the church graciously volunteered his time to build it, and they got a big discount on supplies from a local hardware store. Pastor David had even more plans for improving the building, as soon as they could afford it. The Lord was blessing Life Church, he was sure.
“And how do we live like we know God loves us? Do we walk around with a downturned countenance? Lookin’ grumpy and mean? No! We radiate the joy of the Lord! Others will know his love through us!” He caught Joe yawning out of the corner of his eye. Joe: simultaneously the best decision he’d made as head pastor and the most annoying.
When Pastor David took over, Old Martha was leading worship. A sweet old lady, but just that–old. And stubborn. She preferred hymns and a piano. She resisted any suggestions for improvement. How would they get young blood–and any money–in the church if they weren’t willing to change with the times? No one wanted hymns anymore.
One Sunday, Pastor David filled in at a friend’s church in a neighboring town. That’s when he saw Joe. Joe was young, vibrant, attractive, and talented. When he sang, every person in the room paid attention. The Spirit was so evident in his music. Plus, he’d attracted quite a crowd of young people.
Even now, Pastor David wasn’t sure how he managed to talk Joe into leaving his old church. But he had. And now, every week, Joe led the congregation in energetic, exciting worship. He felt a little guilty about firing Old Martha, but it had to be done. She hadn’t been back to the church since.
Even though Joe was undoubtedly one of the reasons attendance was up, he still annoyed the shit out of Pastor David. He called him “Dave” instead of “Pastor David.” He wasn’t exactly the best example of living a Christian life. At least, not the way they did it in the South. He admitted to listening to secular music. He unbuttoned one too many buttons on his shirts. He wasn’t married, despite being in his thirties. Someone had even seen him having a beer at a restaurant. Now, Pastor David occasionally indulged in a glass of wine, but he did it in the privacy of his own home, where he couldn’t damage his witness to unbelievers. Pastor David initially had tried to assume a mentor role, to guide Joe into the correct way of living a Christian life. But Joe was oddly resistant. He was respectful, but there was an undercurrent in their conversations, almost as if he was amused with Pastor David’s admonitions. Pastor David hated it. He’d have to brainstorm ways to bring Joe under his influence.
He was nearing the end of his sermon. He paused and took a breath, looking affectionately, paternally, over the people. The sanctuary was full today. He saw the regulars, mostly families in their thirties and forties with a good mix of younger singles. There weren’t many old people left. They’d followed Old Martha out the door. Not that Pastor David regretted it much. They’d been around for decades, but they were completely against change of any kind. The church became much more peaceful since the departure of the elderly congregants. The only downside was the significantly lighter offering baskets. The decrease in giving could destroy his entire plan for the growth of the church. He also noticed a few new faces. There was a family with a couple of teenagers; a lone woman in her thirties, and a young couple in the back row. Everyone seemed engaged in his sermon. Hopefully at least one of them was rich and ready to give. He really wanted to renovate his office. And he probably couldn’t put off paying the landscaping company again this month. He felt the energy in the room and the presence of the Lord as he reached his conclusion.
Now for the hook.
“I want you all to do something with me now. Everyone bow your heads and close your eyes. I believe that the Lord brought each and every one of you here today. I believe that he loves you, and that he wants you to follow him. Have you taken that first step? Have you admitted that Jesus is Lord? Have you given your life to him?
‘If you’re ready to take that step, raise your hand.”
He paused. No one moved.
“If you’re ready to let Jesus into your heart, raise your hand as high as you can!”
He saw a little movement in the back row, but still no hands. Well. Sometimes people just need a little encouragement. A trick his father had taught him years ago with a wink.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to sound confident. “I see your hand; you can put it down.”
Still, no one raised their hand. He started to panic a little.
“Yes, Lord! I see your hand; you can put it down!”
Still, not a single person raised their hand. He was getting desperate. What if his sermon hadn’t moved anyone? Would anyone give in the offering after this?
“I see your hand; you can put it down.” He heard a muffled sound, from the same spot in the back row. A little more movement too. He’d give them one more chance.
“I see your hand; you can put it down!”
An unmistakable laugh burst out of the young woman in the back. Pastor David looked right at her as she craned her neck, looking around the room like a scrawny bird. She tried to cover the laughter with a cough, but it was obvious. She’d caught him. Dammit. They probably wouldn’t be back next week. He stifled a sigh and made a mental note to see if he could find volunteers to handle the landscaping. He definitely wouldn’t be able to pay for it this month.
Joe
Joe strummed the last note of the song and let it hang in the air for a moment, his mouth slightly open next to the microphone, his eyes closed. This feeling was his favorite thing. He forgot he was on a stage in front of hundreds of church goers. For a moment, it was just him and this moment of peace.
He eyes flew open as the lights came up and he heard the voice of a man off stage saying, “Amen! Yes, Lord!” He felt a little disoriented as he put his guitar on the stand and walked down the stairs. He passed the pastor, Dave, whose shoulder clipped him. He felt a second of intense annoyance and considered shoving him, but he had plans after church that didn’t involve getting bailed out of jail. He forced himself to smile instead and quickly went to his seat in the front row of the auditorium. I don’t get paid enough for this, he thought.
He figured Pastor David was salty about paying him anything at all. At his old church, Joe had been a volunteer. He led the worship band because he liked it. Truthfully, he didn’t consider himself very religious, but he kept that quiet. He liked standing on a stage, jamming with a band, hearing people sing along, seeing the way his music moved people. Or, ahem, how The Holy Spirit moved people. Joe was realistic. He was in his thirties, and the days of hoping his rock band would make it big were gone. Church bands were the best way to consistently get the chance to play music.
One Sunday, Pastor David was a guest preacher at Cornerstone, Joe’s old church. After service, he gripped Joe’s hand firmly and asked to take him to lunch.
Joe realized he was being poached before the server even brought their Cokes.
“We have so much potential for growth. We are growing. But we could grow so much more if we could appeal to more people, younger people. There are just certain members of the church who are… roadblocks to that idea. Stubborn, stubborn people.”
“Oh?” Joe raised one eyebrow.
Pastor David gave a short, frustrated sigh. “Old Martha, for one. She’s been our worship leader for decades. She refuses to lead the congregation in anything but hymns. People are bored. They’re ready for something new. Something like what you did this morning!”
The server set their Cokes down and took their orders. A grilled chicken salad for Pastor David, a cheeseburger for Joe.
Joe stirred the ice in his glass with a straw. “I can sympathize with her, really. The old hymns have complexity and beauty that most modern church music lacks.”
“Absolutely!” Pastor David cried. “But if we can just manage to combine that beauty with passion and, oh, I don’t know–guitars! Drums! Some colorful lights! We could be one of the most well-attended churches in town!”
By the end of lunch, Joe had managed to talk himself into a part-time paid position with Life Church.
Now, sitting in his chair, listening to Dave preach, he couldn’t help but wonder if coming to Life Church had been a mistake. He had to take a second job at a coffee shop to make ends meet. That job was actually pretty fun, though. He’d made friends there. He was pretty sure he’d spotted a coworker, Summer, in the back row that morning. He quietly sniffed. See, Dave? I am drawing in the young people, just like you wanted. But he was finding it more difficult to satisfy the demanding pastor than he’d expected.
Dave could be such an asshole. The first time Joe saw it was when Dave invited him to Life Church the week after their lunch. Dave took Joe up on the stage and showed him around before the service started. He was in the middle of bemoaning the state of the sound system when he stopped, leaned in, and whispered, “Get ready to meet the most stubborn and unpleasant person on God’s green earth.”
Joe chuckled and looked behind Dave. He felt a jolt of electricity surge through him.
“Martha! Come on over here! I want you to meet Joe!”
Martha gripped the handrail as she walked up on stage. She was easily in her late sixties. She had short, soft grey hair and big, bright brown eyes that sparkled in the sanctuary lights. She wore a dark blue dress, respectable and simple, and it hugged her surprisingly shapely body. She reached out to shake Joe’s hand, and he barely mumbled a “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Joe.” Her voice was velvety, enticing. “What brings you to Life Church?”
“Oh–uh, I’m a–”
“Joe’s a worship leader from Cornerstone. He’s thinking of making a change, though, aren’t you Joe?”
Martha’s brown eyes flashed with understanding. “Ah, I see. Well, good luck to you, Joe. If you’ll excuse me–”
She gracefully walked away and sat down at her piano, running her hands up and down the keys before launching into It Is Well with My Soul. Joe and Dave walked off stage and went to their seats as Martha began to sing. Her voice took Joe’s breath away.
He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go out to lunch with him that day, or that she kept seeing him even after Dave fired her and gave him her job. He tapped his foot as Dave said, “I see your hand; you can put it down,” and thought about the curve right at the nape of Martha’s neck that he couldn’t wait to kiss again.
He eyes flew open as the lights came up and he heard the voice of a man off stage saying, “Amen! Yes, Lord!” He felt a little disoriented as he put his guitar on the stand and walked down the stairs. He passed the pastor, Dave, whose shoulder clipped him. He felt a second of intense annoyance and considered shoving him, but he had plans after church that didn’t involve getting bailed out of jail. He forced himself to smile instead and quickly went to his seat in the front row of the auditorium. I don’t get paid enough for this, he thought.
He figured Pastor David was salty about paying him anything at all. At his old church, Joe had been a volunteer. He led the worship band because he liked it. Truthfully, he didn’t consider himself very religious, but he kept that quiet. He liked standing on a stage, jamming with a band, hearing people sing along, seeing the way his music moved people. Or, ahem, how The Holy Spirit moved people. Joe was realistic. He was in his thirties, and the days of hoping his rock band would make it big were gone. Church bands were the best way to consistently get the chance to play music.
One Sunday, Pastor David was a guest preacher at Cornerstone, Joe’s old church. After service, he gripped Joe’s hand firmly and asked to take him to lunch.
Joe realized he was being poached before the server even brought their Cokes.
“We have so much potential for growth. We are growing. But we could grow so much more if we could appeal to more people, younger people. There are just certain members of the church who are… roadblocks to that idea. Stubborn, stubborn people.”
“Oh?” Joe raised one eyebrow.
Pastor David gave a short, frustrated sigh. “Old Martha, for one. She’s been our worship leader for decades. She refuses to lead the congregation in anything but hymns. People are bored. They’re ready for something new. Something like what you did this morning!”
The server set their Cokes down and took their orders. A grilled chicken salad for Pastor David, a cheeseburger for Joe.
Joe stirred the ice in his glass with a straw. “I can sympathize with her, really. The old hymns have complexity and beauty that most modern church music lacks.”
“Absolutely!” Pastor David cried. “But if we can just manage to combine that beauty with passion and, oh, I don’t know–guitars! Drums! Some colorful lights! We could be one of the most well-attended churches in town!”
By the end of lunch, Joe had managed to talk himself into a part-time paid position with Life Church.
Now, sitting in his chair, listening to Dave preach, he couldn’t help but wonder if coming to Life Church had been a mistake. He had to take a second job at a coffee shop to make ends meet. That job was actually pretty fun, though. He’d made friends there. He was pretty sure he’d spotted a coworker, Summer, in the back row that morning. He quietly sniffed. See, Dave? I am drawing in the young people, just like you wanted. But he was finding it more difficult to satisfy the demanding pastor than he’d expected.
Dave could be such an asshole. The first time Joe saw it was when Dave invited him to Life Church the week after their lunch. Dave took Joe up on the stage and showed him around before the service started. He was in the middle of bemoaning the state of the sound system when he stopped, leaned in, and whispered, “Get ready to meet the most stubborn and unpleasant person on God’s green earth.”
Joe chuckled and looked behind Dave. He felt a jolt of electricity surge through him.
“Martha! Come on over here! I want you to meet Joe!”
Martha gripped the handrail as she walked up on stage. She was easily in her late sixties. She had short, soft grey hair and big, bright brown eyes that sparkled in the sanctuary lights. She wore a dark blue dress, respectable and simple, and it hugged her surprisingly shapely body. She reached out to shake Joe’s hand, and he barely mumbled a “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Joe.” Her voice was velvety, enticing. “What brings you to Life Church?”
“Oh–uh, I’m a–”
“Joe’s a worship leader from Cornerstone. He’s thinking of making a change, though, aren’t you Joe?”
Martha’s brown eyes flashed with understanding. “Ah, I see. Well, good luck to you, Joe. If you’ll excuse me–”
She gracefully walked away and sat down at her piano, running her hands up and down the keys before launching into It Is Well with My Soul. Joe and Dave walked off stage and went to their seats as Martha began to sing. Her voice took Joe’s breath away.
He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go out to lunch with him that day, or that she kept seeing him even after Dave fired her and gave him her job. He tapped his foot as Dave said, “I see your hand; you can put it down,” and thought about the curve right at the nape of Martha’s neck that he couldn’t wait to kiss again.
Martha
Martha stretched like a cat in the sun, then reached for another donut from the box next to her on the bed. She nibbled at it while she drank her coffee and read her romance novel. She’d gotten it recently from the library. It was very good.
She looked at the clock on her bedside table. 10:08. Joe would be on his second song by now. She leaned back onto her pillow and looked out the window. Birds picked at the bird feeder in the yard. She could see her daisies blooming.
Martha’s Sunday mornings were quite different than they used to be. She’d always had coffee and donuts, of course, but it used to be in the church lobby with all the other members. She had to say, she preferred the ritual alone in her bed, with no pants. The years she’d wasted at that damn church! Life Church, as Davey called it now. It used to be First Christian Church, but he decided that was too stuffy. She’d known that boy since he was in diapers. She played piano for his wedding. And he’d tossed her out like an old shoe.
Still, as much as she hated Davey–and she did hate him—she had to admit that it was nice to be done with the church. The drama, the stress. Davey’s father had been a good pastor, a man who truly cared about his church and the people in it. They’d never been the most popular place in town; they’d never had the nicest building. But they had each other, and the Lord. Still, there was always drama about who would be named deacon or who was organizing the potluck or who got to sing a solo on Easter. She’d been sick of it for a long time before Davey came on the scene. He’d gone off to Bible college, then started a new church in the same town. It had done well, from what Martha had heard, and Davey was offered a spot as a professor at the Bible college. She never did hear exactly what happened, but she did know that he’d had some kind of clash with the head of the theology department, and he resigned. After that, he’d come back to his father’s church.
That happened right after her Frank had died. Thirty-five years they’d been married, and she hadn’t thought it possible to live without him. But she had continued living, for better or for worse. Davey never offered his condolences or mentioned Frank at all, despite knowing him for the better part of his life. Martha had never forgiven him for it.
After a year or so, Davey’s father resigned and recommended Davey to replace him, which the elders did without hesitation. He died two weeks later. Martha considered it a blessing. He would’ve hated to see how Davey ran his church. The second he took over, he started pressuring her to sing different songs, or to let a guitar player on stage with her. He started talking about ways the church could bring in more money, how they could use it to upgrade the building, and how they could be an even bigger blessing to the community if they had more to spend.
Martha liked the church just fine the way it was. But her opinion didn’t seem to matter at all.
She watched her friends slowly leave the church, no longer comfortable in a place they’d once loved. She wondered how long it would be until she gave up too. Martha wasn’t sure why she stayed. She just couldn’t imagine life without that stage, without her beloved piano, without singing the hymns she loved so much with the sound of a crowd singing with her.
One morning, she walked up on the stage to find Davey with a young man. He was young. Attractive. Probably talented. She had a pit in the bottom of her stomach.
“What brings you to Life Church?” she asked him.
He stumbled over his words. Davey rescued him. “Joe’s a worship leader from Cornerstone. He’s thinking of making a change, though, aren’t you Joe?”
Martha felt sorry for Joe. He didn’t know what kind of a person Davey was. He looked at her with panicked eyes–eyes so green and deep that they made her heart stop for a second. She wanted to comfort him.
Davey and Joe left the stage as she sat on the piano bench and started to play. Joe sat in the front row, looking up at hear earnestly.
She began with It is Well with My Soul, then moved to A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. Her eyes caught Joe’s as she sang, “were not the right man by our side, the man of God’s own choosing,” and blushed as she hadn’t blushed in years.
When Joe approached her after service, she wanted to run and hide in embarrassment. But he immediately put her at ease.
“Martha, that was wonderful. I love the hymns you selected.”
“Thank you, Joe–it is Joe, right?” She knew his name. She just needed to feel in control of the situation a little more than she did at the time. Her heart was beating and she couldn’t stop looking at Joe’s shoulders. Broad and strong. Perfect for cuddling. Or for bracing yourself on.
“Right, Joe.” He smiled, then hesitated. “Would you like to get lunch with me? Dave has plans for me here, and I’d love to get your perspective on Life Church.”
“Of course,” Martha said. “Let me get my purse.”
What was the matter with her? This man had obviously been brought in to replace her. He was multiple decades younger than her. She had to be an absolute fool to go to lunch with him.
But she did. They stayed in the restaurant booth for hours, talking and laughing, long after the post-church lunch crowd cleared out. At some point, her foot touched his, and neither of them moved. Later, he reached across the table to touch her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around his. She invited him to her house for a cup of coffee. What they did with the rest of their day would not be approved behavior for church staff.
A few days later, she received a letter in the mail from Davey, informing her that her time as worship leader at Life Church had come to an end. The bastard hadn’t even had the guts to tell her to her face. She burned the letter in her fire pit, then called Joe to invite him over that night. When Joe walked in and took her in his arms, she realized that she didn’t give a single fuck about Davey or about Life Church.
A squirrel hopped onto the bird feeder. Martha jumped up and tapped the glass on the window to scare it away. She sipped the last of her coffee, then decided to get ready before Joe came over after church. She sang hymns in the shower while she shaved her legs.
It is well.
With my soul.
It is well, it is well, with my soul!
She looked at the clock on her bedside table. 10:08. Joe would be on his second song by now. She leaned back onto her pillow and looked out the window. Birds picked at the bird feeder in the yard. She could see her daisies blooming.
Martha’s Sunday mornings were quite different than they used to be. She’d always had coffee and donuts, of course, but it used to be in the church lobby with all the other members. She had to say, she preferred the ritual alone in her bed, with no pants. The years she’d wasted at that damn church! Life Church, as Davey called it now. It used to be First Christian Church, but he decided that was too stuffy. She’d known that boy since he was in diapers. She played piano for his wedding. And he’d tossed her out like an old shoe.
Still, as much as she hated Davey–and she did hate him—she had to admit that it was nice to be done with the church. The drama, the stress. Davey’s father had been a good pastor, a man who truly cared about his church and the people in it. They’d never been the most popular place in town; they’d never had the nicest building. But they had each other, and the Lord. Still, there was always drama about who would be named deacon or who was organizing the potluck or who got to sing a solo on Easter. She’d been sick of it for a long time before Davey came on the scene. He’d gone off to Bible college, then started a new church in the same town. It had done well, from what Martha had heard, and Davey was offered a spot as a professor at the Bible college. She never did hear exactly what happened, but she did know that he’d had some kind of clash with the head of the theology department, and he resigned. After that, he’d come back to his father’s church.
That happened right after her Frank had died. Thirty-five years they’d been married, and she hadn’t thought it possible to live without him. But she had continued living, for better or for worse. Davey never offered his condolences or mentioned Frank at all, despite knowing him for the better part of his life. Martha had never forgiven him for it.
After a year or so, Davey’s father resigned and recommended Davey to replace him, which the elders did without hesitation. He died two weeks later. Martha considered it a blessing. He would’ve hated to see how Davey ran his church. The second he took over, he started pressuring her to sing different songs, or to let a guitar player on stage with her. He started talking about ways the church could bring in more money, how they could use it to upgrade the building, and how they could be an even bigger blessing to the community if they had more to spend.
Martha liked the church just fine the way it was. But her opinion didn’t seem to matter at all.
She watched her friends slowly leave the church, no longer comfortable in a place they’d once loved. She wondered how long it would be until she gave up too. Martha wasn’t sure why she stayed. She just couldn’t imagine life without that stage, without her beloved piano, without singing the hymns she loved so much with the sound of a crowd singing with her.
One morning, she walked up on the stage to find Davey with a young man. He was young. Attractive. Probably talented. She had a pit in the bottom of her stomach.
“What brings you to Life Church?” she asked him.
He stumbled over his words. Davey rescued him. “Joe’s a worship leader from Cornerstone. He’s thinking of making a change, though, aren’t you Joe?”
Martha felt sorry for Joe. He didn’t know what kind of a person Davey was. He looked at her with panicked eyes–eyes so green and deep that they made her heart stop for a second. She wanted to comfort him.
Davey and Joe left the stage as she sat on the piano bench and started to play. Joe sat in the front row, looking up at hear earnestly.
She began with It is Well with My Soul, then moved to A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. Her eyes caught Joe’s as she sang, “were not the right man by our side, the man of God’s own choosing,” and blushed as she hadn’t blushed in years.
When Joe approached her after service, she wanted to run and hide in embarrassment. But he immediately put her at ease.
“Martha, that was wonderful. I love the hymns you selected.”
“Thank you, Joe–it is Joe, right?” She knew his name. She just needed to feel in control of the situation a little more than she did at the time. Her heart was beating and she couldn’t stop looking at Joe’s shoulders. Broad and strong. Perfect for cuddling. Or for bracing yourself on.
“Right, Joe.” He smiled, then hesitated. “Would you like to get lunch with me? Dave has plans for me here, and I’d love to get your perspective on Life Church.”
“Of course,” Martha said. “Let me get my purse.”
What was the matter with her? This man had obviously been brought in to replace her. He was multiple decades younger than her. She had to be an absolute fool to go to lunch with him.
But she did. They stayed in the restaurant booth for hours, talking and laughing, long after the post-church lunch crowd cleared out. At some point, her foot touched his, and neither of them moved. Later, he reached across the table to touch her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around his. She invited him to her house for a cup of coffee. What they did with the rest of their day would not be approved behavior for church staff.
A few days later, she received a letter in the mail from Davey, informing her that her time as worship leader at Life Church had come to an end. The bastard hadn’t even had the guts to tell her to her face. She burned the letter in her fire pit, then called Joe to invite him over that night. When Joe walked in and took her in his arms, she realized that she didn’t give a single fuck about Davey or about Life Church.
A squirrel hopped onto the bird feeder. Martha jumped up and tapped the glass on the window to scare it away. She sipped the last of her coffee, then decided to get ready before Joe came over after church. She sang hymns in the shower while she shaved her legs.
It is well.
With my soul.
It is well, it is well, with my soul!