Devotion Apart Page 7

  The preacher proudly moved up the aisle, bumping fists and slapping backs as parishioners filed out of the church. I waited patiently to meet the preacher, a slight Hispanic man with a sparse mustache like he'd just started shaving. His smile was broad and he seemed genuine in his salutations.

  Finally, it was my turn.

  "An interesting style," I told him. "I'm new in town. I was just curious—I noticed you didn't direct us toward the Bible."

  "Well, didn't you hear my rabbit joke?" He laughed and slapped my shoulder. Men beside him, his escorts, laughed as well. "We try to keep it light, not too negative. There's enough negativity in the city, don't you think?"

  "Yes, but how do we know what God thinks of our sin if church leaders don't preach against it?" I held up my Bible. "We need to hear the actual gospel, the destructiveness of sin and death, and the real hope Jesus Christ provides, right?"

  "Yeah, but which sin? What is sin? Your Jesus could be different than my Jesus, right? And I can't tell people what their sin is, not if I don't want to offend them. After all, we're all in this together."

  "What?" I frowned.

  "I'm sorry." He smiled. "You're new here. Look, so many are transitioning from one life to another, so I'm not going to judge them in what they're doing. God doesn't, does He?"

  "God does judge sin, yes. And He will judge sinners—the unredeemed. Haven't you. . .read the Holy Scriptures?"

  "God knows my heart, saint." He touched my arm again. "How could I rightly speak against others when I wouldn't want them to speak against me? God looks at the inside. Take me, for example. I used to be Josephine. Now I'm Joseph. Joseph Calderwood. We hope to see you again next week."

  Speechless, I stood still as the preacher continued up the aisle with the escorts. The effeminate appearance and teenage-like mustache suddenly made sense.

  Back in the jeep, I sat in the driver's seat for a long time. I was the last in the parking lot to leave. No wonder Devotion was in such a state of wickedness—if this was the best it was offered by church-goers.

  While gripping the steering wheel, I wept. I cried for the city, its people, and its sin. The longer I was there, the more immorality revealed itself. Not even the professing preachers of the gospel were following Jesus Christ. The auditorium had sat five thousand, but the city didn't appear to have even five hundred born-again believers in its midst—and now I knew why. They were told about a counterfeit god who accepted the sins of the people, and they were preached a false gospel of comfort and prosperity in a fallen world.

  I felt like I was back in the Amazon forest on my first hike inland, reaching out to a tribe no Christian man had ever visited. The natives knew only violence and rebellion, and they resisted everything that was new. Nineteen years earlier, I hadn't had the power to make the natives receive what I'd told them, and I still didn't have the power to make the people of Devotion listen. But I was close to the One who could go before me, to grant repentance to a stubborn and sin-entrenched people. The city needed a miracle, and thankfully, I knew the Miracle Maker.

  Chapter Five

  That afternoon, I met the woman who lived in the Mustard House. Sadona's mother was an active but meek woman who had owned a house with her late husband that me and my gang of friends had nicknamed the Mustard House. Sadona lived with her mother on the corner of Idvine and Geale. They welcomed me into the living room that smelled like a bakery, which was no wonder, since every conceivable space in the kitchen and dining area was occupied by baskets, racks, or bags of cookies or sweet bread.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Escobar." I shook her petite hand. Unlike Sadona, Julia was not Hispanic, so Sadona must've gotten her Latina looks from her father's side. For an instant, I thought about breaking the ice with the blue-eyed woman by telling her as a kid I'd stolen a car not a block away from their house, but I decided that probably wasn't the first impression I needed to give. "I remember this house from when I was a kid. I grew up in the Airport District. I finally get to meet the lady from the famous Mustard House."

  "I've been trying to get her to repaint it for years!" Sadona scowled and squeezed her mother's arm. "She's always telling me it's a local landmark. Maybe you're right, Cord."

  Two other people were present. Tobias and Emma Sullivan, who Sadona introduced as her spiritual parents. Tobias was an elder in their local fellowship, and Emma often led women's study groups, which Sadona and Julia faithfully attended. Tobias was a retired lawyer with a nose shaped like a bulb, and Emma was a retired high school teacher. She wore a shawl held close even though the house was warm. Tobias seemed to take right to me as we sized up one another, sharing our analysis of what had become of Devotion over the years, especially through several pandemics and catastrophes. I sincerely hoped he wasn't the type of spiritual leader I'd run into that morning!

  Sadona directed us to our seats, with me in a lounge chair beside Tobias who shared the sofa with his wife. Julia offered fresh cinnamon cookies, and Sadona served milk.

  "Everything has changed so much," Julia said, glancing sadly at her husband. "It's the End Days, for sure. The pandemics and earthquakes are one thing, but now Christians disappear right off our own streets, and the Bible is openly mocked. Will there even be any faithful people left in Devotion when the Lord comes back for His church?"

  "That's a good opening for what I'm here to say." I smiled, feeling very comfortable with this group. "Is it ok if I pray right now?"

  Tobias gestured with his hand and bowed his head. I sensed Sadona watching me closely, but this wasn't about her, not directly. No matter how distracting I found her beauty, I was there for the body of Christ.

  "Lord, we're asking You to lead us in our discussion today. This time is about You and for You. May it be pleasing to Your ears and edifying to Your Body. Amen."

  When I looked up, Tobias was reaching for my hand, his eyes watering.

  "It's a pleasure to meet a praying man your age." His voice choked. "It's so rare. Proud praying and demanding from God seems all there is nowadays. It requires real humility to reach God's ready ear. You seem to know that."

  "I've learned it." I folded my hands. "Thank you all for welcoming me. As I told Sadona, I was planning on returning to Brazil right away, but I sense God's leading me to stay for now."

  "Glad to have you." Tobias gestured to their hostess. "Sadona says you're interested in the ministry."

  "Oh." I tilted my head. "Well, I'm interested in ministry in general. For almost nineteen years, I've worked with tribes in the Amazon, translating the Bible into Portuguese dialects, church planting, and discipling."

  "Oh." The Sullivans both looked at each other. Tobias frowned. "You mean, you're not asking us to teach you? You sound like you're experienced already. Sadona, I thought you said—"

  "He never told me." Sadona glared at me. "You never told me!"

  "Well, I have lots to learn still, I think. I'm here to work with you, if you're the kind of people who believe in discipling new believers and encouraging God's people to live lives of obedience."

  "We are that!" Emma blurted. "Wow, this is refreshing, huh?"

  "Wait." Sadona leaned closer. "So, you really were a missionary or something in Brazil? You just flew in from the Amazon? From the jungle?"

  "It's a rainforest," I said. "And I actually don't think of myself as a missionary. I was just a Christian in Brazil. I came to Christ down there, and I went to the people who needed to hear the gospel. I just went to my neighbors."

  "We believe in the Great Commission, Cord." Tobias opened his hands. "What is it that you want from us?"

  "There are so many strange religions in the world. I just want to make sure we have the same faith—in a God who's sovereign and just."

  "Absolutely," Tobias answered. "We teach that."

  "Could we agree that our Creator is three Persons in One, and that Jesus is God in the flesh, fully divine and fully Man?"

  "I believe that."

  Julia nodded along,
nibbling on her own creation.

  "And would you say that the heart of the gospel is Christ's death, burial, and resurrection? Salvation is eternal, received by faith in God's eternal Son?"

  "Yes, I teach all that, and salvation is a once-for-all gift. We're in agreement, Cord. Or likeminded, as the Bible says."

  Relief overwhelmed me, and I fell back into the chair, sighing contently.

  "I don't understand," Julie said. "What just happened?"

  "I was starting to think there weren't any real Christians left in the city." I recovered and sat up again. "Obviously, God has preserved a remnant even here in Devotion. We're in agreement about who God is and how we're saved. I've found a family."

  They stared at me like I was a lunatic, all except Tobias. He seemed to understand and patted me on the knee while biting into another cookie.

  "You've been alone before," he said, "in the Amazon?"

  "Occasionally. But there are believers down there, even in the bush. And when I was alone, it just meant I needed to raise up new believers, but that's hard work to do alone. Exciting, but hard."

  "We have the same problem," Emma said. "It's lonely in this city, and dangerous. We reach out through Tobias' woodworking and Julia's baking. Sometimes, I even cook for others, but very few want to hear the gospel. We've received fines for passing out unwanted literature at homeless shelters! We've been threatened with ADX felonies by some people. They don't mind taking from our hands, but turning from their sin isn't popular. They don't realize we're trying to help them."

  "So, we've been praying." Tobias nodded at Emma. "As a small church, just about thirty of us, we've been praying for a new vision, courage, and a little light. I'm wondering if you're an answer to that prayer."

  "I'm here to work," I said. "I'm here to get out front and take some heat. That's what I can tell you. In the bush, I operate on three rules to break into a new tribe. May I share them with you?"

  "Go ahead," Tobias said.

  "First is prayer. Not simple prayer, but battle prayer. Pleading for fire prayer. Smash down barriers prayer. Prayer of compassion, brokenness, and faith. We pray for the next soul God will lead to us, that we can lead to Jesus. We pray for readiness—for the next one to be saved, and for us to raise up new believers to be strong disciples of Jesus Christ."

  "Battle prayer," Sadona laughed. "I like the sound of that."

  "Second is this: appealing to broken hearts. We use creative ways to reach people for Christ. It'll be people who've been prepared ahead of time by God to hear the truth. We need to give people the whole truth—the tough news about sin, death, and hell, and then follow it with the Cross of Christ, love, and eternal life. The gospel includes all these truths together. There are no shortcuts. If people don't understand how condemned they are as sinners under God's wrath, they won't know their desperate need of the Savior."

  "What's the third rule?" Emma asked. Her shawl had slipped from one shoulder, but she hadn't seemed to notice or care. These people were really listening!

  "Discipleship." I said the word as a complete statement, then reached for another cookie. I ate the whole cookie slowly, letting them think about the work that one word meant. "We need to teach every new convert, no exceptions. It'll cost us our whole lives to care for people like this. But I look around this room, and I see men and women who've already surrendered."

  "What do we teach?" Sadona asked. "I'm not a teacher."

  "You can teach the things you already know—from the Bible. Show new students of the Bible how to study and how to pray. You can counsel them to trust God alone for everything He promises in Christ. Discipleship generally takes four to ten months with new converts, if you're walking beside them, before they're ready to be independent Bible students and fruitful for Christ in their own way. I walk people through every book of the Bible, at least in principle, as well as all of God's attributes, and ground them in the fundamental doctrines of salvation."

  "I teach those things, Cord," Tobias said, "but it's pretty rare to have a new believer among us."

  "How often do you see a new convert?" I asked.

  "For the last fifteen years?" He shook his head. "It's been getting mighty slim, Cord. One a year would be a stretch, and even that one usually goes back to the world."

  "The world has its draw, for sure." I took a swig of milk. "But it'll be different if there is a little bit of a support system to encourage new believers. There'll be discipleship classes once a week at first, but we'll stretch to nightly before long. That's the way it is in the rainforest. Once a village catches fire, every night is a teaching session, or the ones who learn to read the Bible can read to the village."

  "Where?" Julia asked. "Here? This house is too small to have classes."

  "We rent a basement," Tobias said to me, "for our Sunday services. We can't rent it for more than one morning a week. They teach dance there the other days and nights."

  "Wait." Sadona held up her hand. "That's not even my question. My question is, how many people are we talking about? Tobias says we can bring in maybe one person a year. But you're talking about how many?"

  "If I'm working on this full time? One a day. One a week." I raised my eyebrows. "It depends on what God believes we can handle. I'll be focused on evangelism, outreach, and intercession work across the city, but I can teach discipleship classes with you, Tobias, once or twice a week. We'll make up a schedule. Ladies, Tobias knows you best and how everyone can best contribute. We'll have kids to be taught as often as young mothers come to Christ, and lots of women that'll need special attention. How many others in the church can help teach men or women and children?"

  "Three men," Tobias said, "and five women can help with all kinds of ministries. Some of them haven't been very active for a few years, since there hasn't been anyone to serve."

  "It'll be good to involve the established members of the church." I shifted in my seat. "Now, this next part is very important. We're not trying to make a name for ourselves. And we're not trying to get too big. I'm not talking about security concerns. The Lord will take care of that. I'm talking about us getting too big for our britches. God can do a lot, as long as we keep our hands off the glory of it all. Jesus wants to attract sinners because He is the Savior. He didn't want to be popular as a miracle worker or a light for social justice. No, He sought sinners, and we do the same. Our numbers may grow, but I think we'll be just fine keeping our evening meetings in our own homes."

  "Your home?" Sadona asked, then looked to Tobias. "He lives in Morliam Acres."

  "No, not my home," I said. "It's not my home, so I can't volunteer it. But we have two homes among us here, right? Tobias?"

  "Our living room is smaller than this, Cord," he said. "I don't see it working."

  "There's going to be a lot of messed up people coming to us." Sadona frowned. "Have you seen the addicts in this city? They're not giving up their syringes or whatever very easily."

  "No one here's been in sin's bondage before?" I met each of their eyes. "Christ was the answer for each of us. He can be the same for anyone else."

  "We have to figure some of these things out, Cord," Tobias said, "but this stuff you're talking about—it's the right stuff. Let's start praying and see how God sets this up over the next few months."

  "Oh." I swallowed slowly, realizing I had probably seemed too zealous. "I was thinking more like starting now. I believe I'm ready to start tomorrow."

  "What are you starting exactly?" Tobias appeared unsettled. "Praying?"

  "I've been praying, so yes, always that. But I was thinking about bringing in new converts this week. Starting tomorrow, I want to use every tool at my disposal to bring people to salvation. If I can turn them over to the body here. I know they'll be in good hands, even if it's unfamiliar work at first. You have all the tools already."

  "Turn them over to us?" Sadona gasped. "What are we, social workers? I have a job, Cord. I work. We don't have money for this sort of thing. I can't take time off, and the
se two are retired on a teacher's pension and a 401, and Mom's getting by on Dial-O-Ride trips around town. The only free time we have, we deliver baked food, and every couple weeks, Tobias gives a crib to a single mother. It's not much, Cord, but it's what we can do. You've come in here with this grand proposal like we don't have lives already in place. You expect us to rearrange our whole lives for you? Your big ideas? This is a lot to take in. I could say it's too much. You don't know this city. Half of our church is practicing social distancing still. And the other half is looking over their shoulder. Tina Leaf was from our fellowship. And now you're talking about stepping out way more than she was. We'll be the ones who disappear next. I wish it could work the way you're talking about, but it seems a little ignorant that you think it would. People in this city won't come to Christ the way you think they will. We need to ease into this."

  Uncomfortably, I stared at the coffee table, where sat the cookies and milk. Sometimes my presentation was too hasty, or even presumptuous. I'd moved too quickly for them.

  "You're right," I finally said. "I've been insensitive about your lives and what you're already doing. It's a lot to grab onto. This isn't the bush. You have a lot to think about here—jobs, possessions, houses, and more than I know. But if our lives were stripped bare of all that stuff, I think what I've proposed is what God would want from us. Those things that require so much from our lives is the reason this city is so lost. At least, that's one perspective. My perspective."

  After a silence that left me wanting to be far away, I stood and wiped my hands on my pants.

  "I think I'll go." I thanked Julia for the cookies and milk, then Tobias walked me to the door. "You know how to get ahold of me, Sadona."