of what we’re dealing with is greed, or lust. We all have the special talent of believing in a falsehood, and believing it devoutly, when we want it to be true.”
“Yes, brother,” someone said softly from the darkness.
“That is how our Creator made us. He knows we are thus inclined.”
Bobby again was answered with gentle assent. He looked out at his flock with the kindest gaze, like a father having an important talk with his young sons. “The Lord wants us to secure our hearts against things that lure us wrongly. When we’re struggling with jealousy, and guilt, and impatience, and hardness of heart, and lust, He wants us to use our rational minds and call these things by their true names. We all want to be in our minds, and not out of them. We need them to behave. How do we do that?”
Dellarobia wondered how many others in this room felt he was reading off their personal résumé. If Bobby had a suggestion, she was all ears.
“There is no use in focusing on a bad thought and trying to chase it away,” he said. “Really that just won’t work. You’ll see nothing in your mind’s eye except the one thing you want to shut out. The hunter sees naught but that which he pursues. Do you hear me? You do. There is a different way to go. Philippians counsels us to replace a wrong thought with a good one. ‘Brethren, fix your thoughts on what is true. Whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. And peace will be with you.’ ”
Dellarobia was impressed with his construction of a persuasive paragraph and use of relevant references. She wondered if he’d taken Honors English in high school, rather than the Jock English they’d set up for football players, which basically required a pulse for a passing grade. She’d bet anything Bobby had taken Honors from Mrs. Lake, as she had, in which case he knew the difference between Homer’s Ulysses and the one by James Joyce, and how to get down to business with a metaphor. Principles she had tried and failed to apply in Blanchie’s Bible class. But here at least was a form of salvation Dellarobia could appreciate: a once-weekly respite from hearing grown-ups say “Lay down” and “Where at” and “Them things there.”
Except that Bobby used covenant as a verb, and that really irked her. She’d noticed it before, and he was doing it right now. “Do you see what the Savior is trying to help us do? Can you covenant with me now to appreciate the wisdom of His advice?”
For crying out loud, she thought, how hard was it to say, “Enter into a covenant?” But Mrs. Lake had passed away, maybe the last one to care. The crowd was working up a lather now, calling out, “Yes, Brother Bobby, we do!”
In the café you got to skip the audience participation. She shrank into her green turtleneck. But Pastor Ogle wouldn’t embarrass anyone, she knew. He worked the crowd’s enthusiasm, encouraging people to share the burden of the hateful things that occupied their minds. No one was going out on a limb. “I have skirmished with evil business,” was about as explicit as it went, and “I have trucked with falsehood.” She could well imagine the skirmishes under discussion, the porno tapes these men were trying to throw away, the nips of whisky the women wished they didn’t crave every afternoon, the minute they got the kids down for a nap. The whole crowd had don’t-think-about-it blimps above their heads, which Bobby sweetly ignored.
“You’ve spoken honestly of the things that have hold of your mind,” he said. “But what I want to ask you right now is, What do you love?” He nudged the question again and again, the way Roy and Charlie herded the sheep, gently prodding a wildly disjointed group toward a collective decision to move in a new direction. “What has the good Lord bestowed on your home and family that has brought grace to your life?”
Someone spilled out, “My
“Yes, brother,” someone said softly from the darkness.
“That is how our Creator made us. He knows we are thus inclined.”
Bobby again was answered with gentle assent. He looked out at his flock with the kindest gaze, like a father having an important talk with his young sons. “The Lord wants us to secure our hearts against things that lure us wrongly. When we’re struggling with jealousy, and guilt, and impatience, and hardness of heart, and lust, He wants us to use our rational minds and call these things by their true names. We all want to be in our minds, and not out of them. We need them to behave. How do we do that?”
Dellarobia wondered how many others in this room felt he was reading off their personal résumé. If Bobby had a suggestion, she was all ears.
“There is no use in focusing on a bad thought and trying to chase it away,” he said. “Really that just won’t work. You’ll see nothing in your mind’s eye except the one thing you want to shut out. The hunter sees naught but that which he pursues. Do you hear me? You do. There is a different way to go. Philippians counsels us to replace a wrong thought with a good one. ‘Brethren, fix your thoughts on what is true. Whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. And peace will be with you.’ ”
Dellarobia was impressed with his construction of a persuasive paragraph and use of relevant references. She wondered if he’d taken Honors English in high school, rather than the Jock English they’d set up for football players, which basically required a pulse for a passing grade. She’d bet anything Bobby had taken Honors from Mrs. Lake, as she had, in which case he knew the difference between Homer’s Ulysses and the one by James Joyce, and how to get down to business with a metaphor. Principles she had tried and failed to apply in Blanchie’s Bible class. But here at least was a form of salvation Dellarobia could appreciate: a once-weekly respite from hearing grown-ups say “Lay down” and “Where at” and “Them things there.”
Except that Bobby used covenant as a verb, and that really irked her. She’d noticed it before, and he was doing it right now. “Do you see what the Savior is trying to help us do? Can you covenant with me now to appreciate the wisdom of His advice?”
For crying out loud, she thought, how hard was it to say, “Enter into a covenant?” But Mrs. Lake had passed away, maybe the last one to care. The crowd was working up a lather now, calling out, “Yes, Brother Bobby, we do!”
In the café you got to skip the audience participation. She shrank into her green turtleneck. But Pastor Ogle wouldn’t embarrass anyone, she knew. He worked the crowd’s enthusiasm, encouraging people to share the burden of the hateful things that occupied their minds. No one was going out on a limb. “I have skirmished with evil business,” was about as explicit as it went, and “I have trucked with falsehood.” She could well imagine the skirmishes under discussion, the porno tapes these men were trying to throw away, the nips of whisky the women wished they didn’t crave every afternoon, the minute they got the kids down for a nap. The whole crowd had don’t-think-about-it blimps above their heads, which Bobby sweetly ignored.
“You’ve spoken honestly of the things that have hold of your mind,” he said. “But what I want to ask you right now is, What do you love?” He nudged the question again and again, the way Roy and Charlie herded the sheep, gently prodding a wildly disjointed group toward a collective decision to move in a new direction. “What has the good Lord bestowed on your home and family that has brought grace to your life?”
Someone spilled out, “My
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