whenever Sterling spoke. Lord, open their hearts , he prayed. Let them see that Sterling is your servant. Let them hear the words he is speaking, not the language he uses . But the rustles and fidgets that accompanied the young minister told Lawrence his prayer had not been answered.
When it was time for the sermon, Pastor Sempert approached the pulpit. Straightening his shoulders, he stood for a moment, silently looking at his congregation, his eyes glistening with emotion. How difficult it must be, Lawrence thought, to say farewell so publicly.
A smile crossed the elderly minister’s face. “Today is special,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate, “for it marks my final day as your pastor. Pastor Russell’s arrival brings change for all of us, but it is time. That is why I have chosen Ecclesiastes 3, verses 1–8, as the text for my sermon.” Though normally he left it on the lectern, today the minister picked up the large Bible. “To every thing there is a season, and a time . . .” The Bible fell with a thump as Pastor Sempert clutched his head. A second later, he lay crumpled on the floor.
A collective gasp rose from the congregation as they stared at their stricken shepherd. Sterling gathered the older man in his arms, cradling him as he might have a child, while Clay rushed forward. Instinct propelled Lawrence out of the pew. Though he knew little about doctoring, he might be able to assist Ladreville’s only physician.
Clay’s face was inscrutable as he looked at Pastor Sempert, but Lawrence didn’t need a degree from the Massachusetts Medical College to know the minister’s condition was serious. The ashen cheeks, the pain-filled eyes, and the lips twisted into a horrible caricature of a smile told the tale. Clay looked up at Lawrence. “Let’s get him into his office.” He turned toward Sterling. “Pastor, you’d better comfort your parishioners.” Though no one had left the church, the townspeople were whispering, and Lawrence saw many dart anxious glances at the chancel.
Only minutes later, Clay had completed his examination. “Apoplexy.” His diagnosis confirmed Lawrence’s fears. “It will take a miracle for him to recover.”
Behind them, loud voices filled the sanctuary. Lawrence nodded briskly. Though Clay no longer needed him, it appeared Sterling might require assistance in keeping the peace. When he entered the church, Lawrence frowned. The congregation was standing, and many had left their pews to approach the front. Though Sterling appeared calm, Lawrence was reminded of a picture he had seen of Christians in the Roman arena, awaiting certain death.
“It’s your fault.” The burly man who was glowering at Sterling was practically shouting. “If you hadn’t come, Pastor Sempert would be alive.”
“You killed him!” A woman pointed her finger at Sterling.
This was worse than Lawrence had feared. The parishioners’ resentment of Sterling was so strong that it had become irrational. Without even knowing Pastor Sempert’s true condition, they were blaming Sterling for it. Instinctively, Lawrence’s hand moved to his hip. He had never fired a weapon in a church. God willing, he would not have to today.
Before Lawrence could say anything, Harriet pushed her way between the accusers and the young minister. Though she was half the size of the bully, the man retreated under the force of her glare.
“You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” she said. Unlike the others, she was not shouting, yet her voice carried clearly through the church. “Is this any way to conduct yourselves in the house of the Lord?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “You call yourselves good Christians. If you were, it seems to me you should be praying for Pastor Sempert’s recovery and thanking God that he sent us a new minister at the exact time we needed one.”
A few people hung their heads; others murmured something that sounded like an apology. Lawrence stared in
When it was time for the sermon, Pastor Sempert approached the pulpit. Straightening his shoulders, he stood for a moment, silently looking at his congregation, his eyes glistening with emotion. How difficult it must be, Lawrence thought, to say farewell so publicly.
A smile crossed the elderly minister’s face. “Today is special,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate, “for it marks my final day as your pastor. Pastor Russell’s arrival brings change for all of us, but it is time. That is why I have chosen Ecclesiastes 3, verses 1–8, as the text for my sermon.” Though normally he left it on the lectern, today the minister picked up the large Bible. “To every thing there is a season, and a time . . .” The Bible fell with a thump as Pastor Sempert clutched his head. A second later, he lay crumpled on the floor.
A collective gasp rose from the congregation as they stared at their stricken shepherd. Sterling gathered the older man in his arms, cradling him as he might have a child, while Clay rushed forward. Instinct propelled Lawrence out of the pew. Though he knew little about doctoring, he might be able to assist Ladreville’s only physician.
Clay’s face was inscrutable as he looked at Pastor Sempert, but Lawrence didn’t need a degree from the Massachusetts Medical College to know the minister’s condition was serious. The ashen cheeks, the pain-filled eyes, and the lips twisted into a horrible caricature of a smile told the tale. Clay looked up at Lawrence. “Let’s get him into his office.” He turned toward Sterling. “Pastor, you’d better comfort your parishioners.” Though no one had left the church, the townspeople were whispering, and Lawrence saw many dart anxious glances at the chancel.
Only minutes later, Clay had completed his examination. “Apoplexy.” His diagnosis confirmed Lawrence’s fears. “It will take a miracle for him to recover.”
Behind them, loud voices filled the sanctuary. Lawrence nodded briskly. Though Clay no longer needed him, it appeared Sterling might require assistance in keeping the peace. When he entered the church, Lawrence frowned. The congregation was standing, and many had left their pews to approach the front. Though Sterling appeared calm, Lawrence was reminded of a picture he had seen of Christians in the Roman arena, awaiting certain death.
“It’s your fault.” The burly man who was glowering at Sterling was practically shouting. “If you hadn’t come, Pastor Sempert would be alive.”
“You killed him!” A woman pointed her finger at Sterling.
This was worse than Lawrence had feared. The parishioners’ resentment of Sterling was so strong that it had become irrational. Without even knowing Pastor Sempert’s true condition, they were blaming Sterling for it. Instinctively, Lawrence’s hand moved to his hip. He had never fired a weapon in a church. God willing, he would not have to today.
Before Lawrence could say anything, Harriet pushed her way between the accusers and the young minister. Though she was half the size of the bully, the man retreated under the force of her glare.
“You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” she said. Unlike the others, she was not shouting, yet her voice carried clearly through the church. “Is this any way to conduct yourselves in the house of the Lord?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “You call yourselves good Christians. If you were, it seems to me you should be praying for Pastor Sempert’s recovery and thanking God that he sent us a new minister at the exact time we needed one.”
A few people hung their heads; others murmured something that sounded like an apology. Lawrence stared in
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