35

 

After my shower, I rushed back to the rally. My wet hair dripped on my T-shirt and my feet ached with fatigue. I didn’t bother with makeup. I had a church to clean.

By the time I got there, not only was there no mud on the carpets, but the tents were bussed clean and a group of bikers were hanging out in the kitchen, doing dishes and visiting while the band played outside.

Outside, another group of them raked the lot and planted new grass seed by the light of tractors and combines farmers had brought to the rally to provide light for the concert. Some of the bikers pointed their bike lights in other areas where they helped with clean up.

“Wow.” I walked to where Lily sat a table sorting plastic cutlery in the fellowship hall. “How did they know to have seed ready to plant?”

“Wow indeed.” She smiled. “They’ve done rallies before. They know what’s needed at the end of a large crowd of people messing things up.”

“What was I worried about? They’ve done everything.”

“You listen too much to Bernice.” Lily pushed a lid onto a box of knives.

I scanned the fellowship hall. “I realize that now. Have you seen Patrick and Daniel?”

“Atticus has them outside with him, cleaning up the grill. Where’s Timothy?” She situated the box of knives in the cabinet and returned to sorting forks and spoons.

“Sleeping. Aaron’s at home with him. I gave Timmy his shower, and he went straight to bed—willingly. You and I both know that doesn’t happen often.”

Lily nodded.

I walked into the kitchen to offer my help. “What do I do now?”

“Go home. Go to bed.” Everyone in the kitchen, including Trace and Reba, waved me out. I was too tired to protest. My legs and feet throbbed with exhaustion.

It was like a dream to see church folks mixing with bikers, helping one another, and enjoying one another’s company. Of course, some of the church members were too shy or uncomfortable to come out and spend time doing biker things. But most of them would be at church in the morning, and I was happy so many turned out to help today.

I went home and left the clean up to Atticus and his bunch outside and Lily and her gang inside. Atticus promised to bring the boys home. I fell asleep on the couch and never heard the boys come in.

The next morning, I awoke excited and nervous for the day ahead. I noticed someone had covered me up with my favorite blanket. I loved waking up like that.

Today we’d host the biggest crowd ever on a Sunday morning. There were twice as many bikers as we had at the bike blessing weeks before. I didn’t know for sure what to expect, but I prayed Norman and Bernice would behave themselves.

“Please, Lord, keep them quiet today.” I prayed again for them, just as Aaron asked me to.

The sanctuary filled up, and the deacons were thrilled to be digging chairs up from the basement to seat people in the back behind the last row of chairs in the sanctuary. Bikers spilled out into the foyer, and the most enthusiastic members of our church stood along the walls for the entire service. Somehow, I never bumped into Bernice.

We sang beautiful praise and worship music together, and it was a sight to see strong, burly, rough-around-the-edges bikers with their hands in the air, submitting to their God. I got goose bumps and sang and played the piano with a thankful heart. The music was all the more beautiful, not because we sounded good, but because of Who we sang to.

After a few announcements, Aaron began his sermon.

“Some of you folks are nothing but a bunch of posers.” He pulled on a leather jacket he’d borrowed from Trace and a doo-rag and sunglasses. I wanted to roll on the floor laughing. The congregation roared. My nerdy husband was no more a biker than I was a prissy-type of pastor’s wife.

“You bikers all know what a poser is. A poser is someone who says they’re a biker but don’t really live the biker lifestyle.” The bikers hooted at my husband and clapped. Even though they knew Aaron didn’t ride, they treated him with the utmost respect.

“Well, I’m going to tell you something you may not know. Many Christians are posers, too. They’re a bunch of fakes. Some Christians no more shine for Christ than dirty chrome can glint in the sun.”

Aaron had everyone’s attention. No one moved, and no one made a sound. Even the children who remained in the service today to see all the bikers sat quietly.

“I know many of us are posers in the kingdom of God because if we weren’t, we’d experience rejection. We’d be rejected the same way a number of bikers here are when they wear their leathers in public.

“Isaiah 53:3 tells us that Jesus was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief…when He walked on earth as a man, fully human, we esteemed him not.

“Jesus was no poser. He wasn’t some random guy Who came to earth and pretended to be the Messiah. He is the Messiah. He was fully God. And yet, He was despised and rejected, misunderstood and judged unfairly. Jesus promised that if we follow Him, we too, will experience rejection and even hate.

“In the book of John, Jesus said: ‘You didn’t choose me, I chose you, and ordained you…if the world hates you, know that it hated Me before it hated you. You see, if you were of the world, the world would love you: but because you’re not of the world, and because I’ve chosen you out of the world, that’s why the world hates you.’”

Usually, Aaron’s sermons lasted a lot longer, but today, because people stood during the service, he invited people to the front to pray after he preached for fifteen minutes.

At first, no one moved, and then, with tentative, careful steps, three people from our own congregation approached Aaron for prayer. One of them was Patrick.

No bikers responded.

We thought we were going to reach out to the bikers. Instead, God did a work in us and in our very own son. Atticus stood behind Patrick with his hand on his shoulder, and a few other friends of his stood there, too. I had no idea if they’d ever prayed in public before, but there they were, covered in tattoos and tears.

“Why am I crying like a baby?” One of the bikers asked Lily for a tissue.

Lily gave her a tissue and a gentle hug. “That’s the Holy Spirit, honey, just go with it. Tears are healing.”

I don’t know how anyone could sit in that service and not feel touched by God. You’d need a heart of reinforced steel not to sense His Presence that day. But apparently, some people didn’t feel a thing because they left before the service was over.

And called a board meeting for that afternoon.

When I met Aaron in the parking lot, I heard him talking on his cell phone.

“I understand you have concerns, but I’m going to spend the afternoon with my boys as I promised.” Aaron looked at me and rolled his eyes. “I can appreciate your eagerness to speak with me, but meeting with you right now simply isn’t possible. How about tomorrow morning around 8:00 AM? I can meet earlier if you wish.”

No, the Committee-of-Setting-the-Pastor-Straight didn’t wish to awaken that early to ream the pastor for insulting them today.

“Now what?” I hung on to Timmy’s hand to keep him from flying out to the middle of the parking lot as the bikes were leaving.

Aaron rubbed his forehead, looked up at the sky, and sighed with a groan. “Apparently a group of them left early and went to one of their houses and made a list of grievances for me in regard to our biker weekend.”

“Aaron, remember your sermon. If they rejected Jesus, they’re going to reject us. So, you must be reflecting Jesus to get the same treatment, right?”

“Right,” he spoke with sorrow in his voice. “It’s not that it bothers me personally to be rejected. But that their ears are closed to what God really said today. Their pride grieves me, Kirstie.”

“Honey,” I said. “It grieves God, too. Just remember it’s just a handful of people out of the entire congregation who is, on the whole, very loving and open-armed.”

We made our way to the far end of the parking lot where Daniel and Patrick watched Atticus and his friends get ready for their long trip home. I would miss this collection of misfits, but we’d gained a few local bikers this weekend and looked forward to getting to know them, too.

“I’ll be back up here for Patrick’s court date.” Atticus kissed me on the cheek.

I returned the kiss on his ruddy Santa Claus face. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”

He waved me off. “I can arrange my schedule to haul a load up this way with my truck. It’ll be business, anyway. I feel partly responsible for getting the young man in trouble.”

“We’ve been through this before, Atticus.” Aaron rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know that, Preacher. But I’m coming anyway.” Atticus sucked Aaron into a big bear hug. “Don’t forget what we talked about now.”

“I won’t.” Aaron practically disappeared in Atticus’s arms. He held my husband so tight I thought I’d have to go in after him. I wasn’t sure he was breathing.

Atticus finally let go, and his group roared down the road. I wondered what Atticus and Aaron had talked about.

Timmy was heartbroken to see them go and wailed with his mouth wide open.

“Oh, Timmy, don’t cry.” Daniel comforted him. “Wanna take a swim with me and Goliath?”

Timmy wiped his face. “’Liath. Swim. Dan-nel.”

“OK. Let’s go. Patrick, you wanna come?”

Patrick looked at Aaron and me. “In a sec. I need to talk to Mom and Dad.”

I didn’t like the idea of the boys swimming without an adult. “Go get Timmy ready, Daniel, but don’t get in the pool until we get home.”

“Right, Mom. Let’s go Timmy.” I watched the brothers walk hand in hand home.

“I’m proud of you for your recommitment, son.” Aaron settled his gentle hands on Patrick’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Dad. But I’m worried.” Patrick looked tired.

I put my arm around him. “Patrick, sweetie, what’s the matter?”

“What if I mess up again?” A tear balanced on Patrick’s eyelashes.

“Oh, you will.” Aaron’s voice was tender. “We all will. If we didn’t, Jesus wouldn’t have needed to die.”

Patrick kicked at the ground. “I don’t want to mess up. I want to do good, but I don’t.”

“Patrick.” I clasped his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Whenever you’re tempted, talk to God. He’s right there to help you. He promises not to tempt us beyond what we can bear. He will make a way out. He always provides an escape.”

“Really?” He wiped his face and eased out from underneath my arm. He wasn’t Mama’s boy anymore.

“Really.” Aaron nodded. “If you want, you could memorize 1 Corinthians 10:13 where that scripture comes from. And whenever you’re tempted, repeat those words to yourself until the temptation passes.”

“I have a scripture I quote when I’m tempted.” I fiddled with Patrick’s hair.

“Really? You’re tempted?” Patrick looked astonished.

“All the time. You know that. When I yell at you and your brothers, and promise myself I won’t and do it again. Or when I think things I shouldn’t think, or say things I shouldn’t say. We all have shortcomings. Some of us just don’t get caught in public like you did.” How could my son think I was never tempted?

Aaron began walking home, and we followed. “No one’s perfect. I’m tempted, too. All the time. Especially in dealing with my children. I read and study instead of interacting with them. We all have our vices, our addictions.”

“Do you have vices, Mom?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“What are they?”

I looked at Patrick and then at Aaron. “Well, for one thing, I’m completely addicted to your father. I can’t get enough of him.”

“Mom. That’s gross.” Patrick ran to the house.

Aaron laughed. “So I’m a vice, eh?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you can catch me before I get to the house.”

I ran.

But not too fast.