Evening meetings were a staple in Josh’s life, and usually he enjoyed getting together with his congregation members outside the blur of activity on Sunday mornings. Mid-week evenings provided a more relaxing time to talk about happenings in the church; what the members liked, and what they didn’t. Yet, tonight he headed for the church council meeting room with a vague sense of dread. Why, he wasn’t sure.
Pastor Casper, the head pastor, was already there in place, along with Mrs. Wentworth, the lay leader of the council. They sat with their heads together, and their whisperings sounded urgent to Josh’s ears. He took a seat at the far end of the table, allowing them to finish what was certainly a private conversation, in peace. Soon, the other council members filed in and sat, sharing brief greetings with each other. One unexpected guest, Mr. Seymour, arrived last and walked directly to the seat next to Mrs. Wentworth, who shot him a nervous smile.
“Okay, everyone, please settle in. We have a full agenda tonight.” Mrs. Wentworth, in her typical efficiency called the meeting to order and led the group through all the items on the agenda, the church piano needing tuning, the sound system needing some repair work, the plans for the upcoming advent season, and the creation of a special fund to provide Christmas dinners to shut-ins.
When the items on the agenda were all addressed in record time, Mrs. Wentworth turned to Mr. Seymour, who had been silent for the entire agenda. She cleared her throat and said, “We have a special guest tonight, Wendell Seymour. Most of you know Wendell. He’s been a member of our congregation for years. He’s got something to share with us.”
Mr. Seymour was one of the founding members of the church, which must have placed his age close to ninety. He wasn’t an every-Sunday attendee, but he was present more often than not, and over the years he’d made his quiet opinion known on a handful of topics. But mostly, he’d sit in the third row from the back on the right side, and exit at the end of services. These days, age was showing its signs on him. His gait with a four-legged walker was awkward, and the contraption held a strapped-on portable oxygen tank. A clear hose connected from the tank to his nostrils, and a constant, yet soothing hiss emitted non-stop.
He struggled to stand and Pastor Casper caught his arm and helped move his chair back. Having achieved an upright position, Mr. Seymour broke into a terrible coughing fit, and many of the members around the table looked like they wanted to help him, but had no idea how. He raised a hand, halting any activity until his coughing had passed. Then he spoke with a hoarse voice.
“I have something to share with you good folks tonight. I hope you’ll excuse me if I need to stop every once in a while to clear my lungs. I’ve got one of my cases of pneumonia, and God willing, it’ll be my last.
“I’m going to make this brief because honestly, I don’t have the time, nor the stamina these days. So please, listen carefully, and save your questions. I think I’ll make this clear to you by the time I’m done.
“I’m dying.”
Protestations rose from the table but the old man simply raised his hand for a moment and drove everyone to a tense silence again. “I’m old and I’m sick, and the doctors have told me I only have a few months to live. If I get as far as Christmas, I’ll consider myself a lucky man.
“As you know, this church has been my family for the majority of my life. I never married, and I don’t have any children. In getting my will together, my lawyer advised me to determine where my estate will go. I’ve decided it will go here.”
A murmur of whispers and excited gasps erupted, and along with it, Mr. Seymour broke into a fit again. Everyone’s attention went to the old man standing before them, and soon his coughing cleared. “I’ve done well in this life, and I have God to thank for it. I’ve worked hard, and lived frugally. Because of this, I have a good deal of money to leave. In fact, it’s enough to take care of all the expenses you talked about tonight, as well as pay off the loan you took last year to fix the roof, and guarantee pay raises for the next ten years to each of our staff. So, we’re not talking small potatoes here.”
He gazed around to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He needn’t have worried—he
did. “But here’s the rub, folks: I want to make sure that we’re all doing the best we can to serve the Lord. I want to make sure that when all our congregation members are facing the end of life as I am, they have no doubt as to where their souls are going. That’s the job of this church, folks. To make every attempt to ensure the salvation of every one of our flock.
“So, in order to get my money when I die, I want to be sure that each and every one of you, in the leadership of this church, have your priorities straight.”
A hush fell over the room, and most sets of eyes were focused down on the tabletop, deep in thought. Josh and Pastor Casper stared at each other for a moment until Josh saw his boss shake his head.
“Wendell,” he said, “what is this all about? You know all of us. You know how much effort this group puts into the running of this church. None of us is perfect, but our intentions are pure.”
“I’m not looking for perfection. But we have a duty, an obligation to make sure that those around us know about God—that they have the chance to make their own lives right with our Maker. What are we, as leaders of this church, doing every day to bring people to Christ?” He looked at Pastor Casper. “You, Jerry, what are you doing?”
Pastor Casper stared at Mr. Seymour, his forehead creased in thought. “I should hope it would be obvious. I’ve given my life to God. I pastor a large church, and preach every week about Christ.”
Mr. Seymour turned to Josh next. “Pastor Gregory, what about you? Your focus is on the youth, and you have the greatest opportunity to turn young lives around by introducing them to Christ.”
Josh nodded, impressed with the old man’s urgency, while simultaneously unnerved by his message. “Yes, I agree with you. My job is very important, and I try to constantly plant seeds while I’m with the youth. Seeds that someday blossom into a full relationship with our God.”
The old man nodded. “What are you doing to introduce more youth to the message?”
“The Youth Rally, for one. We’ve been doing it for years, and it’s grown into a huge, exciting event for teens.”
“It’s vital that that event continues to grow and flourish.” Then the old man turned his tired eyes onto everyone in the room, focusing on each council member around the table, lingering there before moving on. “Look inside yourself. Are you a role model? Would God approve of the way you live your life? If the answer for each and every one of you is yes, then I’ll adjust my will so that this church gets all my money. If the answer is no, then you don’t have much time to make some changes.”
The room was silent when the old man gave a firm nod and shuffled toward the door. The hiss of his respirator was the last sound any of them heard.
The meeting disbanded moments later following a hasty prayer led by Pastor Casper. Mr. Seymour’s message had affected everyone, leaving all hushed and reflective. When the room cleared, Josh turned to Jerry. “Were you expecting that?”
His head pastor shook his head. “He gave Brenda Wentworth a heads-up, but he asked her to keep it confidential. He wanted the chance to deliver the message to all of us at once.”
“For the biggest impact?” Josh smirked. The old gentleman definitely knew how to add drama to his final days.
“I suppose. If his intent was to shock us all into submission, I’d say he succeeded.”
Josh chuckled. “I half expected the TV cameras to show up, capturing all our stunned expressions on film. The latest reality show to hit TV, Get Your Life in Order and Win Millions.” He glanced over at Jerry but noticed he wasn’t smiling. “What is it? Jerry?”
The older man shook his head, his forehead creased. “Why is he doing this? He knows our church is full of people doing God’s work. We do the best we can. But we are human, just as God made us. And therefore, we make mistakes.”
Josh patted Jerry’s shoulder. “What are you worried about? We’re already fulfilling Wendell’s wishes—we’re spreading God’s message. We’re bringing people to God.”
“He wants us to be role models.”
Josh nodded. “It sort of comes with the territory doesn’t it?”
“But how far will he take it? How far off are we? How much work do we have to do to get there?” Jerry shook his head, staring off to a point in his mind that no one else could see.
“Why don’t we go speak with Wendell ourselves? Ask him questions. Come to an understanding about his requirements for his will. Would that set your mind at ease?”
Jerry passed him a grateful look and nodded. “This money would be very helpful to the church. I think we owe it to the congregation to get more details.”
Josh stood. “I’ll call Mr. Seymour tomorrow for an appointment.”