“I’D BE GETTING KICKED OUT OF THE NEST—PREMATURELY.” Lance Alexander’s elbows rested on a tabletop in the St. Louis Bread Company, coffee cup in hand. “You said to give you my straight thoughts, right?”
“I did.” Pastor Lyles gave a slow nod, the nod that meant he was considering every word. “You’ve done that from the beginning.”
Lance nodded with him. That was certainly true. He’d told the pastor exactly what he thought when he met him as an inmate—that the gospel he was peddling was garbage.
Pastor Lyles added, “And I wouldn’t want you to stop now. Tell me what you mean.”
“Okay,” Lance said. He tried a different metaphor. “It would feel like somebody stole my training wheels in the dark of night. I mean, I’d rather you took the whole bike.” He got more worked up thinking about it. “To take the training wheels only? And expect me to ride, with no support?”
“On the contrary, Lance,” the pastor said, “you’d have the full support of Living Word. You know that. That’s the whole point of this church-planting endeavor—to send and support qualified leaders.”
“And that’s my point,” Lance said. “I’m not qualified to lead a church plant. It took awhile to wrap my mind around leading the youth ministry at Living Word. But at least with that, I’m under the overall leadership of you and others at the church.”
Pastor Lyles was nodding again. He sipped his coffee. “I’m sure you want me to be straight as well?”
“Hey, Lance.” A Bread Company worker stopped at the table. “What are you doing back in this corner? Your office is over there.” He gestured at a table near the main door.
Lance laughed. “This was the only way I could get a little privacy.”
The guy nodded, smiling. “If anybody comes looking, I’ll tell ’em you’re not in the office right now.” He pointed at their cups. “Can I get you some more coffee?”
“No thanks, man.” Lance was touched by the gesture. This guy’s job was to clear tables, not get refills. “I appreciate it, though.”
“Anything for you, man.”
Lance watched him walk off and turned back to Pastor Lyles, remembering his question. “Absolutely,” he said. “You know I want you to be straight.”
“Lance,” the pastor said, “I think this is fear talking.”
“Fear?” Lance looked at him crosswise. He couldn’t recall ever being accused of fear. He was the one who’d taken a bullet for a friend. “I’m just being real. Why would I agree to do something—something as serious as this—if I’m not ready?”
Pastor Lyles leaned in, engaging Lance in his fatherly way. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt ready for anything God called me to do.”
“Pastor, come on. You had a PhD from seminary when you started Living Word. The only letters after my name are GED.”
“I had some book knowledge. That’s true,” Pastor Lyles said, “but I didn’t have near the experience you’ve got. I can’t count the number of young men you’ve discipled, many of them right here in your ‘office,’ over coffee and a cinnamon roll.” He continued, “Your high school students bring so many friends that we had to put you all in a bigger space. And that’s aside from the fact that you’ve submitted yourself to discipleship over the course of several years, and you’re a confirmed elder.” He sat up, spreading his hands. “Son, how much ‘ready’ do you need?”
Lance sipped his coffee, mulling over the pastor’s words. “I don’t know how to explain it. Living Word has been my home. I’ve been able to do everything you mentioned because of you.” He added, “Come to think of it, I wouldn’t even be a photographer if it weren’t for you.”
Pastor Lyles chuckled. “Oh, I get credit for that too? The man who couldn’t take a decent picture if he tried?”
Lance smiled. “You know what I mean. If you hadn’t vouched for me, I wouldn’t have gotten a job at the camera shop, which is where I discovered my passion for photography.”
“Listen . . .” Pastor Lyles leaned in. “You’ve been able to do everything you’ve done because of God,” he said. “I’m just happy I’ve had a front-row seat to watch Him work. But as you consider the church plant—assuming you’re considering it—I do have an update since we talked last.”
“What’s that?”
“We’d been talking about a plant on the north side of St. Louis.”
Lance nodded. That was the one positive. It would be near the neighborhood in which he grew up.
“But we were approached by Church of the Redeemer. They’re targeting the same area for a plant and are much further ahead. They want us to partner with them in terms of financial resources, and I think they’ll serve that community very well.”
Lance looked confused, but Pastor Lyles wasn’t finished.
“And wouldn’t you know, God put another location on my heart.”
“What location?”
“Clayton.”
Lance frowned slightly. “That’s the last place I expected you to say.”
“Exactly,” the pastor said. “My first thought was, ‘No, the inner city needs us, not the people who are well off.’ As if they’re not sick and in need of a Physician too.”
“Pastor, I hear you, but I know I’m not called to lead a church plant in Clayton.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can’t believe you forgot,” Lance said. “That’s where I went to high school for a short while, got in big trouble, and got expelled.”
Pastor Lyles shrugged. “I didn’t forget.”
“How would it look to go back there and start a church? People have long memories. And considering the other things in my past . . . it just wouldn’t work. If I was called to do something like that, I believe God would make it real clear.”
“I would absolutely want you to hear from God about something like this. So I won’t say another word. If it’s His will, I trust He’ll establish it in His timing.”
Lance gave him a look. “You used that tactic when you raised your kids, didn’t you?”
“All the time,” the pastor said, smiling. “And you should know you’re like a son to me.”
It took a moment for Lance to respond. “That means a lot.”
“On another note,” the pastor said, “are you still looking for a place to stay?”
“I am. My roomie’s getting married next weekend. He said there’s no rush, but it’s his house, and three would definitely be a crowd. You know of a spot?”
“Marlon Woods called me.”
Lance’s eyes widened a little. “Really? Isn’t he still overseas?”
“University of Ghana.”
“How’s his family doing?”
“His daughter is doing well,” the pastor said. “Getting married this month out east. But his son dropped all his classes last semester and has been majoring in partying.”
“Trey? No way. That’s not the guy I had in youth group.”
“Marlon’s tried to get Trey to return to church, but the last person he’ll listen to is his dad. Anyway, as he’s telling me this, he also mentions that he’s thinking about renting out the lower level of his home because he needs someone to help look after the place. I told him that you were in need of a place to stay, and he said it sounded like an answer to prayer. He also said you could stay for free.”
“What?” Lance said. “Why?”
“He holds you in high regard, and I think he wants to be a blessing. But I also think he’s hoping you’ll do what you do and kind of help Trey through this.” Pastor Lyles stood. “I’ve got to run to another meeting, but I’ll text you his info.”
Lance was about to ask where Mr. Woods lived, when he suddenly remembered—Clayton.