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Esther
All seven ladies were on time. Esther hadn’t been keeping track over the last few decades, but still, she thought this was a first. They stood in line for what felt like an unreasonable amount of time, and then, one by one, they turned with their trays and went to their usual spot. Vera had trouble carrying a tray because of her cane, so Esther grabbed hers and then left her behind, eager to get to the table. But then she felt guilty and waited for Vera to catch up.
Vera had reached the table, but hadn’t sat down yet, when Vicky announced, “Esther thinks we should buy the old church on her street and start a new church.”
Everyone but Cathy gasped.
“Tell them how much it is,” Vicky ordered without looking at Esther.
Esther took a deep breath. “Twenty-five thousand.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars?” Vera cried. “For what?”
Esther got her caught up as the others fired questions at Vicky. When there was finally a lull, Vicky said, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Esther. I do. But this is not practical. And even if it were, I don’t think it’s possible.”
Esther scanned their faces. “Nothing is impossible with God.”
Vicky blew out a puff of air. “That verse was written for young people! Look around you! We don’t have the money. But even if we did, then what? How are we going to repair the building? We can’t do it ourselves, and we can’t afford to hire help. Then we’ll have to heat the building. That will cost a fortune. And for what? There are only seven of us! Do we really need that giant money pit so that the seven of us can continue to eat muffins together on Sunday?”
Esther was genuinely angry with Vicky, but she tried not to let it show. “It won’t be the seven of us,” she said slowly. “We’ll be starting a church. Others will come, and—”
“Who?” Vicky cried. “Who will come? No one came to our old church. That’s how we got shut down! Why would anyone come to this one? We don’t even have a pastor!” She pretended to slap herself on the forehead. “I hadn’t even thought of that! How are we going to pay a pastor? And where are we going to find one? It takes real churches months, sometimes even years, to find a pastor to move to remote rural Maine. How are we going to do it?”
It appeared that everyone was agreeing with Vicky, and Esther started to feel discouraged. Maybe this wasn’t going to work after all. “I don’t know,” Esther said. “I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but we can’t just do nothing.”
At first no one said anything, but then Cathy quietly said, “We could do things differently.”
“What?” Vicky snapped. “Speak up!”
Cathy straightened up in her seat, but her voice remained soft. “We got shut down at our church. But we could do things differently at a new one.”
“It’s not our fault we got shut down,” Vicky said.
“Give her a chance to talk!” Dawn said and then looked at Cathy expectantly.
“I’m not saying that we did anything wrong. But we did get shut down for a reason. And you’re right, Vicky. We got together every Sunday and we ate muffins. That’s it. What else did we do? When was the last time we did anything with or for the community? When was the last time any of us even invited anyone to church—”
“I don’t invite people because they never come,” Vicky said. “People don’t like church anymore. No one in these generations goes to church.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Cathy said, her voice growing stronger. “We’ve all driven by churches with full parking lots. But I’m not even saying we want a full parking lot.”
This was good, as the building on her street didn’t even have a parking lot.
“We don’t need a megachurch,” Cathy continued. “But it wouldn’t be the seven of us unless we wanted it to be. People are still hungry for God. If we reach out to them, they will come.”
Esther wanted to hug Cathy. She had so clearly articulated ideas that Esther hadn’t even realized were on her own heart. “Amen!” she said too loudly for McDonald’s and then looked around self-consciously.
“Fine. It’s a great idea,” Vicky said sarcastically. “But we still can’t afford it.”
“We don’t know that yet,” Esther said. “I think that those of us who want to do it should have an honest conversation about how much we can each afford to contribute.” She was interested to hear Dawn’s answer to that question. She knew Dawn wasn’t rich, but she was better off than the rest of them, and she appeared intrigued by the idea. “So, first, who is interested?”
Vicky folded her arms across her chest.
“I’m in,” Cathy said quickly. She wished Cathy had a bigger bank account, one that matched her enthusiasm, but she supposed that if she had to choose between money and enthusiasm, she would choose the latter.
“I’m in too,” Dawn said.
“I’m in,” Vera said.
Barbara looked around nervously. “I might be in?”
For the first time, Rachel spoke. “I might be in too.”
Vicky dropped her arms. “Fine. For the sake of conversation, I’ll say that I’m in, but there’s really nothing to be in. We still aren’t going to have enough money.”
“I have a thousand dollars to contribute,” Esther said boldly. She actually had a mite less than that, but she wanted to make a grand offer to inspire others, and she figured God would somehow provide the other seventy-five-ish dollars to get her up to the even thousand.
“A thousand dollars?” Vicky said. “How can you have a thousand dollars?”
“It’s in my savings account. It’s all I have.”
Vicky looked horrified.
“I’m sorry,” Barbara said. “I don’t have any money, but I do have a handyman son. I’m sure he would help with fixing the place up.”
“Thank you for volunteering Kyle,” Esther said. “That will be wonderful. But you should contribute something financially as well. I’m not pressuring you, but I know that if you’re truly in, you have some money to give.”
“You are pressuring her then,” Vicky said and patted Barbara’s arm reassuringly.
Barbara subtly slid her arm out from under Vicky’s touch. “I could come up with a hundred dollars.”
Vicky glared at Esther. “Are you saying everyone has to contribute? That they can’t be part of this if they don’t give you money?”
“Of course not. And they’re not giving me money. I think we should all contribute because we’re all invested, but it’s more than that. I feel like ...” Her brain searched for the right words. “I feel it’s a spiritual thing. I feel like we all need to be spiritually invested, and where our money goes, that’s where our heart is. It’s an outward act of an inward commitment.” She wished she could explain herself more clearly.
Vicky rolled her eyes.
Cathy took a sip of her gifted coffee. “Well said, Esther. I understand completely. If we’re going to do this, we have to commit entirely.”
“Do this?” Vicky cried. “Who said we’re committing to anything? I thought we were just talking!”
Cathy ignored her completely and looked at Dawn. “How much can you contribute?”
“I can do a thousand too.”
Esther almost slapped the table with excitement.
Cathy looked at Vera. “And you?”
“I could probably give fifty dollars.”
Cathy nodded and then looked at Rachel. “And you?”
Rachel looked like a scared rabbit. “Would twenty dollars help?”
“Of course,” Cathy said quickly.
Rachel nodded. “Twenty dollars then.”
Cathy looked at Vicky. “And you?”
“Does it really matter? We’re still about twenty-two thousand dollars short.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to chip in?” Cathy asked.
“That’s not what I said.” She pursed her lips. “I can do a hundred dollars. But like I said, still twenty-two thousand dollars short.”
Cathy let out a long breath and smiled at Vicky. “I’d like to contribute twenty-two thousand dollars.”
