Irene Brand - Listen to Your Heart

Laurel felt a welcome surge of excitement. She was assured of Micah’s presence the rest of the summer, and she could have shouted for joy. Trying to control her exuberance, she said, “We’ll start for church at ten-thirty.”

Micah said good-night and sauntered toward his apartment. But he turned back, and at his quiet approach, he saw that Laurel sat with her head in her hands. He scuffled his feet, and when he reached the steps of the gallery, she was sitting erect, her eyes suspiciously moist.

“Will you and Debbie go with me for lunch after church?”

“That’s nice of you,” she said. “I don’t know Debbie’s work schedule for Sunday, but she tries not to work on Sunday morning. Thanks for asking us.”

“Since I’m new in the area, I’ll leave it up to you to choose a restaurant.”

Laurel nodded, but the despair in her eyes saddened him. She was disturbed about something, and he didn’t think it was Debbie’s leaving. Micah wanted to help, but he couldn’t intrude into a place Laurel didn’t want him to go.

Micah would never have dreamed that Sunday morning would find him searching the closet to find something suitable to wear to church. Why had he accepted Laurel’s invitation to go with her today, when he hadn’t attended an organized worship service for years?

He hadn’t thought he’d need dress clothes for the summer, and most of his garments consisted of denim pants and shorts. His suits and ties were at his house in Kansas. He sorted through his garment bags and came up with a new polo shirt and a pair of trousers, both in need of pressing. Laurel had provided an ironing board and iron for her renters, and while he waited for the iron to heat, Micah shined his shoes.

He hoped his casual clothes would be acceptable at Laurel’s church. Not that he ever gave much thought to what people thought, but he didn’t want Laurel to be ashamed of his appearance. Confused by his preoccupation with Laurel and her affairs, he wandered restlessly around the apartment.

He couldn’t understand her obvious attachment to Oaklawn. He’d been on the move all of his adult life, and the only land he owned was a quarter-section of farmland in Kansas. He’d inherited the property from a maternal uncle a few years ago, and he used the farm to store the possessions he couldn’t haul around with him.

He rented the land to a farmer whose farm adjoined his, and the farmer’s wife cleaned and aired his four-room house monthly. The farm was valuable to him as a good source of income, but he visited the place infrequently. Obviously, Laurel wasn’t making much money from Oaklawn, so her attachment to the place must be sentimental.

As Micah paced, he wondered why he couldn’t put down roots like other people. Was he destined to be a wanderer to the end of his days? He didn’t want to settle down in Kansas, which was hot and dry in summer and cold and windy in the winter. Micah felt as strong and competent as he had when he was a teenager. He had several years before he needed to retire, so why was he thinking of settling down? Not willing to acknowledge the reason for his discontent, he decided to put these perplexing emotions out of his mind.

When he finished dressing and took a look in the full-length mirror on the closet door, Micah decided he looked acceptable. Laurel had said the church was small, and it was a hot morning, so he assumed none of the men would be wearing suits.

After he cleared the seats of the car and put all of his photographic equipment in the apartment, he tapped on Laurel’s back door. A lovely sight in her Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, Laurel opened the door and greeted him. He thought she looked like a child playacting in her mother’s clothes. With her diminutive stature, delicate body, and a shy smile hovering on her lips, she seemed like a little girl dressed up for her first party. She wore an ankle-length black skirt and black sandals. The scoop-necked blouse was an ivory color that blended charmingly with her pearl-like complexion.

When Laurel’s lashes dropped, and a telltale flush appeared on her cheeks, Micah realized he’d been staring.

“Good morning, Laurel,” he said. “Am I too early?”

“Not at all,” she stammered, still flustered by Micah’s intent appraisal. “Debbie is a little late. We both overslept this morning.”

She motioned to the chairs on the porch. “Shall we sit and wait for her? We still have half an hour before services begin, and it’s only a ten-minute drive to Bethel Church.”

But before they could be seated, quick steps sounded in the hallway, and Debbie stepped out on the porch. She was a pretty young woman of above average height, but she had few characteristics of her petite mother. Debbie’s hair was straight instead of curly. Her eyes were brown instead of green. Apparently Debbie looked like her father’s side of the family. Since Debbie was dressed in casual slacks and a knit blouse, Micah decided that his attire was suitable for their church.

“Have I kept you waiting long?” she asked.

“Debbie,” Laurel said, “this is Micah Davidson.” And looking at her daughter with unmistakable pride, she added, “Micah, my daughter, Debbie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Davidson,” Debbie said with genuine warmth. “I’ve seen your work featured on TV several times. You’re a fantastic photographer.”

“Thanks. I enjoy my work.”

“Have you ever considered writing a book about your exploits?”

“I’m having one published in a few months,” he said, with a wide smile.

Out of the corner of his eye, Micah noticed that Laurel was fidgeting from one foot to the other.

“Should we go now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laurel said. “I don’t want to be late. You sit in the front seat, Debbie, you’re better at giving directions than I am.”

They passed Walden College on the way to worship, and Micah wondered why he was hesitant to tell Laurel he’d been invited to teach there.

The sedate brick buildings, dating to the early twentieth century, looked quiet and confining. After he’d been his own taskmaster for twenty-five years, could he endure working on a regular, day-by-day schedule arranged by someone else? Was he too set in his ways to ever change?

He turned his thoughts from the college to another unaccustomed experience when Debbie, who sat beside him on the front seat, directed him to the parking lot of Bethel Church. According to the sign over the door, the church had been built in 1910. When Micah followed Debbie and Laurel up the center aisle into the small sanctuary, he admired the Gothic-style architecture of the windows and the ceiling, as well as the ornately carved pews. They sat beside a stained-glass window placed in memory of the Cooper family.

The soft strains of the organ music were peaceful, but Micah momentarily longed for the soft stirring of the wind and the sounds of nature that he usually heard when he worshiped. Sitting between Debbie and Laurel, he felt confined like a bird with its wings clipped, as if his spirit could never soar again.

He probably would have bolted if he’d had free access to the door, but when an usher raised all the windows in the sanctuary, he could hear birds singing. A gentle breeze wafted the strong scent of honeysuckle into the church. He breathed deeply of the fresh air and relaxed.

Micah took a quick survey of the congregation, seeing only one man, other than the minister, who had on a suit and tie.

Laurel handed Micah a hymnal when the preacher announced the first song. It was a song he didn’t know, but he followed the words on the page as he listened to Debbie’s strong soprano blending with Laurel’s alto voice. Micah had been told by a high-school music teacher that he had a pleasant speaking voice, but when he sang, he croaked like a frog. Thereafter, he’d never joined in group singing, but when he was out on a job alone, he’d belt out the words of any song that took his fancy, with or without a tune. A croaking frog was acceptable in the great outdoors.

When the pastor asked for unspoken requests before the morning prayer, Laurel lifted her hand. The haunted expression Micah had seen in her eyes when they’d walked yesterday morning had returned. And during the prayer, he sensed her lips were moving in silent petition.

Micah had a Bible somewhere among his possessions, but he hadn’t carried it on his travels, and he hadn’t read it for a long time. His parents had instilled a belief in God in his heart, but even as a child he’d avoided group worship. Everything he photographed, especially the different species of animals and plants he’d seen in various parts of the world, had filled him with wonder and awe at the majesty of the God Who had created the world.

Bruce Jensen, the preacher, was an unpretentious, thin, middle-aged man, but he was sincere and his obvious knowledge held Micah’s attention. He listened eagerly as Pastor Jensen started his sermon.

According to the preacher, Jesus and His disciples had been traveling through Samaria when they’d encountered a woman with a bad reputation. She had attempted to conceal her lifestyle by comparing the Jewish method of worship with the way the Samaritans worshiped.

Intrigued by this subject that was of importance to him, Micah listened intently when Pastor Jensen read a few verses from the Bible, giving the reference as the fourth chapter of John.

“A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is a spirit, and His worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth.”

According to these words, his method of worship was as valid as the way Laurel worshiped. But doubt arose in Micah’s heart as the preacher explained the passage more fully. In summing up the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan Woman, Pastor Jensen said that Jesus turned the subject from the place where one worships to the Person who is worshiped. He explained that God is the Lord of all, and that He can be worshiped anywhere. But the only acceptable worship involves the entire heart, mind and the truth of God as revealed in the Scripture.

To that point, the preacher’s message and Micah’s method of worship seemed compatible. But when Pastor Jensen continued, Micah conceded that he may have missed the essence of true worship.

“When people asked Jesus to show them the way to God, He had replied, ‘I and the Father are one. He who has seen me has seen the Father.’ At a later time, Jesus had said, ‘No man cometh to the Father except by me.’”

Pastor Jensen concluded his message by quoting another Scripture, “‘He who does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent Him.’ Until people accept Jesus, the Son of God, into their hearts, there can be no worship.”

As the congregation rose for the benediction, Micah realized that if the preacher’s words were true, his methods of worship had not pleased God.

Micah had his hand wrung by most of the congregation at the end of the service, and he had many invitations to become a part of their fellowship while he was in the community. While Laurel and Debbie visited with their friends, he circled the building looking with interest at the architecture. If he accepted a position at Walden College, he might research historic churches of the South for an article or a TV feature. Bethel Church could be included.

“Where are we going for lunch?” he asked as he opened the car doors. Again, Laurel took the back seat, leaving the front for Debbie.

“You call it, Mom. Where do you want to go?”