THE NASTY PREACHER -- Part X "The Best Laid Plans . . ."

Betty picked him up in her car . . .

RENDEZVOUS AT THE "BUNK HOUSE"

December 26, 2010

Was she planning on trapping him? That's what he thought. And he hated walking into a trap. He had done it before, and OUCH! It hurt real bad . . . .

He had originally thought to drive to the parsonage location in the old second car which he usually drove to work (a Ford Escort).  But then he thought, "No.  If I do that, she'll probably already be there, and that will be a temptation to us both.  I’ll just want to grab her, Lord!” he’d said out loud.  So he had asked for Betty to drive her car and pick him up.  That where there could be no chance of . . .  of “you know what."

THERE WAS THE TAYLOR STREET PARSONAGE

“Hi, Honey!” she called, as he opened the car door at the curb in front of the stoor.  “How was the morning?”  He got a quick and juicy “smack” from her before answering.  “Busy – which is good.  No big surprises.  A good morning, so far.”  She nodded and pulled away from the curb and headed toward the street.  “Thanks for packing a little lunch,” he said as he saw a small plastic box on the seat between them.  “You’re welcome,” she nodded.  “I bet Deborah will probably bring something too, since she knows it’s our lunch break.”  “The more the merrier,” he answered, noncommittally.  “You know the location?” 

BETTY LIKED THE NEIGHBORHOOD TOO . . .

“Four blocks from the church building on Taylor street,” she answered.  “1012 Taylor, I think.”
“Close enough,” he said as he took a bite of a well-made sandwich.  They were there before he finished the second half.  Another vehicle was already parked in the driveway.  “Guess who’s already here,” he muttered.
“Now, remember, Bob:  we’re not making any commitment to move here – although I must say, it does look like a nice place,” she acknowledged.
“No, I’m just going to look it over and suggest some repairs and upkeep.  That’s all.”
“It is a nice neighborhood too,” she added as they walked toward the door.  “You’re not changing your mind already?” he uttered in some surprise.

DEBORAH came to the door . . .

“Well, no, I just . . . .”  she didn’t finish her sentence as they were at the front door, which was opened except for the screen door. 

Bob knocked gently and sure enough a familiar female voice answered.
Her “come in!” was followed swiftly by her appearance in the front foyer, just beyond the door.  Bob couldn’t help but notice that her face fell just a bit when she saw that he had brought Betty.  He hoped she did not notice.

“I was just tidying up – doing some dusting, etc.” she said with a toss of her lovely, dark hair.  Betty flushed in embarrassment – her own beautiful blonde hair was bunched up in a lumpy pony tail.  And her simple pants and smock outfit was no match for the lovely low-cut brown dress with wide red belt.  “Naturally it accentuates her narrow waist!” she said to herself.  In another life, she would have hated Deborah for so blatantly flirting with her husband.  But she was a Christian and she knew what they had both already been through.  Besides she hadn’t felt real well since she had gotten up that morning.  Her usual breakfast of oat flakes and a banana hadn’t gone down quite so well.

THE BEDROOM was gloomy, but expectant . . . .

“How about a quick tour of the house – I think it’s a really nice, functional layout.  But I – we – value your opinion, of course!”  She walked them through the house showing them every room.  Some were dark, and clearly had not been cleaned in a few months.  “You can see at least we have some cleaning to do – for whoever comes next, that is.”

The tour lingered for just a moment at the master bedroom.  The bed was made and the room seemed cleaner than most.  Was it just his imagination that Deborah let out a big sigh as she looked at the bed – and then at Bob.  Once again, he hoped Betty hadn’t noticed.  But, of course, she had!  Fortunately Deborah couldn’t see her glowering in the room’s gloom.
“We have the electrical power shut off for this portion of the house – to save on utility costs of course.”  Bob nodded.

THERE was food on the counter . . . .

The tour ended in the kitchen.  Bob had already been making some mental notes in his head about what needed to be done.  When they got to the kitchen he saw a clipboard with several sheets of ruled paper on it and a pen nearby.  “That’s so you can make a list,” Deborah said with a flourish, stating the obvious. 

“Good idea," answered Bob; then added, "I want to prioritize things.  And I’ll need to walk around the outside and check the roof as well.  I want to be thorough while I’m here.”
“Of course – but maybe you would like to eat something first?  I brought lunch.” 

She looked at  Betty and smiled – clearly she had, after all, prepared for more than two people.  “It does smell good,” grinned Bob, feeling still hungry after only half a sandwich. 
“Excuse me!” said Betty, turning pail after detecting the odors of cooked food.  She was glad now they had already walked down the hall which held the main bathroom.  Betty found it again quickly and bent over the stool to vomit.  She turned nearly green as she emptied her breakfast – and then some!
“Honey?” asked Bob following her slowly down the hall.  “Are you sick, Dear?” 
Deborah shrugged.  “Men!” she said to herself.  “His wife vomits, and he wonders if she’s sick?!”  Then she had another thought and her hands went to her mouth.  “Oh, my goodness!!” she cried out loud.  “I wonder if she’s, if Betty’s --?”
“Betty, are you okay?” asked Bob, standing at the bathroom door.  She looked at him with a sick gaze.  “I think I’m fine – as long as you think it’s okay for me to be – er – pregnant.”

Betty suddenly felt sick to her stomach . . .

Now it was Bob’s turn to turn pale.  Deborah’s mouth was open -- in shock.  “Boy, God, sure has a sense of humor,” she mumbled, not knowing what else to say.  As to her big plans for Bob, she began to feel faint.  “Oooooohhhh!” she uttered with a swoon, dropping on the floor at the entrance to the hall.  Bob shrugged and went to his wife.
“Did I just hear her faint?” Betty asked, still kneeling by the toilet. 
“Yeah,” answered her husband.  “Deborah’s the kind of woman that hates to be outdone, I guess.”
“Not funny!” groaned Betty, leaning over the pot for one more heave.

LBC

IT WAS CHRISTMAS ONCE . . .

IT WAS CHRISTMAS ONCE . . .

Long, long ago, it was Christmas once, when every man would play the dunce, And that's just what every man did playing the dunce like a naughty kid. Everyone then was bumming around walking about with a mean ol' frown, acting like a bunch of cavemen -- One guy stealing another's den, smacking him down with a horny stick whoever tried to steal his trick.

Men were nasty, needy things far removed from human beings. The way God intended they were not which got them to an awful spot. Men were cruel bastards -- all In summer, winter, spring, and fall! That's the way it was long ago before Christmas came -- it's really so! But finally in one cave or stall a child was born who was King of all His dad and mom protected him from wintry winds that blew so grim. Shepherds came to see the sight of someone finally born just right. They saw Him with His Mary and Joe and had to tell to all “'twas so!”: what the angel said of the Son that He would be the only One who ever could save us poor chumps from ups and downs, bruises, bumps

we get and give as to all those others. Instead He makes us into brothers.

So like those shepherds long ago, who told the news both high and low, we'll go out on field and hill and give to hungry men their fill. Because that was all God's good plan His Son came down to be a man. Jesus came the whole, long distance back when Christmas happened once . . . . LBC

HEALING WHEN SOMETHING'S MISSING . . .

GOT THAT FEELING OF BROKENNESS? INCOMPLETENESS? It could be you are missing something. LIKE MAYBE A JOB!! That means you need healing . . . . You thought it would be fun saying you were all done; then sitting on your hands like a squatter on his lands. But you found out real hard there's nothing in your yard and your empty palms ain't gaining any alms. What you want is work! Deny it, you're a jerk! So go ahead apply or else you just might die. But ask the Man upstairs For which job He cares and ask Him what to do Get a good prayer through. Then comes the hard part When the job He gives will start. (from "The Big Book of Best Loved 'Pomes' for Fambly and Friends") I went to the healing service this evening at St. Paul's United Methodist Church. I went for a couple of good reasons. I was asked to help for one thing. And I felt a need for healing for myself, for the other thing. They have a healing service at St. Paul's once a month, usually on the third Sunday of each month. I could also say rightly that I wanted to go because I have gotten to know the people who participate, and I like them. They are good people of God. It is usually a small crowd, so we meet in the chapel. I was asked to participate tonight by one of the leaders, and I enjoyed doing it. I shared a brief testimony of Christ's witness to me through two young friends. I told them about an event which happened years ago when I was in high school. I also assisted in serving the Lord's Holy Communion. That was something I hadn't done in six months or so. I had not really participated in any pastoral opportunities since my leave of absence went into effect last July, so this was a weird experience in a way. It felt good to be serving as a pastor again, but also sort of strange. But I mentioned that the other main reason I wanted to go to this was because I was seeking healing myself in a certain area. You might think of it as a questionable area; one in which traditional healing isn't needed or called for. It was the area of gaining employment. Literally, looking for and obtaining a job. I don't think it is questionable at all! You see my current job is just days away from coming to an end, and I have been needing to find something else to take its place. I have come close with a couple of opportunities, but I must have done something to screw it up. I don't know precisely what, but it might have been something I said or did in the interview. Maybe I didn't seem interested enough in the work they were offering. Or maybe I offered too much information about my personal life or obligations outside of work. Such things have been known to discourage human resource directors. But what kind of healings did Jesus perform when He walked this earth? He repaired broken or sick lives. He would drive out fever and disease with a word, repair broken or crippled bones, heal deafness, dumbness, and blindness, or cast out demons. Thus he was either transforming human lives back to normal (like the model of his own normal life) so that they could function in the way that God His Father intended. He was restoring them to wholeness by adding His own word or touch, or both. Or, in the case of casting out demons, Jesus taking away from humans the foul, foreign element which stole their personality, their freedom, and their proper and intended life before God. The devils would become obstacles to humans' true and authentic worship of God. Jesus came to remove those obstacles from peoples' lives so they could relate to and respond to God freely. But just consider this: maybe healing also is needed in humans who are Christian, but who feel or know that something is missing in their lives. Something is missing that they believe is very important -- and maybe it is! This assumes that ordinary humans are able to know when they are complete or not. We know that even non-Christian human beings can do this, because they did it in biblical times: the people who came to Jesus asking for help were for the most part Jews. Probably some of them were nominal in their faith; but they knew when they were sick, and many of them believed Jesus had power for healing. They knew that what was lacking in their lives was the ability to do what they needed to do to live each day and supply their own needs with their own hands. (This of course assumes that many of them knew that their general, everyday abilities came from God. In the words of the great book of Deuteronomy, they all knew that it was God who gave them the power to generate wealth and blessing; so one who was unable to do that because of illness would naturally want to have that repaired. Deuteronomy 8:18, by the way.) The reason I bring this up is the reason I went to the healing service tonight. The thing I am lacking at this point in my life is a job, as I indicated above. I am about to be jobless in a mere few days. I found out a few weeks ago that I do not qualify for unemployment benefits (for some oddball reason). But that doesn't matter as much as something else does. I think God made all men with a built-in need to work and a desire to work. We have many lazy bums today who have gotten used to being doled out a gift for doing nothing. They have gotten used to doing nothing for awhile, and used to being treated as victims who deserve nothing but hand-outs. They have stifled the inner drive to work. They let our evil government shove them into an attitude of indolence and entitlement. They are thus no longer near the center of God's will for all men. I knew God did not want me becoming anything like that. For most normal men, this drive, this need to work and be active and productive is very deep-seated. It is a need that can only rightly be filled by God. When a man allows God to fill that need with His specific plan for the specific man, then you have not just God giving the man a job. You have God leading the man into a vocation -- a calling of and for life. Well, the thing that seems to be lacking most in my life now is a job. Not necessarily a vocation, though that would be nice, but just a job that I could do. I need the money to pay for basic necessities in life (such as rent, food, and utilities), so that I don't keep spending all of our family savings and living on that. I feel the need to work, and I want to work (God knows this is the truth). I left the pastorate in part to work in a regular job like other lay people. I feel the need to stay busy and productive just like any other normal man. And because I am about to be without employment I feel apprehensive. I am about to have something taken away from me or depart from my life which to me is very central and important. It is not really being taken away from me in one large sense, because I am not being fired. I took the job I have now, knowing it was temporary and that it would end in December. So that is fine. I enjoyed the work that I had, but always knew it was going to end. So when Christmas comes, barring a miracle from God, I will have the "gift" of unemployment. So what's next? As per the healing service, I seek this kind of healing from God: the healing of adding a word or a touch from Jesus which leads to employment. I mean the kind of employment I will find at least as fulfilling as I have right now, and which enables me to earn money. In short my life needs healing because it lacks a job. I am asking Jesus to supply that. I am asking Him to do this because He is the One who created me with a desire to serve and work and enjoy the experience of making a contribution to something or someone else, and earning something in exchange. The men of the Bible do this because God designed them to do such things. And today I want to be that kind of "Man of the Bible". So what I am now writing is not just a devotional on a man's God-designed needs; it is a prayer to Jesus Christ asking Him for healing in this way. In other words, "Lord, I need a job. I want to work. I need the money that comes from work. Please help me gain that. Thank you. Help my faith be in you be sufficient. Amen." LBC

A VERY MARJORIE CHRISTMAS . . . .

A VERY MARJORIE CHRISTMAS (11 24 10)

Once upon a time there was a beautiful young woman named Marjorie ("Marge" for short"). She lived in central Maryland in a fine old frame house with her parents and siblings. Marjorie was raised well and had a good heart. She was raised as a Christian, and she loved God dearly. One day in her twenties she decided she wanted to get married. Her friends and relatives told her she should move to Wilmore, Kentucky so she could meet a nice man who was involved in Christian ministry.

That made sense because Wilmore is where Marjorie had gone to a Christian college. But even before that she had felt called to serve Christ with her life; so it seemed reasonable to marry someone who had a similar calling. So she moved back to the west and settled in that very town. There was also a school there which trained preachers, and many of them were single.
So she moved there with great hope – and lots of prayer!

Before too long Marjorie found a budding young preacher man. She met him at a church-based singles group. Ralph was close to her age though sort of rough around the edges, and somewhat confused about his calling: he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be a preacher or a teacher – or maybe just a janitor. (And in fact, he never really did figure this out!) Marjorie had to admit to herself, she wasn’t all that attracted to him; and she knew he had more poor qualities than good ones.

But Ralph really liked her and he had a way of talking very persuasively and acting sincerely. In fact, very soon after meeting her and dating her a few times, he tried to talk her into marrying him, but she hesitated. She and her parents and friends had serious reservations about her marrying this man. Yet Ralph was persistent and very persuasive. Finally, after many months, he talked her into marrying him. Marjorie hoped that she would be happy. I suppose she mostly was. That’s because she had a big heart and was very loving, no matter what. Ralph graduated from preacher school and went to work being a preacher back in his home state of Texas.

Marjorie was now a preacher’s wife, fulfilling her dream to be in Christian ministry. Many parishioners across the years came to love and appreciate her. Their first Christmas together was fun and different (mainly because her husband was such a cheap skate! So she had to improvise on decorations and food). But she got through that and even created some nice memories and traditions in the process. The years went by and they served a number of churches. People generally always liked her a lot but they didn’t much care for her husband. His gruff demeanor, bluntness of speech, lousy bed-side manner, and weird sense of humor (along with his bad habits) “turned off” many church members.

Ralph had a way of wearing out his welcome in just a few months; but folks would generally let them both remain as the pastor for a couple of years because they loved Marjorie so very much. The years of marriage for Marjorie were many times very hard. One of the reasons was she was always wanting a place of her own, but she never had one. Wherever they lived, Ralph and Marjorie always lived in church-owned parsonages. These were good places to live with nice big kitchens, but they were never hers.

And when it came time for them to move from each place, it was always very hard to pack things up, leave some things behind, and then move on. It served as a firm reminder that though the years were passing by, still she and Ralph had very little they could call their own. That was very important for Marjorie, so it became a need for her which simply went unfulfilled. Life was hard for them both, but there were some bright spots: they had three wonderful children, and a network of other wonderful extended family members. On rare occasions they would go and visit them. At such times Marjorie would see their big, personally owned homes, and sigh. She was not envious, but she did have some wistful feelings. If only she could live in such a place permanently and call it her own . . . . If only . . . .

One day Ralph was transferred to a town called Artesia. Artesia had a tradition of being a very tough place to serve as a pastor. Ralph found out that this was a tradition that it deserved. The church had some farmers who wanted more of a “cowboy style” worship service; it also had some younger folks who wanted a contemporary worship service; it also had some older people who wanted more of a traditional service.

But in fact it had only one worship service, and most of the people did not want to go to two services. The congregation also had some weird, liberal demoncrats, and also some conservative republicans, and a lot of politically ignorant people in the middle who just didn’t seem to care about the poor directions their nation was now headed. It had people that didn’t think the church had anything to do with politics and others who did. There were people of all ages too, so the whole place was quite a mixed bag.

They lived in a nice parsonage, and Marjorie made many friends. She even found employment in two good jobs: first with a pre-school child care center; and then as the accompanist for the intermediate and high school choirs. The other teachers and students loved her, and she did very well in these jobs, and made some good friends. She also loved her big kitchen in the parsonage and was a great cook. Their children all grew up in this parsonage, for they were there for nine years. Each Christmas was very special with lots of home-cooked food and goodies for family and friends.

But finally people in the church got tired of her husband and felt they could do much more or do better with someone new. So they asked him to leave. When Ralph knew he had to leave, he thought long and hard, and then made a big decision. He was 56 years old at the time, so he decided just to take a break from being a preacher. He had done it on and off for some 25 years, and he had put up with lots of “bull sheet” from various parishioners. He had often tried his hardest to do his best, but other times (he had to admit) he hadn’t really tried very hard at all.

So he decided to quit being a pastor and move to the town where all of his children lived. To do this he took a leave of absence. This gave him a chance to move to the town of his choice. They both knew they could not stay in the small town of Artesia, so they moved to Las Cruces. That’s because all three of their children were living in that town going either to the college or the junior college. Also the town was not all that far from where Ralph’s father lived, in Ft. Stockton, Texas.

This was a very hard move for Marjorie. She was angry, frustrated, and resentful toward her husband for not fighting the decision of the church members. She had gotten used to being a preacher’s wife, and now she faced the prospect of not being one. It made her feel rootless and aimless. Marge wanted so badly to stay in Artesia, since it had become a kind of home to her. Her anger and resentment were also directed towards those who wanted Ralph to move.

Ralph, for his part was super angry that talk began to arise about somehow making it possible for Marjorie to stay there while Ralph moved on. It made him want to curse – so he did! In fact she was shocked at what she began to hear coming out of her preacher-husband’s mouth . . . . You’ve heard the old saying, that ‘when it rains it pours’? That’s what now seemed to be happening to poor Marjorie. She was fearful about moving to a brand new place, living in an apartment, and being forced to start all over again. She would have to get to know a whole new set of people. In the past, when moving to some place as a pastor’s wife, this made it easier for her to make friends, for Marjorie was naturally shy.

But now, she would be moving some new place without the advantage of moving there as a pastor’s wife. But as bad as all of that was, it was not the worst of it. (The rain drops kept falling!) The worst of it was she was going to have to get used to renting an apartment, and down-sizing all of her many things. Well, this of course included all of her Christmas decorations, both for the home and for the tree. Marjorie loved Christmas so that was a very, very hard thing to face. Ralph, to his credit, did let Marjorie have a major say in where precisely they would live.

She happened to like one apartment complex in particular that was far from the university and in a quiet part of town. It also had tall pine trees. But the thing it also had that she didn’t think about so much was the kitchen. It was small! The kitchen was about five times smaller than the ones she had gotten used to over the years. This was one more source of great frustration – and especially so when she thought about wanting to cook and prepare holiday treats and big meals. Drat! But as bad as all of that was, it wasn’t the worst! (The rain drops were getting bigger and more frequent now!) Ralph’s mom, living far away in Oklahoma City had gotten old, fat, and sickly. She had fallen down a couple of times in recent months, and had put herself in the emergency room – twice in the space of two weeks (and once by having the fire department break down the door of her apartment!).

Ralph had been thinking about doing something to help her out for several years, but because he knew his mother could be such a angry, crotchety, hard-to-get-along-with woman, he had been putting off doing anything about helping her. Finally, no more than two months after they moved to Las Cruces, Ralph knew he could not put it off any longer. Nobody else in the family wanted to take care of Carol, so it fell to her only healthy, mentally sound son to do it. (Several of the others laid a pretty big guilt trip on him, and even though he had grown very calloused and thick-skinned over the years as a pastor, nevertheless, the guilt of it all won him over.)

Marjorie knew she was going to have to change her life, and she had changed it massively in the weeks after their move. But with Carol moving in with them, that brought changes she could barely even imagine! (Now it was coming down ‘cats and dogs’!) Marge was going to have to get used to taking care of a very, grouchy, sickly, old woman who was not a Christian (and who didn’t mind letting you know she did not believe in Jesus Christ or the Church). Ralph made the arrangements though, and took time off from work. He drove up to Oklahoma City, loaded up his mother with a few of her things, then drove her back to their small apartment in Las Cruces. That was in late September.

As Christmas drew near, Marjorie felt the burden of trying to prepare for the holiday with an extra person to feed, who was very cranky and demanding, ungrateful, and who didn’t even believe in Jesus Christ the Savior, let alone the importance of His birth. But even this wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was her husband! (The rain was turning to hail!) All of these changes were wearing on him as well, and he was not a strong enough man to deal with it all in a Christian way. Marge, in fact, did not like the kind of man he was now becoming since he had left the ministry. She had known from the beginning that he had the seeds of becoming a greedy, gruff, coarse, insulting, stuborn, and foul-mouthed man.
But she had prayed to God on his behalf, and she held on to hope that he would not go off in this direction. For years, it seemed, God had answered her prayers, and Ralph had not gone sour. Lately, though, it seemed as if God was completely ignoring her prayers. In the last two years of his pastoral work Ralph had started rolling his own cigars and smoking two or three a week. This habit continued now that they were in a new town and an apartment. He had also begun to drink more in his last years as a pastor: wine, margaritas, rum with soft drinks, mainly, but also an occasional beer. At least he had sort of stopped doing that! That’s because (as he had said) booze was so expensive, and on their tight budget they could not afford that. He had even started looking at what she called “filthy pictures” on the internet: pictures of nearly nude women, and worse! Ralph was also swearing more often – perhaps in response to his foul-mouthed, argumentative, old mother. He seemed so much less interested in anything spiritual. He was even using the word “sheet” and “phrock” with more frequency, and more reckless abandon, seeming not to care who heard him. “It’s as if you don’t care anymore,” she had said to him more than once. “You’ve really gone downhill, Ralph!” “I know I have,” he said with real apathy. “I don’t have to toe the line anymore, so I have cast off all restraint. Or most of it anyway.”

That was his answer! Her exhortations and cajoling seemed to do no good at all! What was happening to her husband? To her family? Her life? Whereas before she might have classified Ralph as “somewhat holy” now he had definitely dropped to the “not really very holy at all” category. It made her cry to think of what he had become in just a few short months. And now it was late November, and the birthday of Jesus Christ was soon to come. She had packed six large boxes of what her husband called “Christmas stuff”. In their crowded apartment where would she put all of her favorite things?

But above all, with all of these sad and negative things that had encroached in her life, how was Christmas going to come this year, she wondered? How was it going to be any good at all? She was pondering this very thing one night after her husband had dozed off into a snoring, stupor. Large tears formed around her eyes, and soft sobs clutched her throat as she hardly knew what to pray anymore. Being awake she suddenly noticed a light on at the end of the hall. Marge knew that Carol often got up in the middle of the night, went to the kitchen and turned on its light. She would get up to scrounge for a snack if she could find one. (To keep her from over-eating excessively they had taken to hiding the “snacky food”.) She sat up in bed to listen and heard nothing.

Perhaps Carol had gone back to bed and forgotten to turn off the light. Marge got up, letting her long pajama dress drape smoothly down to her feet. She padded softly out of the room and down the hall to turn off the light when she realized itwas not coming from the kitchen (on the right) but from the living room (to the left).

As she got closer to the living room she also realized that the light was not constant, but flickering – like candle light. Puzzled she looked around the corner and saw what looked like a round bowl of oil with a wick sticking down into it. The wick was lit and gave off a good, warm orange glow which cast a dancing light about the walls. She remembered that she had a large box of tea lights and other such things she had once used as Christmas decorations. They were some of the things she had just been unable to part with; so they sat now in the dark room of the rented storage space about a mile away. But what was this?

As her eyes adjusted to the strange light source, she had a sudden shock. There near the base of the strange clay bowl was a man’s foot, wearing what looked like an old fashioned straw sandal. Her heart caught in her throat as she felt the impulse to scream, but somehow she could not. “Do not be afraid, Marjorie!” she heard a man’s voice say. This was not the fuzzy, sarcastic voice of her husband, but a voice, clear as a bell, deep as the sea, and mellow as a summer breeze. “Calm down, my Child, and sit down!” Marjorie looked and saw not just the feet but an entire man, sitting in the shadows, with the lamp light dancing about his clothes, face, and long, dark hair. He was dressed in what looked like an old robe, and sitting on the love seat that her mother-in-law often slept on.

She could just see the friendly smile on his face as his hand beckoned her to the maroon easy chair which stood to the left of the couch. She sat down trembling, suspecting Who this might be, yet not daring to say His name. Before she could speak, he spoke again. “Marjorie, dear Child: I know your worries and fears. Do you know who I am?” As soon as He asked the question, she knew. She swallowed a large lump and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He continued. “Then you know I am the One who casts out all fear and doubt. I am the Giver of Faith. I am Christmas itself. And I am your friend.” Marjorie blushed and looked down. “Thank you, Lord.”

But the Visitor did not seem satisfied, and raised both His hands. “Look on me, Marjorie, Beloved Daughter.” She raised her eyes, and saw his hands, lit now more clearly in the flickering lamplight. There were great and horrible scars from heavy, longnails in each one. “And I am your Redeemer,” he added. “I know, Lord Jesus,” she barely breathed wanting to fall to her knees. “I have heard your prayer. I have heard your groaning and your pain when you did not know what to pray. I love you through all of this. And, He added, as He rose from the couch, standing very near the strange lamp. “Never doubt that Christmas will come. It comes to all believers, everywhere, and all the time, because I am alive, and they know it. And because I am!”

These last words seemed to be like the roar of a great storm in a deep canyon, for they echoed; at first she thought the sound of them would awaken Ralph and Carol, but just as suddenly she knew they would not. With the fading of the last echoing tones the Man and His lamp were gone. She seemed to awaken as from a trance. But one question lingered on her mind, she wished she had asked when she could still see Him. “But, Lord! What about my husband?!”

To her great surprise, she heard Jesus speak to her – she heard the voice from within her but also almost as if he was right at her ear. “I know your worries for your husband. I am the One who called Him, and I am not through with Him yet. I am still at work in his life; but Marjorie: I need you for this work too. I will complete my plan for him through your life. Be patient, my dear, and stand by him.” “I will, Lord,” she replied. She stood alone in the living room with the soft glow of a night light showing her the path back up the hallway from which she had come. She returned to bed by her husband.

Ralph had stopped snoring and seemed to be lost in a very deep sleep. Marjorie wanted to think of what had just happened to her, convincing herself easily that it had not been a dream; she pondered the words she had heard spoken from this One whose very presence defined holiness. But before too long, she also fell into a deep sleep. It was as if the One who had visited her knew she needed rest for the challenges of a new day of work.

When Marjorie awakened in the morning her husband was waking beside her. This was uncharacteristic since he usually slept a good hour after she rose. “I had the strangest, most vivid dream last night,” he said, after he kissed her warmly. “Tell me about it,” she asked, leaning near him. “Well,” he said, “I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a light down the hall. I followed it and went into the living room. It was like I was wide awake. And when I got into the living room, there was this strange lamp. It was an old-fashioned lamp, like from the Bible days – you know: made of clay or something. There was a long wick sticking out of it, and it was lit and burning. The light came from that lamp. It lit the whole room with this soft warm glow. I went near it and knelt down, and I felt this calm, loving, holiness. I even held out my hands to warm them because I had felt cold before that. I wanted to stay there forever, but the oil was running out, and so the lamp was burning out slowly. In a few minutes the fire was out, and it was dark again in the whole room. Then the dream just ended. I wonder what it means?”

“That is very strange indeed,” nodded Marjorie. “Something about the light going out of your life, maybe?” Ralph nodded in silence, a very thoughtful look coming upon His face. “Maybe God’s not finished with me yet.” They both got up and got ready for the day’s work. In the days ahead Marjorie found a sense of joy in her heart as Advent began and Christmas drew near.

They had a simpler life now, but she found herself appreciating the gift of Jesus to her life even more; and even her husband did not seem near as crude and rough as he had been. He seemed wistful and thoughtful, and filled with a special warmth that surprised her. She realized Ralph was not perfect and never would be. But somehow, he seemed more gentle in his conversation, and he seemed less angry at the church and the world. Christ and Christmas were having a great and positive effect on him. Even his mother seemed easier to take. She was still complaining and incorrigible as ever, but both of them had quickly learned how to deal with her many unpredictable moods.

They both realized the pain she was in, her desperation to get whatever drugs she could, and the fact that she would likely end her days in just this way. They prayed that someday before she died, she would meet and fall in love with Jesus Christ as they had. Marjorie had a good Christmas. It was simple, small, far from some of her family (back in Ohio), but Christ was there for her -- just as He had promised. And her apartment in Las Cruces finally began to seem like home. And a good one at that.

THE END

LBC