Sunday morning arrived bright and clear. It promised to be a warm spring day. The Brown's had slept well that night and Alex had not been plagued by any more bad dreams. After a quick breakfast of cereal and a brisk cup of tea, Paul grabbed his Bible, making a couple of last minute notes as the rest of his family finished getting ready for church.
They arrived early at the church, just a few minutes before nine. Brandon unlocked the basement door and walked into the fellowship hall. Freezing in mid-stride he stared, dumbfounded, at the room. It looked like a tornado had struck it. Tables and chairs were tossed about and all the decorations had been torn from the walls.
Cautiously entering the room he motioned for Paul to join him while Karen kept the kids back. Silently, he checked the room with Paul. Finding nothing, they looked in the kitchen which, oddly enough, did not seem to have been touched. Telling Karen and the kids to wait outside they raced up the stairs to check on the Mingers.
Brandon knocked on the door to the prophet's chamber while Paul glanced around the atrium. A sudden movement at the south doors caught his eye. A large black crow pecked noisily at a small vial tied with a cord to the door. Catching sight of Paul, it cawed noisily several times before flapping its wings and taking off. There was something oddly familiar about the vial but Paul decided to wait on investigating it until after they checked on the Mingers.
“Good morning!” greeted Dr. Minger jovially as he opened the door and stepped out into the atrium. “Carla will be out with the kids in a few minutes. I was just getting ready to head downstairs and see if anyone had turned the coffeepot on yet. We've got a microwave in the room but fresh perked is always better than instant. Besides, I...” His voice trailed off as he noticed Brandon and Paul looking at him curiously. “Hey, is everything alright?”
Brandon spoke first, “That's what I was just about to ask you”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, everybody sleep well last night?”
“Like a bunch of proverbial logs!”
“Did you hear anything? Any noise downstairs?
“No, not a bit. When we got back last night we went to bed right away. Don't remember anything else until the alarm went off this morning. What's the matter?”
“Not sure. Take a look downstairs.”
The men headed back down to the fellowship hall. Paul glanced back at the vial on the outside doors again and decided to head around from the basement to investigate. Arriving downstairs, Dr. Minger gasped in disbelief at the disarray.
The Krankovichs arrived about the same time at the outside door. Like the others before them, they froze in the doorway. “Oh my! Oh my!” said Mrs. Krankovich repeatedly, nearly dropping her foil pan full of stuffed cabbages.
Mr. Krankovich entered slowly and joined the men as they poked about trying to figure out what happened. “Wait till the Bartlets see this! Bill and Miss Janet put up all those decorations practically by themselves. They followed us in with Pastor John and Miss Hazel. I think they pulled around to the front to open the main doors upstairs.”
“That reminds me!” said Paul starting suddenly for the door. “There was something tied outside to the doors. I wanted to check it out before anyone disturbed it.”
Paul edged around Mrs. Krankovich who still seemed to be in shock and sprinted around the outside of the building. Coming around the corner he saw the Bartletts and the Williamses, who were being joined by the Sykes family, looking curiously at the small bottle hanging on the doors. “Don't touch it!” he yelled as he ran toward them.
His warning came too late. Bill Bartlett untied the cord and held it up to look at the vial more closely. It was a small, cobalt blue bottle about three-quarters full of what looked like some kind of cloudy oil. Grabbing it between his thumb and forefinger to steady it he yelped suddenly. The vial burst with a loud pop between his fingers, spraying its oily contents all over the front of him.
Bill mopped his face with his handkerchief and tried to wipe some of the oily residue off his jacket and tie. “I'm O.K.! Just startled me a little. I might have to run home and change my coat though.”
All that was left of the vial was a few small shards of glass on the cement. The cord, stained by the oil, lay where Bill had dropped it. Brandon and Dr. Minger had arrived back up in the atrium by now and Brandon opened the door from the inside. The others quickly headed inside, greeting one another and talking about the exploding bottle. Brandon told them about the basement while Paul examined the remains of the vial and cord.
“What do you make of that?” asked Willie Sykes, coming over to Paul.
“I'm not sure. It kind of reminds me of a Tunoan oil curse. But it beats me why there would be one here.”
“A Tunoan oil curse?”
“Yeah. The Tunoans would fill a small thin glass bottle or vial with a special kind of oil which slowly turns to a gas when exposed to direct sunlight. The pressure in the bottle grows and when it is disturbed it can burst easily.”
“Where's the curse come in?”
“They would take it to the local shaman who, for a donation, would place a curse on the oil. The bottles would then be hung around a plantation or other place where they wanted to keep people out. Everyone seeing the bottles would know that the area was 'Ae-Te' - forbidden. Anyone trespassing would be likely to break one of the bottles and get the oil, as well as the curse, on him.”
“What kind of curse?”
“Well, that would depend on the shaman and the size of the donation. It could be sickness, bad luck, or even death. Usually it would just put them under the control or influence of the either the shaman or the property owner.”
“Is there any way to break the curse?”
“Yeah, the family of the person suffering from the curse can give a sizable donation or a valuable possession to the shaman who placed the curse.”
“I got another question. You said earlier that you saw a crow pecking at the vial. How come it didn't explode then?”
“Beats me,” answered Paul, “Maybe it wasn't meant for him.”
Paul and Willie joined the others inside and together they pitched in to clean up the basement fellowship hall while Bill Bartlett headed home to change his coat and tie. Others joined in as they arrived and they were able to finish most of the work before Sunday school started at 10:00 AM.
Pastor Williams' death was announced during the Sunday school opening exercises. A few had not heard and could hardly believe it. When the various classes were dismissed, most of the adults stayed in the main auditorium. The Pastor's Class was combined with Brandon Hayes' Senior Saints class.
Janet Bartlett looked around for her husband as the others headed off to their respective classes. They taught the Beginners Class together and he wasn't back yet.
Brandon continued his series on great men and women of the Bible that he had been presenting over the last several weeks. He surveyed the life and ministry of Moses. Toward the end of the lesson he brought out how God provided a leader, Joshua, from among the people to replace Moses at the end of his life. Applying that to the present situation, Brandon assured his class that God would not have called Pastor Williams home if He had not already provided for a new pastor for the church.
Class ended a few minutes before 11:00 AM and the others, along with a few latecomers began filtering into the auditorium. Some of the people stood around in small groups discussing Pastor Williams' death and speculating on how it would affect the church. Others greeted the Browns, Pastor John and his family, and the Mingers. Paul was excited to see the Farnhams come in as well.
Up front, Mrs. Davidson headed to the piano and began playing a medley of hymns. As the music began to make itself known the people began finding their seats. Janet Bartlett looked a little uneasy. Her husband, Bill, had missed their Sunday school class and was still not back.
Brandon and Chuck Krankovich headed to the platform. On the way up they motioned for Paul and Pastor John to accompany them. Seating on either side of the pulpit they waited as Mr. Davidson came forward to lead the singing. Having everyone stand they sang all four verses of number 55, “When We All Get to Heaven.”
Bro. Krankovich stepped forward as the final “...shout the victory!” rang out. “As most of you know,” he began, “The Lord has seen fit to call our dear Pastor home to be with Him this past Friday. Our heartfelt prayers go out to his family at this time of loss and to every member of the Wildwood Baptist Church. Pastor Williams' son, whom we all know as Pastor John, flew in with his family yesterday to take care of his father's affairs. I would like him to come at this time and open this morning's service in prayer.
Pastor John took Mr. Davidson's place at the pulpit and began to pray. A few people began to weep as he prayed and the whole congregation was visibly moved by the time he finished. Stepping back, he stood quietly, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.
A sudden disturbance in the back of the room broke the silence as Brandon headed to the pulpit for the opening announcements. Bill Bartlett made his way rather noisily down the side aisle to join his family. Janet looked at him sharply as he sat down heavily in the pew next to her with a loud sigh. He had changed his coat but had not worn a tie, which was not at all like him.
Motioning for the people to sit down, Brandon reviewed several coming activities and recognized the Mingers along with the Browns and Pastor William's family. He then mentioned the plan to consider approving Paul Brown as their Interim Pastor at the coming May business meeting.
“Why wait?” interrupted Bill Bartlett from the congregation.
Brandon was somewhat taken aback by the unexpected and uncharacteristic interruption, “Excuse me?”
“Why not have a business meeting right now?”
Brandon blinked a couple of times, looking, along with the rest of the congregation, at Bill.
“Hey,” said Bill as his wife dug her elbow in his ribs, motioning for him to hush, “We all know who Paul is. He's a good guy. Now that John's not here he's the only ordained preacher in the church. Why not have the business meeting right now and take care of it. No sense putting things off.”
Brandon looked over at Chuck Krankovich. He was just as perplexed as Brandon was. Turning back to the congregation he began to speak but was interrupted again.
“In fact,” continued Bill, rising to his feet, “I move that we open a business meeting right now to consider appointing Paul Brown as our Interim Pastor!”
His embarrassed wife tugged futilely at his coat, trying to get him to sit back down.
Bill wheeled around. “I've got a motion on the floor. Who's going to second it?” he demanded, looking at the stunned crowd.
The auditorium was uncomfortably silent. Only the swish, swish of the overhead ceiling fans and the faint rumble of an eighteen-wheeler pulling out of the nearby travel center disturbed the silence. The sweet spirit that had pervaded the earlier Sunday school hour vanished. A vague oppressive sensation gnawed at the edges of the room as people shifted nervously in their seats.
A short, stocky man in his mid-30's stood slowly in the back of the room. It was Dan Logan, one of the last people that Pastor William's had led to the Lord before his death. He had only been baptized and joined the church a few weeks ago. Nearly 15 years working on the loading docks at Narsch Industries had given him a wide bulldog stance and a personality to match.
“I know I'm new here,” Logan began in a low, gravely voice, “But I know you can't function without a leader. If Reverend Brown is okay with Bill Bartlett, he's okay with me. I second the motion.”
Chuck Krankovitch motioned for Brandon and they whispered back and forth for a few moments. Chuck headed back to the pulpit with Brandon and began to speak, “This is highly irregular and, in my opinion, highly inappropriate. But, as we have a motion on the floor which has been duly moved and seconded, Brother Brandon and I reluctantly agree that the motion must be voted on. However, we do have one stipulation that we must insist on. If the membership votes to convene a business meeting right now, as has been put forth, we must put it off until the end of this mornings service, as has been our usual practice.
“Fine with me,” said Bill with Logan nodding in agreement, “Just as long as it’s this morning.”
“Very well. We have a motion on the floor to convene a business meeting this morning to consider appointing Paul Brown as our Interim Pastor at the close of this morning's service. All in favor, say 'aye'.”
The “ayes” carried the motion forward – barely – and the service moved on.
The welcome song was more subdued than usual this morning. A certain tension still seemed to fill the congregation. Brandon and a few others noticed that Bill Bartlett did not move from his seat while everyone was shaking hands. He did not drop anything in the offering plate when it went by either.
Pastor John and his wife, Andrea, came forward just before the message to sing after the final congregational song and the Junior Church workers and children were dismissed. They had chosen “Precious Hiding Place,” by Avis B. Christiansen for their special.
“I was straying when Christ found me
In the night so dark and cold;
Tenderly His arm went round me
And He bore me to His fold.
“Precious hiding place,
Precious hiding place,
In the shelter of His Love;
Not a doubt or fear,
Since my Lord is near,
And I'm sheltered in His love.”
It was an old song, unfamiliar to most. Nevertheless, the Holy Spirit used it to calm hearts and center people's attention back on the Lord, especially as they listened to the words of the last verse...
“Tho' the night be dark around me,
I am safe, for He is near;
Never shall my foes confound me,
While the Savior's voice I hear.
“Precious hiding place,
Precious hiding place,
In the shelter of His Love;
Not a doubt or fear,
Since my Lord is near,
And I'm sheltered in His love.”
Several “Amens!” rang out as they headed back to their seats and Paul Brown walked up to the pulpit to preach.
“It is good to be back,” he began, “Let me express my sympathies for Pastor Williams' family and to the church. If you would, please, let's stand for a minute of silent prayer before I begin.”
The congregations rose to its feet and stood silently. A minute later, Paul continued. “Amen. You may be seated. Turn with me this morning to Psalm 116...”
He began reading in the first verse and continued to the end, emphasizing verse 15 in particular: “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.” Bowing his head he prayed and asked the Lord to help them center their heart's and mind's attention upon Him and to bless the message and to shape it to meet the need of each person gathered there. Finishing his prayer he began expounding upon the text and applying it to the death of Pastor Williams and of all those who have trusted Jesus Christ for salvation.
Nearly 40 minutes later Paul brought the message to a close with a final thought. “Pastor Williams' death, while sad to us, was precious to the our Lord in heaven. It was precious to the angels in heaven. It was precious to the saints in heaven. It was precious to Pastor Williams who is now in heaven.
“Let me ask you, will your death be precious to the Lord? Will your death be precious to the angels? Will your death be precious to the saints? Will it be precious to you? Or will it be tragic because you failed to trust Christ as your Savior before it was too late?
“Let's stand with heads bowed and eyes closed, as Mrs. Davidson comes and Mr. Davidson comes to lead us in a song of invitation...”
Mrs. Davidson began to play “Glory to His Name” softly as Paul challenged the congregation to allow the Holy Spirit to search their heart's respond to His convicting and leading in the matter of salvation or a closer walk with the Lord.
Mr. Davidson began to sing softly as Paul continued to encourage people to respond. Several began to slowly make their way to the front where they knelt in prayer. Brandon, Mr. and Mrs. Krankovich, came forward to assist several who needed someone to pray with them.
Mrs. Krankovich dealt with a young woman, Melissa Hoffman, who had recently moved to Wildwood and was visiting for the first time. She had realized for the first time that she was religious but lost. Tears filled both her and Mrs. Krankovich's eyes as she bowed her head and began a simple prayer of faith, confessing her sin and committing herself to the Lord Jesus Christ as her personal Savior.
Brandon wiped a tear from his eye himself as Kevin and Rebecca Farnham came forward and motioned for him. The Holy Spirit was dealing with them about being out of church and they wanted Brandon to pray with them as the recommitted themselves and their family to the Lord.
Bill Bartlett came forward as well and fell to his knees. Chuck came up alongside him and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Bill turned to Chuck, “I'm sorry. I...I don't know what came over me. I didn't want to be so obnoxious but... I just don't know. Ever since this morning I just haven't been myself. I'm even having trouble praying. Could you pray for me? Please?”
Following the invitation, Brandon invited everyone to stay for a fellowship dinner downstairs following the business meeting. In spite of its unorthodox start, the meeting itself went well. After a short discussion and review of the church constitution, a simple hand vote was taken. Paul Brown was unanimously approved by the church as its Interim Pastor. Paul and the two deacons, Brandon Hayes and Chuck Krankovich were also appointed to serve as a pulpit committee to search for a new pastor for the church.
Afterwards they adjourned to the fellowship hall in the basement. Originally planned as a welcome home meal for the Brown's, it had become, due to recent events, a more somber reunion. The men had done a wonderful job in redoing the decorations and resetting the tables. The food, as usual, was plentiful and delicious.
Memories of Pastor Williams wafted around the room along with the aroma of fried chicken, cabbage rolls and roast beef. The Browns sat up front at a special table along with Pastor John and his wife, Andrea. A number of people stopped to talk, sharing their condolences with the Williams and their congratulations with the Browns.
By 2:00 PM the gathering had begun to break up. The ladies began cleaning up the leftovers and storing some away for after the evening service. A number of the teenagers and men jumped in to help with the clean up as well. An hour later most everyone was gone and Brandon dropped the Browns off back at his house on his way to the afternoon service at the nearby Pine Hills Care Center. The time change from Tunoa to Ohio was catching up with them and they wanted to get a nap before the 6:00PM service.
Across town another dinner was underway. Arnold Narsch hungrily stabbed a generous slab of ham and dropped it onto a thick piece of rye bread heavily slathered with mayonnaise. He was sitting at one end of a large walnut dining table. His father, Simon, watched him impatiently from the other end while sipping a cup of strong, black Kona coffee. A half-finished lobster tail and the remains of a small Greek salad with feta cheese lay on the table in front of him. Two servants stood by discreetly while the two men ate.
Topping his sandwich with a thick slice of Swiss cheese and several garlic dill pickle spears, Arnold covered it with a second piece of bread, grabbed a handful of imported Lebanese black olives and leaned back in his chair. Smacking his lips eagerly, he carefully sliced his sandwich into three triangular segments before taking a large bite.
“Arnold! Please!” reproached his dad; “Must you make such a pig of yourself?”
“Its only my third sandwich, Father,” replied Arnold with his mouth full, as one of the nearby servants stepped forward with a bottle of white Bordeaux wine to refill his glass.
“If ever there were proof of the adage, 'You are what you eat,' you, my son, are it. You disgust me! Now if you can pay a little more attention to me instead of your plate, maybe you can update me on this morning's events.”
Arnold ignored his father's insults. “Well, Dan Logan called less than an hour ago. You know Dan. He's our warehouse foreman. He's managed to worm his way into the church and has been slowly trying to influence a few key members. His position seems to have been benefited somewhat by the untimely death of Reverend Williams. Seems they now view him as one of the last fruits of the good Reverend's labors.”
Arnold paused to extract a piece of gristle stuck in his teeth with a toothpick before continuing. “Those people are so gullible,” he said disdainfully.