In a small community, barely big enough to toss a stone over, was the First Baptist Church. Only a handful of folks shied away from warming a pew on a Sunday morning and Ann Beckler, ladies group coordinator, pianist, and preachers wife, was determine to see every seat filled. The poor folks of Caden Springs needed the Lord to wash away their sinful ways. She was determined.
After four months of visiting neighbors, preaching words her husband often had from the pulpit, the little Baptist church begin filling up, all but two rows in the back on the left. Those belonged to one man. McKinley Davids. Just the thought of saying his name brought a shiver to the well dressed, upright Christian woman.
Known to be a hermit living in the hills on the edge of Barren Creek, McKinley was an odd one. Well, odd was putting it lightly if one asked Ann. He lived in a cabin no bigger than her basement crafting room, and lived off the land like he was born in the 1800’s and not a man of the twentieth century. His clothes weren’t very Sunday appropriate, threadbare and crinkled. Ann was certain he had worn that old green button down shirt to the last four Sunday services. Like most sinners, McKinley refused to remedy that slight when she offered up her suggestions. The man simply didn’t care at all about her thoughts. His morals were a problem, as was how she was going to fill those last two pews with him sitting there. Worse, few wanted to sit near him, having the same solid mind as her. It wasn’t as if poor McKinley would make a dent in the offering plate and if he insisted on taking up so much room, then she would just pray that God intervene and speak to his heart.
This Sunday morning he didn’t fill his place in the back on the left. No one noticed, but Ann did. God had always seen to her prayers in the past. Being a good Christian, Ann did wonder what had kept the man who always filled a whole pew away. Moving, hopefully.
Her husband closed his last words of the Sunday sermon. He spent a full week getting the lesson in there just so everyone was able to understand what God was doing to Paul’s heart. One cue, Ann stood, and made her way to the piano for the final hymn, but before she was seated, her husband asked over his congregation to see if anyone knew where his lost lamb was today. Heads turned and shook and silence remained as not a soul in Caden Springs knew of McKinley’s whereabouts.
At her husband’s nod, Ann began playing the keys for Closer to Thee as voice lifted and echoed in the full room like angels on high. After the service, it came to her attention that the offering plate had shrunk. Whomever always tithed generously, had either ran out of funds or no longer was employed. Well, she would pray for them and their current hardships.
Like most Sunday’s her husband announced they were heading to visit a sick soul in need of prayer. Dressed in her Sunday best, her neck accented in pearls, and hair teased into the same preacher’s wife style all those did before her they drove to the local hospital to pray over the pour soul in need of healing. Perhaps she could rally up more folks to add to the congregation. Her duty would impress the Lord, surly. Her husband nodded at her thoughts, but said, “Don’t be filling it up so full McKinley has nowhere to sit.” He was a thoughtful man, which is why she married him, but she could think of three folks right now better suited for that lonely pew.
Inside the hospital they reached a room with several folks standing outside. She straightened her shoulders, not recognizing any of the faces. They were welcomed by strangers from Indiana to Tennessee, all sporting red eyes and solemn expressions. Stepping in the room none other than McKinley Davids laid in the bed.
Ann cowered to one far corner and words spilled over of McKinley’s time in the armed forces and years spent building stone walls and bridges. There were whispers, but she heard them, about his state of mind and need for quiet, as he wasn’t much for large crowds. Her heart tightened in her chest. “Oh granddaddy made some good investments,” one woman said. “That’s why we all went to college, our children too.” A chorus of praise continued how they each found degrees and worked charities in his name. It was too shocking, too hard to believe, but Ann knew in that moment, God was not impressed by her and shrunk further into the shadows.
When it came time to say their farewells, she moved to McKinley’s bedside as expected. Her husband would be upset if she didn’t. McKinley offered her a hand, and in his gaze a silent message passed between them, and her head lowered accepting the implied chastisement.
Ann cried the whole ride home, and when Sunday night prayer meeting came, she was the first to volunteer to make food that would feed a man for the next few months until he regained his strength and found his place in the pew in the back on the left.
(Never get so blinded in your purpose to please God, that you forget what it is that pleases him)
Mindy Steele