but it’s sure nice to see you recharged and smiling. Oh, by the way, someone named George called while you slept. He told me to tell you that he would be at the church at two o’clock this afternoon.”
Pastor Donovan closed up the laptop, got out of bed, and picked out his clothes for the day. While showering, he sang over and over again the chorus to the hymn “One Day!”—“Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me; buried, He carried my sins far away; rising, He justified freely, forever; one day He’s coming, O glorious day!”
2
Pastor Donovan shut the door to his office immediately upon arriving at church. Standing directly in front of his bookshelf, he scanned the books collected from his seminary days. Some he had read, and many he intended to someday. He selected a few from his “eschatology” section. Spreading them out on his desk, he began to research and reacquaint himself with prophesies and timetables. It felt good to turn the pastor’s office back into a pastor’s study.
George knocked on the door precisely at two o’clock. Having stared relentlessly at the clock on the wall as the time drew near, Pastor Donovan greeted him with praise for his punctuality. “Right on time. Not too many people serve up this common courtesy anymore. Thank you for valuing my time. Please, have a seat.”
“I’m sure you have questions from last night.”
“It was a lot to take in. How do you know this is what God wants? How do you know this is the right thing to do? It almost seems like an Abraham and Sarah moment.”
“Abraham and Sarah?”
“Yes, when Sarah told Abraham to take Hagar as his concubine because Sarah was too old to have the child of the promise.”
“Ah—I can see how you might think that—that we are using manmade strategies to try to bring about a supernatural event. But you really don’t have the whole story. From SarkiSystems’ launch twelve years ago, God has been the One moving things forward. All of the advances in our research and technology have been a result of prayer and listening to God’s leading and direction. This is simply the next step in a plan that God set in motion years ago.”
“I want to believe you, but it seems too incredible. Besides, what does this specifically have to do with my ministry?”
“Last night I mentioned that we would implant the embryo. For this to occur, we need a womb. Of course, the young girl must be a godly virgin. Our ‘Mary’ must be one in whom Christ dwells and delights in.” George looked right in Pastor Donovan’s eyes and announced, “That’s why I’m here today. Anne, your daughter, is that girl.”
“What?” exclaimed Pastor Donovan. “I don’t understand. Are you saying that you want to impregnate Anne? That she would carry your baby?”
“Not mine. God’s! Nobody enters her. She remains a virgin. As with Mary, people will count her blessed.”
Pastor Donovan stared at him in disbelief. “She’s only eighteen. We’ve got plans. She’s got plans. How can she graduate from high school and go to college if she’s pregnant?”
“I understand your concerns. But know that the momentary, light affliction that she must endure cannot compare to the eternal weight of glory that awaits her. Yes, her future will change. It will change the world. And hasn’t that been your prayer for her ever since she was born, that she would be dedicated unto God and make a difference in this world?”
Pastor Donovan didn’t know what to say. How did George know that that was exactly their prayer for Anne? Pastor Donovan pondered for a moment the fact that George always seemed to know precisely what he thought and desired. How does he know so much about me?
Moving the conversation forward, George suggested, “Last night I promised that you could ask me questions when we met. So, I assume you have a few more questions. I also assume, based on the pile of books there on your desk, that you may even have a few answers.”
Though stupefied by George’s revelation, Pastor Donovan did smile at the suggestion that he might have answers. He had anything but answers. He wasn’t even sure what the questions were to ask. Following an awkward moment of silence, he simply blurted out the first thought that came to mind. “Jesus ascended bodily into heaven. Right? So, because we are told that He will return in the same way, this means that He will return bodily. Visibly, right? However this is to happen, I know that I want to be alive to witness it. Sometimes on our evening walks, especially after I sound off my ‘heretic of the week’ frustrations for the first few blocks, my wife will look up into the sky and say, ‘O, please come, Lord Jesus.’”
“You are not only going to be alive to witness His coming. You are going to help make it happen. You, and especially your daughter, will make a significant contribution to it.”
Unsure how to respond or what to ask, Pastor Donovan voiced, “This whole plan of yours is based on a relic. I admit I don’t know much about relics, but my impression is that they are ‘Catholic.’ Once used long ago to generate money, power, and relevance for monasteries and cathedrals, these spectacular treasures from the past now sit tucked away, catalogued and shelved under the Vatican.”
George interrupted, “Pastor Donovan, with all due respect, the umbilical cord of Jesus is not some relic, a medieval piece of magic. We’re not talking about one of the countless chalices from the Last Supper or splinters from the cross that sustain legends. The Sisters of Saint Mary-Salome vigilantly preserved the authentic cord, the one piece of Jesus’ body that did not ascend into heaven. We do not have a relic. We have the only true link to the flesh that now sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.”
Both men sat still for a moment, as if trying to fathom that last sentence. Pastor Donovan broke the silence. “I need time to think about all this.”
“Of course,” affirmed George. “And you will need to talk with Ashley and Anne.” Before Pastor Donovan had a chance to protest or panic, George stood up, leaned across the desk to shake hands, and then said while leaving, “I’ll be praying for you.”
As George closed the door behind him, Pastor Donovan leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head. I’ll be praying for you. Pastor Donovan knows that he himself has said this a thousand times to his parishioners. He also knows that many times it has only served as a convenient way to end a conversation. Even as he pondered this flawed spirituality, a flashback from Sunday morning arose. As he walked from the parking lot toward the sanctuary, he saw Brother Bob walking right toward him. Recalling that he had promised to pray for him, he threw up a quick “Lord, help him” just before he greeted Brother Bob with “How are you? I’ve been praying for you.” His pastoral voice of concern surely guaranteed another “homerun.”
* * * * *
Regardless of whether George was really going to pray for him, or whether those parting words were an empty promise, an exit plan well played, Pastor Donovan found himself yet again hopeless and lost inside his office, his chamber of desperation. For the past year, haunting episodes of “What’s the use?” had invaded his mind. The past week’s “When are you going to get more young people coming to church?” comment by his board chairman reverberated through his mind, making him want to lash out with “Well, when are you going to do something?” The stacks of conference and seminar notebooks on his bookshelf strangled any leftover hope. Like the slick brochures littering his inbox, they promised the key to leadership and growth, the central but missing program for success. And yet they drove him further into failure and confusion because he couldn’t
