the unbelievable news. Without going into all the technical details (because, in fact, I don’t understand all the science involved), I want to tell you what we plan to do with the cord. Let me just say that, because the blood in the cord is well preserved and well suitable and usable for advanced procedures involving DNA, we can now bring back Jesus. Think about it, for such a time as this, God has graced us with the ability and the means to generate His second coming.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ashley could not help but interrupt. “Are you telling us that you intend to clone our Lord? That you will create Him in some lab? No, better yet, you plan to stage another virgin birth. No, wait, I’m sorry, virgin conception? I bet you already have selected a Mary. Who’s your chosen virgin?” Distraught, Ashley pointed toward their daughter, and said sardonically, “Anne?”
“Yes.”
“Way cool,” roared Doug.
“What?” gasped Anne.
“Are you out of your mind?” Now livid, Ashley stood up and declared that the family powwow was over. She ordered the kids to go to their bedrooms. Bundt followed Anne.
* * * * *
Payne and his wife sat in the living room, staring at anything but each other. When he thought it was safe, he spoke. “Please, Honey, just listen to what I . . .”
“No. You listen to me. My daughter is not going to get pregnant before she is married. She is going to go to college, graduate, get a job that she likes, and then get married to a man that she loves and that loves her and shares her values.”
“Just like you. You married a man that loves you and shares your values. I know that I have had more time than you to process this whole thing. But, please, know that what we are talking about will make all things work out together for our good. You know my heart. You also know that I’ve tried to help the church grow, to move God’s mission forward. But I have nothing more to throw to see if it sticks. That is, until now.”
“So you’re going to throw an umbilical cord?” quipped Ashley. Silence stretched between them—and then Ashley said, “I just don’t understand. Is this merely your latest attempt to take the church to the next level?”
“It’s not the next level. It’s the ultimate level, the pinnacle, the . . .”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the devil tempt Jesus from the pinnacle of the temple? And didn’t Satan try to use the Scriptures to tempt Him? And didn’t Jesus resist him by counter-quoting, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test’? Payne, you are not only testing the Lord your God, you are testing your wife with this absurd nonsense. Please, for your sake and mine and especially Anne’s, just forget about all this. Go back to being a regular pastor—preach, teach, and run the church—and entrust the results to God.” Ashley stood up, staged a consoling smile, and walked to the kitchen, pretending that all was back to normal.
Pastor Donovan walked toward his bedroom to lie down, but stopped when he overheard Anne praying, or at least what he thought was praying. With the door ajar, he glanced in to make sure she was all right. She was not praying. She was curled up on the floor next to her bed, talking to Bundt.
“Everybody has my life all planned out. It seems like ever since I was born I was destined to be smart and to do the right things. Always the student with an A on her report card, and never the girl with an A on her sweater. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for what I have. I have you. I remember when Dad brought you home as a surprise. You were so small. When you curled up, just like you are now, you looked just like a chocolate Bundt cake. That’s why we named you Bundt. You were a sweet surprise; but you’re not the only surprise he has graced us with. Remember when Dad surprised us with a two-week camping trip to the beach. We all thought he was crazy. We were so unprepared and so not wanting to break the family tradition of using Dad’s year-long wedding and funeral money to enjoy some mountain resort. That vacation turned out to be the best time together, and we got to take you along, too. Oh, and remember when we . . .”
Pastor Donovan stopped eavesdropping. He plopped on his bed and drifted asleep. Though already exhausting, his day of reckoning continued, for he fell into a dream.
He found himself standing on top of the church’s spire. There, up on the steeple, with his feet on the cross, he heard someone yell from down below, “Drop the baby.” Much to his surprise, he let go. The baby fell face down toward the ground. But just before it hit the ground it slowed down and then stopped because it was connected to him by a long umbilical cord. The baby bungeed back up toward him. As it returned, it turned over. Now faced up, Pastor Donovan saw that the baby was Anne. She was smiling and saying, “Do it again, Daddy.”
He woke up with his daughter by his side saying, “Daddy, I think this is something I should do.”
Pastor Donovan shook his head to clear away the sleep. “Are you sure, Precious?”
“If this would really be Jesus’ second coming, then what else can I do? It would be wrong to say no.”
He hugged her and said, “Don’t tell your mother.”
3
The main point of Pastor Donovan’s message the following Sunday was that every conversion is a virgin birth, or, as he said more than once to be more accurate, a virgin conception. He shared that being born again was a work of God. “He opens our eyes so we can see. He opens our ears so we can hear. He opens our hearts so we can welcome the gospel.” Pastor Donovan explained that this new life, conceived in us like the One in Mary’s womb, is by the Holy Spirit. While we are yet doubters and unworthy, God proclaims, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” Pastor Donovan’s eyes and heart fixed upon his daughter as he preached.
He sensed something different about his sermon. His parishioners sensed it, too. If only these people knew what kind of a week I’ve just had. Pastor Donovan could not help but think this as he shook hands at the close of the service. He smiled, but he did not hear his parishioners, except when a few broke from their usual script.
“Pastor, you sure preached with passion today. It really felt like an angelic announcement when you looked right at Anne and said, ‘Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.’”
As he held the hand of this sweet elderly parishioner, Pastor Donovan thought, If only you knew, Mrs. Gabriel. If only you knew.
After dutifully listening to a few more customary pleasantries, Pastor Donovan found himself caught off guard when Brother Bob followed up his standard “You really hit a homerun today” with “I’m sure you impressed the search committee that came here today to hear you.”
“Search committee? What search committee?”
“That search committee!” retorted Brother Bob as he pointed to the group of four men gathered at the end of the line.
Pastor Donovan’s heart skipped. Making their way to shake his hand was George Carlson and the team of men that he met last Monday at SarkiSystems. “What are they doing here?” Pastor Donovan intended his query to be a mere thought, but Brother Bob heard it.
“That is the question. If they are not a search committee, then who are they and what are they doing here?”
Pastor Donovan did not want to answer these questions. In this case, he preferred questions to remain questions.
