God is working in Law's life. I've prayed for him so much since
D-Now last year, and it seems as if those prayers are beginning to show fruit.
As I mentioned in
this post, Simon and Law were at college Bible study Thursday night - the first night of dividing up into the two groups.
The females went to the classroom next door, and the guys stayed in the main room. Evidently the boys had been having a discussion on 'what is considered appropriate behavior in church' (having food in the auditorium, wearing shorts to church, etc.). As we rejoined the guys for our closing group time, Law said, 'Let's ask the girl in a dress, or, skirt.' (I suppose insinuating that someone who was wearing a skirt on a week-day would have a more strict opinion) 'Kyrie, do you think it's okay to wear shorts to church?'
Now, I knew what I
wanted to say, and I was pretty certain that that was what he thought I would say. Yet, with all I have been learning in the last three years (at Victory Rd.), and what had been demonstrated to me within the last two weeks (at the church in Chicago), I hesitated a moment before answering. I was also aware that this could be an important moment in my work of building a friendship and trust with this young man. That my answer could affect how (or if) he trusted and/or respected me in the future. Also, obviously (and most importantly), I wanted to give a Biblical answer and one that would please God. So I hesitated. But not for long; my answer came to me pretty quickly and easily:
If all you have to wear is a pair of shorts, and you don't feel like you should come to church because you don't have a suit or a dress to wear, you should come anyway. Your wardrobe limitation should not make you feel inferior and keep you from church. And if you come and people look down on you, they're wrong. If you have clothes on, you should be able to come to church.
Around the room there was a murmuring of agreement, but Law wasn't done:
What if that's
not all you had, but you just wanted to wear shorts because you liked them or they were comfortable?
The look on his face was a mixture of friendly daring and serious interest.
I tried to choose my words carefully:
I think it’s good to try to look nice and show respect by wearing your best to church. But if you want to wear shorts to church, that’s between you and God – it’s not for me to say. If your conscience will let you, it’s not for me to tell you what you should do or not do.
He looked thoughtful as Justice and Bro. Mike both made approving comments, but I couldn’t tell what those thoughts were...
Then there was SOAR last week. SOAR is an acronym (I don't remember what the letters stand for) for a big youth conference in Texas. I've never gone, for several reasons which for time's sake I will not detail now, but for a few days (and for various other reasons) entertained the idea of going this year. Randy, Law, Piper, Lela, and Bro. Mike, as well as Simon, Joy, and Abigail were all going as well. I ended up not getting to, and was disappointed; I felt like something big was going to happen, and I would miss out on getting to witness it.
The group was going to be leaving early Monday morning and get back Friday night. Sunday, I tried to seek out the different ones who would be going and wish them a blessed time. I hadn't gotten to tell the S. kids good-bye though, and it was Sunday evening. Trissy and I went out the side door of the church building after services were over (I was needing to get some youth group photos from Bro. Mike I'd told him I could put in albums), and there was their big silver van, with Mrs. S. and Piper in it! Turns out Law had walked over with Simon to Simon's grandparents' house for a little while, and had forgotten to give the key back to Mrs. S. So she had called him, and she and Piper were waiting for him to walk back with it. I got to tell Piper 'bye and stood and chatted with them and Bro. Mike for a few minutes.
After a couple of minutes, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Law walking up the road towards us with the sinking sun behind him turning the colors in it's path into a scene of magical beauty. When he saw me, he started singing this stupid silly song that went back to the Chicago trip
Anyway, when I knew the group was on their way back Friday afternoon, I texted one of the girls that had gone and mentioned that sometime I wanted to hear all about how it went. She replied that she would be glad to tell me, and mentioned a situation involving Simon and Law in a negative light. I was dumbfounded; and heartbroken. After Chicago, I had such hopes that Law was changing - for the better. Now this?
I went around the house in a shock for a few hours, and I'm sure Trissy and Mom must have wondered what in the world was wrong with me.
I prayed and thought, and tried to remind myself that the Lord had the situation firmly in His hands, and that I should wait until the group got back and not jump to conclusions based on one negative remark. But I was still so sad. Why, when I mentioned that I'd like to know how things went at SOAR, was
that the first thing the girl thought to tell me? Not, 'the music was uplifting', 'the speakers were passionate', or 'the messages were convicting and inspiring'; just, 'Simon and Law did not behave'. To her, did it stand out so bad as to drown out all the good that might have happened on the trip?
Later that evening, we were going up the road to spend the evening with The Grandparents, and as is my habit frequently, I rode my bicycle. As I pedaled down our little country dirt road, past the pastures and trees that make the beautiful spot where we live, the sun was at that late-afternoon position just before it starts sinking behind the trees; that angle where it's rays are cast almost perfectly horizontal across the landscape. The light was brilliant white gold, and with the direction of the sun's rays, every grass blade was turned into a bright green prism, each flower along the way exploded with brilliant color because of the light behind it, and anything that was not perfectly flat had a precise, sharp-edged silhouette on the ground beside it. It took my breath away. And as I rode along soaking it in, the thought involuntarily passed through my head, "If God can make something this beautiful, He
must be trustworthy."
Of course I knew already that He was! But that amazingly beautiful late-afternoon scene was the sweet reminder I needed. The young lady I got the message from may have easily misunderstood the situation; regardless, it's always risky to pass judgement on anyone, or come to a final conclusion, after hearing only one side of a story - and one side was all I had. Almost without realizing it, I found my heart and mind completely at peace.
Sunday was glorious.
Aron was leading the music service that morning, but hadn't gotten enough music printed for all the guitars, so Archer and Law sat in the congregation with their family.
For days - maybe weeks - before this, I had prayed that God would really speak to Law at SOAR.
I watched him from the choir during the music service, then out of the corner of my eye during the sermon.
At one point as Bro. Earl spoke, Law suddenly bent down and took a tissue or two from the box under the pew in front of him, and laid them spread neatly on the pew beside him. I looked at his face, and I could not read it. It was stoic and yet soft, calm but gently disturbed. He blinked his eyes rapidly and he may have had tears, or a speck of dust in them. He could have been expecting to need the tissues to wipe his eyes, or to stifle a sneeze. But he did nothing more with them, other than to move them from his right to his left side on the pew.
I desperately wanted to believe that Something was working in that dear great heart. But I have learned that reading what you
want to read on a page can be a dangerous business, for it may not actually be there, and basing your thoughts and actions on what you
suppose, can result in grave mistakes.
It was, however, unmistakeably obvious that his usual mannerisms were altered. There was no pencil-twirling, no leaning forward with head down and elbows on knees, no rather glaze-eyed expression, and no resting with face in hand. He looked like a willing student in a class of chosen personal interest.
Oh how my heart ached for him!
Bro. Earl brought the service to a close and Aron got up to lead the final hymn, "His Eye is on the Sparrow". The congregation began singing, and almost before I could believe it, Law was slipping out from between the pews and striding up to Bro. Earl. He wrapped his arms around him as if he was the only standing tree in a tossing flood. Words passed between them, then Law came back and slipped back to his spot.
During the service, in among my sermon notes on the back of the bulletin, were interspersed prayers for Law. At the bottom I'd quoted the first half of Ps. 119:126 - "It is time for Thee, Lord, to work".
Now below that I wrote, "And He is!"
