Jesus and Roger's Heart

“Thanks for coming by,” said Lois Weaver as she opened the door to invite the parson in.

Lois, a member of the parson's congregation, was about as active as once could be in the work of the church. The doors of the church were seldom open without Lois having unlocked them. Her aging body was beginning to slow her body but not her spirit.

She directed the parson to the glassed-in porch running the length of the rear of her ranch style home. The parson eased himself into a rocker where he'd have an unobstructed view of the valley nestled below the ridge on which Lois lived.

Lois excused herself and returned to the home's interior, leaving the parson with delightful moments to savor the natural beauty before him and to marvel at the antics of the red-tailed hawk circling at eye level of the parson but hundreds of feed above the valley floor. Momentarily she returned and with the well-bred manners of a Southern belle placed a serving tray holding both a coffee urn and a pitcher of iced tea with a single coffee cup and two glasses containing ice cubes.

“What's your preference/” asked Lois. “The coffee is decaf.”

“Thanks, Lois,” the parson replied. “Coffee would be great.”

Lois poured the coffee delicately into the cup and handed it sitting in a saucer. The parson noted the hand painted floral pattern winding about the cup and saucer and vowed to adjust his manners accordingly.

Lois poured slowly the tea over the ice cubes of one glass. Task completed, she sat on an ornate white wicker chair, resting her back upright against the over stuffed pillows. After taking a sip of the tea she placed the glass on a coaster atop a wicker side table.

Lois asked the parson about some projects ongoing at the church. The discussed ways to expedite some of them. The parson waited patiently for this prelude to conclude and for Lois to get around to whatever was the reason for her invitation to visit.

“Listen, Parson, I need to discuss something personal with you.” Lois finally blurted quickly redirecting the direction of the conversation. “I”m deeply concerned about my grandchildren.”

Lois had one son, a successful writer of scholarly works. His primary interest was the indigenous peoples who populated the Southeast prior to the coming of the Europeans. He was a recognized expert on the mound builders of the region. He personally had no interest in the church, but his two children, a boy and a girl, attended from time to time. Usually they came with their Lois, but occasionally they came on their own.

The parson knew Lois' son well and the children also. “What's concerning you about the kids?” he asked.

“Roger just doesn't make much of an attempt to bring them up in the church, Parson.”

“Why would he do that, Lois? Roger doesn't go to church.”

“That's my point, exactly, Parson. He doesn't go to church. The truth of the matter is he's not a Christian. He doesn't believe in Jesus.”

The parson put the coffee cup and saucer on the table in front of him. He leaned forward toward Lois. “I'm not sure Roger does not believe in Jesus, Lois. He and I have talked a lot. He believes that Jesus was a great, great prophet. He even patterns his life after Jesus' teachings, but he ....”

“He doesn't believe Jesus is the Son of God, Parson. He just doesn't believe that at all.”

“What are you worried about, Lois. Are you worried that Roger won't go to heaven or that your grandchildren won't?”

“It's not one or the other,” said Lois as she sat back in her chair. Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling fan oscillating slowly above them. “I'm worried about both. Roger is what Roger is. He sometimes lets that brain of his get in the way. There's nothing much I can do about Roger, Parson. He is what he is. But those kids are young, and I feel Roger should never stand in the way of letting them come to the Lord.”

The parson smiled inwardly. The conversation was in ways spooky. It had been only a few weeks before when Roger had talked to the parson about his worry over his mother's worry.

“Lois, you're aware, aren't you, that Roger's life, both professionally and personally, is lived closer to what is reflected in Jesus that half the people who attend church?”

“Oh, I know Roger is a good man, Parson. He never passes up a chance to help others. He's always generous to a fault. He's .... I don't know; he's, well, he's just not born again.”

“What does that mean, Lois?”

“What does born again mean? You know what born again means, Parson.”

“Well, let's pretend I don't. What does it mean to you?”

“It means that,” Lois began shaking her hand in front of her in a nervous gesture, “it means that, well, it means that he's given his life to Jesus and is baptized into the faith.”

The parson thought a moment. “Lois, suppose you were going down the road and found someone who was really in need of help. Who would you call to come help? Think about the folks who sit in the church on Sunday. Would you call one of them or would you call Roger first?”

“Look, Parson, I understand Roger is a good boy. I should know. I'm his mother. But Roger has never given his heart to Jesus.”

The parson asked Lois if he could have another cup of coffee. She quickly told him to go ahead. As he poured the coffee, the parson said, “Lois, you know the story of the Good Samaritan?”

“Of course.”

“I'm trying to remember if he was a disciple of Jesus.”

“Oh, good grief, Parson, he was a Samaritan.”

“But Jesus held him up as an example for us.”

Lois turned in her chair and looked out over the valley where the hawk still soared on unseen highways of air. As she had turned the parson saw the tears beginning to show in her eyes. It was a private moment. The parson didn't speak. He sat back in the rocker and drank his coffee. When he'd finished and Lois still stared out, he stood and walked to her.

When he placed his hand on her shoulder, Lois rose and placed her head on the parson's chest where she quietly wept. Finally, she pushed herself away.

“I'm sorry about that. I'm just worried about those kids. Thank you for coming by.”

The parson spoke softly. “Lois, listen to me. I want you to promise you'll ask Roger to come over and talk to you about this. I want you to promise you won't try to convert him, but you'll just tell him about your worry. Do that Lois; do that because it will help both of you. Will you promise?”

“Okay, Parson, I'll do that.”

“Good,” said the parson. He turned to leave. “Look, thanks for the coffee. Thanks for trusting me enough to talk about this. And Lois, while you're worrying that Roger hasn't given his heart to Jesus it may be that Jesus already has his heart.”

Comments

[lorna (see-through faith)]

interesting :)

[lorna (see-through faith)]

interesting :)

[Beach Walkin]

Thank you.

[eija]

Hello there,

Thanks for stopping by my blog - and especially thank you for leaving a message so that I could find your blog! I truly enjoy your writing. Added your link on my blogroll, too.

Be blessed :)

[Songbird]

Amen, amen.

[Linda]

I think Lois is awful lucky to have such a caring parson to talk to