was part of his plan to help those with special needs.
“For de revelation awaits un appointed time; it speaks of de end and will not pwoove false.” Amit’s eyelids fluttered. “Dough it lingers, wait fo’ it; it will certainwy come and will not deway.”
Vince smiled at the man, then realized he’d quoted from Habakkuk rather than his usual Proverbs. Had he finally moved onto another book?
As if to answer the question Vince hadn’t voiced, Amit said, “Wet your eyes wook stwait ahead, fix your gaze duwectly before ou—Pwovers 4:25.”
“Yes, Amit. You’re learning those well.” Vince was amazed at how he could memorize so much scripture word-for-word. It was kind of funny how the simple man had mostly chosen Proverbs to quote—the book of wisdom. He probably didn’t even know what the words meant. Still, Vince wished his parishioners took as much time to learn scripture as Amit did.
Amit tugged at the lapels of his crisply ironed navy suit jacket displaying a proud smile, and walked away.
Fix your gaze directly before you. The words fluttered in Vince’s mind for some reason. Wait for the appointed time. A shiver rippled through him. He shook his head and walked on through the hallway.
Is this all there is, Lord? His heart cried out. Was his usefulness waning? Would he only preach to the choir now? He wanted to do more. He’d spent years at his old haunt, The Dock Bar and Grill, hoping to recover an old friend from his former lawless life. But though they tolerated him—and his profession—it came more in the form of teasing than it did movement toward any real faith of their own. Vince knew these things took time, but somehow—today—it felt meaningless. Like it wasn’t enough.
His thoughts ran to Cass again, and her lack of presence in the pews. Her mom was there with Cass’s kids, which only made the pew seem more empty. The hole in his chest grew wider, knowing she’d never forgive him. There was nothing he could do to cleanse what he’d done to her. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way. Led her to believe in him—in them—only for her to discover it hadn’t been real. Or at least that’s what he’d tried to tell himself back then. It had only been a game. One that had left him less in control of his feelings than before it had started. What he’d done to her that night was unforgivable.
Vince’s steps shuffled along the carpeted floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A couple volunteers from classrooms greeted him on their way out. He smiled, nodded and whispered goodbyes, but his heart lay in his shoes.
“Pastor Vince.”
He began to hate the sound of his name and title as people called to him, wanting him to lead them here, guide them there. Pray for them. Heal them. Didn’t they know he was just a man? Didn’t they know he needed guiding, prayer, and healing too?
“Pastor Vince.” Greta Hessing’s voice. Cass’s mom.
He turned. Mrs. Hessing dragged Cass’s son along as the teen girl followed closely behind. Mrs. Hessing stopped short and tilted her head. “Are you okay?”
He forced a smile all the way through his eyes. A skill his father had taught him. “’Course I am. What’s up?” He needed to be strong for his congregation so they would know God was working in his life.
“I just wanted to introduce my grandkids to you.” She wrapped an arm around the dark-haired teen. “This is Sophie.” And patted the blond boy’s head. “This is Tibo.”
“Tibo?” He lowered to one knee in order to be eye-level with the boy. “That’s an intriguing name.”
“Name.” The boy smiled.
Mrs. Hessing sighed. “It’s short for Tim-Bob.” She grimaced. “His real name is Timothy Robert, Jr. His father always liked that football player, so he thought it would be fun to call him by the same name, though they spell it differently.”
“Well, Tibo, do you like my church?”
Tibo’s brows furrowed as his eyes reached deep into Vince’s soul.
“For de revelation awaits un appointed time; it speaks of de end and will not pwoove false.” Amit’s eyelids fluttered. “Dough it lingers, wait fo’ it; it will certainwy come and will not deway.”
Vince smiled at the man, then realized he’d quoted from Habakkuk rather than his usual Proverbs. Had he finally moved onto another book?
As if to answer the question Vince hadn’t voiced, Amit said, “Wet your eyes wook stwait ahead, fix your gaze duwectly before ou—Pwovers 4:25.”
“Yes, Amit. You’re learning those well.” Vince was amazed at how he could memorize so much scripture word-for-word. It was kind of funny how the simple man had mostly chosen Proverbs to quote—the book of wisdom. He probably didn’t even know what the words meant. Still, Vince wished his parishioners took as much time to learn scripture as Amit did.
Amit tugged at the lapels of his crisply ironed navy suit jacket displaying a proud smile, and walked away.
Fix your gaze directly before you. The words fluttered in Vince’s mind for some reason. Wait for the appointed time. A shiver rippled through him. He shook his head and walked on through the hallway.
Is this all there is, Lord? His heart cried out. Was his usefulness waning? Would he only preach to the choir now? He wanted to do more. He’d spent years at his old haunt, The Dock Bar and Grill, hoping to recover an old friend from his former lawless life. But though they tolerated him—and his profession—it came more in the form of teasing than it did movement toward any real faith of their own. Vince knew these things took time, but somehow—today—it felt meaningless. Like it wasn’t enough.
His thoughts ran to Cass again, and her lack of presence in the pews. Her mom was there with Cass’s kids, which only made the pew seem more empty. The hole in his chest grew wider, knowing she’d never forgive him. There was nothing he could do to cleanse what he’d done to her. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way. Led her to believe in him—in them—only for her to discover it hadn’t been real. Or at least that’s what he’d tried to tell himself back then. It had only been a game. One that had left him less in control of his feelings than before it had started. What he’d done to her that night was unforgivable.
Vince’s steps shuffled along the carpeted floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A couple volunteers from classrooms greeted him on their way out. He smiled, nodded and whispered goodbyes, but his heart lay in his shoes.
“Pastor Vince.”
He began to hate the sound of his name and title as people called to him, wanting him to lead them here, guide them there. Pray for them. Heal them. Didn’t they know he was just a man? Didn’t they know he needed guiding, prayer, and healing too?
“Pastor Vince.” Greta Hessing’s voice. Cass’s mom.
He turned. Mrs. Hessing dragged Cass’s son along as the teen girl followed closely behind. Mrs. Hessing stopped short and tilted her head. “Are you okay?”
He forced a smile all the way through his eyes. A skill his father had taught him. “’Course I am. What’s up?” He needed to be strong for his congregation so they would know God was working in his life.
“I just wanted to introduce my grandkids to you.” She wrapped an arm around the dark-haired teen. “This is Sophie.” And patted the blond boy’s head. “This is Tibo.”
“Tibo?” He lowered to one knee in order to be eye-level with the boy. “That’s an intriguing name.”
“Name.” The boy smiled.
Mrs. Hessing sighed. “It’s short for Tim-Bob.” She grimaced. “His real name is Timothy Robert, Jr. His father always liked that football player, so he thought it would be fun to call him by the same name, though they spell it differently.”
“Well, Tibo, do you like my church?”
Tibo’s brows furrowed as his eyes reached deep into Vince’s soul.
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