faith never asks me to believe foolishly or throw all my caution to the wind without counting the consequences.”
Wyatt quickly put his hands in his lap. “Why, you don’t mean to tell me you believe what’s in here, do you?” Guilt crept up his spine like a spider skulking in Crazy Pierre’s root cellar.
“Maybe.” Candlelight flickered on Jewel’s face, more earnest than Wyatt had ever seen her. Eyes clear and dark like a winter sky, sparkling with starlight. He looked away, pretending to study a knot in the pine-log wall.
“You think faith never asks you to believe foolishly? Look at Abraham.” He flipped the Bible back to Genesis. “God told him to move to a new land—a land He hadn’t even shown him—and ol’ Abe packed up without a second thought. If that’s faith, then forget it. It’s not for me.”
“No. You’re missing it.” Jewel pushed the Bible closer to Wyatt, and her voice took on a reverent tone, almost husky—like the one she used when training horses in her native Arapaho. “God moved with Abraham one step at a time, never asking more than His just due. You’re right that God told him to move to a new land—but when he did, God blessed him. God promised him a son, and Abraham believed and waited years until it happened.” Jewel smoothed the page with her finger. “God didn’t throw everything at him all at once. He allowed Abraham to learn who He was, little by little, so that Abraham could make the hard decisions in the end.”
“Huh.” Wyatt scratched his head.
“I admire that. It took great courage on Abraham’s part to believe, but also on God’s—to wait and patiently reveal His character over time.”
Wyatt massaged his temples, feeling like he’d just stepped in a noose. “You said you were Hagar,” he said, switching subjects slightly. “How am I supposed to know that whole story isn’t a lie? I don’t know if I can trust you to tell the truth. About that or anything else.”
“Maybe you can’t.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “But you can do what Abraham did.”
“What, pack up and move?” Wyatt felt his patience wearing through, like a threadbare patch in his overalls.
“No. Wait and watch my character. Then you’ll know whether or not you can trust me.”
Wyatt leaned his elbows on the table and shook his head. “You’re a Christian, aren’t you?” His lip turned up slightly. “You’ve been pretending the whole time, just like you did with English. Why, I bet you know this whole book inside and out. Maybe you’re even a missionary.” He set his jaw. “Am I right?”
“What? I’m not a Christian.” Jewel folded her arms. “I’m not anything. I don’t know what I believe.” Her eyes seemed, for a moment, sadly empty. She looked away, firelight flickering on the lines of her face. “I don’t follow the gods of the Arapaho anymore. I fasted every year during the Sun Dance, and all my life I prayed to the Creator of the Arapaho who speaks through eagles. But I felt nothing. Heard nothing. Almost as if I’d died and my spirit ceased to exist.”
Tears shimmered briefly in Jewel’s eyes, and she blinked them back, keeping a stoic face. “When I heard the priest at the mission school speak about Jesus, the ice in my heart began to melt. And I longed to read the Bible. To soak up the stories and learn about the God who spoke not through eagles but through people, through His Son Jesus—and from His book.”
Her eyelashes trembled closed. “But as soon as I learned to read, my father sold me to my husband, who neither approved of women reading nor listened when I asked for a Bible.” She rubbed at a scratch on the wooden table with slender fingers. “I asked God, if He existed, to let me hear His Word for myself and see if it was true.”
She looked up briefly. “And then you asked me to study English. With this.” Jewel passed her hand over the pages of the Bible.
Wyatt realized he was gaping and closed his mouth.
And
Wyatt quickly put his hands in his lap. “Why, you don’t mean to tell me you believe what’s in here, do you?” Guilt crept up his spine like a spider skulking in Crazy Pierre’s root cellar.
“Maybe.” Candlelight flickered on Jewel’s face, more earnest than Wyatt had ever seen her. Eyes clear and dark like a winter sky, sparkling with starlight. He looked away, pretending to study a knot in the pine-log wall.
“You think faith never asks you to believe foolishly? Look at Abraham.” He flipped the Bible back to Genesis. “God told him to move to a new land—a land He hadn’t even shown him—and ol’ Abe packed up without a second thought. If that’s faith, then forget it. It’s not for me.”
“No. You’re missing it.” Jewel pushed the Bible closer to Wyatt, and her voice took on a reverent tone, almost husky—like the one she used when training horses in her native Arapaho. “God moved with Abraham one step at a time, never asking more than His just due. You’re right that God told him to move to a new land—but when he did, God blessed him. God promised him a son, and Abraham believed and waited years until it happened.” Jewel smoothed the page with her finger. “God didn’t throw everything at him all at once. He allowed Abraham to learn who He was, little by little, so that Abraham could make the hard decisions in the end.”
“Huh.” Wyatt scratched his head.
“I admire that. It took great courage on Abraham’s part to believe, but also on God’s—to wait and patiently reveal His character over time.”
Wyatt massaged his temples, feeling like he’d just stepped in a noose. “You said you were Hagar,” he said, switching subjects slightly. “How am I supposed to know that whole story isn’t a lie? I don’t know if I can trust you to tell the truth. About that or anything else.”
“Maybe you can’t.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “But you can do what Abraham did.”
“What, pack up and move?” Wyatt felt his patience wearing through, like a threadbare patch in his overalls.
“No. Wait and watch my character. Then you’ll know whether or not you can trust me.”
Wyatt leaned his elbows on the table and shook his head. “You’re a Christian, aren’t you?” His lip turned up slightly. “You’ve been pretending the whole time, just like you did with English. Why, I bet you know this whole book inside and out. Maybe you’re even a missionary.” He set his jaw. “Am I right?”
“What? I’m not a Christian.” Jewel folded her arms. “I’m not anything. I don’t know what I believe.” Her eyes seemed, for a moment, sadly empty. She looked away, firelight flickering on the lines of her face. “I don’t follow the gods of the Arapaho anymore. I fasted every year during the Sun Dance, and all my life I prayed to the Creator of the Arapaho who speaks through eagles. But I felt nothing. Heard nothing. Almost as if I’d died and my spirit ceased to exist.”
Tears shimmered briefly in Jewel’s eyes, and she blinked them back, keeping a stoic face. “When I heard the priest at the mission school speak about Jesus, the ice in my heart began to melt. And I longed to read the Bible. To soak up the stories and learn about the God who spoke not through eagles but through people, through His Son Jesus—and from His book.”
Her eyelashes trembled closed. “But as soon as I learned to read, my father sold me to my husband, who neither approved of women reading nor listened when I asked for a Bible.” She rubbed at a scratch on the wooden table with slender fingers. “I asked God, if He existed, to let me hear His Word for myself and see if it was true.”
She looked up briefly. “And then you asked me to study English. With this.” Jewel passed her hand over the pages of the Bible.
Wyatt realized he was gaping and closed his mouth.
And
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