With Every Head Bowed
by T.S. Beckett
The New Pantagruel is pleased to publish “With Every Head Bowed,” the winner of the first Faith *in* Fiction–New Pantagruel short fiction contest. Bethany House fiction editor and cyber-St. Bernard of Christian fiction writers, Dave Long, initiated the contest with a call to his online writers’ community for stories of conversion. He received more than 70 entries, whittled them down to six, then passed them on to tNP’s arts editor, Ryan McDermott, who selected the winner. We liked the way this conversion story ends, in the way any extra-psychological conversion must end. We also liked to be reminded, in Garrison Keillor’s final year of Wobegon monologues, of the quiet insider’s perspective on a small, beloved, but flawed religious community.
he first week Ed Rockwell brought Richard Landover to church, everyone was so pleased. Rick, as Ed introduced him, was a nice young man, short dark hair combed on the side, pale yellow oxford shirt open at the top, dark blue regular-fit Levi’s–anyone could see this was his best pair, none of those frayed, ripped jeans that some young men wore–and no tattoos or earrings. Yes, everyone was quite pleased to see him and welcomed him. Ed said he drove heavy equipment for the Department of Transportation. Well, it was obvious he was a working man. You could see that with a glance, a solid build like he had. So when he came in with Ed, several of the older members gave him a warm handshake. The Lindenwoods Brethren church was known for its hospitality.
The service that first week was a good one. Pastor Harris presented an in-depth study on the message, “Do Not Be Unequally Yoked.” And then, as per the Lindenwoods order of service, he gave an appeal.
Pastor Archibald Harris was a respected minister in the community. He had been the pastor for Lindenwoods nearly twelve years, and except for that six-week difficulty of “the prophet” when he first came, the church had run swimmingly. Sure, there was bickering at potluck–some never brought their share of covered dishes, and those same ones never stayed to clean up, either. And there was, of course, the continual pleading to get men out for the church work bees, like just last spring when the kindergarten classroom needed a new paint job–whoever decided on that awful mint green? Still, those are issues every “family” has to deal with, and Pastor Harris, or Pastor Archie as the young people called him, had a nice way of guiding the church through these little snaggles.
That first week, when Pastor Harris started his appeal, Monica got up to sing. Monica Ridgely was one of Lindenwoods’s treasures. She had grown up in the church. Her parents and grandparents were members, as stable a family as you were going to find. During the week Monica worked as a secretary at Robinson Elementary School, but on Sunday, when it came time for the appeal, Monica sang.
Now Monica was pretty enough, and had an attractive form, which to some minds she showed too much to advantage. (I am thinking here mostly of the sisters Rachel and Donna Hetzel.) And in fact, on this particular Sunday she wore a yellow-flowered sundress. Still, what made her a church treasure was her voice. She had the lushest alto. Women said it was like sitting beside the Stoney Creek on a summer’s evening, so soothing. Men likened it to the visceral satisfaction of a Harley cruising down Route 11. True, she did not have the training or range of Mrs. Herrington, who had studied at the Shenandoah Conservatory, and who could not only sing but played the piano and organ as well; then again, Mrs. Herrington was nearly seventy and Monica was twenty-two.
And so, “with every head bowed, and every eye closed,” Pastor Harris gave his appeal, and then Monica begin to sing. The first week she sang “Nearer, Still Nearer.” Pastor Harris gave a sincere call for those who had felt the Holy Spirit touching them, leading them, that if they wanted to make a decision today, “because today is the day of salvation, and tomorrow is uncertain,” they should come forward, and then Monica began the second verse.
This is With Every Head Bowed by T.S. Beckett, published in The New Pantagruel, in February of 2006. Discuss this article in our forum. View all Pages at once. Display a "printer-friendly" version. Send a copy to a friend. Find out who links here. TNP in Technorati. TrackBack URL for this entry: http://www.newpantagruel.com/cgi-bin/mt-tb.cgi/377 [#407]
