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.
The 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.
“And with every head bowed, and every eye closed, because this was just a decision between God and man,” Mr. Torkelson, the head deacon, felt someone touching his knee. He opened his eyes–though he felt guilty doing so. And there was young Rick, trying to brush by him on the way up front. Afterwards, Mr. Torkelson told the other deacons how moved he was to see this fine young man going forward, and still later when he described it to Old Tom Headwaters, who had been head deacon for nearly two decades until Torkelson took it over–on account of Tom’s poor eyesight, macular degeneration, wasn’t that a shame–he noted Rick had been weeping and shaking, with big tears like a thunderstorm coming over North Mountain.
That story got passed around quick and tied the affections of many to young Rick. They remembered their conversions, the first time they had been broken by the cross of Christ.
It should be pointed out, however, that as a rule Brethren are not given to much outward emotion; most of them, being of good German or English stock, are quite stoic. Still, to be moved by Christ, as Rick had so obviously been, was deemed much to his favor, and at the conclusion of the service several invited him for potluck. He declined. He declined even when Mrs. Herrington, with Monica held tightly by the elbow, invited him. He even declined Monica’s eye-rolling, almost apologetic invitation. (Wouldn’t they make such a nice couple, two fine young people like them?)
The next week the church was thrilled to see Rick return, and it touched them to see the genuineness of his conversion. When Pastor Harris finished his discourse and began the appeal, with Monica singing “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior,” accompanied by Ken Freedman on his Taylor 710 acoustic guitar, Rick showed the church that his had not been a one-week, flash-in-the-pan conversion. No, when Monica came to the chorus he put his head down on the front pew and began to weep quietly, and by the time she came to the second verse he was up and moving down the side aisle.
That week Ed came to Bible study on Wednesday night and told everyone how Rick had given up smoking and drinking. There were loud amens, especially concerning the smoking. Giving up drinking was also good, unless he went too far with that. Most good Brethren drank very lightly, but on a hot August afternoon, after mowing the lawn, if their Lutheran neighbor should offer a cold Bud over the split rail fence, well, now that was just being polite.
The third week Ed did not come–gone on a business trip that would keep him away most of the rest of the summer–but Rick came. He had on a new pair of black Laredo cowboy boots, and he wore a tie and a white shirt, and he carried a new bonded leather Bible, English Standard Version, which many of the church had not seen before–seems Ed had been on the Internet and had come across this version on a blog by John Rostrand, had bought it, and had given it to Rick as a present before leaving.
Still, when Pastor Harris began his appeal and Monica began to sing, some of the members were a little uncomfortable that Rick went forward. After all, Pastor Harris had specifically said this was not a general appeal, but for those who had never before committed their lives to Christ, or for those who had been away from the church for a long time and wanted now to publicly recommit their lives. Carl Evers went forward. He was Joanne’s husband and he fit Pastor Harris’s appeal. He and Joanne had been married these fifteen years without him giving his life to the Lord.
The fourth week Rick was not there and some might have started rumors about the seed being cast onto rocky soil, except that it was soon learned that Rick was absent on account of his mother being taken to Winchester Hospital with cellulitis. His mother was a diabetic, and the doctors were very concerned that they might have to amputate the leg below the knee.
But the fifth week Rick was back. Pastor Harris began his appeal and Monica began singing, accompanied by Mrs. Henderson on the piano–they had chosen “My Jesus, I Love Thee.” Well, Rick was up and coming down the side aisle before she could even get to “all the follies of sin I resign.” And his sobs and shaking made several in the church quite uncomfortable. Michael Ridgely came forward that week. Michael was Monica’s youngest brother and had been suspended from high school a week before. No one in the church had been able to get the particulars, though at his age you had to suspect alcohol in the car or something like that.
After church the sisters Rachel and Donna Hetzel pulled the pastor aside and informed him he needed to have a talk with Rick. “Better to nip it in the bud rather than let this thing fester.”
Pastor Harris did visit Rick that week, and the following week Rick was baptized, by immersion of course, like any good Brethren. (None of this sprinkling bit. After all, if baptism is the symbol of the resurrection of Christ, then one ought to be properly dunked.) So that week Pastor Harris gave his appeal from the baptistery with Rick standing behind him. When Monica began singing, “Nothing between my soul and the Savior, / So that his blessed face may be seen,” Rick stood waist high in the tepid water, head in his hands, bawling like a newborn lamb.
The church was pleased, and at the end of the service Rick stood beside Pastor Harris in the foyer and shook hands with everyone.
But the following week, Rick came forward again at the appeal, though the Pastor had specified this was for those who had never before made a commitment to Christ and wanted to be baptized.
Something had to be done. It was Donna’s idea that maybe it might be best if the Pastor asked someone else to sing. After all, Monica’s voice could turn anybody’s heart of stone into jelly, especially a nice, young, single man. The Pastor had jumped on that and asked Mrs. Henderson to sing. And “with every head bowed, and every eye closed,” there were a good many keeping a reverent eye on Rick. At first it seemed to work. His hands were not gripping the oak-back pews in front of him, and his body was not shaking, but by the time she got to the second verse, “I’d rather have Jesus than men’s applause,” he was up and moving down the aisle.
This had become a disturbance, and following the service the elders and deacons held an urgent meeting with the Pastor in his study. They decided that Old Tom Headwaters and Mr. Torkelson would visit Rick during the week. They were both working men who could relate well to a young man like him. They dropped by after work on Tuesday night and had a nice conversation about the church and how they really appreciated a young man of his sincerity and how they hoped he would one day step into their shoes. He was a young man of deacon potential. Then they knelt down and prayed, the three of them, in the living room of Rick’s apartment. As they were leaving, almost as if it were an oversight, they suggested that now that Rick was a baptized member of the church, Pastor Harris’s appeals were not for him, and that instead of going forward he ought to pray for the others in the church who had never made that decision. Rick seemed very receptive and thanked them again and again for coming by. He told them how much it meant to him to have given his life to Christ. Both Old Tom and Mr. Torkelson felt real good about the meeting. And when they gave their report at midweek Bible study, the other brothers and sisters sighed with relief.
Come Sunday, however, when the Pastor came to his appeal and when Monica began to sing, “Take the world, but give me Jesus; / All its joys are but a name,” Rick was up on his feet, tears streaming down his face, coming forward.
The following week Old Tom and Mr. Torkelson made it a point to sit on either side of Rick, and as the appeal was just beginning, before Monica began to sing, they specifically told Rick that Pastor Harris really was hoping Rick would not go up this week. He would have a general appeal once a month, but this week was just for those who had never before committed their lives to Christ. Rick nodded. He understood. And Monica began to sing, “The cleansing stream I see, I see, / I plunge, and O, it cleanseth me!” Rick’s hands started trembling. He tried to slip up quietly, but Mr. Torkelson put his arm on his shoulder and held him down firmly. Rick sat back down, but still his body shook. On the third verse Monica sang, “I rise to walk in heaven’s own light, / Above the world and sin.” That was too much for Rick. He rose again. At that, both Mr. Torkelson and Old Tom put their big rough hands on his shoulder and tried to force him back down, but Rick was strong and a good deal younger. Well, Mr. Torkelson and Old Tom should have shown better judgment, but having started, they were determined to put an end to this demonstration. And as they would afterwards admit, they lost their temper and tried to tackle Rick right there in the pews.
Pastor Harris, God bless him, kept right on talking as if nothing was wrong, and Monica continued singing, “with heart made pure and garments white, / And Christ enthroned with-in.” And then the chorus, “The cleansing stream I see, I see, / I plunge, and O, it cleanseth me!” And almost as if it was a practiced football play, right on the word plunge, Rick broke loose from his tacklers and ran forward, calling as he came forward, “I’m coming Jesus. I’m coming.”
Well, that did it. It was now clear to everyone that Rick was not Brethren material, maybe Baptist, or really probably Pentecostal, but clearly not Brethren. What a disturbance!
An emergency board meeting was called, and while there was dissension, firmer heads prevailed. It was agreed that Rick, much as they liked him, must be encouraged to find another church community. If it came to it, physical action was justified. His behavior could not be tolerated. Then the board gathered around Old Tom and Mr. Torkelson and thanked them for their effort. They realized how especially hard this must be on them.
Pastor Harris, being the professional he was–though with considerable ambivalence–relayed the news to Rick. Rick was stunned, but said nothing, just nodded his head, turned, and left.
The service went much smoother the next week, and everyone felt such a sense of relief. When Pastor Harris came to his appeal, Monica sang “Amazing Grace,” and three more young people came forward. The amens from the church were loud and appreciative. The offerings were higher that week than they had been for a month.
Ed came back the following week, but he was not in church on Sunday. Carl Evers said he had seen both Ed and Rick at the Hot Cat Jackson Lounge the night before. Rick had been playing some country tunes on the piano, and they were both drunk. Pastor Harris shook his head and sighed; nevertheless, it was the best course for the flock. “Sometimes you just have to let one sheep leave the fold,” he said quietly. “Otherwise the whole herd may catch the disease.”
That evening, about the time of evening vespers, Rick was again in the Hot Cat Jackson Lounge. He sat at the piano teasing out a little bit of honky-tonk when Monica walked in. She stood at the door a moment, straightened her dress, and then with a firm step came in and sat down on the bench beside him. He looked at her and kept playing.
“You wanna buy me something?” she said after a long silence.
“You don’t belong here.” He stopped his song in mid phrase.
“Just buy me something.”
He waved two fingers to the waitress, and she brought out a couple bottles of Miller Lite.
“I didn’t know you played,” Monica said as the waitress flipped the tops off and poured the beer into chilled mugs.
“Just by ear.”
She nodded and then hesitantly picked up the handle of her beer. She took a sip and made an awful face.
“That’s what I thought,” Rick said bitterly. “Go back, Monica.”
She set her glass down on the piano and turned toward him. “Play me something Rick. Play me something I can sing for you. Play … play ‘My Jesus, I love Thee.’”
He looked at her and shook his head, but he began to play, and she began to hum. He played some more and she began to sing. He played, and then the tears began to come, but he kept playing, and she kept singing.
Northern Virginia Daily. Friday, October 1, 2005. Around the town: Monica and Rick Landover appear every Sunday night at the Hot Cat Jackson Lounge. They perform a blend of country and gospel favorites, no cover charge, everybody welcome.
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