Chapter 34
“Your church is off the rails.”
Blaze looked up from her phone to find David across the table. He wore the all-black of the waitstaff, so he was likely serving in the dining room. She had five minutes left of her break, so she motioned to a chair.
Instead of taking it, he leaned against her tall table and scanned the room as if to supervise those gathered for the Monday night show.
People sat at every table. As she’d made her way to this spot, she overheard at least three conversations about the church. Word of Anson’s dismissal spread right along with every imaginable theory about the fire.
It was no wonder David sought her out. He’d been disappointed when she became a believer. Had even called her a fool when she invited him to church. What was she supposed to say now, when the leadership board had proven to not be as trustworthy as she’d thought?
Then again, maybe David was talking about the fire. “Off the rails? How so?”
He scoffed. “Come on. Even the legendary Anson Marsh can’t make it work? That guy’s been a teacher’s pet and a religious fanatic since the day he got here. If he wasn’t good enough for them, how judgmental are those people?”
Her nose tingled with impending tears. If she admitted the truth—that she couldn’t defend the board’s choice—she’d be a blubbering mess. That’d probably scare David off, but how would that represent Christ to him?
God, help.
“The focus is on being more relevant.” Anson, as confident and immediate as an answer to one of her prayers had ever been, stepped up beside David and set a soda on the table. “Less fanatical.”
David straightened like a gladiator eyeing a worthy opponent. “Here on a Monday? What’s your ex think of that?”
“Not my priority,” Anson said at the same time as Blaze said, “She’s fine with it.”
Both men turned her way.
Rather than add fuel to the fire, she shrugged. She didn’t mind filling Anson in on her conversation with Sydney, but David had come looking to stir up hard feelings. Best not to give him more ideas. Besides, she wanted to hear what Anson had to say about the church.
“Less fanatical, huh?” David lifted his chin toward Anson.
“That’s my understanding. Maybe you should join us some Sunday.”
“Us? I thought you were fired.” David’s question echoed her own.
“My beliefs haven’t changed. I’m taking a couple weeks off, but once the dust settles, I’m planning to go back. As an attender.”
She gaped. She’d encouraged Anson to lead with grace, but she’d never considered he might return to the same people who’d rejected him. She’d considered leaving herself.
David’s lip curled. “If this place fired me, I would not come back.”
“Maybe not if you only see it as a place to earn a paycheck.” Anson turned his head, scanning the room. “But if you see the people here as family, my guess is you wouldn’t stay away long.” A smirk lifted one side of his mouth. “Unless you got yourself banned on the way out.”
David snorted. “And you didn’t?”
Anson tucked a hand in his pocket. “Guess I’ll find out in a couple weeks.”
“That’s kind of crazy, man.”
“Fanatical, you mean.”
“Yeah, sure.” David stepped away, but before his hand left the table, he paused. “You know, if you’d seen half the fanatical things people did in the name of religion that I saw overseas, you’d give the whole thing up.”
Blaze’s breath caught. According to Marissa, David never talked about his time in the military.
Anson took a beat, then nodded. “My schedule’s wide open, if you want to talk about it.”
“Nice try.” David stalked off toward the dining area.
Anson’s attention settled on Blaze.
“You’re coming back to MOBC?”
“Someone told me to trust that God is bigger than this circumstance. To try grace first.” He slid a hand across her shoulders, and a shiver cascaded down her spine. “I might not be able to stay, but until God tells me to go somewhere else, I’ll hang around in hopes that He’ll do something.”
“Like get your job back?”
“If I go into it with that mindset, we all lose.” Releasing her, he folded his hands, leaning heavily against his forearms on the tabletop. “I’ll minister here while I can, even if it’s only in the form of conversations like that one with David.”
She picked at the label on her water bottle. “Is Eric going to be angry?”
“That’s part of why I thought I’d better give it a few weeks.
Right now, he’s angry. I’m angry. Sad. Still processing why God let this happen.
He might never tell me, but I’m waiting to go back to MOBC until I can honestly say I’m not hoping to stir up trouble.
Ideally, I want to do the opposite.” He braced a hand on the table, straightening.
“If I stay at MOBC until I find a new position, it might calm down people like Nolan, who are angry enough to leave.”
“You don’t think they should?”
“The teaching and worship on Sunday morning are still solid. So no, I don’t think there should be a mass exodus.
If the Lord does want to adjust the youth group philosophy, He’ll likely do it through faithful people who stay.
And I do think most people there love God and want to serve Him.
” He turned his glass on the tabletop, and bubbles raced up the sides.
“This whole thing could be a blip that lasts a year or two and then gets corrected again.” His smile wavered.
She understood the conflicting feelings. As much as she found comfort in his perspective, she hated that someone so faithful had been pushed out. “Where do you think you’ll work?”
There were other churches around, though most were different denominations. He’d make a good teacher, but his degree was in ministry. Perhaps the Christian school a town over had fewer restrictions on whom they could hire than public schools.
He sipped his drink. “A church I interned with during college is talking about hiring an associate pastor. They’re in Minnesota.
Or a guy I went to school with is a lead pastor in Arizona.
The youth pastor there accepted a position with a missions organization, so his position will need to be filled. ”
Her grip on the water bottle tightened. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d consider moving, let alone to such far-flung locations. “Out of state? Why not find something closer?”
“Many Oaks doesn’t have any open pastoral positions. Even if it did, if I worked nearby, people might follow me. When I move on, it needs to be a clean break or it could cause a church split.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t fault his reasoning, but could their relationship survive long distance?
“It’s not what I wanted.”
She nodded and dropped eye contact. Perhaps they could overcome her secret or his move, but both?
Philip and the other Signalmen made their way back onstage. She escaped the conversation, but that didn’t stop her mind from circling the problem.
She’d challenged Anson to assume the best and respond with grace, and he seemed to be doing both.
He had more integrity and resolve than she’d given him credit for.
If only she’d realized the far-reaching implications of the board’s decision, she wouldn’t have been so nonchalant about the whole thing. They were running him out of town.
Someone needed to fight back.
She caught an amused glance from Philip. Maybe she’d let a little too much of her anger show in her performance, but at least this cover of an Awestruck song lent itself to the intensity.
As the night continued, however, her anger drained into a pit of grief. Anson was accepting the board’s decision. Her only true option was to trust God with the church and to shore up her relationship with Anson as best she could.
Out in the crowd, Gabby Voss took a seat beside Anson. After a conversation that lasted three songs, she wrapped him in a hug and patted his cheek in a motherly way before leaving. Blaze needed to be supportive like that.
When the show ended, she gathered her things and rejoined Anson.
He stood as she neared. “You sounded good tonight. Especially so.”
“Thank you. The new prescription doesn’t make me tired, and it does seem to be helping.” If only the medicine could reassure her of Mercy’s innocence or mend the rift Blaze had created with Anson. Then it would truly be life-changing.
Anson studied her. “So, what now?”
Until she’d learned he would be moving away, she’d thought the next steps would be getting their relationship back to normal by putting some time between them and their fight, them and her secret. Now she wasn’t sure. “You tell me. You’ve got a lot more up in the air than I do.”
“Because I have to move?”
She managed a nod despite the aches building in every muscle.
“The job openings are months away. Most youth pastors finish out the school year. Not always, of course.” He pointed at himself.
“I’ll be around a while yet. Income from coaching and my savings can carry me a few months.
I’ll look for something temporary, so finances won’t rush me into a decision about where to go next.
I’m in no mood to have a repeat of what happened here. ”
“You say that like it was a mistake to work at MOBC, but I don’t think that’s true.” She laid her hand over his.
At her touch, his eyes softened. “Thank you.”
She gulped down the pride that would have her stop short of the apology she owed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t on your side yesterday. I’ve seen how good you are with the kids, and I know how hard you work. You didn’t deserve to be fired. Eric’s gone too far.”
He turned his hand and threaded their fingers together. “Your point stands. I can’t change him. Only myself.”
“Yesterday shouldn’t have been about making points.”
“Apology accepted. And, truly, Blaze, you said good things. I’m still not sure what God wants regarding Carter and Gury’s story, but …
” He shrugged one shoulder. “What’s new, right?
I also don’t know what He wants for us, but I plan to hang around until I find out.
In both cases.” He squeezed her hand. “These last couple of days, knowing we weren’t on the same page was unsettling.
I meant it—I missed you right away. I missed you before you showed up on my doorstep.
I missed you when I got the call about the job.
I let it go to voicemail. It took two hours to work up the courage to listen to it. ”
Her sympathy welled. “Why didn’t you call or text? I could’ve come. Listened to it for you. Held your hand.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I was reeling. And embarrassed. I’m sorry.
You hit on something when you said I haven’t shown the courage to be vulnerable.
I hope you know I don’t see myself as better than you.
” He waited for her to nod, then took a deep breath.
“But in general, yeah, maybe my ego got in the way of being real. I don’t like to fail, so I keep failures—like how I kept quiet for Gury or couldn’t convince the board—under wraps.
But it’s more than that. I keep everything—from emotions to life events—to myself if I think there’s a possibility for disappointment.
But that’s no way to live. Holding back can cause the very thing I’m afraid of because secrets are toxic to connection. ”
Her heart shuddered. She should tell him about Mercy. If she maintained the secret after that speech, she could never blame her silence on ignorance. He would want to know. He would want her to trust him with it.
He turned her hand in his. “I’m praying about how to apply that more broadly, but for starters, I say we forget dating quietly.
” His eyes, blue and loyal, fixed on hers.
“I never want you to think I’m looking down on you.
It’s the opposite. You inspired me to turn around my whole way of thinking these last couple of days.
I’m honored to be with you. I want everyone to know that.
Especially you.” He chuckled and lifted their intertwined hands.
“Besides, I can’t seem to resist touching you.
Anyone with eyes has already seen the truth. ”
He gazed at her with the steady trust of a man who’d laid his heart out and had nothing left to hide. A man who’d come clean and couldn’t fathom that she’d do anything less.
Secrets are toxic to connection.
Somehow, he’d imagined he was the only one who struggled to accept that.
But he wasn’t dealing with Jenny, who’d blurted out her full involvement with the garage fire the moment she’d been discovered. He was dealing with Blaze, who understood that some truths could, at the least, pile rumors onto a little girl’s shoulders. At the worst, they might take Mercy from her.