Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Seth
The fact that Ella was outside in my truck right now killed me.
The woman was so stubborn she wouldn’t even come as a friend to see my sermon?
It was my first time ever preaching, and I was honored that Pastor Jake had even asked.
Maggie, Ruthie, and the entire Widows’ Club were here.
But I knew, for Ella, it was different. Going back to church meant something big for her.
She didn’t think of it as supporting me; it was supporting God, and she wasn’t ready to do that.
I understood, but also, having her car break down by the side of the road kind of felt like a sign. God’s little way of nudging her here.
Jules finished a beautiful rendition of “Amazing Grace” and then introduced me on stage.
I bowed my head, silently prayed, Father God, work through me today. Touch their hearts and give me the words you want me to speak, and then stepped out from behind the stage.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Seth.” I smiled, stepping up to the podium and thanking Jules. “I’m so honored to fill in for Pastor Jake.”
They clapped.
“Today, I wanted to talk to you about—”
The lights turned on, and my gaze went right to the back row, locking in on Ella.
She’d come.
Teach her about forgiveness. God’s quiet yet steady voice called to me.
I clutched the notecards in my hand on my sermon about perseverance in trials. I hadn’t prepared a sermon about forgiveness, but I set them on the podium and prayed God would give me the words.
“Forgiveness,” I said, changing tactics.
Ella sat stiffly, her arms crossed as she peered at me from the very last row.
“Forgiveness,” I said, “might be the hardest command Jesus ever gave.”
Murmurs rustled. A few heads tilted.
“It sounds poetic to forgive your enemy. But if you’ve ever really been wronged… If you’ve ever lost someone, if you’ve ever screamed into a pillow at two a.m. because your world cracked in half—then you know. Sometimes forgiveness feels impossible.”
I paused, unsure where all that had come from and also, at the same time, knowing it had come from God.
“But Jesus didn’t preach forgiveness from a place of comfort. He preached it from a cross. As Roman spikes held Him in place, while blood pooled at His feet, He looked at the men who mocked Him—and said, ‘Father, forgive them.’ Not before the pain. Not when it was easy. In the very middle of it.”
Ella’s eyes went wide as the congregation clapped their agreement.
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean excusing. It means releasing—so the bitterness doesn’t take your heart hostage. So you can live again,” I said, feeling the Holy Spirit fully working through me with every word I spoke.
A hush settled over the pews.
I then looked directly at Ella.
“Some of us might be angry at the person who hurt us. Some of us might be angry at God.” My voice softened. “But maybe we’re just crushed under the weight of grief we weren’t meant to carry alone.”
Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t blink.
“God isn’t offended by your anger. He wants your honesty. He’s big enough to hold your rage…and gentle enough to heal the part of you that still bleeds.”
The words continued to pour out of me without forethought and with complete trust in God.
“Forgiveness isn’t for the one who hurt you. It’s for you. And it’s not something you do alone—it’s something Jesus helps you do. Because He’s already forgiven the worst in us.”
More clapping.
“So if your heart is heavy, come lay it down. If you’re mad at God, then tell Him. He can take it. And when you’re ready… Let Him start the healing.”
The music began softly behind me.
“If you want to recommit to Jesus today, or if you want to follow Him for the first time, then come on up to the altar so we can pray for you.”
I held my breath, praying with every cell in my body that Ella would stand up and walk to the front.
Two people got up and began to come forward, but my eyes were locked on Ella. She didn’t move.
But her arms weren’t crossed anymore, and tears flowed down her face.