The Presence (19 page)

The lines on Reverend Wilkins' face were etched more deeply than before the sermon. TJ remembered his grandfather had once said that the way to tell if a preacher had his heart in his message was by seeing if he aged ten years while he was up at the pulpit.

But the strength was still there, and the deeply centered determination. He accepted their compliments with a solemn nod, as though more intent on whether it had a useful effect than on whether they enjoyed it. TJ took the seat facing out the back window and onto the yard's single tree, gazed out at its bare leafless limbs, and decided that here was a man he could trust.

“I have a problem I'd like to discuss with you,” TJ began. “It's a personal one, and I know we don't know each other very well, but I'd like to tell you about it anyway. That is, if you have the time.”

“Why don't we go ahead and start,” Reverend Wilkins replied gravely, not seeming to be the least surprised by the request. “We can always finish up after lunch if need be.”

“You want me to wait outside?” Jeremy asked.

“No, no, it's nothing you haven't heard already.” TJ took a breath, hesitated, said, “I don't even know how to start.”

“Try at the beginning,” the reverend suggested. “Just take your time, Mr. Case. Ain't nobody in any hurry on a Sunday afternoon.”

So TJ began back at the lake, worked his way through the vision, described the letter and the conversation with Congressman Silverwood, and had just arrived in Washington when Mrs. Wilkins opened the door.

“I been callin' and shoutin' now for fifteen minutes,” she said, the massive body thrust forward with indignation. “What on earth are y'all up to so's you can't hear me say lunch is on the table? I got nine childrens that're just about ready to drive me crazy.”

“Go ahead and start, darlin',” Reverend Wilkins told her gently. “It looks like we may be here a while yet.”

She gave them an uncertain look, said, “I'll put your plates in the oven, but don't you be any longer than you have to,” and left.

The reverend turned back to TJ, said, “Just you go on right where you were, Mr. Case.”

“These have been some of the most confusing and frustrating weeks of my entire life,” TJ said. “Ever since I've arrived here I've felt like a cog that's been plugged into the wrong machine. The people I'm supposed to work with are as far removed as they can be from what I'm used to. I don't even have an idea what I'm supposed to be doing professionally, much less for the Lord.”

TJ weighed the air with his hand, searched for a way to make himself understood. “It's not that I doubt the vision, or my call to come here. I just wish, well, I wish I had some kind of reassurance. I look back at what I've done, uprooting myself and my family, traveling to a strange place, taking on a job and responsibilities which quite frankly seem a little unreal, and I just wish I could be sure that I've done what's right.

“I'm praying for some kind of confirmation, some indication that this is as it's supposed to be, and all I hear is silence. Quite frankly, I'm worried. Very worried. It's not that I doubt the Lord. I doubt myself.”

Reverend Wilkins was silent for a while. He swiveled his chair around so he could see out the back window, but his eyes did not focus on anything visible. TJ was content to sit and feel the release of getting it all off his chest. Jeremy waited in utter stillness.

When the reverend turned back around, it was to Jeremy that he spoke first. “I'm not sure I understand what you're doin' up here in Washington, Mr. Hughes.”

“I've come up to be this man's servant,” Jeremy replied, not hesitating an instant. “Whatever he needs, that's what I'm there for.”

“I see,” he said, not showing any surprise. “And have you had a vision too?”

“No sir, Reverend, never have.”

“And yet you're willin' to drop everything, pick up and move to another city, just like that? I find that very interesting, Mr. Hughes. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I find it very interesting.”

“Well, sir, Reverend, it's like this. I've known TJ Case for almost twenty-four years. We've worked together, on and off, for all that time. And we're friends. Been friends ever since the first day I met him, seems to me. I don't recall havin' met all that many folks in my life who could say they'd worked with a person for six months, much less two dozen years, and stayed friends. But there you are. I know his wife. I know his family. And I respect them. No, respect's not the right word—I'm sorry Reverend. I'm not an educated man.”

“You're doin' just fine, Mr. Hughes. Just fine. Please carry right on.”

“From the first day I met TJ, Reverend, I knew I was standin' in the presence of an honest man. I can't tell you why I felt like that, but I did. I
knew
it. Here was a man who was honest with himself, with his family, and with God. He loves the Lord, Reverend. You just stay ‘round him for a while and you'll see it for yourself. TJ Case is a gentleman who truly loves his Lord. So when my friend told me he'd had a vision that called him to Washington, I knew in my heart that I had to go with him.

“It wasn't all that difficult, I've got to admit. My wife's been dead quite a while now, and I've got some young folks in the business who run it better when I'm not around to poke my finger in the works and get in their way. So maybe I was just lookin' for an excuse to move on, but I don't believe so. I'd like to think that the Lord's just helped to make my way up here a little straighter.”

There was a warm glow to Reverend Wilkins' gaze as he nodded in time to Jeremy's words. “It takes a strong man to follow the quieter voice of our Lord.”

“I wouldn't say that, Reverend,” Jeremy replied. “Seems to me the Lord uses the voice He wants for the message He needs to get across.”

They shared a long comfortable gaze before Reverend Wilkins said, “We're certainly glad to have you join us, Mr. Hughes. I hope we'll be seein' more of you around here.”

“That's very kind of you, Reverend. Thank y'all very much.”

Reverend Wilkins turned to TJ, said, “Mr. Case, havin' a vision ain't nothin' that unusual. It's not somethin' that happens every day to everybody, but that don't make it not real. Paul was clear as day ‘bout that in Romans.

“Now the first thing I look for when one of my people come in here and starts talkin' ‘bout visions is, am I talkin' to a person who's listenin'? You see, Mr. Case, when a person gets all excited and starts runnin' ‘round talkin' ‘bout how the Lord's done come down from heaven and spoke in their ears, screamin' up a storm and all set to go out and tell the world how great they are, you know what I'm talkin' about? Well, sir, when that happens I just tell 'em to go home and take two aspirins. Don't matter how real that vision was, long as that person wants to go ‘round blowin' their own trumpet, they's no chance the Lord's work is gonna get done.

“This is not what you're on about. I've been sittin' here listenin' to you with my ears and with my heart, if you see my meanin', and my heart's been tellin' me this is a man who really believes the Lord's done talked with him. And I believe it too, Mr. Case. I really do. It ain't no matter of logic. I just feel like the Lord's called you to do a service.

“And I understand what's botherin' you. Least, I think I do. You're not doubtin' the Lord. No sir. You just haven't found any purpose big enough to justify you being called to drop everything and come to Washington.”

“That's it exactly,” TJ said, enormously relieved that he had found someone who understood. And who believed his story. It was incredible how much that meant.

“That's entirely natural,” Reverend Wilkins said in his deep, hoarse voice. “But you got to remember, now, that maybe you don't need to know what that purpose is. The fact that you're here, doin' whatever comes up in front of you, may be all the Almighty wants you to know. You do what is there to do. The Lord'll open the doors when He's ready. You see what I'm sayin', sir?”

“Yes, sir, I certainly do,” TJ replied.

“That's fine. Now the other thing you got to keep in mind is, be patient. Wait upon the Lord. Let the Lord tell you what He wants, when He's ready to tell you. Maybe you're just not ready, did you ever think of that? Maybe you need to get your feet on the ground, get yourself some experience. God may be preparin' you. When He's ready, when He thinks
you're
ready, He'll let you know. You can count on that, Mr. Case. He'll let you know what it is that needs gettin' done. You just concentrate on gettin' yourself ready.”

Early Monday morning TJ entered the empty outer office, opened his own door, stopped cold. “What on earth?”

Bella was there to greet him. “I thought it needed a little dressing up.”

There were two hanging plants at each corner of his window, an orchid blooming in all its glory from a terra-cotta bowl beside his desk, and a vase of fresh flowers beside his telephone.

He looked at Bella.

She pointed to the sign on his desk. “I found that yesterday in a religious bookshop. Passed by and felt like there was a hand pulling me inside.” Her chuckle rasped from a thousand cigarettes. “Guess you never get too old for miracles.”

The sign was a polished wooden slab with a brass front reading: “Carpenter From Nazareth Seeks Joiners.”

He turned to her, said softly, “No, I guess you don't.”

She shared with him the quiet joy of giving and being appreciated, said, “I've invited a couple of friends to join us this morning. Hope that's okay.”

“Fine with me,” TJ replied.

“I think they mostly showed up out of curiosity. Or disbelief. You know, what's got the Dragon Lady smiling?” She gave another of her coarse chuckles. “I smiled at somebody in the hall on Friday, and looked back to find him standing there with his jaw on his chest.”

TJ laughed, said, “Well, praise the Lord.”

“If you're ready, they're all waiting down in the conference room.”

“All?” TJ picked up his Bible, followed her out. “How many are there?”

“At last count, just over a dozen.”

****

The numbers at their morning sessions continued to grow, slowly but steadily. Tuesday it was fifteen, Wednesday around twenty, and by Thursday they had the table in that large conference room almost full. TJ did not want to let the people think he was counting prizes, so he did not take an exact number; but he would have guessed the total at over two dozen. It was gratifying to see so many faces returning day after day, especially with all the difficulties TJ was facing with his work.

There was a note on his desk Friday morning from Bella: “Spoke with a few more friends about your devotional. Invited them to show up. Hope it's okay. If even half do come, it'll be too many for the conference room. Got permission for us to use the small cafeteria.”

As he walked downstairs, his main concern was that Bella would not be too disappointed if the number was small. Anyone who had set up prayer groups or Bible studies knew how tough it was to bring people in, especially in the beginning. Like a little seedling, the plant first had to grow roots and take hold before the blossoms could come forth. This was tough for new converts to understand, as TJ knew from bitter experience. Still flush from that first miraculous contact with the Holy Spirit, they realized that here lay the answer to all the world's problems. Here was what the whole world had been waiting for. All they had to do was just let people know how wonderful it was, and everything would be fine. Nobody would dream of turning down something as great as this.

Wrong.

It was a sad and painful experience at times, this first confrontation with this lack of concern. TJ had struggled many times with new believers who felt so crushed by the world's rejection that they too felt pulled from the Way. He was so worried about finding Bella in such a position that he could not concentrate on what he was going to say.

The hubbub was clearly audible before he reached the downstairs landing. He walked toward the small dining room, the one usually reserved for private luncheon meetings, wondering what on earth was going on. Then Bella popped out of the main cafeteria laden with a trayful of cups and saucers, nearly colliding with him.

“I thought the least we could do was wake them up first,” she said, fire in her eyes.

TJ tried to count the cups stacked almost to her chin, said, “You've got this many here?”

Her chuckle was something out of a thirties' movie. “Honey,” she said, briskly leading him down the hall, “this is the third tray.”

The room was jammed. People mingled and chatted and watched him curiously as he entered. He followed Bella up to the front where a table stood loaded with a coffee urn, cups, saucers, milk and sugar. He put his Bible down and busied himself over coffee. Anything to fill his hands and keep from needing to meet anyone's eyes.

He sent a swift little prayer heavenward, panic hovering around the edges of the words. Lord, what on earth am I supposed to tell all these people?

Bella's preamble was as abrupt as everything else about her, and the room fell silent. “This is TJ Case, the fellow I was telling you about. I know everybody's got a busy day, so we won't waste any more time.”

TJ looked up, saw that more than half the people had no chairs and that everyone was staring at him. There was a lot of skepticism in their expressions, a lot of cynical little half-smirks on their faces. He set his cup down, trying to still the sudden shiver in his muscles, and picked up his Bible. He did not know what he was going to say.

“In my church back home we used to have a little morning prayer group that met most days,” he said, and felt a sense of calm enter him with these first words. “We never met for more than a few minutes, just long enough to have a Bible reading and a little prayer. The idea was to kind of anchor the day with a moment of fellowship and communion with our Lord.”