Embracing Change (12 page)

Sarah felt warm tears running down her cheeks, but couldn’t look up at Joel. She had never shared that last part with anyone. Not the police, her therapist or her parents. She felt in some sad way that she deserved it. That if she hadn’t called out Luke would still be alive and herself, untouched.

Joel tugged gently on her hand. “Let’s go into the garden.”

She followed him into a secluded corner, their breath soft puffs in the moonlight. He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly, allowing her head to rest on his chest, his shirt soaking up the vestiges of her tears.

“What happened after that, Sarah?”

“A couple in a passing car saw what was happening and called the registration number in to the police. Luke was dead when they arrived, but they traced the car into Soweto. Luke had satellite tracking in his vehicle. Many people do in South Africa.”

“And you? What happened to you?”

“I passed out shortly after they threw me in the boot. I woke up in hospital the next day.”

Joel’s arms tightened and she felt comfort and healing in their embrace. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. Thank you for trusting me.”

They stood there for a long while, Sarah drawing strength from his embrace.

Chapter Fifteen

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

—Matthew 18:21-22

Joel couldn’t sleep, his mind full of Sarah’s story. He’d known she was hurting but could never have imagined the extent of her pain. He threw back the covers and clicked the bedside lamp on, reaching for his Bible as he did so. He sensed he had picked up some of her hurt; that he was angry at the ones who had caused such damage. If he allowed it to, the anger and bitterness that tormented Sarah would affect him too. “I need to stop it, Lord, but I don’t know how. I know your word says we must forgive, but how do I do that practically? How do I get past this anger?”

He opened his Bible, paging through Luke until he found chapter 6 and verses 27 and 28: “
But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.
”

He read the verses out loud, several times. “Help me, Lord. If I’m struggling, I can only imagine how hard it must be for Sarah.” He lay back on the pillows, picturing her in the restaurant, hair soft around her shoulders, candlelight reflected in her eyes, the vulnerability as she relived that awful night. He sensed it had been a release; that she had spent hours mulling it over, dissecting, probing, analysing, but seldom—if ever—sharing her innermost thoughts with anyone. He felt too that the pain was a current, a dangerous riptide beneath the surface of her life. “It’s not healthy, Lord. She needs to deal with it so she can move on. Help her to do that, Father. Help her to release the pain and allow healing to take place.”

His mind flitted back to the moment in the Botanical Gardens, her skin flushed, gentle perfume filling his senses. He had so wanted to take her into his arms and feel her lips against his. “Oh Lord,” he groaned, “what is wrong with me? Where have these feelings come from? She’s still obsessed with Luke. The last thing she needs is a man kissing her when he has no intention of developing a relationship. I mean, she doesn’t even come close to measuring up to my list!”

He pulled a pen and paper close and listed the characteristics of the perfect bride he had asked God for: blonde, tall, committed to God, likes the outdoors. He drew a big X through the first three requirements. “She fails on nearly every point. You have to help me here, Lord. I simply don’t know what to do. I felt an attraction that first day I saw her in the mountains and it just keeps growing.”

He rolled over and flicked the television on, hoping for some relief, but there was little worth watching. He passed over some worn out sitcoms and eventually settled on a replay of a rugby match. Even in that, his thoughts turned to Sarah.
She’s playing for the wrong side, running in the wrong direction. Help her to see the truth, Lord. Use me to draw her to the right side, the team where You’re in charge.

It was 3am before he finally fell asleep, Sarah heavy on his heart and mind.

Chapter Sixteen

Joel acts as though God is his friend. I don’t understand why—I’ve always thought of God as being unapproachable, even angry. With me, at least.

From the journal of Sarah Johnson

Sunday 11th May

Joel’s church was completely different to any Sarah had visited. She thought of the church she attended occasionally with her family; they normally went on Christmas Day, and sometimes at Easter if there was a play or special event on. That was the sum of her experience, along with a few churches she visited with friends and historic churches she explored on school trips.

Joel’s church was set on a corner stand; a modern low-slung building in cream and peach. It looked more like a community hall with neatly trimmed gardens, beds of daisies and rows of parking. Inside, the decor was warm in cream and shades of chocolate. There were no wooden pews, stained glass windows or vaulted ceilings.

Joel introduced her to various people as they headed towards the main auditorium. “Hey, Sally. This is my friend Sarah from South Africa.”

“Lovely to meet you, Sarah.”

“Jono, come and say hi to Sarah.”

Jono reached out a hand and shook Sarah’s. “Welcome, it’s great to have you with us.”

The hall was buzzing with conversation and Sarah noted dozens of young people, both teenagers and in their twenties. “I’m surprised at how many young people are here,” she remarked. “I always thought churches were full of old folk.”

Joel grinned. “There are plenty of oldies here as well, but when a church is alive and active, it attracts young people. God is relevant to all age groups.”

The church—alive?
Sarah was still thinking about that when Joel led the way into the main church. Instead of wooden pews, the seating consisted of padded chairs covered in velvety brown fabric.

“These look comfortable.”

Joel agreed as he slipped into the seat next to her, relaxed and smiling, his hair twisting across his collar. The service started a few minutes later with singing which was also different to Sarah’s experience of church. Instead of hymn books, words were directed onto an overhead screen, and the tunes were catchy and fast.

She turned for a moment and watched Joel singing, his eyes closed, his profile strong. She turned back to the words, not trying to sing, but absorbing the meaning. Words of hope and praise and love for God washed over her, leaving her with a feeling of warmth and peace.

After the singing, a man in his thirties made some announcements and an offering was taken up, before an older man walked on to the platform. “That’s our pastor,” Joel whispered as the man took his place behind the pulpit, Bible in hand. “His name is Dennis Jackson. That’s his wife, Angela, in the front row—the one with blonde hair and a pink shirt.”

Sarah was surprised by the eloquence and passion that poured out of Dennis. “Maybe life has thrown everything it can at you. Maybe you’ve experienced great loss; the loss of possessions, loss of wealth, loss of peace, evens the loss of a loved one. In spite of all that, you’re still sitting here today. My question is, are you a victim or a victor? Many people come through tough experiences as a survivor. They’re still alive, still with us, but they have little hope beyond getting through today. Their whole focus is on what they’ve been through and how hard life is. They’ve allowed themselves to become a victim of circumstances. Compare them to a victor. This is the person who faces life with a smile and an assurance that God is still there, and working on their behalf.”

He opened the Bible he had placed on the pulpit. “We’re going to look at Job this morning. He lost everything; his land, his animals, his children, his status, and as a result, his wife became bitter. She told Job he should curse God and die. Basically she had lost hope. Look with me at Job 2:11 and see how he responded.” He read aloud as the words flashed onto the overhead screen. “He replied, ‘You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?’ In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.”

Dennis leaned over the pulpit. “There will be trouble in life. That’s a given. What we need to do, is face it with courage and the right attitude. Do you know what happened to Job? Let’s turn to the last chapter of his book and find out.”

The quote from Job 42 came up on the screen: “The Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the first. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen and a thousand donkeys. And he also had seven sons and three daughters. The first daughter he named Jemimah, the second Keziah and the third Keren-Happuch. Nowhere in all the land were there found women as beautiful as Job’s daughters, and their father granted them an inheritance along with their brothers. After this, Job lived a hundred and forty years; he saw his children and their children to the fourth generation. And so he died, old and full of years.”

Dennis closed his Bible and walked to the front of the platform. “Are you a victim or a victor tonight? Have you let life get on top of you? God wants to turn your life around and give you new hope. All you need to do is respond to Him. If you’ve never given your life over to God, I invite you to come down to the front and do so right now. If you’re already a Christian but you’re living as a survivor, struggling from one miserable day to the next, then come down as well. We’ll pray with you and ask God to turn your life around.” His voice softened. “Let Jesus make you into a victor tonight. I’ll be waiting here for you.”

As the song leader started a gentle melody, Sarah’s thoughts drifted back to a conversation she had had with Luke the night he died.

They’d been to the Lonely Creek Restaurant, a vibrant night spot with a Wild West theme. She remembered loving the colours as they walked in: rich copper, bronze and gold, splashed with sky and jade. Country music played in the background and they joined an exhuberant session of line dancing, before retiring to an intimate corner-table.

Luke ordered champagne and they toasted each other with sparkling long-stemmed glasses. “Here’s to us and our new life in New Zealand.” A moment later, he turned serious. “I’d like to make some changes over the next few months, Sarah. One is to start attending church together. I became a Christian when I was a teenager, but somehow I’ve slipped away from the life.”

Sarah paused the memory. Luke had been a man with strong morals. Sex before marriage was out and he was honest in business dealings. She had never questioned what being a Christian meant—until now.

“God will accept you,” Dennis continued in the background. “You just need to turn to Him, ask forgiveness for your sin and invite Him to become King of your life.”

That must be what Luke was talking about
. Sarah recalled the earnest look in his eyes as he had held her hands and shared his deepest thoughts.

“I want God to be a part of our marriage, Sarah.”

In the dark days that followed, she completely forgot that snippet of conversation. Hadn’t really understood it anyway, for she’d always considered herself a Christian. When she filled out forms that had a box for religion, she would mark herself as such ...

Joel touched her arm. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Just thinking.”

Several people responded to Dennis’s invitation and stood in a row at the front while he prayed with them. Pain filled her heart. If Luke had done this and was a so-called Christian, how come God hadn’t kept him safe? Why had He let him die, and her dreams with him?

And yet, the moment burrowed into her heart. The church was filled with warmth and acceptance, almost like an electrical charge. All around her, people sang softly and she felt cocooned in love.

What if there
was
a reason? What if God
could
turn her pain into a blessing?

Guilt at her attraction to Joel, confusion over her anger, and the warmth of the song, overwhelmed her, and she hung her head and whispered the closest she had come to a prayer in years: “I’m not convinced, Lord, but I’m listening.”

Joel seemed to pick up on her contemplative mood and whispered in her ear, “Want to sneak out for a coffee?”

“Love to,” she whispered back.

A few minutes later, they were headed towards town. “There’s a lovely coffee shop near the River Avon. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

They drove on in silence, and Sarah’s thoughts were still focussed on the church service when Joel pulled into a parking space. A few metres away, the river gleamed black and gold, illuminated by old-fashioned street lamps.

“This is it.” He pointed to a quaint little building with a wooden sign proclaiming
The Cedar Tree
. The outside area was enclosed with a brown picket fence and large gas heaters cast a glow over wooden tables and chairs.