Authors: Michelle Stimpson
Stepping Down
Stepping
Down
A Novel
by Michelle Stimpson
Mark has been
pastoring New Vision church for six years now, and all his hard work is about
to pay off as the church nears mega-church status. But while Mark has been busy
building the church, his personal household has been crumbling to pieces. After
ignoring divine guidance, Mark finds himself caught up in the appearance of a
scandal that threatens to tear the church apart. And his wife’s secrets only
add insults to near-fatal injury.
Copyright 2013 by Michelle Stimpson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any
form, except for brief quotations in reviews, without written permission from
the author.
The characters in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to
actual people or events is coincidental.
Published by MLStimpson Enterprises
Thank
You, Jesus, for living in me and enabling me to write what You put on my heart.
I hear You, God. I hear You.
Several
people allowed me to run the outline for this book past then and, in turn, gave
advice on the plot: Chris Howell, Dr. Denise Strickland, my great Aunt TC,
Vanessa Miller, Re Richardson, Colleen White, Glenyss, Lynell Logan, and April
Barker—thank you! Kudos to my writing group for the insights into being a
pastor’s wife and what it means to oversee a church: Lynne Gentry, Janice
Olson, Keisha Bass, Ann Boyles, Lyndie Blevins, and whoever else showed up the
few times I was able to make it while writing this book! Love you girls!
Thanks
to my editor, Karen Rodgers, for your editorial eye. I’m
always
nervous
when I get edits back…but you always throw in a lump of sugar to help the
medicine go down!
Thank
you soooooo much to those of you who have been reading my work over the years.
Can you believe it’s been almost 10 years since my first novel came out??? I
believe God uses my hands to bless you. Thank you for your support. I pray that
this book will be a blessing to you as well.
To
God be the glory!
For my B-Kay.
The last one in the nest.
Pastor
Mark Wayne Carter, III cast his drooping eyes on the clock ticking away on the
wall directly across from his desk. Last year his wife, Sharla, had lowered the
clock so that it stared at him while he was sitting in his gold-studded leather
executive chair.
“I
know you’re busy doing the Lord’s work, but it
would
be nice to see you
home before the sun goes down sometimes,” she had nagged as she pounded a nail
into the wall. She positioned the clock in its new location, then put both
hands on her hips. “If you can see the clock, you might actually keep track of
how much time you’re spending here in your office.”
Mark
didn’t like to fight with her about his devotion to New Vision Church. The church
was his life’s purpose, the reason he’d walked away from his short, but
well-paying career as an insurance salesman. This church had given him a sense
of accomplishment he’d never experienced in all his months as top-producer at
StateWay Insurance.
More
than anything, Mark hoped that New Vision Church would be the reason Jesus
said, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” to him one day.
Late
Saturday nights came with the territory, which was one reason he hired a very
young man as his assistant and semi-mentee. At 38-eight years old, Mark was no
old goat, but he wasn’t bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, either. He needed an
assistant to knock on the door every hour or so and make sure Mark hadn’t
fallen asleep at the computer.
A
recent graduate
of Southern Bible School, Jonathan
Lawrence had come with stellar references and an excellent transcript. Mark
wasn’t too crazy about seminary kids. Jonathan seemed eager, though, and he had
been faithful to his previous mentor. Mark didn’t mind showing a young minister
the ropes, so long as he learned quickly and knew how to keep his mouth shut.
Jonathan would do, unless he proved otherwise.
11:45
. Mark did the math in his head. It would
take him at least another half-hour to finish the outline. An hour to fill it
out with scriptures and examples. Ten minutes to get home. In bed by 1:45, to
be up again by six and back at the church for first service at 8:00.
If
only the Jenkins’ house dedication hadn’t taken so long and the visit to Mother
Morris in the hospital had gone as planned, he wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Lord, I’ll do better
, Mark prayed silently as he logged into SermonDepot.com
to browse for a ready-made message. Briefly, he thought about the problems he’d
encountered this week at the church.
He
couldn’t wrap his mind around anything in particular. In a church of almost
1500 in attendance weekly, the issues varied. Blessings, sin, healing, financial
prosperity. Any of those topics would do.
Mark
refined his search by checking the “60-minute” and “adult audience” boxes to
decrease the number of results. “Lord, show me which one,” he offered
briefly, though he wondered if God would actually advise him about this
shortcut. His eyes landed on a generic title: Seven Steps to Success, taken
from the parable of the sower in Matthew 13.
Mark
clicked on his “Used Sermons” folder to make sure he hadn’t already preached
this message. Six years ago, when he and Sharla founded New Vision, he wouldn’t
have dreamed of downloading a sermon from the internet. As he realized the
growing number of lectures he’d copied from the web, it was hard to imagine how
he’d gotten to that point.
He
took a cleansing breath and reminded himself that he wasn’t alone. There were,
according to the site’s banner, thousands of paying subscribers—other
pastors and preachers, presumably—who utilized the sermons.
God’s word
is consistent and true. It doesn’t change. No need to reinvent the wheel every
Sunday
, Mark rationalized as he checked the “use” box and printed the
accompanying four-page document.
His
laser printer hummed softly as a display of lights signaled the connection
between laptop and printer.
A
soft rapping at the door gave Mark a second wind. He hoisted his smile into
place and sat up straight in his chair. “Enter.”
Jonathan
poked his head in the office. “Pastor, you okay in here?”
“Yes,”
Mark said. “Leave if you need to.”
Jonathan
shook his head, “Oh no, sir. I’m in no hurry. I was thinking…you fell asleep in
here last Saturday night, so…”
Mark
could only laugh at himself. “Thank you, Jonathan. I’m good. I hit the gym this
week. Got more energy.” Mark swiveled his chair around and grabbed the papers
from the printer. “About to wrap it up.”
“Okay.”
Jonathan ducked out of the room.
Aside
from sore muscles, the workout had given Mark a little more energy. Maybe, if
he kept the exercise going and cut back on the fast food, he might actually feel
like a 38-eight-year-old is supposed to feel. At six foot two and two
hundred-twenty pounds, he’d been able to maintain a healthy weight, thanks
mostly to good genes. His father had given him that much, if nothing else.
Despite
the appearance of health, though, Mark was well aware that his cholesterol and
blood pressure levels were higher every year. Or in his case, two
years—which is about how long it took for him to actually show up at one
of the appointments Sharla made for him with their general practitioner. Mark much
preferred to leave his health in the hands of the Lord.
Quickly,
Mark threw his parallel Bible and the pages of the next day’s sermon into the
front compartment of his rolling attaché. The laptop and charger fit perfectly
into the second section. He gathered the rest of the papers on his desk and the
surrounding counters into one stack. He still needed to review the notes, but
he could finish it at home. If he made it there before midnight, he might
actually get to spend time with Sharla before she drifted off to sleep.
How
long has it been?
Another
tap on the door. “Enter.” With his back turned to the door, Mark switched off
his printer and locked the overhead cabinets containing confidential church
information. He heard the door open slightly, then close. He pivoted, expecting
to find Jonathan standing there.
But
this was definitely not Jonathan.
All that’s good and perfect comes from
God.
And He knew what He was doing when He made
that
woman. A
form-fitting red silk blouse defining her full rack. White linen skirt so tight
it bunched up across her hips. Legs that must have run track in high school,
maybe even college. And a pair of heels that added a good five inches to her
height, accentuating her lower half even more.
It
only took seconds for Mark to process her body. His eyes made it up to her face
in enough time to hide his intrigue. Hopefully. Respectfully, he stood. “How
can I help you?”
“Pastor,
I really need to talk to you.” She sat down in the chair across from him,
blocking his view of the clock.
“Um…well,
if you want to set up an appointment—”
“This
will only take a minute,” she pushed past Mark’s safeguards.
He
sat.
“A
long time ago, I made a big mistake. And now I need to fix it.”
Her
perfume wrapped around Mark’s face. Sweet, but not overpowering. The whole
scene reminded him of those cartoons where a bull’s eye rotates around and
around, hypnotizing an unsuspecting character.
She
crossed one leg over the other, revealing a good six inches up the side of her
thigh. Bare, taut skin. “I just don’t know what to do. I was hoping you could
help me.”
Mark
was no stranger to women’s advances. Another thing he’d inherited from Mark
Wayne Carter, II was good looks. Deep brown skin, a head full of short but wavy
hair, and a sharp goatee could pull a woman from a mile away. But the one thing
Mark could say he’d done right in his marriage was to remain faithful to his
wife throughout their sixteen years together. He wasn’t going to blow it on
some misguided member who’d managed to outwit his new assistant.
Mark
stood again. He’d played around with this fire long enough. “My sister, if you
have accepted Christ as your savior, old things are passed away. It’s late. I’m
going to have to ask again that you speak with Jonathan on your way out. He can
put you in touch with the counseling ministry.”
His
abrupt end to their conversation obviously caught her off guard. “Um, b-but,”
she stammered for words. “But
you’re
my pastor. Isn’t this what you’re
supposed
to do?”
Mark
ripped the top sheet from the pad of sticky-notes on his desk. “The word of God
is your counselor. Psalm one nineteen and twenty-four.” He scribbled the
reference on the note and handed it to the woman.
She
snatched it from his hand, a scowl on her face. Mark noticed that one of her
fake eyelashes slipped out of place. He had to hold in his laughter. “Meditate
on His word. Have a good night, my sister.”
Mark
walked her to his office door, then past Jonathan and out to the door of the
entire suite. “God bless you.”
The
woman didn’t have a chance to respond before the weighted door shut behind her.
With after-hours security on the church’s campus, Mark was sure she’d make it
back to her car safely.
Mark
turned sharply to face Jonathan, who sat at his desk with a bewildered look on
his face. “Sir, I-I, she said she was a frequent guest of yours.”
Mark’s
eyes turned to slits as he tried to decide if Jonathan was deranged or just deceived.
Since the boy was still in his 90-day probationary period, Mark would give him
the benefit of the doubt. “With the exception of First Lady Carter, I don’t
allow women into my office alone, especially not women dressed like
her
,
without one of the female ministers present. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes,
Pastor. I’m sorry. It’s just that my last supervisor had, you know, guests.
I-it won’t happen again.”
“Jonathan,
I don’t know what kind of pastors or preachers you worked with before me, but
I’m not
that
man.”