The Cord. Stephen W. Robbins
story. From SarkiSystems’ launch twelve years ago, God has been the One moving things forward. All of the advances in our research and technology have been a result of prayer and listening to God’s leading and direction. This is simply the next step in a plan that God set in motion years ago.”
“I want to believe you, but it seems too incredible. Besides, what does this specifically have to do with my ministry?”
“Last night I mentioned that we would implant the embryo. For this to occur, we need a womb. Of course, the young girl must be a godly virgin. Our ‘Mary’ must be one in whom Christ dwells and delights in.” George looked right in Pastor Donovan’s eyes and announced, “That’s why I’m here today. Anne, your daughter, is that girl.”
“What?” exclaimed Pastor Donovan. “I don’t understand. Are you saying that you want to impregnate Anne? That she would carry your baby?”
“Not mine. God’s! Nobody enters her. She remains a virgin. As with Mary, people will count her blessed.”
Pastor Donovan stared at him in disbelief. “She’s only eighteen. We’ve got plans. She’s got plans. How can she graduate from high school and go to college if she’s pregnant?”
“I understand your concerns. But know that the momentary, light affliction that she must endure cannot compare to the eternal weight of glory that awaits her. Yes, her future will change. It will change the world. And hasn’t that been your prayer for her ever since she was born, that she would be dedicated unto God and make a difference in this world?”
Pastor Donovan didn’t know what to say. How did George know that that was exactly their prayer for Anne? Pastor Donovan pondered for a moment the fact that George always seemed to know precisely what he thought and desired. How does he know so much about me?
Moving the conversation forward, George suggested, “Last night I promised that you could ask me questions when we met. So, I assume you have a few more questions. I also assume, based on the pile of books there on your desk, that you may even have a few answers.”
Though stupefied by George’s revelation, Pastor Donovan did smile at the suggestion that he might have answers. He had anything but answers. He wasn’t even sure what the questions were to ask. Following an awkward moment of silence, he simply blurted out the first thought that came to mind. “Jesus ascended bodily into heaven. Right? So, because we are told that He will return in the same way, this means that He will return bodily. Visibly, right? However this is to happen, I know that I want to be alive to witness it. Sometimes on our evening walks, especially after I sound off my ‘heretic of the week’ frustrations for the first few blocks, my wife will look up into the sky and say, ‘O, please come, Lord Jesus.’”
“You are not only going to be alive to witness His coming. You are going to help make it happen. You, and especially your daughter, will make a significant contribution to it.”
Unsure how to respond or what to ask, Pastor Donovan voiced, “This whole plan of yours is based on a relic. I admit I don’t know much about relics, but my impression is that they are ‘Catholic.’ Once used long ago to generate money, power, and relevance for monasteries and cathedrals, these spectacular treasures from the past now sit tucked away, catalogued and shelved under the Vatican.”
George interrupted, “Pastor Donovan, with all due respect, the umbilical cord of Jesus is not some relic, a medieval piece of magic. We’re not talking about one of the countless chalices from the Last Supper or splinters from the cross that sustain legends. The Sisters of Saint Mary-Salome vigilantly preserved the authentic cord, the one piece of Jesus’ body that did not ascend into heaven. We do not have a relic. We have the only true link to the flesh that now sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.”
Both men sat still for a moment, as if trying to fathom that last sentence. Pastor Donovan broke the silence. “I need time to think about all this.”
“Of course,” affirmed George. “And you will need to talk with Ashley and Anne.” Before Pastor Donovan had a chance to protest or panic, George stood up, leaned across the desk to shake hands, and then said while leaving, “I’ll be praying for you.”
As George closed the door behind him, Pastor Donovan leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head. I’ll be praying for you. Pastor Donovan knows that he himself has said this a thousand times to his parishioners. He also knows that many times it has only served as a convenient way to end a conversation. Even as he pondered this flawed spirituality, a flashback from Sunday morning arose. As he walked from the parking lot toward the sanctuary, he saw Brother Bob walking right toward him. Recalling that he had promised to pray for him, he threw up a quick “Lord, help him” just before he greeted Brother Bob with “How are you? I’ve been praying for you.” His pastoral voice of concern surely guaranteed another “homerun.”
* * * * *
Regardless of whether George was really going to pray for him, or whether those parting words were an empty promise, an exit plan well played, Pastor Donovan found himself yet again hopeless and lost inside his office, his chamber of desperation. For the past year, haunting episodes of “What’s the use?” had invaded his mind. The past week’s “When are you going to get more young people coming to church?” comment by his board chairman reverberated through his mind, making him want to lash out with “Well, when are you going to do something?” The stacks of conference and seminar notebooks on his bookshelf strangled any leftover hope. Like the slick brochures littering his inbox, they promised the key to leadership and growth, the central but missing program for success. And yet they drove him further into failure and confusion because he couldn’t get any “key” to fit. For the past year Pastor Donovan’s heart had skipped beats and pounded blood as he sat at his desk and listened to a voice saying over and over again, “Nothing you do will ever matter.” Hidden under a pile of thoughts accusing him of being powerless, unworthy, forsaken, and condemned lay a dark wish for God to just take him home. Though carrying this burden, Payne had learned to just keep moving. He managed to pray throughout the rest of the day at church, and especially as he drove home for dinner.
He had already called home to inform Ashley and the kids that they were going to have a “family powwow” that night. So, after dinner, while the kids finished up their homework, Payne invited his wife into their bedroom to have a meeting before the meeting. Behind closed doors, he cautiously broached the subject. “Honey, you more than anyone know that I have been dissatisfied. I’ve shared about how tired I am of the constant shifting, the endless redefining of success. I’m tired of being inadequate to navigate through the ministry maze.”
“Are you giving up?” asked Ashley, the wrinkles between her eyes pronounced with worry.
“No, not at all. In fact, I feel like I’m finally in the game. That low-grade fear of being lost and left on the outside is gone. I feel ready, even ambitious to be in on what God is up to.” Payne gazed into his wife’s eyes, and said, “What I’m about to tell you is confidential. Only those involved are to know. But, there will come a day soon when everybody will know.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” said Ashley as she leaned back onto the bed, using her hands as support.
But, as was often the case when they were in the bedroom, Doug, their son, knocked on their door at the most inopportune time.
“Are we going to have the meeting now?” yelled Doug from the other side of the door. It only took that one time of not knocking before entering for him to be well trained to never do that again.
“In a minute, son. Do us a favor; find your sister and we will meet you in the living room.” Payne looked at his wife and said, “We really do have terrific kids.” He paused, then continued with a smile, “You know what they say: fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“And neither do the nuts!” grinned Ashley, but not just for her witty comeback. Her countenance conveyed a confidence in her husband.
As Payne watched his wife walk out into the hallway, he wondered for the umpteenth time that day if he was indeed