A Steadfast Surrender Page 5

  “I haven’t a clue. But it’ll be good, you can bet your life on that.” He laughed. “Bet your life…that’s a good one.”

  “So my life depends on my saying yes to this?”

  His face turned serious. “Every life depends on saying yes to God. Although you can say no, the yeses are much more fulfilling.” The man pointed a fry at them. “Have you ever wondered if before Moses, God asked other men to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, but they all said no? Four hundred years of men saying, ‘No thanks, I’ll pass.’ Maybe Moses was the first to say yes. Did a good job too. Oh, he messed up a few times, but all in all—”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Don’t know, just speculating. The thing is, usually something happens in our hearts when God makes us wait—He’s waiting on us a lot more than we’re waiting on Him. Yet the Hebrew slaves waited four hundred years to be set free, and the Bible doesn’t say a thing about any change happening in their hearts. So maybe the wait was for another reason.”

  Claire looked to the front of the restaurant, where people were ordering hamburgers and chicken nuggets with no clue about the conversation that was going on just a few feet away from them. The overhead speakers sang, “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.”

  “When does God have to know my answer?”

  “Now would be good.”

  “Now?”

  He grinned. “Now earns brownie points.”

  “God gives brownie points?”

  The man dragged a fry through a dollop of ketchup. “Again, that’s my spin on things, not His. But He does like an eager worker. Proves your faith, you know. And you wouldn’t want to miss those blessings, would you?”

  Claire looked to Michelle. For once, the woman was silent, yet by the way she pursed her lips, it was evident that doing so was a struggle.

  “So what happens if I do what He’s asked? Will an angel chorus sing hallelujah or something?”

  The man smiled. “You’ve seen too many movies.”

  “Then what does happen?”

  “You do it. You follow through. Talk is cheap.”

  “But giving up everything is going to be very expensive.”

  “Compared to what?” he asked.

  The question of the century. “So I give up everything. Then what? I mean, will I receive further instructions?”

  “Like I said, too many movies. This isn’t Mission Impossible, nor am I an angel from that TV show.”

  The man could pass for Delia Reese’s brother.

  “You will not find an envelope with a to-do list, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Claire felt a hand on her arm. Michelle’s voice was low and smooth. “God will let you know what to do. It’ll all fall into place. It did for me. As long as you keep yourself open to it.”

  “Whatever it is.”

  The old man’s face changed, losing some of its lines. “It is the will of God. And it is very, very good.” He pushed himself back from the table, gathering his garbage. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies. I have places to go, people to see.”

  “So now what?”

  Michelle took a deep breath and looked around the restaurant. “Want a burger? You’ll need to keep up your strength. Giving up fame and fortune is hard work.”

  “I never said I was going to do it.”

  Michelle laughed. “Oh, you’ll do it. If I had another fortune to give up, I’d do it all over again.” She looked to the door where the old man had left. “We never asked his name. We should have asked his name.”

  They sat in silence a moment. “I’ve got to get out of here.” Claire headed for the exit.

  Michelle ran after her. “Where to?”

  “My studio.”

  “But it’s Saturday night.”

  Claire waited to answer until she got in Michelle’s car. She shut the door, then looked straight at Michelle and pointed to the ignition. “My studio, Ms. Jofsky. And don’t get in my way. Not when I’m trying to earn brownie points and not miss the blessing.”

  Michelle’s face lit up. “You’re saying yes?”

  Claire closed her eyes and sighed a sigh she would remember for the rest of her life. “I’m saying yes. God help me.”

  Michelle laughed. “Oh, He will. He will.”

  Four

  Another said, “I will follow you, Lord;

  but first let me go back and say good-bye to my family.”

  Jesus replied, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and

  looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

  LUKE 9:61-62

  CLAIRE WATCHED MICHELLE SLEEP, slumped in the chair next to the workspace. It was three in the morning, and though Claire had tried to get her to go home, Michelle resisted, wanting to stay while Claire worked things through.

  Worked things through. Easier said than done.

  Claire resorted to her tried-and-true method when confronted with a dilemma: She worked on her mosaics. She thought more clearly when her hands were busy. Plus, there was the added necessity of completing the commission for the Oswald family. If she was giving up everything to leave life as she knew it, she had an obligation to follow through with her commitments.

  She nipped the edges of a piece of gray tile and fit it into place, finishing off a storm cloud. The details of giving up everything had turned out to be more complicated than she thought. Giving up the house, the possessions, the money was doable. But the fame. The recognition. Claire knew her fame would live on—at least for a while—riding on the crest of her existing work. But when that work was sold? When the world realized there would be no more Claire Adams mosaics? Then what? Would the very scarcity of her work make her even more famous? Or would the lack of having her art in the public eye make her fade into obscurity?

  The unknowns made her stomach clench and her mind reel.

  Yet even they were acceptable. What was hard to let go of was the art itself. The act of creating. Her talent was a gift from God. How—and why—would He want her to give it up? It didn’t seem logical. But then again, logic was man’s quest, not God’s; it was a desire to explain what often could not be explained.

  Michelle stirred and slid her body from a slumped to sitting position. She moaned. Her muscles had to be sore from sleeping in such an awkward position.

  “I must have dozed off.”

  “Can’t imagine why. It’s only three in the morning.”

  Michelle stretched until her muscles shuddered. “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since college. They were stupid then, and they’re stupid now.”

  “Exactly. Go back to the Martins’. You have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

  Michelle ran her hands over her face. “I can sleep on the plane. But what about you? Aren’t you tired?”

  Claire laughed. “Don’t stop me now, Michelle. I’m on a roll for the Lord, thinking up a storm while my hands are creating a storm cloud.”

  “Do you always leap into things so vigorously?”

  Claire thought for a moment. “I’m good at making quick decisions. Ron says I’m instinctively instinctive.” She sighed. “It takes him a week to decide what color socks to wear.”

  “But at least they match, right?”

  “Wanna bet?” Claire leaned toward her work, snipping a tile to shape. “I guess with this current opportunity it’s jump in or jump ship. I’m afraid if I let myself think about it too long I’ll chicken out and let rational thought take over.”

  “God doesn’t want you to be irrational.”

  “I’m not. But the excitement of the faith-challenge gets me going until the reality of the follow-through makes me pull up short. I want to do the right thing, I’m honored He’s trusting me to do this, yet a part of me is still hesitant and I’m afraid that hesitancy will never completely fade.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Somehow, hearing that made everything better. If it was all right to proceed in spite of the hesitancy, then maybe it could be d
one.

  “Before I fell asleep you were talking about a financial package to offer your employees.”

  Claire pushed her doubts into a corner. “Just because I’m crazy, doesn’t mean they should suffer. And the gallery can continue selling my pieces.” She looked up. “I’m going to have the proceeds sent directly to you.”

  “Me?”

  “For the Salvation Shelter.”

  Michelle put a hand to her chest. “I never meant for you to do that.”

  “I know you didn’t. That’s why I’m doing it.” Claire grinned. “The truth is, when I saw how pitiful you looked all slumped in that chair—snoring like a foghorn, I might add—I had no choice. It was between your charity or giving all my wealth to the Society for the Preservation of the Carpet Beetle. You won.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “Rightly so. It was a close call.” Claire pushed another tile in place, turning it ever so slightly with her finger. “I wish you could get it in one lump sum, but—”

  “I’m not picky. Too many zeroes and I get giddy.” Michelle bit her lip, her eyes darting. “But to satisfy my curiosity, how many zeroes are we talking about? Eventually?”

  Claire laughed. “Greed becomes you.”

  Michelle blushed. “It’s not greed; it’s just that I’d like to know so I can plan—”

  Claire stopped the woman’s defense with a hand. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. You have a right to know, and though I don’t have a final number, and though the sales of my existing pieces will extend over a span of months—if not years—we’re talking six figures.”

  Michelle’s eyes threatened to drop onto her lap. “Hundreds of thousands?”

  “Give or take.”

  “I had no idea.” Michelle kept shaking her head. “That’s truly a fortune. I didn’t have to give up nearly that much.”

  Claire’s throat was suddenly dry. Is it too much? Is God asking too much?

  Michelle leaned toward her. “Uh-uh. Get that doubtful look off your face. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t need me making you question your decision. It’s obviously right. You’ve been running on full throttle ever since we left McDonald’s.”

  Claire arched her aching back and held the position until the ache melded into a modicum of comfort. “But maybe I’m going overboard. Maybe I’ve gotten caught up in the swell of the idea without thinking about the ramifications—”

  Michelle walked to the mosaic, grabbed Claire’s hand, and gave it a sharp slap. “No! Stop second-guessing yourself.”

  Claire rubbed the back of her hand. “You’re asking the impossible.”

  Michelle hesitated only a moment. “We need to pray.” Without any more preamble she knelt on the floor at Claire’s feet, took her hand, and bowed her head. “Lord, we think we understand what You want Claire to do. And she’s ready to do it. But she’s feeling some doubt—I’m afraid I caused it by comparing what she has to give up with my own situation. Forgive me for that, Lord.”

  Claire opened her eyes. She didn’t want Michelle feeling badly. But Michelle did not return her look. Her face was drawn, her forehead furrowed in deep concentration as she continued to pray Claire closed her eyes as she listened.

  “If it’s Your will that Claire give up her wealth and fame for You, then give her a sense of peace that can only come from You. If she’s on the wrong track, and this is not Your will, then let the unease continue, and lead her toward stopping the process.”

  Claire felt Michelle’s grip ease and opened her eyes again. Michelle was looking at her. “Do you want to add anything?”

  Claire wasn’t used to praying out loud—at least not with an audience. But she did have something to say. And now was the time. She closed her eyes and began. “Dear Lord, I can’t say as I’m pleased with the situation You’ve put me in. I guess I should call it an opportunity, though You’ll forgive my lack of total enthusiasm. But I’ll do it. I will do it, if it’s what You want. Yet I have so many questions… I give up my art, sell my townhouse, sell my vehicles… I’ll be free of any encumbrance—which I’ll have to admit, is kind of appealing—but then what?”

  As a deep sigh escaped her, Claire found herself relaxing. It was a relief to let her doubts and questions into the open for God to handle. “Like Michelle said, if this doubt is from You, then let it continue and I’ll stop this thing, chalk up one sleepless night as small payment for keeping my lifestyle. But if this doubt is not from you…then make it go away.” She opened her eyes and looked to Michelle. “Amen?”

  Michelle smiled. “In Jesus’ name, amen.” She stood, rubbing her knees. “I think that’s about it. How do you feel?”

  Claire sat back, trying to assess her state. She took a deep breath. Blinked a few times. “Better. I think.”

  “Peaceful?”

  Claire did another scan of her emotions and was disappointed. “Not quite. But better.”

  “Give it time. Though we’d like instant answers to our prayers, we don’t always get them.”

  “Bummer.”

  Michelle laughed. “I still believe God wants you to do this.”

  Claire nodded. “Time will tell.”

  Michelle drove Claire to her car in the church parking lot. Claire had just enough time to go home to shower and change before the early service at church.

  She fished her keys from her purse. “Are you going to get into trouble with your host family? The Martins will think you’re a bad girl for being out all night.”

  “I called them and said I was with you. I said we were working on a project.”

  “That’s the truth. Will I get to talk to you before you head back to Denver?”

  “Probably not. They’ve got me set to speak at the eleven o’clock service, and then I’ll be off to catch my plane at two-thirty.”

  Claire took one last look at this woman who had been instrumental in changing her life so completely. She was nothing special to look at. Not particularly pretty—especially with the dark circles under her eyes. Yet she had been an instrument of God. “I feel like I’ve known you for years, and it’s been less than twenty-four hours.”

  “An eventful twenty-four hours.”

  Claire would not argue with that one. With a sigh she extended her hand across the middle console. “I won’t forget you, Michelle Jofsky.”

  Michelle shook it. “Nor I you. Call if you need me. And keep me informed where God sends you.”

  Tears threatened. Claire got out of the car and bent down to say one last thing. “Be watching for the checks. Do good things with my money.”

  “I’ll do better than that. I’ll do God things.”

  Claire nodded. After all, that was the point.

  Claire headed home to get ready for church, yet she was wary about spending time alone. Would her resolve dampen when she was alone with me, myself, and I?

  It didn’t. As she stood in the shower of the townhouse she would soon be selling, she found herself singing quite loudly and quite off-key, “He’s got the whole world in His hands.” She laughed at her own elation.

  Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

  But then again, maybe not.

  Claire had to tell someone about her plans. It was like the fuse had been lit on a wonderful secret, and she would blow up if she didn’t share it.

  She walked into the church and scanned the narthex, looking for someone to brag to. Too bad it was in bad taste to wear a placard that said I’m giving it all up for God—are you?

  She spotted Mandy Everett, smiled, and waved.

  Mandy came toward her. “All right. What’s going on? If I turned off the lights, you’d glow.”

  So glad you asked. Claire pulled Mandy to the side. “I’m glowing because my life is about to change.”

  Mandy gasped and squeezed her arm. “You’re getting married.”

  Claire laughed. “Don’t you think I’d need a man in my life in order to get married?”

  “A technicality.�
�

  “Nope, I’m a free agent—as far as men go, at least.”

  Mandy gave her a puzzled look. “My brain does not decipher cryptic messages on weekends so you’ll have to be more—”

  “I’ve got a secret.” Claire felt like a teenager.

  Mandy leaned close. “Which you are going to tell me right this minute.”

  “If you insist.” Claire waved at some other people she knew coming in the front doors, but she didn’t make an attempt to draw them over. Not yet. One at a time. Claire took a deep breath. “I’m going to give everything away.”

  “Everything of what?”

  “Everything. Every thing. All I own.”

  “Why?”

  This was the hard part. “Because God wants me to.”

  Mandy lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows in a look Claire had seen before. “And how exactly did He instruct you to do this? A divine e-mail? Heavenly airmail? Or maybe a singing telegram with an angel chorus?”

  “You can’t be skeptical when I haven’t even explained.”

  “I’m getting a head start.”

  Claire’s thoughts bounced between telling Mandy about Michelle or bringing up the Bible verses in Mark.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Claire gave her the condensed version of what had happened with Michelle. Mandy’s reaction was as dull as the uh-huhs of a bored psychiatrist. Claire’s enthusiasm died. “So, uh…that’s it. Tomorrow I tell my employees I’m closing up shop.”

  Mandy blinked. Then she sighed. Then she changed her weight to the other foot. “You’re crazy.”

  Those two words stabbed Claire’s bubble like a needle. “But it’s the right thing to do. God’s chosen me to do this. He wouldn’t ask unless He thought I could—”

  “Well, la-di-da, aren’t you special?”

  Claire took a step back.

  Mandy brows lifted another fraction. “Why has He chosen you? Why not someone else? Why not…me?”

  Oops. “I don’t know, Mandy, and maybe chosen is too strong a word. God’s given me the opportunity. It’s up to me to do the choosing—to choose to do it or not.”

  “But why would you? God’s the one who let you get rich and successful in the first place. ‘Every good and perfect gift is from above,’ and all that. Why would He want you to give it all up? It doesn’t make sense.”