Part 18 (1/2)
He got Amens to that. The people were with him.
Kyle took stern issue with Brandon Nichols's message, if there even was one. The ”Jesus” up at the Macon ranch seemed happy to let people believe whatever they wanted about him or anything else. The Jesus of the Gospels claimed to be-and Kyle pounded this one in from several directions-the way, the truth, the life, and the only means of access to G.o.d. More than that, the Jesus of Colossians 2 was ”the image of the invisible G.o.d, the firstborn of all creation, the creator of all things visible and invisible, before all things, the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, in whom all the fulness of deity dwelled.” It was good stuff. Stern stuff. He pulled no punches. He got Amens and Praise the Lords and even some applause.
Then, for a big finish, he reminded everyone of the cross and the price Jesus paid for our salvation. Holding his arms out to reenact the crucifixion, he spoke of the Roman spikes that pinned Jesus to the cross and then put out a challenge. ”My Jesus died for my sins and washed me clean by his blood, and all creation will know this by the nail prints in his hands! If this man is the Christ, where are the scars?” He looked in the general direction of the Macon ranch and hollered, ”Show me the scars that bought my salvation! Your tricks and healings and mind reading are impressive, but I need to be saved from my sins! Can you do that? Show me the nail scars!”
Amens! Applause! Agreement!
By the time Kyle said his closing prayer, his people were steeled in their convictions and the issue was settled. Kyle felt great.
He felt so great that he put all the main points of his sermon, including Scripture references, into a letter and mailed it to Nancy Barrons to print in the Antioch Harvester. That's how I first learned the content of his message. That's how the whole town heard about it.
And that's when the cow manure hit the combine blades.
ARE WE JEALOUS,Reverend Sherman?
I had not known Nancy Barrons to be quite so personal and direct in her editorials, but Kyle's letter, which she did print on the Op-Ed page, must have aroused more anger than her cool professionalism could contain.
When the word of a simple ranch hand draws more people in one weekend than your preaching has drawn for as long as you have been here, I see in this fact a message. Perhaps Jesus is more than just a white, middle-cla.s.s, right-wing fundamentalist Republican. Perhaps he dwells outside the walls of our respective inst.i.tutions and defies our petty descriptions of him. Perhaps he is more concerned with people than with opinion.
Everyone is free to see whatever he or she wants in this stranger at the Macon ranch. I saw a kindly doer of good who allowed everyone the dignity of their own convictions. He touched and healed but did not judge, he blessed and did not condemn. He dared to speak of the good in all of us and inspired us to do some good in this world. He was there for the people and not the other way around.
What a refres.h.i.+ng change: a Messiah who believes in us.
The town of Antioch could use such a message. Certain clergy of Antioch would do well to preach it.
As soon as I read Kyle's letter and Nancy's editorial I sank into my couch, raked my fingers through my hair, and cried out for deliverance, and not just for me. Kyle Sherman was more than an accident waiting to happen; he was a disaster trying to happen. I already knew which people were going to say what.
”HE COULD BE SUED for triple damages!” Burton Eddy squawked to Sid Maher. They'd happened upon each other in Mack's Sooper Market and short little Burton was red in the face. ”Hasn't he considered how much money the widow's worth? She can hire a whole team of lawyers, believe me!”
Sid picked up a copy of the Harvester from Jack's news rack near the door, and Burton took it upon himself to point out the Op-Ed page. Sid read it and made a troubled face.
”Bravo for Nancy!” said Burton, tapping the page with the back of his knuckles. ”Somebody needs to make it clear to the kid what the rules are around here!”
Sid made another troubled face. ”Rules? Burt, Kyle has a right to his opinion.”
Burton's voice grew a little cold. ”Are you siding with him, Sid?”
Sid got fl.u.s.tered. ”I didn't say that. I just said he has a right to his opinion. This is the opinion page, isn't it?”
Burton put a hand on his hip and s.h.i.+fted his weight to that leg. When his hips were crooked and his free hand was pointing, you knew he meant business. ”This is a community, Sid, and we are professionals! We have a duty to this town to keep things running smoothly in a spirit of neighborliness. This kid is swimming against the current and he's making waves!”
Sid gave a weak nod. ”His biblical arguments are sound.”
Burton rolled his eyes. ”Sid, people don't want to hear what this kid thinks the Bible says. That's the whole problem here.”
”Well . . . the letter is divisive, that's clear.”
”It's trouble, Sid, just like we had with Travis Jordan, and we don't need another round of that!”
Suddenly Jack McKinstry joined the conversation. ”It's bad for business too. I mean, come on, what else does Antioch have going for it if people can't come here and see the Messiah?”
”BUT HE ISN'T JESUS,” said Bob Fisher.
”I know that, I know that,” Paul Daley replied. ”But that isn't the point.”
They'd met each other while picking up their mail at the post office. Neither wanted to get into this discussion, but each thought the other did, so they both did.
”Of course it's the point! It's the whole point of Kyle's letter!” Bob insisted.
”No, the point I'm trying to make is that Kyle's letter makes a point that brings out the point Nancy Barrons is trying to make: This Brandon fellow has a right to be wrong.”
”She's saying it's right to be wrong?”
”No, no, no! She's saying even if you're wrong, that's your right.”
”But what if you're deceiving others by being wrong? You think that's right?”
”He isn't deceiving others. He's letting them think whatever they want. That's the point.”
”Well why is he even up there talking if people just think what they want anyway? What's the point of that?”
”There doesn't have to be a point. That's my point. Well actually, it's Nancy's point.”
”So you're not making a point.”
”No, I'm just trying to point out Nancy's point.”
”And we're having a pointed conversation.”
By now they were laughing.
”WELL, Kyle Sherman can come right in here and watch me run laps around the store,” said Matt Kiley. ”He's a talker just like all the others but he never made me walk!”
”He never fixed my eyes either,” said Norman Dillard. They were standing in Matt's hardware store with the Harvester open on the counter between them. ”Think I'll write a letter.”
”Think I will too.” Then he punched his palm with his fist. ”Either that or show him my own version of righteous indignation.”
”JUDGING, judging, judging!” said Armond Harrison, wagging his head. ”It never ends! I thought we were finally going to get along in this town!” Don Anderson was trying to help Armond pick out a new propane s.p.a.ce heater, but it seemed Armond had to talk out his frustrations first. ”I should write a letter to the Pentecostal Mission headquarters and tell them to quit sending such arrogant bigots to our town! We were getting along fine without them!”
Don knew the Pentecostal Mission church had been in town long before Armond and his Apostolic Brethren ever showed up, but he didn't want to get into that. ”Well, you and your people have always been good customers.”
”We have, haven't we?”
”Sure.”
”Always pay our bills, always come to you for our appliances.”
”Sure.” Of course, Armond never hesitated to buy in bulk from a discount supplier in Spokane, but he and his people often came in for smaller items.
”And we've never told you what to believe, have we?”