John 3:16 by Nancy Moser

Author:Nancy Moser [Moser, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / General
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2014-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

It was too much, but just enough.

Velvet slipped away and felt herself falling. . . .

| | | | | | | | | | |

She opened her eyes and saw John’s face.

And others.

Velvet lay upon a pew, her purse and someone’s jacket, her pillow. She immediately sat up, appalled. “Did I faint?”

“You slipped clean away,” said the woman who’d shared a shoulder squeeze.

Most of the sanctuary was empty, but a few stragglers filed down the center aisle toward the back. Their faces were soft with concern and a few offered her supportive smiles.

“I never faint. I’m fine—embarrassed, but fine.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” said a man wearing suspenders. “When the Spirit moves, he moves. It can be overwhelming.”

Spirit? She knew what she’d felt, but . . . Spirit? What was the man talking about?

John took her hand. “Come on, people. Let me take her out for some fresh air.”

The onlookers parted and she let herself be led into the foyer and beyond, out a side door, into the sunlight.

“Better?” John asked.

“Still feeling foolish but better, yes.” She tried to look strong, sound strong. “Truly, I’m not a fainter, and I don’t know why—”

“The man with the suspenders spoke the truth, Velvet. Although no one but you can say for certain, it could be you felt the Holy Spirit at work.”

She took a step away from him and formed a time-out T with her hands. “Hold it there, preacher; I’m not one of your praise-the-Lord drama queens who faint and flail and speak gibberish.”

“And I’m not a drama queen director. Or instigator. But the Holy Spirit was present in that room, Velvet. I know because I never planned on talking about forgiveness. Sometimes that happens. I’m talking about one thing and God nudges me to take a detour. And it obviously was the right detour, because that’s the subject people responded to. The Holy Spirit is the one who made the people jump to their feet and applaud. They weren’t applauding for me but because God worked within them, making them feel him, making them know he exists.” John stepped to a rosebush, cupped his hand around a full pink bloom, then leaned down to take a whiff. “It’s the best part of my job.”

“So this always happens?”

“Not at all. What happened today was not an orchestrated event. I said my piece, I shared my heart, and when it resonated with those who were listening, they let God in. My job was to nudge them through the door. He did the work.”

He did the work in me?

John was watching her, studying her. “You felt something, yes?” he asked quietly.

Tears threatened, embarrassing her further. “When you were talking about forgiveness, I . . .” She forced herself to look right at him. “I’ve done wrong, John. To a lot of people, including myself. And I’ve done wrong to you.” She glanced toward the church and saw a group of people at the doors, watching them, talking among themselves. Although she’d been on the verge of saying something—saying too much—she stopped and pointed in their direction.

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