When the Waters Came by Candice Sue Patterson

Author:Candice Sue Patterson [Patterson, Candice Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781636097596
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“There are those who tell us they want only the religion of sunshine, art, blue sky, and beautiful grass. The book of nature must be their book. Let me ask such persons what they make out of the floods in Pennsylvania.”

~Reverend T. DeWitt Talmage, a quote spoken to his congregation in New York

SUNDAY, JUNE 23

Annamae stood at the back of the large crowd, listening in awe to Monty’s sermon. It was his first since the flood, and he’d mentioned to her yesterday that he was anxious. She’d woken extra early to help finish stocking the newly built hotel provided by the Red Cross to house misplaced victims of the flood so she could attend services. It was important to her to support her friend but also to meet Joanna and offer some token of kindness she hoped would comfort the girl.

It was a lovely day for an outdoor service. The temperature was comfortable, and the birds trilled. A magnificent change from all the banging and blasting that normally filled their days. Even if not everyone in the town attended a service, at least they honored the Sabbath by resting from labor.

The church grounds were clear of debris. The iron fencing surrounding the small cemetery stood once again, but several headstones lay broken. Ernie had assured her he’d thoroughly disinfected the areas on both sides of the church. Since the side of the building still held a gaping hole, congregants spread blankets on the dry earth or stood on the fringes to worship.

The angle where she stood offered the perfect glimpse of Monty’s strong, shaven jaw. Someone had trimmed his hair and, in this light, she caught faint strands of red and blond near his forehead as he bent his head to read from her Bible cradled in his palm.

The timbre of his voice rippled over the crowd. “‘The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves.’ ”

Monty stared into their faces. “The newspapers are reporting many preachers across the nation using this very text to convict their congregations, saying our wicked town was under the judgment of God or that we’ve become the greatest example of needing to be prepared to meet our Maker. But the passage in Psalm 93 doesn’t end there.”

He paused. As if they were all tethered to the same string, they leaned closer for his next words.

“‘The Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters—’ ”

Amens exploded into the air.

“‘Yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.’ ”

The man standing next to Annamae wiped the deluge of tears from his cheeks with the cap he’d strangled in his fist.

“None of us is fit to claim the Lord’s reason for allowing this flood to take place. Only He knows that answer. But I know one thing. He’s caring for our loved ones in heaven better than we ever could. Those of us left behind must continue carrying out His purpose. For He is mightier than the noise of many waters.

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