The Christmas Candle by Max Lucado

Author:Max Lucado
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Religious, Fiction
ISBN: 9781401689940
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2006-06-15T03:36:33+00:00

CHAPTER 5

SATURDAY EVENING

December 17, 1864

Guests occupied every corner of the Barstow parlor. With full bellies and filled glasses, they lingered long after the meal. Charles Barstow discussed politics with two guests from Upper Slaughter. Mr. Chumley listened politely to an elderly friend’s complaints about arthritis. Mrs. Barstow relayed the latest gossip on romance and marriage.

Bea and Edward had declined the invitation to dinner. Everyone understood why. This was, after all, the night. The eve of the final Advent Sunday. They had preparations to make, a guest to receive.

The reverend, however, had accepted the Barstows’ invitation.

“You came.” Emily brightened as he arrived. In six months the two had shared no more than six sentences, but he had noticed her watching him.

“I saw you last week joking with the Johnson children,” she noted as the two talked.

The rector smiled, pleased to be caught in an act of kindness. “I, uh, I enjoy them.

Their mother is sick, you know.”

“I know.”

“The twelve-year-old asks me many questions.”

“Does he?”

“Great questions. Questions of faith and God.”

“Like?”

The reverend’s voice animated just slightly. “The other day he mused, ‘How do we know we aren’t butterflies dreaming we are humans?’”

Emily smiled. “And you told him?”

“I told him, ‘That’s a good question.’”

The two laughed, and his face softened.

“You should do that more often,” Emily urged.

“Do what?”

“Laugh!” She clapped her hands. “I never see you laugh.”

Richmond looked down at his tea.

“Do you find Gladstone dull?” she ventured.

“Dull? Of course not . . .”

Her eyes betrayed her disbelief, so he adjusted his response, admitting, “At first, yes. I confess, my heart was set on going elsewhere.”

“London?”

“I was raised there. My father is a friend of the bishop. It made sense that I serve in London.”

“But . . .”

“London was not an option.”

“I thought you had family connections.”

“Other factors were considered.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the reverend’s face flushed, and he looked away. Emily waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“The candle.” Emily finally changed the subject. “You must know everyone is upset that you aren’t saying anything about the candle in your sermons.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I don’t understand. Don’t you believe in it?”

“I can’t encourage false hope. I want no part of disappointing people.”

“And the candle disappoints people?”

“How can it not? One candle. A village of needs. God would not single out one person and ignore the others. It’s not fair.”

Emily replied with measured words. “Perhaps he singles out one person to show the others what he can do.”

The reverend started to speak, then stopped. “Can I think about that?”

She smiled her yes.

“Excuse me, but Sarah and I are bidding our farewells,” Mr. Chumley interrupted.

“Our bedtime nears. We aren’t young like you,” Sarah added. “Have you had a good evening?”

“Quite.” The minister nodded.

“Tomorrow’s a working day for you, Reverend. Are you ready with a sermon?”

“Indeed it is, and that I am.”

With a wry smile Mr. Chumley looked at the young minister. “And all this talk about the candle. Are you converted yet, or do you still stand with me on the cynic’s side of the fence?”

“Mr.

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