The Isaac Project (10 page)

No more pizza before bed.
I’d heard certain foods could give a person unusual dreams.

Quenching my thirst, I headed back to bed.

Four hours later, I awoke feeling anything but refreshed. The dream of the night before left me in a foul mood, the images clinging to the recesses of my mind, seeping into my consciousness. Nothing I did shook them loose.

I showered and dressed for church. I’d told Sam and Lisa I’d meet them there for first service. If anything could erase my unease from the previous night’s disturbed rest, church would.

Finding a parking spot proved more difficult than I’d thought. The church I ordinarily went to was smaller and closer to home, but today we’d agreed to go to the larger one Lisa attended on campus.

I finally found an open space on the far side of the soccer fields behind the church. Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I sent Sam a quick text and walked toward the looming gray stone building that had housed worshippers for over fifty years. Sam had better text back, or I’d never find him among the crowd.

My pocket vibrated, and I pulled out my phone.

We’re on the right side, near the front.

I chuckled. Sam was one of the few people I knew who texted using proper grammar.

Shaking the hand of the greeter, I accepted a bulletin and pushed open the door to the sanctuary. The ceiling arched high and lofty, giving the spacious room a cathedral feel. The wood beams of the tall, peaked ceiling contrasted sharply with the royal-blue carpet beneath my feet. I walked down the aisle of the grandiose church, passing row after row of pews. I smiled at those who turned at the sound of footsteps passing their seats. Men and women dressed in their finest offered small smiles or dips of their head in return.

The sun shone through the stained-glass picture of Jesus at the front of the sanctuary. I tried once more to clear my mind in order to receive the blessing of the sermon. Sliding into the pew beside Sam, I whispered a hello and opened the bulletin, scanning the printed pages absentmindedly.

“What’s with the scowl?” Lisa asked as she leaned around Sam. She looked pretty in a crimson-red dress, and she had done something different with her hair. Curled it maybe?

I tried to relax the muscles in my face and shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Evasion’s not a lie. It’s a survival tactic.

“Uh-huh,” she said with a roll of her hazel eyes.

Fortunately for me, the pastor stepped out onto the platform, and I was saved any more of an explanation. Putting my finger to my lips, I shushed her and pointed to the speaker, sat back, and gave the pastor my undivided attention.

At least I hoped it looked that way. My thoughts still weren’t cooperating. Becky’s situation had me preoccupied. Would she be able to find someone in time? Would that man treat her right, or would my dream from the night before become a reality? Too many scenarios filled my mind, and not a one of them good.

But where did that leave me? It’s not like I was willing to uproot myself and move to another state to marry a woman I’d never met. Unlike her, I wanted to get to know the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Goodness, I especially wanted to pick her myself and not let someone else do the choosing for me. So if I wasn’t willing to be the man Becky was going to marry, then why did I spend so much time thinking about her—worrying about her?

Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop.

The sound of the organ and the shuffle of bodies as everyone stood roused me from my introspection.

So much for clearing my head to hear the message.

Lifting the hymnal from the back of the pew in front of me, I leafed through its pages to find the closing song. I could at least participate in one part of the service. I closed my eyes and lifted my voice, singing as a prayer. “Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way!”

The song washed over me like a cleansing rain. Out of all six-hundred-plus songs in the hymnal, this was by far my favorite. It held the most personal meaning for me. Every time I heard it, I felt a bit of the agony and all of the peace from when it first became my mantra two years before. When I was engaged to Leslie.

We’d had a whirlwind romance, and she’d awakened desires best saved for marriage. I was ashamed of what our relationship became, now that I looked back on it.

During the time we were together, I couldn’t read the book of Song of Solomon because of the Shulamite’s warning not to awaken love before its time. The caution poked at my conscience, and in the heat of the moment, I didn’t want it being poked. I didn’t read much of the Bible then, to be honest. My burning passions were battling against the quiet voice of my conscience saying such actions with a woman were better reserved for marriage.

Oh, I didn’t jump into bed with Leslie, but we did skirt the line a little too closely. Taking the advice of Paul that it’s better to marry than to fall into sin, I proposed and she accepted—for all of three weeks. She decided she wanted a little more fun out of life before settling down with one man. I was devastated. That is, until I gave all my heartache and guilt to God, finally releasing my hold on them and telling the Lord to have His own way—and He did. His way was and always will be better than my own.

The song concluded, and the pastor prayed a benediction over the congregation. People spilled into the aisle, causing major congestion. Instead of fighting the crowd, I sat back down on the hard wooden bench and waited until the flow of traffic started to move. The second my spine touched the backrest, Lisa leaned over Sam once more. Why didn’t she switch seats with him instead of craning around his tall, thin frame? Maybe it had something to do with her hand and forearm resting on his thigh as she bent over to close the distance between us. Sam didn’t look at all upset about his personal space being invaded.

“So what was with the scowl?” The police department should’ve put her on salary as an interrogator.       

The closing song, the one part of the service to which I’d actually paid attention
,
had managed to carry away the foul temper that had clung to me all morning. The lyrics
have thine own way, Lord
had reminded me that God did have a plan for people’s lives. Just as He had a plan for my life two years ago. Just as He had a plan for Becky’s life now.

As I was singing those words, it was as if I had put Becky back in God’s hands. I didn’t know when or why or how I had taken her out of His hands, but my preoccupation with the situation clearly showed I was trying to figure it out on my own. Which was absurd, since I’d never met her, and it wasn’t any of my business to begin with. But I kept feeling drawn—no, pulled—back. But no more. God would have His own way.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.” And it truly didn’t.

“Tell me. I want to know.”

She wasn’t going to let it drop. I looked at Sam. “Is she always this nosey?”

“Always,” he said with a grin.

“I had a bad dream last night that I couldn’t shake. That’s all.”

“What about?”

Man, was she persistent. “Your friend, actually.”

“Oh?” If possible, she looked even more intrigued.

Sighing, I told her my dream. “Your friend was kneeling in front of a grave—her grandfather’s, I assumed—when a man storms into the cemetery and demands to know why she’s there. Before she can say a word, he starts to beat her and doesn’t stop until she can’t move.”

“Really.”

The way she said it didn’t sound like a question at all. I expected her to be a bit stunned that I’d had such a violent dream about her friend, but she didn’t seem surprised. If anything, I was the one surprised. Surprised at the gleam that shone from her eyes and the cat-that-got-the-canary look that had taken over her entire face.

That look was never good for anyone. Especially the person on the receiving end.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked with suspicion.

“Like what?” She tried to mask her face in innocence, but her eyes shone with untold secrets.

Sam sat beside me, trying with all his might to hold back his laughter. Although no sound made it past his lips, his shoulders shook with his contained mirth.

“Okay, what’s so funny? What aren’t you guys telling me?” My wariness was rapidly turning to dread in the pit of my stomach.

Swallowing back his amusement, Sam clasped me on the shoulder and tried to look serious. He was failing, however, because his eyes still danced in merriment.

“You’re the one,” he pronounced as if that would clear everything up. Of course it didn’t.

“The one what?” I tried not to sound as exasperated as I was feeling.

“The one Lisa has been looking for.” His last word ended in a snort as he laughed through his nose.

We were starting to garner strange looks from the people milling around in the aisles, but at this point, I didn’t care. Clearly Sam was enjoying himself, cackling like an idiot. I was about ready to wipe that smirk off his face if he didn’t start making some sense

“What do you mean?”      Surely I wasn’t hearing right. Lisa had been looking for a husband for her friend. I couldn’t be that man. These two must have lost their minds.

“You told Lisa that she should ask God for a sign so she could know who He had planned to be Becky’s husband.”

“So…”

I looked to Lisa. Maybe she would make more sense than my addle-brained cousin.

“That was the sign I’d asked for.”

I must have looked completely confused, because she continued.

“You see, so far all the guys I’ve told about Becky either laughed, got all weirded out, or made fun of her. I knew before I even started I’d need a sign from God just like Eliezer did. I know Becky really well, but I don’t want to be responsible for choosing her husband. This way, it’s more like God is the one responsible since He has to show me a sign. Becky may have a list of things she’d want in a man, but the main thing is someone with a heart for God. So I told God that the sign would be for the man who was supposed to marry Becky suggest I ask for a sign. This would show me that he knew the story from the Bible and that he had enough of a personal relationship with God to recommend I seek God’s guidance.”

She looked at me expectantly, as though this was some sort of algebra problem and only I had the right answer. I’d seen that look on Marty’s face a hundred times. But this wasn’t a+b=?

What could I say? I had sympathy for Becky. I felt bad that her grandfather was dying. Truly, I did. But that didn’t mean I was ready to go and marry the woman! It was simply out of the question.

“Sorry”—I shook my head—“but you’ve got the wrong guy.”

11

Luke

HAVE THINE OWN way, Lord. Have thine own way.

The lyrics repeated themselves over and over again like a broken record. Was I letting God have His own way? I’d jumped the gun in a relationship once before without asking what His will was in the matter. But surely His plan didn’t have anything to do with me moving to California to marry a complete stranger. Besides, what about love? Becky might be content with a loveless marriage, but that wasn’t the kind of union I wanted for myself.

Love is a choice. 

My uncle’s words rang in my ears. I didn’t want to admit the accuracy of the statement, but I couldn’t deny it either. The statistics of divorce in this country were staggering. If a couple were in love on their wedding day, then what happened to end their marital bliss? Did they base everything on the flightiness of feelings instead of a lasting commitment to love their partner through thick and thin, richer or poorer, sickness and health?

Have thine own way, Lord.

What’s Your way, Lord? What is it You want me do?

Love thy neighbor as thyself…

I couldn’t have been more taken aback if I’d been hit by a battering ram. I talked to God all the time, but that was the first time I’d heard Him talk back.

I looked up at the sky, my hands stretched out in front of me, palms up in supplication. “What’s that supposed to mean, love my neighbor? If that’s Your answer, then I don’t understand. I need a yes or a no. Am I supposed to go to California and marry that woman? Is that Your plan for my life?”

As if the words of 1 John 4:19 were illuminated in neon lights on a billboard, I saw them clearly—we love because He first loved us
.

Was it really that simple? The reason followers of Christ love Him is because He loved us first. Deep in my heart I knew this was a promise from God as well as His divine direction. He was telling me to go to California. To marry Becky. To love her. And in loving her, she would love me in return.

***

Rebekah

“Stay, Lady,” I commanded, although I’m not sure why I bothered. The way her head rested on Mr. Peddlemyer’s leg, tongue lolled out the side of her mouth, eyes half-closed, I doubted I could have gotten her to move from that spot.

“Stop your worryin’.” Mr. Peddlemyer waved a purple-veined hand at me. “Your dog and I will be just fine, won’t we girl?”

I smiled at the pair before walking through Grandview’s front door, nearly bumping into Rita.

“Hey, Rita. Is Poppy in his room?”

She bit her lower lip and hesitated before answering. “No, he no in his room right now.” She jerked her head to the left. “He in front room.”

My brows came together. What was with her nervous behavior?

The petite CNA scurried away before I had a chance to utter my thanks.

The front room was empty save my grandfather. He sat in the middle of the tufted sofa provided for guests and residents alike. The TV was off, and he held no book in his hands, but he stared straight ahead. Curious, I followed his gaze to the stark white wall.        

“Poppy?”

My voice had no effect on his line of vision, so I stepped directly in front of him.

He didn’t look up.