Cherished - By Kim Cash Tate Page 0,10
come, or my backache will have been for nothing.” He raised his fist.
She blinked back tears. “What?”
“Fist bump.”
“Fist bump?”
“You know the rallying cry. Let’s do this!”
Kelli stared at it, then raised her own, a weak one, and tapped his fist with it.
BRIAN ENTERED THE MAIN BUILDING OF LIVING WORD for his first Sunday of worship. For the past four weeks he’d met with Dr. Lyles on Tuesday mornings. Without planning to, he’d poured out so much of his heart on his first visit that the pastor invited him to return the following week. Now it was a standing appointment.
He had no doubt that this would be his new church home, although out-of-town concerts had prevented him from getting here the past month. But it was hard to break it to his grandmother. To her, church wasn’t church unless it was held in that one building she’d been going to for fifty years. Over oatmeal this morning he said, “Grandma, come visit Living Word with me this one Sunday.”
“Boy,” she said, “only way I’m leaving Christ Temple is if they carry me out in a box.”
The common areas were already filled with people when he arrived, and Brian was struck by many things—the multi-ethnic nature of the crowd, the young age, and the mostly casual dress. The church he’d grown up in was predominantly black, average age fifty, and you’d better be wearing a suit or a dressy dress and a hat. But the church he’d attended in college was more like this, so it was easy to feel at home in his khaki slacks and shirt.
He walked past several pockets of people, some drinking coffee in the café area, and went straight to the sanctuary where an usher handed him a program. Down a far right aisle, he chose a pew about halfway up and sat on the end. There were still fifteen minutes to go before the start of service, so he settled in and opened up his Bible.
KELLI HAD MIXED EMOTIONS AS SHE ENTERED LIVING Word. Coming here for weddings was one thing, but now she felt strange, like an outsider with a sign taped to her back that read Prodigal Daughter. None of these people knew her—or that she hadn’t been to church in seven years. But that’s how she felt as she walked past them—that they were all watching, that they all knew her story.
Still, it felt good to be here with her family—special bonus running into Stephanie and Lindell in the parking lot. And it felt good to finally feel her feet turning back to the path where she knew they belonged.
She followed the others through the fellowship areas, stopping every few feet as they greeted people. Cyd and Stephanie had grown up in this church, and it had become home for Cedric and Lindell as well. They seemed to know everybody.
Inside the sanctuary, Kelli learned, the whole crew sat together in the same place, week after week—left of center, fourth pew from the front. Dana, Scott, and Phyllis were already there and moved down for the rest of them.
Kelli whispered to Stephanie, “Where’s Phyllis’s husband?”
“Oh, Hayes doesn’t come.”
She wondered why. Had he never gone to church? Or had something happened in his life that caused him to turn away, as with her?
The praise and worship team assembled on the platform. Kelli stood with the rest of the congregation, waiting for what had always been her favorite part of the service.
“We want to welcome you to Living Word this morning,” the worship leader said as the band started playing some opening notes. “Some of you may be here each and every week. Others may not have been to a service in years. We want you to know it doesn’t matter. God’s arms are opened wide. Won’t you run to Him? Run to His throne of grace.”
Stephanie leaned over to Kelli. “Wonder what’s up with Logan this morning. He normally just starts singing.”
Kelli wondered if his welcome could be meant for her. But that would be too weird.
The band shifted to the first song, and the beautiful arrangement captured her instantly. When she realized it was “Come, Thou Fount,” her eyes closed, and the entire congregation disappeared. The opening words to the hymn always moved her, but never more than now.
Come, thou fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise . . .
Grace. Mercy. In her mind’s eye, she saw a throne lifted high, her