Faith Wish by James Bennett Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t know anything at all about gifts of the Spirit.” Now the conversation was in thoroughly uncharted territory, but something about him gave her the courage to voice these untested notions.
    â€œThe gifts come when we don’t seek them. That’s why they are gifts—they come from God’s grace.” He stopped speaking long enough to drink water from a quart jar. Sweat ran in rivulets down the surface of his lean torso.
    Anne-Marie watched him with fascination. He was a blend of sublime spirit and earthy, physical strength. It was the unlikely combination that captivated her. How old is he ? she wondered. Maybe thirty-something , she guessed.
    When he drank with his head turned, she tried to pull her long hair back. Doing so, though, and glancing down to watch her blouse sliding up to expose a generous amount of her midriff, she became self-conscious about the silver hoop piercing the fold of her navel. Would he think it was pagan or idolatrous? Would he think it childish ? Quickly, she pushed her top back down. She asked him why he was doing this mechanic’s work.
    â€œOur crusade is only here for a few weeks,” he answered. “It can’t hurt me to do a little nuts and bolts for the good of the facility.”
    â€œI thought all of this belonged to the forest preserve.”
    â€œYou’re right, but the campground association has a lease agreement. Taking care of the grounds is part of the agreement, I believe.”
    â€œBut what does it have to do with the crusade?”
    â€œIt has everything to do with the crusade. The Lord blesses all our efforts when they are sincere.”
    Anne-Marie stared at his well-formed right arm, the one holding the water jar. The sweat seemed to highlight the definition of his muscles. Brother Jackson continued by saying, “Working in the Lord’s vineyards might just as well take us into every nook and cranny where there is honorable labor. Even if it be slopping hogs or chopping weeds. Many of the disciples were simple fishermen, or have I forgotten my Bible?” Now he was laughing.
    Anne-Marie knew she couldn’t keep up. Not with his knowledge, nor even with her own feelings. Resting in the small patch of black chest hair, just above his sternum, was a small silver cross attached to a slender rawhide strand. She cleared her throat before she said, “The church my parents go to is suits and ties only.”
    â€œThe church your parents go to?”
    â€œWell, I used to go there, too. They’d be a lot happier if I still did.”
    â€œThe Bible says the Lord loves a glad heart. He who serves with a glad heart. It doesn’t say anything much about suits and ties or fingernail polish.”
    â€œThat’s what I believe,” she was quick to agree. “People are too hung up on what they can see on the surface.”
    Brother Jackson was using a gray shop rag to clean the grease from around his fingernails. “Sister,” he said, “how ’bout if I show you around?”
    â€œSure, why not.”
    There wasn’t much to show. There was an old greenhouse with too many broken windows and a large shop which was home to lawn tractors and air compressors. On the back side of the shop was his room.
    â€œThis is where you stay?” she asked him.
    â€œThis is home, Sister. For the past few weeks, this is where I’ve been hanging my hat.”
    Anne-Marie doubted if he ever wore a hat, except maybe a baseball cap. “For how many weeks?”
    â€œI’ve been here four,” Brother Jackson answered. “Friday is my last day.”
    â€œWon’t it make you sad to leave?”
    â€œThe beauty of serving the Lord is that He makes the schedule and all we have to do is follow.” He was smiling.
    â€œWhere are you going from here?”
    â€œI’m off to a crusade in Indiana for a while. I’ll be taking a tour in the Hoosier state.”
    Anne-Marie