Free A Step of Faith by Richard Paul Evans Page A

said wryly. “Come in, come in.” He stepped back from the door and motioned me inside. “You can set your pack there on the floor. Can I get you a hot tea and some banana nut bread? One of our congregation brought some over this afternoon.”
    “Really, I don’t want to be a burden.”
    “What burden?” he said. “I was just about to make myself a cup of tea. I would enjoy the company.”
    “I would love some,” I said.
    He led me down a long, dark hall to a small, boxy kitchen with a glass-topped table for four. “Have a seat. I’ve got a fruits-of-the-forest blend herbal tea that’s quite nice. And there’s no caffeine to keep you up.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    He turned a flame on beneath the kettle, then dropped four slices of banana nut bread into the toaster. He joined me at the table, putting out his hand. “I’m Pastor Tim.”
    “Alan Christoffersen,” I said.
    “Pleased to know you, Brother Christoffersen. Good name you have there.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Christ-offers-son. Not theologically correct, Isuppose, but close enough. Could be ‘God offers Son,’ or ‘Christ, the offered Son,’ but any name with Christ in it is a blessing.” The toast popped up. “Would you like yours with butter?”
    “Yes, please.”
    He buttered the bread and returned to the table. Almost the instant he sat down, the kettle began whistling and he popped back up. He poured the steaming water into a teacup. “Honey or sugar?”
    “Honey,” I said.
    He brought the tea and honey over to the table. “Be careful, it’s a bit hot.”
    I squeezed some honey into the cup, then tried a sip.
    “I can get you some ice if it’s too hot,” he said.
    “It’s fine,” I said. “It tastes good.”
    “Good. Good.” He took a bite of bread. “Sister Balfe makes a mean banana bread loaf.”
    I smiled at his choice of words. I took two Tylenol from my front pocket and took them with my tea.
    “Headache?” he asked.
    I nodded, then took another sip of tea. “Your sign out front says to experience Pentecost. What does that mean?”
    “Are you familiar with the Bible?”
    “Some.”
    “In the New Testament we read that following the resurrection of Christ, the spirit was poured down upon the Apostles during the Feast of Pentecost. The celebration had brought large crowds of people to Jerusalem, and the Apostles were given the gift of tongues and taught the people about Christ in their native languages.
    “The event was prophesied by the prophet Joel, ‘And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons andyour daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.’ In the Pentecostal faith we welcome such gifts.”
    “People really speak in foreign languages?”
    “Yes, they do. The Bible tells us that God’s the same today as He was yesterday. Why would the gifts change?”
    “I guess you don’t hear about them much.”
    “No, you don’t. Gifts of the spirit require faith. People today don’t want the gifts. They don’t want the mystical, they want something they can quantify. They want science. If someone today saw a burning bush like Moses did, they’d douse it with a fire extinguisher.” He smiled. “The gifts of the Spirit are the fruit of the tree of faith. The gift of tongues, healings and miracles are the blessings of faith. We live in an age of unbelief, but I promise you, miracles still abound. Are you going to still be in town on Sunday?”
    I shook my head. “No. Sorry.”
    “Shame. I think you’d enjoy our meeting. If you ever find your way back here, I invite you to join us.”
    “Thank you. I will.” I wasn’t just being polite. His explanation of spiritual gifts made me curious to see them.
    When we’d finished our tea and bread, I retrieved my pack and the pastor took me to a bedroom near the front entrance, a small room painted eggshell white with a simple twin