Free The Other Side of Darkness by Melody Carlson

doing, or rather
not
doing. I hope that being in church tonight will remind Matthew of what’s really important.
    He sits hunched over like a sack of potatoes as some announcements are made from the pulpit, including the reminder that women’s Bible studies start up again next week. Then when it’s time to stand and worship, my son just sits there like a lump. Even when I nudge his shoulder and give him another warning look, he refuses to stand with the rest of us. This is truly alarming. I’ve never seen Matthew act like this before, and I’m worried that he could draw the attention of Pastor Glenn. I can’t imagine how humiliating it would be to have my own son publicly rebuked in front of God and everyone. And just when I’ve agreed to be Cynthia’s prayer partner.
Dear Lord, forgive me, I wish I’d let Matthew stay home tonight!
    I nervously glance around the room, trying to see if anyone is looking our way, and I’m surprised to notice that the congregation is much smaller than usual tonight. I can’t help but notice large sections of empty seats throughout the church. And it occurs to me that they were just as empty this past summer, but as usual that was attributed to families being off on vacation. But here it is early October, and numbers still seem to be severely down. Well, it’s a goodthing we’re having this outreach ministry to the community this month. Pastor Glenn is absolutely right; we are in dire need of some fresh faces around here!
    I don’t see Colleen and her husband here tonight. Come to think of it, I can’t remember seeing them at midweek services much lately. I hope their problems aren’t too serious. I suspect it has to do with their marriage, and I’m aware that they’ve had their ups and downs over the years, but for the most part they seem fairly compatible. And the twins are only seven. What a difficult age that would be for their parents’ marriage to fall apart. I’ll have to remember to diligently pray for them. Maybe I should give Colleen a call. Not to gossip, of course, but to encourage her. I can invite her to Cynthia’s Bible study.
    As everyone sits down, my attention is drawn back to the pulpit. It’s that part of the service, between the worship time and the message, when Pastor Glenn often gives a word of knowledge. And occasionally Cynthia or Carl will go forward and give one as well. This seems to be the case tonight as Pastor Glenn gives her a somber nod and steps away from the podium. I watch Cynthia’s squared shoulders, her long dark braid streaked with gray trailing down her straight back as she walks up the steps to the podium. Then she turns around, and closing her eyes, she lifts her head and raises her hands and begins to speak in a dramatic tone. Cynthia isn’t a beautiful woman, not by anyone’s standards, but when she speaks like this, with the kind of authority that comes from the Lord, she takes on an almost regal appearance that always captures my attention.
    “ ‘I am gathering my children,’ says the Lord, ‘gathering my faithful ones,’ ” she begins. “ ‘I am separating the sheep from the goats, the believers from the doubters, so that I might be lifted up and glorified. Search your spirits, my children; dig out the roots ofrebellion, secretly buried in your hearts by the deceptive seeds of sin. Purge yourselves with my fire. Burn away your evil with holy flames!’ ” She opens her eyes and points down at the center of the congregation, and I’m afraid she’s pointing at me or perhaps even Matthew. I actually hold my breath, waiting with trembling knees.
    “Shauna Banks,” she says in a stern voice, and I slowly exhale. “The Lord has shown me your heart. His Spirit has revealed to me your spirit.”
    The sanctuary grows silent as a tomb, and from the corner of my eye, I glance at Shauna, just a few seats to my right. And while I feel sorry for this young mother, a woman Colleen has mentored, I am vastly relieved that