Chapter 3, To Forgive or Not. A Good Gathering: A Tale of a Life-giving Community in a Post-Apocalyptic World
Written by Darrell Muth and Friends
photo credit https://www.unco.edu/news/articles/csmonitor-ruraledcenter.aspx
I once led a Christian Community. We were unconventional. Trying things often not understood by the greater church. We believed that the right question was more important than the right answer. Consequently, we asked a lot of questions. A question is a forerunner of a conversation. We liked conversations. Inviting questions and conversation after a sermon.
One does get tired of sermonizing, so in the summers, we would write and tell stories—stories that, yes, asked questions and invited conversation. “A Good Gathering: A Tale of a Life-giving Community in a Post-Apocalyptic World was one of our stories. And if you are wondering, it was written well before the COVID-19 pandemic.
It’s a short story, just four chapters and under 10,000 words. I’ll post a chapter a week.
To Forgive or Not
There is nothing like a holiday. Eve delayed rousing herself from that happy memory. Every summer, her family went on vacation. Packing the car, the night before and rising early, she loved leaving. As her father sang lighthearted love songs to her mother, Eve watched the city skyline. The wobbling heat waves before melting into the haze. Ah, freedom and adventure.
“More water!” the Orph’s thirsty shout from the back of the bus pulled Eve to the present. Eve shifted her eyes from a diminishing city skyline to a farm landscape. She calculated when she had last been out of the city. Before 48 brought its death.
The fields were overgrown. “Gone to seed” is what her grandfather would have said, and now she understood how the saying came to be. Tiny patches of cultivated earth in an ocean of over-grown grain revealed a lingering post-48 life.
Hours of travel allowed the small group to get to know each other better. Not surprised at their differences. Conflict was unavoidable.
The rescued Orph was bad; ornery is how Ray put it. She rarely spoke; instead, she sat at the back of the bus, pressed into a corner. Arms wrapped around bony knees upon which rested her chin. With her name wheedled out by Faith, at least the group knew what to call her. None believed that Bur, B-U-R was her given name, yet it was something to which she responded. Already, Paxton was losing patience with the grouchy little thing. Rolling his eyes at her loud alto demands for “More water.”
Faith became the default negotiator between Bur and the rest. She sat as close as the Orph allowed, keeping up a soothing one-way chatter with the girl. The one positive response came as Faith described their destination. It seems even Bur agreed with living in Utopia on the West Coast.
“We need to find some fuel,” Paxton announced. There were towns and service stations at regular intervals along the highway. It had been Ray’s idea to travel on secondary roads rather than the expressway for this very reason. The challenge was not just to travel as far as possible without running out of fuel. The worry was finding a service station that would serve them. Fuel, a non-renewable resource, was precious because new oil was no longer available. Service station owners shooed and threatened the bus with dogs, guns, and signs.
Anther town was coming up on their left. The service station looked optimistic because at least it didn’t have a “keep away” sign. The sound of the bus jerked up the head of the owner inside the windowed barred door. He rubbed his eyes and reached down, coming up with a rifle as he unlatched the door and walked out.
“We need fuel.” Eve was standing on the bottom step of the bus. Ray, behind her, was scanning for dogs or others.
“Don’t everybody.”
“We can pay.”
“What you got?” “Medical supplies.”
The gun lowered, “Penicillin?”
“Yes.”
From behind the barred glass, another form showed a thin, younger woman holding an infant. She drew the man to her and whispered something. With a friendlier wave of the gun, he invited them off the bus.
The infant was sick, sickly. Eve gave it a needle from their cache. News that a doctor was in town brought everyone out. A vacant coffee shop became an examination room. The following hours were spent dispensing advice and medicine. Angus, restraining his infatuation for Eve, was promoted from hospital orderly to nurse.
Ray rigged a passive water purifier with material from the garage. Then, he showed a few of the men how to maintain it. Paxton smiled, “Army, you continue to surprise me.” Midway through Eve’s doctoring Ray and Paxton called her out to talk.
Paxton, framing the question with care, asked, “Can we afford to do this?” We have a long way to go. Can we do this each time we stop?
“I don’t know,” Eve looked down, “I don’t know how to say no. At the hospital, it was straightforward to practice triage. But here, look at them?”
“I understand how it feels, being left out, I do.” Ray’s eyes were glassy, “but Paxton has a point. How can we keep this up?”
“See, even Army agrees, Eve. Let's finish up here and talk more once we’re on our way.”
The town insisted on feeding them, filling them with vegetables, berries, and bread. At considerable sacrifice, a couple of road-hardened chickens were butchered. The birds were tough and stringy, pretty much like the life of these folks. Then gift blankets and a can of oil for the bus. It was time to go. They needed to put more miles on before dark.
“Could you deliver this?” the young man was holding a small box marked with a name and a town. Others lined up behind him with envelopes and packages. Ray looked at the line before him, brushed his brow with the back of his hand and glanced at Eve. Reading the name on the box, Ray looked at the young man, “We may not even stop in this town.” Sweeping his hand towards the line-up, he added, “or those towns.”
“It’s ok,” the line-up nodded to the young man’s reply. “You’re the best chance I have of sending word to my folks.... that I’m ok. And if you don’t well, well, you’ve given me hope.”
It was bright with blue skies, sunny and not so sad. The bus was cruising as Angus played intricate riffs on his guitar. His voice, clear as the sky and precious as dark coffee, had everyone smiling and humming.
“Angus,” Eve teased, “what a voice, I could fall for you.” Everyone laughed, and Angus missed a note.
“What smells?” Brian answered Faith, “It’s a cigarette.” Turning to the back, they saw a huddling, smirking, smoking Bur. Paxton shouted back, “No smoking on the bus, Bur. Put it out.” She swore, “Where did you get the cigarette?” Eve was standing with a too-hard grip on the seat rails.” “Back there.” “Who gave them to you? How did you pay for them?” “I traded.” “With what?” “Aspirin.” “Our aspirin, you took our aspirin?” “It was either give them some of me or give them some of this.” She was pointing to the boxes.
When Ray gripped her by the arm, Eve was almost to Bur’s seat, “Be careful, Eve; she’s a kid.” Eve pulled free and shifted a surprised Bur to the middle of the seat, revealing a cache of cigarettes. “How much did you give away?” They parked. Faith coaxed Bur away from the supplies. The others clustered at the front near Paxton.
“We may need to leave her in the next town.” Paxton didn’t say this with malice so much as with a sad acknowledgment. She was too expensive to have around. He had calculated that Bur’s cigarettes cost at least a tank of fuel. A couple more purchases like that could jeopardize their dream.
“No, we can’t do that. We committed to Bur. Whether we knew it or not. She’ll never make it alone out here. I know she doesn’t deserve another chance, but she needs it.” Ray was pulling the words from a dark and painful place. “We’ll watch over her; we’ll be responsible for her.” Brian and Faith said this in unison. Bur swore again and spit. Paxton couldn’t help himself; “No spitting or swearing on the Bus, Burr.” “Ok, she’s yours, guys.” Eve continued, “But don’t think your prayers will do it.” “We’ll see,” smiled Faith.
Eve glanced at the jar of bluebells on the dash, wilting but not dead. “Angus, sing us a song; Paxton, let’s head west.”
Christ said this:
The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now, what do you say?” They were using this question as a trap, to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 8:3-7 NIV
The Apostle Paul’s response to a person's problem:
I am not overstating it when I say that the man who caused all the trouble hurt your entire church more than he hurt me. He was punished enough when most of you were united in your judgment against him. Now it is time to forgive him and comfort him. Otherwise, he may become so discouraged that he won’t be able to recover. Now show him that you still love him (2 Corinthians 9:5-8 NLT).
How have experiences of forgiveness or un-forgiveness in the church influenced you to stay or leave the community you were part of?