Chapter 4: The Remnant, A Good Gathering: A Tale of 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, Five chapters ( yup Five not Four) and under 10,000 words. I’ll post a chapter a week.
Chapter Three: To Forgive or Not
The Remnant
Snow piled on the bus's roof as it rested on the side of the road. It was a discouraging fact of life. Fluffy snowflakes landed on a large company of coniferous trees. Giving each tree a new white coat to wear for the winter.
Earlier, the engine quit as the group was entering the mountains on their west journey. Paxton maneuvered the bus off to the side of the road in front of a vast boreal forest. They went back and forth for a few days, discussing what to do with the bus. Some wanted to return to the last town they had driven past. Hoping to find supplies to fix it. Others believed vehicles would pass alongside the road and stop to lend a helping hand. After a week of waiting, it was clear that something must be done. Eve refereed between Pratt, a late joiner to the Yellow Bus, and Paxton. She was using all her diplomatic skills to keep the peace.
“Give me some medical supplies, and I’ll find you some parts. I know how to sell and make things happen.” Pratt pointed his finger at Paxton, who shook his head—arguing back. “We can’t take that kind of risk; we should wait together until someone comes by. At least here we have some shelter.” Paxton won the argument. He and Ray worked with the others on the bus to create temporary shelters.
Paxton was only half correct. People did come down the road, but not with tools to help. They came because they wanted to stay near other people. They wanted to be near a doctor. They wanted to be around people who would not take advantage of them.
The yellow bus community began to grow. These new arrivals brought other skills, supplies and tools. Together, they built structures that would shelter more people. They still hoped someone would come along to repair the bus. Then, they could take people west a busload at a time.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. The group found themselves in the middle of a cold winter. They would have to stay here and wait it out.
Everyone was out of their element. Eve had hoped to practice medicine in the redemptive community rumoured to be out west. Instead, she lived on the side of the road in a snowy forest. Taking shelter under tents and makeshift homes. Eating whatever food became available. Ray was learning to cope with his PTSD and was soon able to hunt. He provided food for the entire group.
Each person in the community, except for Burr, found a way to contribute. They all did what they could to stay active. Hoping someone would come to help them on their way.
At night, they would do what they could to stay entertained. Angus played his guitar, singing by the fire they would build every night. Bringing joy as they coped.
Faith felt lost and hopeless. Before 48, she was taking an education degree. She and Paxton were brought up in a Christian home. Their mother stayed at home, they had a great father and lived in a lovely house in the suburbs. They attended school in the public school system and played community sports. On Sundays, they attended church and joined a youth group. What made their life unusual was that their father was a musician.
Not any musician, but Daniel T. Stone, a famous Christian artist. An offspring of the Jesus People, who sounded like the Boss. A fact lost on them as children. They only knew him as Dad, a goofy guy who told the same jokes repeatedly. He would play songs and read to her from the pink-coloured “Bible for Little Eyes” children's Bible. Things changed the day Faith’s friend Clara found a cupboard full of old vinyl records and cassette tapes. “Check it out, Faith; it’s your dad!” She said, laughing. Faith looked in horror to see her father on the cover of an album called “Faith and Friends.” He wore purple spandex, a black and white checkered shirt, and a permed mullet. Showing it to her dad after church. He laughed, “Where did you find that?”
She felt better that her dad could laugh at himself. Then it wasn’t so bad her friends did too. But no old tour T-shirts for Daniel T. Stone. When he wasn’t performing, he was just Dad, which meant all his pictures dated him. Each album cover became funny five years after its release.
Faith and Paxton’s parents did their best to treat their children like others. However, others were not always willing to let the kids have their space. Each new youth pastor would try to convince them to join the worship team. Assuming their father’s talent passed to them. Truth was, Faith wasn't interested in music. Paxton struggled to be the son of “Daniel T. Stone.” He bore a striking resemblance to his father and grew a beard to help disguise that.
Payton struggled with the church, even at a young age. He loved his father. He did not love his music. In truth, Paxton didn’t like the church or its music. Once, he made the mistake of showing up at church wearing a t-shirt of his favourite grunge band. An older man pulled him aside in the parking lot. Scolding him for “not dressing appropriately” and “listening to music that did not glorify the Lord.” His father ran to Paxton’s defence. Standing between him and the elder, he responded with words that Paxton would never forget—the words of a father protecting his son. “You stay away from my son. If I wanted parenting advice, I wouldn’t ask you.” The angry man stormed away in a huff, muttering about the evils of rock and roll.
When the man was gone, his dad threw an arm around his shoulder. “If he thought the stuff you listened to was evil, I hope he doesn’t play my stuff. It might put him in an early grave! Maybe I should do a grunge album!” To which Paxton rolled his eyes.
While Paxton was grateful for his father, he was done with the Christian community. After graduating from high school, he kept close to his family. But not with the church. Faith never struggled the way Paxton had. She was happy to attend to be part of the congregation.
After high school, she enrolled in an education program at a Christian university. During summer break, she worked as a stage manager for her father. Paxton drove the bus. Her Dad continued to produce albums. Touring and performing. The concerts were fun. Her father had a talent for connecting with audiences. Throughout the concert, people would shout, “Faith and Friends! Play Faith and Friends!” Of course, the last song of the evening would be her father playing the song that made him famous, “Faith and Friends.”
These concerts also included some awkward moments that made Faith smile. 14-year-old girls would shout. “We love you, Daniel!” To which he obligated, “Yes, I love you too.”
He held Bible studies for the crew on Sundays if they were travelling. “You don’t need a building to have a church,” her father would say. You need Jesus, some faith, and some friends. You’ll always have those three no matter where you go.”
In her sophomore year, Faith met her husband, Brian. That summer, Brian played bass on a tour with her father. Her father loved Brian and took every opportunity to keep him close to his daughter. What he liked about Brian was that he had a simple and authentic faith.
People tried to get his approval on tour by praying a few extra decibels louder. Or volunteering to say grace and then preaching a sermon before allowing people to eat. Brian was different. He had a quiet presence, loved God, and enjoyed playing bass. Faith’s father knew this was the man for her.
The following summer, she asked her father if he would play a song at their wedding. Before he sang, he pulled out a pink book. Her “Bible for little eyes,” and he told everyone the story of the first time she recited the 23rd Psalm. And how he loved to hear this 5-year-old daughter quote scripture. He presented her with her original children’s bible when the night was done. Inside was a note. “Congrats on this special day. My baby girl is all grown up, and I’m so proud of you. Love Dad.”
The 48-crisis hit hard. The church that Faith, Brian, and her parents attended went from 3000 to 150 in two weeks. Two weeks later, only Faith and her family were left. Paxton survived taking on small jobs with the school bus. He would return home weekly to check on them and share his earned supplies.
The worst day of Faith’s life was the day that her mother and father contracted 48. The last of their time together was spent talking and comforting one another. Her mother passed away first. They knew her father; the Christian music icon was only an hour away. Nauseated, he lay in the living room with Faith and Brian.
What are we going to do? We’re losing everything. No one’s left in the church. It’s Brian and me,” she said through tears. “Why isn’t God answering our prayers?” she said, feeling betrayed.
“Don’t worry. You don’t need a church building to serve God. You need Jesus, faith, and friends. When I was younger, we used to have a saying, "There’s always a remnant." God won’t allow this tragedy to overcome the church. You’ll find others out there that want to serve him.” His dying words were, “You’re still my baby girl, and I’m so proud of you.”
Later, a call from Paxton on the two-way radio. He told them they needed to grab what they could and go to the hospital. He was leaving, and he wanted to bring them along. Brian and Faith had only moments to grab essential items. One of the things that Faith took was her “Bible for children’s eyes.” She didn’t want to leave that behind.
Four months later, huddled over a fire, leaning against her husband’s shoulder, she grieved the loss of her family and her church community. It had been months since she had heard a sermon or had anyone share a Bible study. Brian felt the same spiritual disorientation and wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Paxton brought over two cups of stew and sat beside them. Instinctively, Brian and Faith bowed to say grace. “Dear heavenly Father, thank you for today and that we still have each other. We ask that you bless this food to nourish our bodies and bless the hands that prepared it in Jesus' name. Amen”.
It had been long since Paxton had watched someone say grace. It touched him. Seeing them pray together was comforting. He felt a sense of continuity. That all was not lost.
“Faith, do you still have your children's Bible? Could we read it a bit?” he asked. Faith smiled. “I do.” She followed a trail in the snow to the makeshift neighbourhood. She stepped underneath the wood ceiling of their shelter and picked up her bag. Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t there. Panicking, she searched the shelter. It was gone.
Faith asked around to see if anyone had seen her Bible. They pointed to Burr. Kneeling on the ground, Burr was starting a small fire, blowing on a low flickering light and feeding it kindling. She sighed; the Bible was beside Burr's boot. Was Burr, reading it?
Relief turned to horror. Burr was pulling pages from the Bible. Feeding them to the fire. Looking at her with a smirk, “I hope you didn’t mind; I mean, it’s just a stupid book.”
Faith grabbed the book, turned, and ran. One of the last memories of her father and life pre-48 was gone. She held it together for 20 steps before the tears began. Brian pulled her close. Should they speak to Eve? Should they kick Burr out?
“Can we sit and have church? The three of us?” murmured Eve. “I-I could read a passage of scripture,” Brian replied, looking at his wife and brother-in-law apologetically. They waited in uncomfortable silence. Paxton said, “I’d like that.” And they remembered, “You need Jesus, some faith, and some friends. You’ll always have those three no matter where you go.”
Faith lifted her tattered “Bible for Little Eyes, " turning to a passage of scripture she had memorized as a young girl. Of all the pages missing, this one remained, and it made her smile: The 23rd Psalm: The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. 19 Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, [a] baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. 20 Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:18-21
What are the essential parts of the Church?
In times of crisis, what do you and I need from other followers of Christ?
What’s the measure of a Good Gathering?