Stolen (A Prairie Heritage, Book 5) Page 5

  I must also bring before you something puzzling, something I do not yet understand. While we at Palmer House are all grateful that Mei-Xing has come home to us, a certain reticence, a drawing back from Mei-Xing, has fallen upon some of the girls. I notice it most in Tabitha even as she struggles to hide it. I do not understand it and do not like to see it, Lord, for it could very well produce disunity in our home.

  Father, I ask for your wisdom and insight to help me grasp the meaning of this reticence—this drawing back—and how to address it.

  Rose invited Liáng and Bao to dine with them the next evening. Liáng, anxious to see at first hand more of the ministry Rose and Joy had founded, accepted the invitation with alacrity.

  But as they arrived that afternoon, he also cautioned Rose, “Surely everyone living here knows of Bao’s role in Mei-Xing’s life? How will they respond to him?”

  “Ah.” Rose nodded, thinking on the situation. She turned to Bao and offered a sincere smile. “Bao, you did well yesterday with Mei-Xing. It is possible, though, that others living at Palmer House will question why you are here. Perhaps, if the subject arises, you could simply ask for the forgiveness of any who love Mei-Xing and have grieved with her?”

  “I will do so gladly,” Bao returned. The young man’s eyes were not quite so haunted, but Rose could not help being concerned for his health.

  Rose seated Liáng and Bao in deep chairs in the great room to wait until dinner was announced. As the afternoon drew toward dinner time, the young women of the house began returning from their various places of employment.

  Liáng and Bao sprang to their feet in respect and watched as Rose greeted each one with an embrace and a kindly spoken, “How was your day, my dear?”

  The modestly dressed women nodded at Liáng and Bao and chattered together, happy to be home.

  “Oh, Miss Rose! I began reading a new book to my little grandmother,” one girl exclaimed. “It is called The Pilgrim’s Progress. Have you read it? My little lady and I are enthralled.”

  Liáng, who speculated that the girl likely worked as a companion to an elderly woman, listened with interest to the conversations around him.

  “Sara, I received the enrollment materials from nursing school.” A fiery redhead beckoned to a young woman who had come through the door with several others.

  “Oh, Tabs! I cannot believe it—in only two years you will be a real nurse!” the attractive brunette replied.

  Another girl chimed in, “Marit must be making gingerbread for dessert! Do you smell that heavenly aroma?”

  “Aye, ’tis causin’ m’ mouth t’ water!” the dark-haired, black-eyed woman Liáng knew as Breona responded. “Jenny, there’s a good girl, will ye be whippin’ th’ cream for Marit?”

  “Yes, Breona!” Jenny, the reader of The Pilgrim’s Progress, ran off to the kitchen to help the as-yet-unseen Marit.

  A tall, slender woman, her white-blonde hair braided and pinned up stylishly, recognized Liáng. She had only entered the house a moment before.

  “Minister Liáng!” she smiled. Liáng and Bao both bowed.

  “It is good to see you again, Mrs. Michaels,” Liáng smiled in reply. “May I introduce my companion, Bao Shin Xang?”

  Joy hesitated, and it was apparent that she recognized Bao’s name.

  “As you have likely heard, Bao and I met with Miss Li yesterday,” Liáng offered. He turned and nodded to Bao.

  “Yes,” the young man murmured. He did not flinch under Joy’s inspection but his chin dropped toward his chest. “I asked for her forgiveness and she was gracious enough to grant it.” Bao swallowed. “I would also ask forgiveness of you, Mrs. Michaels. My actions have affected you and all who live here. I am sincerely repentant.” Bao’s chin dropped even lower.

  Joy nodded slowly. “I accept your apology and forgive you for Christ’s sake, Mr. Xang.” As he looked up, Joy held out her hand.

  Before Liáng and Bao returned to their hotel for the evening, another visitor called at Palmer House. Rose introduced him to Liáng and Bao.

  “Minister Liáng, Mr. Xang, may I introduce our pastor, Isaac Carmichael?”

  Liáng studied the young preacher even as Carmichael studied them.

  “I came to speak with Miss Li, if she would be willing to see me,” Pastor Carmichael explained to Rose. She nodded and left to ask Mei-Xing, so Carmichael turned back to Liáng. “Tomorrow is Sunday, Mr. Liáng. Will you worship with us?”

  “Yes, with pleasure! I have heard a great deal about your ministry; I would count my visit deficient were I to miss it.” Liáng had heard so many of the girls talk about the church that he was truly curious.

  Mei-Xing came downstairs to the foyer where they stood. She nodded at Liáng and spoke to Pastor Carmichael. “You wished to see me, sir?”

  “Yes. I, um, perhaps we could speak privately for a moment? Perhaps in the parlor?”

  Mei-Xing glanced at the floor, clearly reluctant.

  “Would you feel more comfortable if someone stayed in the room with us?” Pastor Carmichael asked, sensitive to Mei-Xing’s reticence.

  Liáng was surprised when Mei-Xing cut her eyes toward him. Carmichael noticed it also.

  “Do you wish Minister Liáng to remain while we talk?” Liáng appreciated how gentle Carmichael’s tone was.

  Mei-Xing nodded. She led the way into the parlor, seated herself in one of the parlor’s chairs, and glanced toward Liáng. He came and stood just behind the corner of her chair and she looked up at him with gratitude.

  “Miss Li,” Pastor Carmichael began, “I have asked to speak with you because I would like you to know how happy your church family is that you have returned to us. I hope you understand that we know you were taken from this house against your will. What happened while you were being held captive is between you and God. We do not judge you.”

  Mei-Xing fiddled with the fold of her dress. Liáng from where he stood watched her carefully.

  Carmichael continued. “You have been back now for two weeks and we did not see you at service Sunday.”

  Color rose into Mei-Xing’s face.

  “I know you are in a . . . delicate condition, Miss Li, and I know that your condition may generate uncomfortable questions, but I would have you know that you are still welcome at Calvary Temple. We will stand by you, Miss Li.”

  Mei-Xing stared at her hands. “I thank you, Pastor Carmichael, but . . .”

  The silence dragged on for a minute until she added, “I have confessed to God and to Miss Rose and Miss Joy that I am to blame for my . . . condition. Yes, I was taken and held against my will but . . . in a moment of weakness I gave myself to Su-Chong.”

  Pastor Carmichael nodded, his face grave. “I see.” He thought a few moments longer. “But as you said, you have confessed that indiscretion to the Lord? You have sought him earnestly and repented of your acts?”

  “Yes, sir, I have.”

  “And has God forgiven you?”

  “I—yes, sir. He has.”

  “Then are you forgiven?”

  Mei-Xing looked up. “Yes, sir. I believe I am.”

  “If you have truly repented and God has forgiven you, then how should we, your church family, view you?”

  Liáng’s mouth twitched in a small smile. He appreciated the sensitivity with which Carmichael was leading Mei-Xing toward the truth.

  “I—” Mei-Xing glanced a question at Liáng. He bent his head in assurance.

  “I . . . would hope they would forgive me also,” Mei-Xing replied.

  “Yes, they most certainly will. All that remains to be done is for you to show yourself unafraid to worship with us.” Pastor Carmichael smiled at Mei-Xing. “So shall we expect you tomorrow?”

  Mei-Xing swallowed but nodded. Liáng patted her shoulder once, to signal his approval. She looked up to him again. “Will you be there tomorrow?”

  “I will, indeed,” he murmured. “As will your entire Palmer House family, I believe. We will all be with you, Miss Li
.”

  Liáng and Bao were staying at a hotel not far from Palmer House. They arrived back at the house Sunday morning a few minutes before the household set out for church. The guards would come in an automobile to drive Mei-Xing, Joy, and Grant to church; the remainder of the house would walk to service and meet them there.

  While it was not too far to walk, the distance was still significant. The group went two abreast down the sidewalks, and Liáng, near the back of the long line, looked ahead and chuckled. Their lines resembled something like a gaggle of geese with Mrs. Thoresen and Breona setting a brisk pace at the head of the two columns. Mr. Wheatley, Marit, and Billy—with young Will astride Billy’s broad shoulders—were just ahead of Liáng and Bao, who brought up the rear of the lines.

  The young women chattered amicably as they walked, but Liáng now knew that the atmosphere in the house had not always been harmonious.

  Mrs. Thoresen had shared that the first months in the house had been, as she put it, “tumultuous and messy.” She confided, “We were struggling to live together in unity under the same roof with our many human failings. It was a difficult time.” Liáng listened closely and deduced that Rose Thoresen’s firm hand had kept the house from falling into chaos.

  When they arrived where church was held and filed through the doors, Liáng’s mouth parted and he stared. It was like no house of worship he had ever visited! The building was immense—a brick warehouse, high-ceilinged, cavernous, and old. Even as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior light, his head turned this way and that to take in as many details as he could.

  Apparently, the cadre from Palmer House was recognized and expected. Two grinning ushers, dressed in clean but everyday wear, showed them to a block of seats off the middle aisle where Mei-Xing, Joy, and Grant already waited. Four or five to a row, four rows deep, they seated themselves—on every kind of seat Liáng could imagine!

  He and Bao found themselves side-by-side with Mr. Wheatley on a backless wooden bench that could have seen many years of previous service in a school, police station, or even saloon. Palmer House girls sat in the rows ahead of them on mismatched dining chairs.

  Mei-Xing, from a few rows ahead, turned and smiled a tentative welcome to him. He bowed his head and smiled back.

  What Liáng really wanted to do was to stand in the back of the building where he could watch and observe the proceedings from a better advantage. “Bao, please keep my seat. I will return shortly.”

  As he walked toward the back he realized that the cavernous room was filling fast—and more attendees flowed through the street-side doors. He found himself a niche against the back wall where he could watch . . . and be amazed.

  The diversity of the crowd was staggering. White and black. Mexican and Asian. Poor and wealthy. The well-heeled were seated alongside those whose clothes were patched and faded. A Chinese couple, shepherding their three young children, passed near Liáng. He smiled and bowed—and then he began to notice many Chinese in the crowd.

  When the singing commenced Liáng was again surprised. An organist began to play and the congregation to sing, but no one led the singing; neither were there any hymnbooks in evidence.

  But what astounded Liáng and produced a lump in his throat was the passion with which the familiar hymns were sung. Compared to the swell of ardent praise that climbed to the rafters of the warehouse, his own congregation’s worship was bland, even insipid.

  Liáng began to hum along. As he opened his mouth to sing, a longing to touch God—for God to reach down and pull him close—took hold of him. But, he realized, he did not need to pull the Divine down from on high, for as the worship continued, the very presence of God swelled in Liáng’s breast, filling him with awe, reverence, and joy.

  Liáng found himself singing for One and only One. He did not realize he was weeping—he only knew he was experiencing the communion that Jesus promised his followers: Those who worship the Father must worship him in spirit and in truth.

  When Isaac Carmichael strode onto the platform, Liáng’s hunger for more of God was intense. He and the crowd of many hundreds stilled.

  “I wish to speak this morning on the Name of Jesus,” Pastor Carmichael began, his voice echoing to every corner of the warehouse. “The Name of Jesus—the name by which he will save to the uttermost all those who come to him!

  “I say again, the Bible proclaims that the Name of Jesus saves to the uttermost! What is the uttermost? What can the Name of Jesus perform? Let me say that the God of the Bible, the God of all creation, is infinite, all-powerful, and all-knowing. Because God is infinite, all-powerful, and all-knowing, his uttermost knows no bounds, has no limits, and cannot be constrained!

  “We have all fallen short of the glory and standards of God. Each of us has made a great hash of our lives and opportunities. Many of us here this morning are in deep distress—some of us are in terrible, even dire, straits.

  “What do we do when we are in trouble or distress? We call for help! We may call on mother, father, husband, wife, friend, and sometimes strangers. And while they may lend their help or assistance, in our souls we cry out for help that they cannot give, for are they not human even as we are human? Are they not fallible, made of the same flawed humanity as are we?

  “Neither mother, father, husband, wife, friend, nor stranger can save to the uttermost! How can they save us from destruction when they are as weak and helpless to save as we? But here is what our great God tells us:

  For the eyes of the Lord

  run to and fro

  throughout the whole earth,

  to shew himself strong

  in the behalf of them

  whose heart is perfect toward him.

  “God is strong! He is not weak as we are weak! And he is looking, nay, searching, running to and fro throughout the whole earth to show himself strong on behalf of them whose hearts are perfect toward him—those who are seeking him with their entire heart.

  “And this great God, the Father of our Lord Jesus, has given all power in heaven and on earth to his Son, that at the Name of Jesus every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that he is Lord of all—to the glory of his name.

  “He has given all power in heaven and on earth to Jesus that he might save us to the uttermost—that is, save us from any and every situation, redeem us from every guilt and shame, and purchase us from all horrible and debasing experiences!

  “So I say to you this morning—call upon the Name of Jesus, the name that is able to save you to the uttermost.”

  Carmichael paused and was silent a long, potent minute before he asked, “Shall I tell you about the Name of Jesus?” Carmichael began to pace and a great roar of assent followed him.

  As he strode across the platform he cried out, “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus looses the oppressed from every bondage!”

  A shout rose from the congregation.

  “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus heals the brokenhearted of every pain.”

  Amen! and Yes, Lord! they answered him.

  “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus pours soothing oil upon every wound!

  “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus forgives the most unconscionable sinner of every sin!”

  Praise and sobs rolled across the hall.

  “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus sets the captive free of every chain!

  “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus remakes the ashes of every life into his glorious image.

  “The Name of Jesus and only the Name of Jesus, will mend the willing husband and wife whose marriage has gone badly wrong.”

  Liáng closed his eyes as his spirit called a great Yes, amen! to each of Carmichael’s utterances.

  Then Carmichael stepped to the center of the platform and near its edge. His voice softened and the congregation leaned toward him so as not to miss him say, “By the Name of Jesus and only by the Name of Jesus are we reborn, shed of our past, ushered into the Kingdom of G
od, made right before God, and promised eternal life.

  “Come,” he said quietly. “Come to the altar and confess your sins to the Lamb who takes them away. Come. Come to the altar and bow your knee before the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

  “Come to the altar and surrender your poor, sinful lives for robes of righteousness. Come to the altar and receive forgiveness of sin and help in time of need. Come and call upon the most precious name of all—the Name of Jesus! Come.”

  He bowed his head and waited. A great, soft sigh floated over the crowd and a restless shuffling and shifting grew. Liáng’s head snapped up—across the expanse of the warehouse many men and women left their seats and pressed toward the aisles—center, right, and left.

  Some wept. Some ran. Some staggered. Others dropped to their knees before they could reach the altars, confessing their sins where they were and calling out to Jesus for forgiveness. At the same time a great babble of prayer and thanksgiving ascended from the congregation.

  Thunderstruck, Liáng watched as a hundred—perhaps two hundred!—souls reached the altars calling on the Name of Jesus. Rich and poor knelt together. Liáng was shaken to his core by the might, the raw, untainted power, of the Gospel.

  Lord! his heart wept. What am I to do? How shallow is my life and ministry when compared to this!

  Pastor Carmichael stepped off the platform and began praying with those who had come. Other believers discreetly came forward to pray with those at the altar, and Liáng realized that Rose, Joy, and Breona were among those ministering to the women.

  And then he saw . . . Bao kneeling and weeping before the Lord. Carmichael had placed a gentle hand on Bao’s shoulder and was praying for him.

  The organ’s tune was so soft that Liáng did not notice it until whispered voices took up the melody it played. In the quiet of the holy moment, the congregation sang a hymn that, while unfamiliar to Liáng, spoke to his spirit.

  At the cross of Jesus bowing,

  Here I find a safe retreat