Keeping Faith: Love Blooms at Bethel, #3

By Deborah Heal

Love Blooms at Bethel (the conclusion)—a sweet romance about truth, faith, and spiritual freedom.

 

All is well at Bethel Church and Pastor Garrett Stone continues leading his congregation toward a fuller understanding of God's grace and love. But then a woman with radical ideas upsets everything, and the two legalistic deacons on the board pressure him to oust her. Garrett fears her ideas will split the church but knows he has an obligation to minister to her—and to all the women of the church.

 

Even pretty, young ones like Megan Richards, who is so shy she's nearly invisible—until Garrett bumps into her and finally sees her for the wonderful woman she is.

 

Despite her father's emotional and spiritual abuse, Megan has faithfully and humbly served the Lord behind the scenes her whole life. But Garrett's preaching and her reading have opened her eyes to new possibilities for women.

 

Garrett is everything good and true. And so when he caves to the legalistic faction at Bethel, her heart breaks. What hope is there for Bethel now? And as for her, she may be a lonely single, but she's not so desperate that she'll marry a man who doesn't stand up for women. 

Then a miracle happens, and love blooms at Bethel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Heal
• Release date: Jul 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393925873

Book preview

Keeping Faith

An Inspirational Romance

Love Blooms at Bethel, book 3

Copyright July 21, 2021 by Deborah Heal

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters are fictional and any resemblance to actual living persons is purely coincidental. Coldwater is inspired by a real town, but the events, businesses, and descriptions described herein are purely fictional. Likewise, Bethel Church is entirely fictional.

Cover by Lisa Vento

Other Novels by Deborah Heal

Available in e-book and paperback, the Love Blooms at Bethel Trilogy:

Holding On (book 1)

Two Hearts Waiting (book 2)

Available in audiobook, e-book, and paperback, the History Mystery Trilogy:

Time and Again (book 1)

Unclaimed Legacy (book 2)

Every Hill and Mountain (book 3)

Available in e-book and paperback, the Rewinding Time Series:

Once Again (book 1)

Only One Way Home (book 2)

How Sweet the Sound (book 3)

A Matter of Time (book 4)

More Than Meets the Eye (book 5)

Come, Lord. Make all things new and give us shalom.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Check out my other book series:

Let’s Keep in Touch

About the Author

Chapter 1

Reverend Garrett Stone donned his sunglasses and got to work washing his breakfast dishes. He had considered closing the kitchen curtains against the sun’s glare, but the parsonage’s Christmas-card perfect backyard was too pretty to cover up. The four or five inches of snow that had fallen during the night was still untrammeled by either man or beast. And everything in sight, including Mr. and Mrs. Gates’s humble trashcans next door, had become snow-crusted works of art, bedazzled by the sun.

The radiant light made even his drab kitchen look appealing. A large family would probably find the circa 1904 parsonage inadequate, and it wouldn’t measure up to modern building codes by a mile. But he loved its quirkiness and attention to detail, especially the elaborately carved moldings throughout and the black and white mosaic tile floors in the kitchen and bathroom.

Unfortunately, the kitchen was painted a depressingly drab shade of green better suited to Jeeps and Humvees. Even more unfortunately, just before his arrival the previous year, someone had the brilliant idea that a wallpaper border of geese parading around the kitchen in blue shirts and tiny red hats would jazz up the place. Although the combination was as ugly as sin, he’d seen it as a well-intentioned attempt to welcome him as their new pastor.

Some of the deacons, as he soon found out, weren’t nearly so amiable. Kurt Haney and Eugene Richards had tested his leadership at every turn. In fact, as he had figured out early on, they had only presented his candidacy to the congregation because as a young, unmarried preacher he came cheap and could be easily controlled—or so they thought. That had led to some skirmishes, but—praise the Lord!—he and the deacons had finally reached something of a détente—mostly.

Whistling a nameless tune, he rinsed his clean plate and set it into the drainer. It was a great day, and, it being Saturday, he had it to himself. Well, except for his membership class at ten o’clock. And maybe a pastoral visit to see Judy Booker who, according to the prayer chain, was still feeling poorly after some undisclosed procedure of a female nature. Other than that he was free to do as he wanted. And what he wanted was to work up a sweat.

So at seven thirty, still wearing his sunglasses, he donned his cheapo Shop-Mart boots and the expensive L.L. Bean coat his mom had given him for Christmas—in moss green to match your eyes—and stepped out onto the snow-covered front stoop armed with a shovel and an eagerness to use it.

The stoop and four steps didn’t take long to clear, and the path to the front sidewalk only a few minutes more. It hadn’t been much of a workout, so he cleared Mrs. Rogers’s porch and sidewalk to the left of the parsonage and the Gates’s on the right. Then, slinging the shovel over his shoulder, he slogged along the path, presently hidden beneath the snow, that the fourteen pastors before him had worn from the back door of the parsonage to the side door of Bethel Church.

He itched to shovel the sidewalk all the way around to the front, but he knew from personal experience that the church trustees tended to get crotchety at any perceived encroachment of their territory. But what if they’d forgotten about the membership class? He weighed the trustees’ possible annoyance against the certain annoyance of the inquirers, who would surely not like walking through snow to get to class, and decided he could probably get away with shoveling at least the porch and front sidewalk.

As he tossed the snow to either side of the walk, he prayed that the Holy Spirit would empower him to teach the four-week class well. That each of the five people who’d signed up for the class would have a good experience. That if they were already believers, they’d understand and subscribe to Bethel’s basic tenets for membership. And that if any of the five weren’t believers, they would accept Christ before the class ended.

When he finished with the walk he was sweating at last. He leaned on his shovel to consider the church’s curb appeal to the potential new members. The square red brick building was squat with a gothic flavor that pointed to its German-born architect. But the sandstone cross imbedded in the façade drew the eye upward to the steeple, giving the church a pleasing height. The overall effect was dignified but welcoming. God willing, the newcomers would feel welcome indeed at Bethel.

***

Matthew Holtz was the first to come walking into the conference room, clothed and in his right mind. Now that caregivers at Green Tree Assisted Living monitored his medications, he was so vastly improved as to be nearly unrecognizable from his former cranky self. Although troubled at times by a failing memory, the old guy still had a sharp brain. He’d agreed, with a little arm-twisting, to sign up for the membership class, and Garrett looked forward to hearing his contributions.

He shook hands with Matthew. I’m glad you could make it. You look nice. Is that new?

Yep. Matthew ran a gnarly hand over the blue sweater straining to cover his bulging middle. Just call me Dapper Dan.

There’s cookies and coffee, if you want them.

Matthew’s bushy white eyebrows rose in skepticism. Homemade?

Would I feed you store-bought? Garrett gently clapped Matthew’s frail shoulder. To be honest, I’d planned to, but then Megan brought her famous peanut butter cookies for the class.

It was just one of the many ways Megan served behind the scenes at Bethel. It seemed like everywhere he looked there she was thoughtfully, silently, caring for others, including him. How Eugene Richards had begotten such a sweet daughter was beyond Garrett’s understanding. Eugene seemed to think that the begetting entitled him to bully his daughter, so it was no mystery why Megan was such a timid mouse.

Well, that’s a sneaky trick, preacher.

Garrett jolted out of his reverie. What is?

Homemade cookies. Don’t think it’s going to make me sign up. I haven’t been a church member in over forty years. You’ll have to do some fancy talking to convince me to join Bethel—no offense.

Garrett grinned. I’ll do my best and let God take care of the rest. 

The others arrived shortly thereafter. Corey and Lauren Tyler were positively giddy with excitement. He smiled to himself. Possibly having an hour or two away from their three little ones was a major contributor.

Monica Craig came in, her perpetual frown replaced by an expression of, if not happiness, at least of a measure of contentment. She actually smiled when Donna Hill asked if little Lucy was still having nightmares about the tornado and how the renovations to their house were coming along. Everyone knew about Monica’s Down syndrome child, but few knew that her husband was currently serving time for fraud at Vandalia Correctional Center. Hopefully, Monica would begin to feel comfortable enough at Bethel to reveal that fact. But for now Garrett was just grateful she had accepted the invitation for the membership class.

Once everyone was settled around the conference table, he began. First off, I want to say there’s absolutely no pressure to join Bethel. If at the end of our classes you want to think about it a little longer—or even if you decide to attend elsewhere—that’s perfectly okay. Secondly, feel free to ask questions or make comments as we go along.

Lauren Tyler laughed. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for, Pastor. She squeezed her husband’s hand. Corey always has a million questions.

Ask away, Corey. And please, call me Garrett.

Monica raised her hand. Sorry to interrupt, but this seems like a good place to ask that you please call me Claire. I prefer it to my first name.

Sure. Thanks for telling us. If I slip up please remind me. After a beat, Garrett held up his Bible. We’ll start with a look at the Fall in Genesis and then have a brief—very brief—survey of the Old Testament.  And then in subsequent classes we’ll—

Claire raised her hand, and he felt a small buzz of happiness that she was already warming up. Go ahead.

I thought the Old Testament no longer applied to us. She grimaced with distaste. All that warfare and violence.

"There is an awful lot of smiting, Reverend, Matthew chimed in, his forehead furrowed with concern. You gotta give her that."

We start in the Old Testament, Garrett said cautiously, because it’s essential for us to see the Bible’s full scope, starting with an understanding of the Fall and the profound effect it’s had on human history. If we don’t get that, we can’t fully appreciate why Christ had to die on the cross.

When Claire remained silent, Garrett opened his Bible. So let’s turn to Genesis, and we’ll—

But Jesus came to preach love and kindness instead of fire and damnation. Claire’s expression turned mulish. I have to say I have little interest in hearing what the God of the Old Testament has to say.

I should point out that Jesus often referenced the Old Testament, which means—

Corey’s hand shot into the air. Christ said he came to fulfill the law not do away with it.

Behind Garrett, someone said, That’s right young man.

Professor Jerald Smyth, Garrett’s pastoral mentor, stood at the door wearing a gray wool overcoat and red earmuffs and smiling approvingly at Corey. Beside him, Ben Newman, another professor from the seminary, looked on with interest. Garrett didn’t know whether to be horrified that his leadership performance would be put under a microscope or relieved that reinforcements had arrived to help him deal with Claire Craig.

Did I forget a mentoring session? Garrett asked, trying desperately to picture his calendar.

Oh, no. Not to worry, my boy, Jerald said, removing the earmuffs from his bald head. Ben and I are on our way to Evansville for a meeting and thought we’d stop by to take you to lunch.

Oh, that’s a relief. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in my office until I’m done here?

Ignoring the suggestion, Jerald strode into the conference room and settled himself into a chair at the head of the table. Shrugging his shoulders apologetically, Ben Newman took a standing position at the back of the room.

Jerald gave Garrett’s class a benevolent smile. What’s going on here, Pastor Stone?

Garrett realized he was sweating. Would he look wimpy if he took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead? It’s our membership class. We were just discussing the importance of the Old Testament.

Do go on.

Garrett chose his words with care. In the Old Testament we learn that God is holy. His judgments against disobedience demonstrate his hatred of sin. But the Old Testament also shows us that God is loving and merciful, too.

Jerald nodded approvingly, while Ben put his hands in his pockets and studied the room and its inhabitants.

Claire, however, crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Well, that Old Testament God didn’t love women. They were essentially considered the property of their fathers and husbands. And then there are all those ridiculous restrictions and rules in the Old Testament.

Jerald’s brows rose at the brash statement. Ben’s eyes crinkled and he coughed into his hand to disguise his amusement with Garrett’s discomfiture.

We need to bear in mind that God’s truth was revealed to his people gradually through the centuries. We can think of his revelation as a flower unfolding.

Claire shook her head. Well, why did it take so many centuries before God got around to unfolding that women shouldn’t be treated as chattel?

The rest of the class looked at Garrett expectantly.

And tell me this, Claire continued, "why did God come up with the idea that women were unclean after they’d had a baby? After all, didn’t he create the method by which women bear children? She directed her eyes toward the other women, Donna first and then Lauren. Did you know that even Mary was unclean after Jesus was born and had to bring a sin offering to be purified before she could be allowed back inside the temple to worship?"

Really? Lauren said.

Really. I could point you to some books on the subject, if you like. I read that women were also unclean every month during their—

"Do not say the P word, Matthew groaned, or I’m out of here,"

Jerald, blushing a little, took mercy on Garrett and responded to Claire’s concern. Perhaps this law was God’s way of protecting women during a time when not much was known about health and hygiene.

Claire snorted. "So you’re actually saying that P blood, she said using air quotes, is somehow toxic—different from venous blood? Science does not support that old theory. But even if it were true, why didn’t God just tell people about health and hygiene while he was giving them all those other rules? And answer me this. Why were women declared unclean for fourteen days after a baby girl was born but only seven days after a baby boy? If that’s not sexist, I don’t know what is."

Jerald’s red-faced expression indicated that he’d very much like to shake some sense into the impertinent woman across the table from him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out, Donna gently patted Claire’s forearm and said, Perhaps we should let Garrett get back to the lesson he planned for us.

Claire’s cheeks reddened and she shot a look Garrett’s way. That’s all. I’m finished. She swiped her hair behind her ears and looked down at the Bible in front of her.

Garrett took a deep breath, let it out, and finally remembered what he’d been about to say before she began unloading onto them. Let’s open to Genesis.

Lauren raised her hand. I hate to say it...

Garrett nodded. Go on.

Well it does seem like God’s a little sexist.

Corey slunk in his chair.  Lauren poked a finger into his upper arm. Well, he did say we could ask anything we wanted. She turned back to Garrett. I mean isn’t it sexist to keep women from being pastors? Or at least being deacons?

Claire looked smug. Exactly. You preach it, sister.

Jerald spoke before Garrett got the chance to. What do you think would happen if women were allowed to be deacons? he said, smiling kindly at Lauren.

Lauren’s forehead creased in confusion. I don’t know.

Claire barked out a laugh. I do. Churches would be more organized.

Jerald crossed his arms over his chest. I’ll tell you what would happen. The men would leave Bethel, or at the very least, stop stepping up to the plate to serve.

Ben ventured a comment from the back of the room. Don’t you think that’s a little insulting to the men, Jerald?

Claire snorted, turning angry eyes to Jerald. So you’re all right if the women get fed up and leave the church, but Heaven help us if the men do?

Donna, who had remained silent throughout, looked expectantly at Garrett as if waiting to hear what he had to say about it.

All that came to mind was how good a Florida vacation sounded. Shoot, he’d settle for a two-week tour of Siberia. When we get to Genesis—

"You mean if we ever get to Genesis," Matthew said, sighing loudly.

I’m there, Donna said, pointing to her open Bible.

Do you mind if I borrow it? When she nodded her approval, Jerald took her Bible and held it aloft. God ordained male leadership at creation. And by the way, that was before the Fall. Which is why if a husband doesn’t take charge, he said, looking pointedly at Corey, it leads to female autonomy. And that, ladies and gentlemen, leads to strife.

Claire shook her head in disgust. At the back of the room, Ben shook his head and muttered softly, Oh boy.

The wife is to be submissive in all areas, Jerald continued, undeterred.

Ben took a step closer to the conference table. "As we are all called to be, right? Wives to husbands and husbands to wives. As Paul says in Ephesians 5:2."

True, Jerald said, giving his colleague a peeved look. But the husband’s submission does not involve obedience. As the servant-leader of the home, he is called to take on the decision-making responsibilities, even if it means making hard calls she doesn’t like. Of course the husband should consider his wife’s needs—and even her wants. But I Peter 2:18 clearly teaches female submission.

Maybe we should get back to Genesis, Garrett said.

Ben came closer. As I’m sure we all agree, all of Scripture is for all time, but not every verse is meant for every application. An understanding of the cultural situation in which the passage was written is key to understanding it fully.

Jerald looked at Ben as if he’d just sprouted horns. All this was settled long ago. Female submission is what Scripture teaches. And I for one don’t intend to abandon that doctrine just because it’s unpopular these days.

Let’s not forget, Ben said mildly, that even though the Scripture is infallible—

I’m glad to hear you still think so, brother.

I do. But I also know that our understanding of Scripture is not infallible.

I know that, Ben, but you have to—.

I’m hungry, Matthew said loudly. Here it is almost noon. Garrett detected a sly gleam in the old guy’s eyes, possibly indicating he was more interested in preventing an escalation of the argument than he was in eating lunch.

Relief surged through Garrett. I think we should call it quits for today.

Claire wasted no time getting up from the table. But as she passed him, she stopped and whispered, I’m sorry I lost it, Garrett. I should have kept my mouth shut. You’ve done so much for me and my family.

His compassion for her obvious spiritual pain warred with the desire to retreat from the conflict she had caused. He mustered a kind smile. There are never conditions to our help, Claire. You should always feel free to say what’s on your mind.

When the inquirers left, Jerald wore an unpleasant sanctimonious expression. No, Garrett, that woman was right about shutting up. This little incident is a clear example of why Paul instructed women to be silent in the church.

It was a complete misapplication of the verse, but Garrett didn’t have the stomach to go into it with him. Sure, Jerald was a bit close-minded, and his style was less-than-sensitive, but he was a good man who held faithfully to the Bible’s authority. And he’d generously taken the time to advise him on how to handle the various controversies he’d been hit with during his first year at Bethel. If not for his wisdom, he and his deacons would still be at war.

Garrett, you’ve got to nip feminism in the bud, Jerald said. You saw how it started to spread to the other women. I suggest you hit it hard in your next class before it gets completely out of hand.

Yes, Ben said, giving Garrett a guarded look. You’ll have to make sure they have good, solid teaching in this area.

Jerald crossed his arms over his chest. And if I were you, I’d tell that woman to look for another church.

He probably wouldn’t have to worry about Claire sticking around Bethel. For that matter, would any of the inquirers want to be a part of Bethel after what had just transpired?

Jerald thumped him on the back. I can see you’re distressed about losing control of your class. But wasn’t God good to have me here just in time to help? Seeming to realize that was a bit patronizing, he quickly said, I think you’re doing pretty well, all things considered, especially for a first-time pastor—a very young one at that.

Not so young anymore, Garrett said, shaking his head. I just turned twenty-seven, Jerald.

Jerald chuckled. Still a mere infant, my boy. He thoughtfully scraped a hand over his jaw. But we do need to get you married.

It’s not that I don’t want to be.

Surely you know suitable candidates to date.

You make it sound like a job interview, Ben said with amusement.

In a way it is, you know. The woman Garrett marries should know going in what a pastor’s wife’s responsibilities are. He turned to Garrett. You’re not still traumatized because of that girl—what’s her name?

JoAnne. No, I’m good now.  JoAnne Struthers was the last real girlfriend he’d had, and it had taken time to get over losing her—not that he’d actually had her in the first place. When she’d finally admitted she was a lesbian and only using him as cover for her family, it had definitely shaken his world. How had he failed to realize that and what did that say about his own sexuality? He’d spent the rest of his seminary days focused squarely on his studies—and still hadn’t found the time or courage to go looking for female companionship.

Jerald nodded sagely, I can think of several suitable women in my church.

That’s all right. I’m sure the Lord has someone in mind for me. The last thing he wanted was for Jerald to set him up with a blind date.

Then let’s go get lunch, Jerald said even as he snagged one of Megan’s peanut butter cookies.

He would undoubtedly think Megan was just the sort of suitable woman he should marry. What a contrast she was to prickly Claire Craig! Megan was as sweet as the cookies she baked. If she was a little too shy for her own good, at least she’d never dream of disrupting a class the way Claire had. And she certainly wouldn’t bring up the subject of menstruation.

While they were putting on their coats, Ben whispered, Look, I’m not trying to come between you and your mentor, but I hope you won’t discourage Claire from continuing with the class. She desperately needs your counsel.

I’ve got to admit that I’m a little nervous about counseling women.

Ben cocked his head and gave him the same look his own father had used to get his attention. "Garrett, you have an obligation to minister to your entire congregation. Even the women. Even the pretty, young women."

You’re right.

Just don’t get personally entangled with someone you’re counseling.

Garrett smiled. Don’t worry. Claire’s not my type.

I was speaking generally. No doubt there are other women in the congregation who need your pastoral leadership.

He nodded. Again, Megan came to mind. He should look for ways to encourage her, to undo the emotional damage her father had done.

After Ben had gotten in the car, Jerald whispered, Stay the course and ignore Ben’s dangerous feminist ideas.

Thanks for the advice.

And remember what I said. Let Claire go cause trouble somewhere else.

It was good to hear Ben’s perspective, and he was right about one thing. Garrett did have a responsibility to minister to Claire and all the