The Journey

By Kathy West

Two prominent men, friends and leaders in their church—one an elder and the other a deacon—embark on a road trip. Their destination is a gathering of great Biblical leaders and teachers along with the best-known Christian musicians and singers where the elder is to deliver opening remarks. It’s a gathering to show the world where Christians stand on important issues.

Knowing the trip will take almost two full days, they get an early morning start. As the day progresses, the deacon and elder stop for lunch and gas. This is where the journey starts to take a turn. The deacon notices a sick man in need, and the deacon insists he’s going to stay in town and help while the elder continues to the revival.

The deacon spends his life in service to others, first as a true friend to the elder, then as a helping hand to the downtrodden and those tortured by grief, and finally as a mentor to a lost teenager. Without realizing it, his simple obedience to the still, quiet voice of God causes life-changing results in the people he meets. Those he helps see him as a beacon of light, or as the welcoming light the church is supposed to be to the lost and needy throughout the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781664270404

Kathy West

Kathy West is a retired math teacher. She currently lives a simple life in the mountains of East Tennessee and enjoys spending time with her husband of fifty years, their three children, and fourteen grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2022 Kathy West.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Scripture marked (NKJV) taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright

© 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-7041-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-7042-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-7040-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022911566

WestBow Press rev. date: 8/5/2022

CONTENTS

Dedications

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

DEDICATIONS

This book is dedicated to my Lord and Savior, Jesus

Christ, without whom there are no words.

And to the love of my life, my husband, Roger, who

has supported me throughout this whole writing

journey, with nothing but encouragement.

And, Finally, to my family, who are

more precious to me than life.

CHAPTER 1

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"…. Teach me your ways, [Lord]

So I may know you…"

EXODUS 33:13 NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION

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O nce, two prominent men set out on a journey. Their destination was a gathering of great Biblical leaders and teachers along with the best-known Christian musicians and singers. It was a gathering to show the world where Christians stood on important issues. These two men were good friends and leaders in their church. One was an elder and the other was a deacon.

Knowing the trip would take almost two full days, they sat out early one morning on their journey. Before they started, they paused for prayer, and the elder led them in a beautiful—if a bit long-winded—prayer, asking the Lord to keep them safe and to bless their journey so that they might get to their destination on time. They wanted to hear the great preachers and teachers and be blessed.

The morning started out well, and as they were making good time, they decided to stop at a diner-service station for an early lunch and gas. After parking the car, they went in, looked around, then took a booth beside a window facing the road. Across the road was a nice, if a bit, small house, but the yard was overgrown with weeds, the paint was badly chipped, and it had an overall unkept look.

As the deacon was looking at the scene, the elder continued to talk about the exciting event they were to attend. The deacon was in full agreement, but only half of his attention was on the conversation. As the deacon continued to watch the house, an extremely skinny man opened the door and almost fell as he slowly bent down to pick up his paper. The deacon sat still, watching as the man laboriously pulled himself back up while holding to the doorframe and stumbling back inside. Filled with compassion, the deacon mentioned the heart-breaking sight to the elder, and the elder commented, That’s too bad; he’s probably sick, or maybe stoned, or hungover. The deacon admitted that this was probably true, but the feeling of concern would not leave him.

After they finished eating, while the elder was glancing out the window, the deacon stuck a small dip of tobacco into his mouth hoping the elder hadn’t noticed. But the elder had noticed and made a comment about the body being the temple of the Lord. The deacon knew that the elder’s words were true. The deacon thought of himself as a weak man, which made him sad, so he vowed to himself to try harder to overcome his weaknesses.

As they paid for their lunch and were leaving, the deacon overheard a conversation at a nearby table. It seemed others had also noticed the debilitated man across the street, but their words chilled the deacon to the bones. One of the men at the table was laughingly betting on how long he thought it would be before the sickly-looking man died. His companion spoke up and said, Not long. And good riddance. It’s no more than he deserves after the lifestyle that he’s lived.

After that last comment, the deacon looked again at the sad, little house, and slowly walked out the door behind the elder.

While the elder was filling the tank with gas, the deacon walked across the street to the small house and knocked on the door. When the man inside called out in a raspy voice, Come in, the deacon walked in and found the man lying in bed looking emaciated. The deacon tried not to look at the open sores on the man’s face and neck, as the man barked with all the strength he could muster, Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?

The deacon gave the man his name and then said that he was in the house because the man had yelled Come in when he had knocked.

That’s because, said the man coughing as he tried to speak, I thought you were my mother knocking. She’s the only one who ever comes to my house and even she hasn’t been here in a while. The man paused then said, Well, what do you want?"

The deacon looked compassionately at the man and then asked in a quiet voice, How can I help you?

That took the man back a little, but he finally responded saying, Why would you want to help me? No one else does. I haven’t had a single visitor other than my mother since my partner died.

The deacon answered, That’s really sad, and I’m very sorry. Maybe I can do something to help you.

The man turned his head to the wall and said again, Get out! No one can help me. I’m dying. And he refused to say anymore.

Not knowing what else to do, the deacon walked out, shut the door quietly, and walked back across the street to where the elder stood looking around with a scowl on his face. He wanted to know where in the world the deacon had been, as he had been looking everywhere for him, and now, they were running behind schedule. The deacon apologized for causing the delay and started to get into the car but stopped. He told the elder about the man and his situation and finished with, I believe we should do something to help him.

That’s certainly kind of you, replied the elder, but we need to get down the road. I’m sure there are plenty of good Christian people in this town that can help the man. After all, we passed several churches on this road alone as we were driving in.

The deacon acknowledged that that was true and started to get in, but something stopped him. He heard a small voice deep inside himself whisper, Help him. And he listened.

The deacon told the elder that he was going to stick around for a while and try to help the man. The elder looked at the deacon with a superior look and explained, once again, that they needed to get down the road to the celebration, as he had obligations there. Remember, said the elder, I’m supposed to introduce the main speaker, and it’s my duty to be on time. That is our goal, not pausing on the first leg of the journey when I’m sure there are more than enough good people in this town to help the man.

The deacon agreed but felt inclined to stay for a little while and insisted the elder go on, and that he would try and catch up a little later. The elder didn’t know how the deacon planned to catch up but agreed that he needed to leave to be at the meeting on time.

After the elder left, the deacon walked into the diner and ordered a large milkshake to go. After paying for the shake, the deacon walked back across the yard and knocked on the sick man’s door. Again, he heard the faint call to come in. When the deacon entered the man’s room, the man looked at him and with all the strength he could muster rasped hatefully, What do you want now?

The deacon simply held out the shake, and then walked over to the bed, helped the man prop himself up, and then held the shake while the man drank. Afterward, the deacon helped the man to get more comfortable and started to turn towards the door, when he heard a whispered, Thank you. The deacon just smiled, nodded his head, and walked out.

When leaving the house, the deacon couldn’t help but notice again how overgrown the yard was and decided to look around for a lawn mower. He found a small push mower in the garage, along with a gas can. He walked back across the street to the service station to fill the can with gas when the dinner door opened, and the owner/cook walked out. He asked the deacon what he was about, and the deacon simple replied that he was just getting some gas and was about to come in to pay. The owner said, Why? You don’t live around here, and your buddy has already left.

Yes, that’s true, replied the deacon, but the man in the house across the street needs a little help.

And you think you have to be the one to help? Well, you obviously don’t know that man and his lifestyle, or you wouldn’t be so quick to help him. His partner died about six months ago with that ‘blood disease’ if you know what I mean. I’m sure he probably has the same thing, so you’d better leave that situation alone.

The deacon merely smiled and reached into his pocket to pay the man for the gas, but the man barked, Keep your money and walked off.

After taking off his sports jacket and laying it aside, the deacon began to mow. It took him several hours to mow the lawn as the grass had gotten quite high. When he finished, he was sweaty and tired, but he once again knocked on the man’s door. This time the come in was said with a little less hostility because the sick man had eased back the corner of the curtain that he could reach from his bed and had seen the deacon mowing.

About the time the deacon walked into the sick man’s room and sat down in a chair, there came another knock at the door, which startled them both. The deacon got up and walked to the door and was shocked to see the owner of the diner standing there with that same scowl on his face, but in his hands, he held a tray with two plates of food and two glasses of iced tea. He shoved it at the deacon and turned and walked off. The deacon was so surprised, he almost dropped the tray. He turned and walked back into the sick man’s room carrying the tray as the man looked up and asked, Who was at the door? What did they want? And what in the world do you have in your hands?

The deacon answered all the man’s questions and then proceeded to help him with his food. The sickly man didn’t eat a great deal, but he did eat some and even managed a small, Thank you. After the deacon finished his meal, he threw away the paper plates, plastic forks and spoons, the Styrofoam cups, rinsed off the tray and walked back across the street to the diner.

When the deacon, once again, started into the diner to find a place to sit and think about how he was going to get to the meeting, the owner met him at the door and walked with him back outside saying. I have a few questions for you.

The deacon replied, Okay, what are your questions?

The owner then asked him where he was from, where he was headed, and why he had done what he did. The deacon answered all his questions finishing with the fact that he felt the Lord had whispered in his ear to help the man. The owner was quiet for a minute, then looked the deacon in the eye and said, You can go on with your journey. I’ve got it from here on.

The deacon was more than a little surprised, and asked, Why? Is the man a relative of yours?

The owner replied simply, No, but I, too, am a Christian or I’m supposed to be. This is my community, and that man is a part of this community, and he needs help.

Now, the deacon was the one to pause a moment, and when he did, a sense of peace and well-being washed over him. The deacon looked at the owner, smiled, and nodded his head, but all he said was, I believe you.

As the deacon turned to walk away, the owner asked him where he was headed and how he planned on getting there. The deacon told him his destination, but as to how he was going to get there, he wasn’t sure, but he believed some way would turn up. The owner told him to wait there for a minute, walked back into the diner, and spoke with a lone man sitting at a back table. After several minutes had passed, the owner walked back out and said, I got you a ride with a truck driver I know, at least until your paths take a different turn.

The deacon thanked the owner for getting him the ride, and for the food which had been more than satisfactory. Then the deacon, once again, put a small pinch of tobacco into his mouth all the while feeling ashamed. He knew the elder was right about him; he was truly a weak, sinful man. With that, he sighed a long sigh and walked towards the truck, which had just pulled up.

After several hours of driving, the truck driver finally turned into a motel explaining that it was late, and he was tired. He went on to say that their paths were headed in different directions the next day, so the deacon would need to look for a different ride. The deacon smiled, thanked the man, and proceeded to get a room at the motel.

Despite the late hour the night before, the deacon rose early the next morning and went into the dining area for a quick breakfast. Much to his surprise, he spotted the elder who was also there getting breakfast. After a short conversation, they both went to gather their belongings and once again headed down the road together.

Once they were on the road, the elder wanted to know the details of the deacon’s time with the sick man, so the deacon told him the story finishing with the fact that the owner of the diner had stepped up and planned to continue to care for the sick man. The elder thought that was a good thing, and said to the deacon, See? I told you there was enough good people in that town to care for the sick man, and I was right. There was absolutely no need for you to have stayed there, which put me in a strain. With no one to help me drive or to talk to me when I was getting tired, I had to stop earlier than I planned, and now we are once again running behind schedule.

The deacon apologized noting that the elder had been right all along.

After a couple of hours on the road, the elder decided they needed to get some gas and some more coffee as he was still tired from all the driving he’d done the day before. The deacon agreed and offered to drive for a while. The elder appreciated the offer, and after filling the tank with gas, and getting some coffee, handed the keys to the deacon.

The deacon drove along for over an hour as the elder dozed in his seat. He had just driven through a small town with a limited number of road signs and was a little confused. As he headed towards the outskirts of the town, he found himself on a road that didn’t seem like a main highway. This concerned the deacon somewhat, as he knew his sense of direction wasn’t the best. He was just about to turn around when he noticed a shack in a small clearing back in the woods. He pulled into what he thought was a driveway and spotted a large, haggard-looking man with tattoos all over his muscular arms, chopping wood. The deacon thought that an unusual sight in the present age, but he had always respected a hardworking man, so he stopped the car quietly so as not to wake the elder, got out, and walked over to the man to ask for directions.

When the man looked up, the deacon saw such a look of hostility on his face, that he was taken aback and paused in his steps. The man growled, Get off my property!

The deacon swallowed, apologized, and turned to leave, but a small voice deep within him spoke one word: Stay. The deacon turned back around and told the man that he was lost and didn’t want his friend to wake up and realize that he had taken a wrong turn as they were in a hurry to get to their destination. The man stopped his chopping, rubbed the sweat from his brow, swore a few words, and snarled, Get from here! I ain’t ahelpin’ you. Nobody ever helped me.

The deacon looked back at the man, paused for several seconds, and then took off his sports jacket. He rolled up his sleeves, walked over and took hold of the ax, and started chopping. That surprised the man, but he only smiled cynically to himself, thinking that the suit wouldn’t last long at chopping, but he would sit a spell and enjoy a chew of tobacco.

The deacon had been chopping for about fifteen minutes when the elder woke up, looked around and was startled to find himself on an old dirt road surrounded by trees with an old shack in front of him. But