A Church Called Free-Stance: The Story of a Small Church with a Mighty Calling

By Janie Baetsle

The fate of Free-Stance Assembly rests within the hands of a young man named Devin Richards. Although young, he has the ability to hear from God when no one else can. Arriving at Free-Stance, Devin encounters one startling revelation after another and discovers a buried treasure which years of spiritual decline had hidden from view. Could it be that God is not yet finished with this church? Only time will tell as Devin finds himself in the midst of an amazing spiritual journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646704835

Book preview

Chapter 1

Just a few more feet and Devin would have missed it. The street sign—73rd West Avenue—had almost been completely hidden by a stand of young pine trees that spread up from a deep ditch and out along the shoulder of the highway. Had he not been vigilant and noticed the sign’s silver pole jutting up from among them, he would have now been searching for a place to turn around in the midst of the extremely heavy traffic. Although the church could easily be seen, reaching it was an entirely different matter. He wasn’t the first to think so.

As he turned off the highway, the blacktop came to an abrupt halt, surrendering to a rough gravel road. Choking clouds of dust swirled in the air, and even though Devin quickly closed the vents, his eyes began to smart, then water. In a matter of minutes, the road ended, and Devin found himself within a large graveled parking lot. Straight ahead sat the church.

It was a modified A-frame, beautifully surrounded by a supporting cast of magnificent evergreens. The building was painted a bluish white. The dark-black shingles appeared to have been recently placed upon its slanted roof. At first glance, one might not even have thought this to be a church. Devin, himself, would have questioned it, had he not been provided with a description beforehand. As if to dispel any possible doubts, a clapboard sign had been nailed to the side of the building, clearly stating in bold black lettering: Free-Stance Assembly, Pastor Jonathan Allan.

After choosing a place near the front entrance, he brought his car to a stop and parked. Concluding that the area was remote—and seeing that his vehicle was the only one in the entire parking lot—Devin saw no need to trigger the locks. Opening his car door, he stepped out, taking time to stretch before beginning his walk to the front door. It had been a long trip—from the most southern part of the state, to this—the deeper north. Although a young twenty-six years of age, his body welcomed the ability to have its feet upon the ground once more.

A heavy scent of pine assailed his nostrils as he shuffled through a thick carpet of fallen pine needles. They not only covered the sidewalk, encompassed the flowering bushes bordering the building, but also eagerly scrambled to work their way into his shoes, tenaciously using his socks as a port of entry. Initially, they resisted any effort to dislodge them. Reluctantly, they finally gave way to Devin’s persistence.

It wasn’t until the sounds of an approaching train pierced the air that he caught sight of the railroad tracks running past the south side of the church. Soon the train swung into view. It sounded its horn loud and long as it moved eastward—too loud and long, as far as he was concerned. He paused to watch and then continued on toward the church.

He had almost reached the front entrance. Large urns containing bright-red geraniums sat like posted sentries on each side of the double doors, and a raised flower garden brushed up against the building just off to his right. A host of perennials were in bloom: brilliant yellow daffodils, pastel-colored tulips, and purple irises. The highest rise of the garden was occupied by a tall, billowing rosebush that was just beginning to show pink colored blossoms, their sweet fragrance already intermingling with the fresh morning air. It was early in the month of June 2015, and spring would soon be replaced with the heat of summer.

As he reached the front door, a figure suddenly rose up from the flower garden, causing his body to literally jump in response! There had been no warning! All had been perfectly quiet and serene—the parking lot had been empty. Instantly his ears reverberated with the sound of his very own heartbeat, and he began to breathe rapidly. His throat went annoyingly dry, and he could not have spoken if he had wanted to. Erroneously he believed himself to be quite alone and this presence had completely unnerved him. It took him more than just a few moments to regain his composure.

He found himself staring at a man.

The man, likewise, was staring back at him.

He was wearing garden gloves that were soiled with dirt. A long-sleeved pale-blue shirt hung loosely about his waist, and his faded denim jeans were heavily stained at the knees with an earthy mixture of green and brown. He was of an average build, and his hair was thick and gray. Perspiration had sent his glasses mid-way down his nose, where they remained precariously mounted. He leaned against his long-handled hoe, studying Devin. And then he spoke.

"Hello there, young man. Can I help