Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 19

Beckett scanned the entire church again. But Jo and Sam hadn’t suddenly materialized out of thin air. The pew where they normally sat with Alex and Lisa was occupied by a family Beckett had never seen before—probably tourists.

Was Jo not coming today? Was something wrong with Sam? Or her dad? Or Jo?

Oh, Jo.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for the past three days, and it was driving him crazy. What he wanted to think about was the look of delight she’d worn when she opened the wind chimes. But what he kept thinking about instead was their conversation about his mom’s death. He hadn’t meant to tell her all of that—or any of it. And the moment she had gone inside, he’d realized that he’d only given her a thousand more reasons to doubt his faith.

Pastor Olsen stood at the front of the church to begin the service, and Beckett forced his thoughts off of Jo, opening the hymnal to the first song. He’d never been big into singing, but he’d taken voice lessons for a role a few years ago, and he had come to love some of the old hymns that expressed the Gospel so clearly. He closed his eyes as he sang along to Beautiful Savior , letting the lyrics remind him of what really mattered—Jesus.

Something bumped against his arm, and he looked over to find Sam grinning up at him. “Hi, Mr. Beckett,” she said in a voice that couldn’t quite be classified as a whisper. “Can we sit here?”

“Of course,” he whispered back, scooting closer to Sadie to make room for Jo, who stood half in and half out of the pew, looking tempted to run away. She wore a soft pink sweater that set off the glow of cold in her cheeks. Her eyes met his with just the slightest hint of a smile, but that was enough.

Jo sat and reached for the hymnal rack on the back of the pew in front of her. But it was empty—Beckett had taken the last hymnal.

“Here.” He angled his body toward them and held his open hymnal in front of Sam so that Jo could see it too. “We can share.”

Jo nodded stiffly, and her voice joined in with the song. Sam’s did too, although she was a beat behind on most of the words as she repeated what she heard.

Beckett grinned, thinking what a pleasing sound that must be to the Lord.

His eyes accidentally met Jo’s over the top of Sam’s head. It was only for the tiniest fraction of a millisecond, but it was long enough to catch the smile she wore too. Had she been thinking the same thing?

The song ended, and Beckett tucked the hymnal back into the rack. Sam wiggled as Pastor Olsen began reading from the Bible, and Jo’s hand came to rest on her daughter’s knee. Beckett found himself staring at that hand, wondering what it would be like to hold it, to thread his fingers through hers, to—

Pay attention , he scolded himself. He didn’t need to give Jo another reason to doubt his faith.

He managed to keep his eyes on the pastor—aside from the occasional glance at wiggling Sam next to him—until Pastor Olsen stood to deliver his sermon. Even then, Beckett only allowed himself a peek to the side to make sure Jo had enough room at the end of the pew. Her arm was wrapped around Sam now, and the little girl’s head rested against Jo’s side. Sam’s eyes lifted to his, and she grinned her little toothless grin. Beckett closed one eye, raised his eyebrows, and wrinkled his nose.

Sam giggled, and Jo glanced over with a shushing sound for her daughter and a disapproving look for Beckett.

“Sorry,” he whispered. His antics probably hadn’t done anything to help prove his faith to Jo. But making Sam laugh had been fun.

“Brothers and sisters in Christ,” Pastor Olsen began his sermon, and Beckett turned his attention to the pulpit.

“Life’s not fair.” Pastor Olsen let the words fall, his eyes traveling over the congregation for a moment before he continued. “How many times have you heard—or spoken, or even simply thought—those words?”

Beckett snorted softly to himself. The answer was probably uncountable.

“If you’re anything like me,” Pastor Olsen added, “it’s probably a lot. Just ask my wife.”

A ripple of laughter traveled the congregation, and Beckett couldn’t help it—his eyes went to Jo again. She wore a soft smile that made him want to ask what she was thinking.

“Just the other week, I was on the mainland. And you know, things were moving at mainland pace.” The pastor shook his head regretfully, and the congregation laughed again. After growing up here, Beckett knew what that meant—the people of Sanctuary prided themselves on taking things at a slower pace than “mainlanders.”

“Anyway, I was headed for the checkout line,” Pastor Olsen continued, “and this sweet older woman was headed in the same direction. Well, she took one look at me, smiled—and then sped up to cut me off.”

Jo’s laugh rang out above the others, and Beckett found himself unable to keep from smiling at the sound.

“Not fair, right?” Pastor Olsen said. “But not nearly as bad as when I was a kid. I was the oldest. Which meant I had to do everything . Take out the trash. Walk the dogs. Babysit my siblings. And they got to play all day. Not. Fair.”

His smile slowly lowered, and his tone shifted to become more serious. “Of course, there are a lot harder things that we think aren’t fair. It’s not fair when someone else gets a promotion over us, when we deserve it more. It’s not fair when we do all the work but someone else gets all the credit. It’s not fair when we slave and slave, only to make the same amount of money as someone who doesn’t work at all.”

Beckett glanced at Jo, wondering if that was what she thought of him.

But her focus remained on the pastor. Beckett returned his focus there too as Pastor Olsen tapped the Bible on the pulpit in front of him. “In case you think this is a new problem, Jesus assures us that it’s not. In Matthew 20, Jesus tells the parable of the workers in the vineyard. One morning, the owner of the vineyard went out to hire some workers, agreeing to pay them a denarius for a full day’s work. They agreed—after all, that was a typical day’s wages. A few hours later, he hired some more workers, promising to pay them whatever was right. And three more times throughout the day—each time later than the last—he went out to add workers to his vineyard. The last ones worked only an hour before the workday was over and it was time to get paid. The workers who were hired last were the first ones to get their paycheck—and they got a denarius—a whole day’s wages! Well, you can guess how excited this made not only them but the workers who had been hired earlier in the day. If the guys who only worked an hour got paid a denarius, imagine how much the workers who had been in the vineyard since dawn would get. Finally, it was their turn to get paid. And they got—” Pastor Olsen paused dramatically. “A denarius.” The pastor let out a heavy sigh. “Well, you can imagine the outcry. ‘That’s not fair.’ ‘We worked longer.’ ‘We deserve more.’ I think any of us would have said the same thing.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Beckett saw Jo nod, and he wondered if she was thinking about how hard she and her dad worked to keep their company going.

“And what was the landowner’s response?” Pastor Olsen asked. He picked up the Bible and read, “He told the workers, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you. Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Pastor Olsen looked up. “Do you get what he’s saying here?”

Without thinking, Beckett shook his head, then looked over to make sure Jo hadn’t noticed. He could imagine what she would think about the fact that he had no idea what this parable meant.

“It’s saying,” Pastor Olsen explained, “that it’s not about how hard you work or how long you’ve believed. In fact, it’s not about you at all. It’s about God . About his all-consuming love for you. A love so great that he sought you out, he called you to him, he breathed faith into your heart. And the moment you believed in him—the very moment —you were changed. You became a new creation. You were transformed from enemy of God to beloved of God. You became his forgiven, redeemed, dearly loved child. He didn’t say, ‘Well, first work for me for a while.’ He didn’t say, ‘Prove yourself to me.’ He didn’t say, ‘I’ll let you into my kingdom on a trial basis until I decide if I like what I see.’ He said, ‘I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.’”

A hand bumped Beckett’s shoulder, and he glanced over.

“Sorry,” Jo whispered with a tentative smile as she retracted her arm from around Sam.

Beckett let himself smile too before turning back to the pulpit.

Pastor Olsen’s words felt like a lifeboat, and Beckett didn’t want to miss any of them.

“That’s good news, right?” Pastor Olsen asked.

Beckett nodded. It was very good news indeed.

“Until—” Pastor Olsen continued. “Until Satan comes and whispers in your ear, ‘God doesn’t really mean that news is for you , you know. Look at your sins. They’re worse than anyone else’s. You know you aren’t good enough. All of these other people here, they’re better. They serve God more faithfully. They trust him more fully. They’ve believed longer. How would it possibly be fair if God loved you just as much as he loves them? You don’t deserve his love.’”

Beckett’s heart sank. The doubts he’d had lately—weren’t those proof of exactly this? That he didn’t deserve God’s love—not in the way someone like Jo, who had been a faithful believer since she was a child, did.

“Well,” Pastor Olsen sighed. “They don’t call Satan the father of lies for nothing. But the lie isn’t that you deserve God’s love less than anyone else. It’s that anyone deserves God’s love. Because not a single one of us does.”

He let the sentence hang there for a second, then continued, “But God loved the world so much that he sent his one and only Son to die for the sins of all people. Jesus took on himself the price he shouldn’t have had to pay—the price of all of our sins. He carried them to the cross. He died for them—a death we deserved to die. And then he rose again, and he said, ‘Here, you take credit for everything I have done.’”

“Talk about unfair.” Pastor Olsen shook his head. “God traded his perfect, sinless Son for us imperfect, bedraggled, messed up bunch of wretched sinners. And he considered that a fair trade. Why? Because he loves us. Plain and simple. Not because of how long or how hard we love him, but because of how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. For you. A love so great that when he made you his own, he didn’t just offer you a day’s wages. He gave you eternal riches.” He picked up his Bible and read again, “‘There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.’ No condemnation. For all who are in Christ Jesus. For you .” He paused, as if to let the words sink in, and Beckett closed his eyes and dropped his chin.

Somehow, these were exactly the words he needed to hear today—exactly the reminder of God’s love that his heart had been yearning for.

“And that change he brought to your heart—it will show in your life. Because we know how much Jesus has done for us, we want to live lives that bring him honor and glory. Lives that shine the light of his love. Lives that point back to our Savior. Lives that rejoice over every lost person who is found. Every dead person who is made alive in him. Every worker who comes to know him at the last moment and is given the same place in heaven as the one who has known him all their life. Remember, brothers and sisters, it is by grace we have been saved—each one of us. Amen.”

“Amen,” Beckett whispered as he stood with the rest of the congregation for prayer. His heart felt lighter than it had since he’d returned to the island. It didn’t matter if Jo—or anyone else—questioned the timing of his faith. God knew his heart. God had changed his heart. God had made him his child. That was what mattered.

They sang another hymn, and then Pastor Olsen closed the service with announcements about upcoming events, including a trunk-or-treat next month that apparently involved decorating cardboard scenes instead of car trunks.

“What should we make this year, Mommy?” Sam whispered loudly.

Jo shushed her daughter. “We’ll think of something.”

“How about a pirate ship?” Beckett couldn’t help leaning over to suggest.

Sam grinned. “Arrr, matey. Trick or treat. Will you help us?”

“Oh I—” Beckett realized with a start that he likely wouldn’t be on the island by then. “If I can.”

“Come on, Sam. We have to get home.” Jo sprang to her feet and practically jumped into the aisle, nearly knocking poor Mrs. McPherson over. She took off without waiting to make sure her daughter was following.

“Are you going to Sunday on the Square tonight?” Sam asked, apparently not in as much of a rush to escape him.

Beckett considered the girl’s earnest face. So far, he’d avoided the town’s Sunday evening gatherings on the square. “Do you want me to go?” he asked seriously.

Sam nodded vigorously.

“Then I’ll be there,” Beckett promised.

“Good.” Sam bounded after her mom, and Beckett’s gaze followed.

Jo was standing at the back of the church, talking to Lisa and Alex, but as soon as Sam reached her, she took her daughter’s hand and pulled her to the door.

Sam looked back with a wave, and Jo glanced over her shoulder. If Beckett wasn’t mistaken, that was a full-fledged smile on her face.

He was sure it wasn’t intended for him—but he returned it anyway.