Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 36

“How are you holding up?” Lisa whispered as Jo slid into the pew next to her just as the service was about to begin.

“I’m fine,” she whispered back. Why wouldn’t she be fine? Beckett had been gone for a week, and everything was returning to normal.

Sure, if normal means walking around with a gaping hole in your heart, then you’re the most normal person in the world, a voice in her head taunted.

“Liar,” Lisa whispered, as if she’d heard the voice too. Fortunately, Jo couldn’t answer since Pastor Olsen was beginning the service.

She attempted to concentrate on the hymns and readings and prayers, but her thoughts—and her heart—insisted on drifting back to Beckett. He’d texted a few times in the first couple of days—until she had asked him to stop.

She had no right to be disappointed that he had complied.

She’d been fine before he came back to Sanctuary. And she would be fine now that he left.

The hole in her heart yawned wider in protest. He said he loves you .

She steeled her spine and sat up straighter, resisting the words she’d been fighting all week.

Because that was all they were— words .

She’d said them herself to Jay. And Jay had said them to her. And neither of them had meant it—Jo may have thought she did, but she realized now that she hadn’t even known what they meant back then.

You do now , that same pesky voice insisted. You love Beckett.

She shook her head, and Sam looked at her. “What’s no, Mommy?”

“Hmm. Oh nothing.” She shushed her daughter and forced her attention back to Pastor Olsen, who stood behind the pulpit to begin his sermon.

“Once upon a long, long time ago, when I was eighteen,” the pastor started, his words meeting with a sprinkle of laughter. “My dad took me wilderness camping in Colorado. And of course, being the young, strapping lad that I was—don’t laugh—” He held up a finger in warning, and the congregation chuckled. It was enough to bring a touch of a smile to Jo’s lips too.

“Anyway,” Pastor Olsen went on, “I offered to stuff as much as I could into my backpack. Not that I thought my dad was weak. But I thought that I was stronger. So I took my clothes. My extra shoes. All the toiletries and cooking utensils. The food. The camp stove and the propane tanks for the stove. Somehow, I managed to cram it all into my backpack. And then I strapped my sleeping bag and my sleeping pad to the bottom of the pack. I lifted it up, and it was heavy. But I thought, I can take more . So I offered to take the tent too. My dad raised an eyebrow, but he helped fasten it to the top of my pack. And then we were ready to start off.” He rubbed his hands together as if relishing the chance to tell the story, and Jo leaned forward, grateful that Pastor Olsen’s preaching had the power to take her thoughts off of Beckett. This was what she needed to focus on—her relationship with the Lord. Not her non-relationship with Beckett.

“I have to tell you, I was feeling pretty good about myself as we started off,” Pastor Olsen continued. “I was carrying as much of the load as possible so my old man didn’t have to. Not that I would have dared to call him an old man.” Jo chuckled, glancing over Sam’s head to Dad, who grinned back as if to say he knew she was thinking the same thing about him.

“Dad set us off at a good pace,” Pastor Olsen said. “Said we wanted to get our camp set up before dark. Well, I kept up fairly well at first. But after a little while, I started to feel the pull of the straps on my shoulders. I noticed the way the belt dug into my hips. The way the sleeping bag bounced against the back of my legs and the tent pressed into my shoulders. I managed to ignore it for a while. But the terrain got steeper, the trail got rockier, the air got thinner, and my body got weaker. I didn’t even realize I was slowing down until Dad looked back over his shoulder and asked if I needed a break. Of course I said no.” Pastor Olsen paused for the smattering of soft laughter.

“But the truth was, it only got harder and harder to keep going. Dad offered to take some of my load, but I refused. He offered again. I refused again. Instead, I asked how much farther it was. When Dad said it was another two miles away, I almost cried. I finally had to give up and surrender some of my load to him.”

Pastor Olsen paused. “Has that ever happened to you?” He looked around the congregation, his eyes searching. “I don’t mean with a physical load, although I’m sure many of us have been there. I mean with a spiritual load. And I think we’ve all been there. We’ve all loaded our backs with burdens we can’t possibly bear—shame, guilt, regret, anger, fear, worry, doubt . . .”

Pastor Olsen’s voice trailed off, but Jo’s mind whirled. All of those were things she felt, things she carried with her, every day.

“And just like foolish eighteen-year-old me, we’re unwilling to surrender those burdens, even when Someone offers to take them from us.” He looked down at the Bible on the pulpit. “Right here in Matthew 11, Jesus says: ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’”

Jo sucked in a breath. Wasn’t that the same verse that Beckett had said changed his life?

“Jesus tells you to pass him your shame,” Pastor Olsen said gently. “Pass him your guilt. Pass him your anger. Pass him your doubts and your fears and your worries and your regrets. Pass him every one of your sins. He says that he has already taken them upon himself. He has put your big, heavy, impossible burden on his back and carried it not only up a mountain but straight to the cross. Those burdens were crucified with him, so they aren’t yours anymore. There is no need for you to take them back up, no need for you to carry them, no need for you to live with them. Jesus has freed you from them. And not only that, but he gives you something in their place.” He tapped the Bible. “Rest for your soul.”

He paused, and Jo tried to let the words sink in. Tried to believe that it was true. She had been a believer since childhood. She knew Jesus had died for her sins. She knew she wasn’t supposed to carry around shame and guilt. But how could she not, when she had failed so badly? When her sin was so grievous? How could she just let go of that and trust that Jesus wanted to carry it for her? Why would he?

“Why would he do that?” Pastor Olsen asked, as if he had read her thoughts. “Why would Jesus take your burdens from you and replace them with rest?” He shrugged. “For the same reason my dad did. Because he loves you. Entirely. Completely. Endlessly. He’s not going to come back one day and say, ‘I carried most of your sins to the cross. But there’s still that one sin you need to account for yourself.’ Or, ‘You know, I would have forgiven all of your sins, but I just couldn’t get past that one thing you did that was so awful.’”

Jo let out a shaky breath. How could Pastor Olsen be so sure of that? And why couldn’t she? A fresh wave of guilt washed through her. She’d judged Beckett’s faith, and yet her own faith wasn’t even strong enough not to have doubts right in the middle of a sermon.

“How do we know this?” the pastor asked, and Jo startled. Had he written this entire sermon just for her?

“He promises us, that’s how,” the pastor answered, as if it were that simple. “And his promises stand firm forever. He tells us as much.” Pastor Olsen looked down at the Bible and flipped the pages. “2 Corinthians 1:20: ‘For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ.’ And—” He flipped the pages again, “Deuteronomy 7:9: ‘Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.’ And don’t forget—” More page flipping. “Numbers 23:19: ‘God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?’”

Pastor Olsen looked up. “I could go on and on and on, reading verses about how God keeps his promises. But maybe you’re thinking that those are nice words . But that’s all they are. It’s easy enough for God to say he keeps his promises. But where’s the proof ?” He nodded. “Okay, you want proof? How about his promise to protect Noah and his family from the flood? Kept. His promise to give one-hundred-year-old Abraham a son? Kept. His promise to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt? Kept. His promise to make David a great king? Kept.” He paused, his eyes scanning the congregation in that way he had of making each person feel like he was talking directly to them. Today, Jo was pretty sure he really was talking to her.

“And do you want the ultimate proof that God keeps his promises?” Pastor Olsen asked. “It’s Jesus. He is the fulfillment of the promise given with Adam and Eve’s very first sin—that God would send a Savior into the world. To keep that promise, he sent his very own Son, to live for us, to die for us. To rise again as a promise that we, too, will be raised to live with him eternally in heaven, where we will have no more burdens.” He paused, with a smile. “Not a single one. So let go of your burdens. Leave them at the foot of the cross, where they were always meant to be. And never forget that you can trust his promises. Amen.”

People all around Jo stood, but she was frozen in place for a moment. How had she not realized? It wasn’t only Beckett she didn’t trust. It wasn’t even only herself.

It was God. She had been doubting God’s promises. She’d heard the message of his forgiveness thousands of times. Yet she’d been holding so tight to her own burden of sin and shame and guilt that she’d refused to believe he could ever carry it for her. That he could ever forgive her. Even though he had promised that he did.

Could she really trust that promise?

She let out a long breath as she realized she could. She did .

Seven years’ worth of guilt and fear and shame seemed to fall from her shoulders as she stood and rested a hand on Sam’s back, bowing her head and closing tear-filled eyes as Pastor Olsen led the congregation in prayer.

Afterward, she wiped at her cheeks as he invited them to be seated and open their hymnals to the next song.

“Are you okay, Mommy?” Sam whispered.

“Yes,” Jo whispered back, feeling her lips curl into an unstoppable smile. “I’m very okay.” She leaned forward and dropped a kiss onto her daughter’s hair. Her Snow White . That was what Beckett said Sam was. A reminder that Jesus had taken the crimson of her sins and washed them as white as snow.

The music started, and she flipped her hymnal open to “What Wondrous Love Is This,” laughing slightly to herself at the perfect timing. She was usually a quiet singer, but today, the song burst forth from her, something in her soul breaking free as she realized how true the words were. “What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul, what wondrous love is this, O my soul! What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss to bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul, to bear the dreadful curse for my soul!”

She let the words soak through her heart. She had tried so hard to carry the curse of her sin on her own. But she couldn’t. Nothing she did would ever erase a single one of her sins. But Jesus had already taken them all on himself. He had carried that burden for her. And she could live in that freedom.

She would live in that freedom.

The hymn ended, and Pastor Olsen stood to make his weekly announcements. But Jo’s head was suddenly buzzing. She had built up her walls so high to keep her from trusting anyone: God. Herself. Beckett.

But now it felt like every one of those walls was crashing down.

Did that mean she could trust Beckett too? He had promised her that she could, and even though she knew his human promise couldn’t hold a candle to God’s eternal promises, she also knew that Beckett had shown her in so many ways that she could believe him.

The moment the service was over, she pulled out her phone and texted him: You know that promise I made? I think I might have to break it.