The Devil in Pew Number Seven Read Online Free PDF

or coon, tail now upright reaching for the sky, he’d pause before continuing his search for the elusive prey.
    Deeper in the woods they roamed.
    Finding a clearing, a break in the dense timberland, they sat down under a towering red maple whose bare branches seemed to tickle the clouds. The relative silence was broken only by the beagle’s four paws, shuffling through leaves, pursuing the hunt solo. Leaning against the tree trunk, Daddy and Momma listened and waited for the sound of a deer or turkey—or, more consequentially, the voice of God to answer their unspoken questions.
    For six months Momma had been struggling to heal from the loss of her baby. My daddy knew that slowing the pace of life was what his bride needed most, so he left his itinerant preaching with its heavy travel demands and instead put his skill as an electrician to work at a local plant. Most afternoons, he’d arrive home by 4:15, where an early dinner awaited. After he and Momma had eaten, they’d slip into jackets and boots and head down the winding path leading to this oasis of reflection.
    During these late-afternoon hikes, she wondered whether or not she should trust God for another child. Dare she hope for a second miracle? Would such hope be presumptuous on her part? What if He didn’t grant her request? Would her view of God change? Would He be any less loving if He chose to deny her this one wish?
    After Momma lost the baby, Daddy had his share of healing to address as well. That night, pacing the halls in the hospital, he had cried out to God to save their unborn child. He clung to the thread of hope that all would be well. In the dead of night, when the doctor broke the news that their baby was gone, the news took Daddy to the edge of himself.
    He was mad at God.
    He was mad at his wife.
    He was mad at himself.
    Daddy had enough sense, though, to keep a muzzle on his mouth. An outburst from an irate husband was the last thing Momma needed. True, he had managed to rein in his anger when he first learned of her slip and fall. Now that hope was lost, it took everything in his power to summon a reluctant dose of verbal restraint.
    The blame game was a game with no winners.
    And yet the loss of their child had shattered a part of his heart he hadn’t known could break. Was there something he could have done differently to prevent their loss? What kind of man would leave his pregnant wife in a home without a telephone in case of trouble? At the very least, Daddy knew if he had been there, he could have ventured outdoors instead of his wife, and she, in turn, wouldn’t have miscarried.
    Regrets for what he might have done differently gave way to nagging questions about God’s hand in the matter. Even after Ramona’s fall, God could have prevented her miscarriage, right? Why, then, did this God of love allow such pain to scar their dreams? Was there a lesson God wanted him to learn the hard way? Wasn’t there an easier way for God to make His point?
    Was he being punished for something?
    Or were they being prepared for something?
    A series of clipped barks pulled him back from his musing. Their beagle, ever vigilant, dashed off in hot pursuit of an unseen quarry. Neither Robert nor Ramona saw fit to join the chase, although Robert had his rifle within reach should a wild turkey emerge from the brush.
    Watching the dog disappear in the dense undergrowth, he returned to his thoughts. For whatever reason God saw fit to take their child, he knew his wife’s miscarriage was not some sort of punishment or payment for past misdeeds. God had already bought his life with a heavy price. His sins had been covered, his debt had been paid. No further payment was required. God had already sacrificed His only child on Daddy’s behalf.
    In spite of his intense grief, Daddy yearned to tell others about the God who had a yet-to-be-revealed purpose for their present grief. God was still good, even when life sometimes didn’t make sense. After all, this