Felicia Mason - Sweet Accord

“Sure thing.”

Haley got Eunice tucked in with a Bible storybook and a game. She wouldn’t have guessed that getting out of that classroom would pose the biggest obstacle.

“But I want to be with you today, Miss Cartwright.”

Haley bent low to give Amy Perkins a hug. The girl’s mother had died a year ago, and Haley had been trying to fill in some of the gap. She could never replace or be Amy’s mom, but Haley had more than a little experience with being a motherless child. She knew some of the fears the little girl faced.

“It’ll be okay, Amy.” She knew just the way to help Amy’s insecurity while boosting the girl’s independence. “Eunice is going to have her hands full with all of the little kids today. I think she could use some help from someone who knows the ropes and can assist with prayer and offering.”

Amy’s face lit up. “I can do that.”

“Are you sure?”

With the girl’s enthusiastic nod Haley steered her toward the front of the classroom, where Eunice sat in an oak rocking chair.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Haley closed the door, checked her watch then quickly made her way to the young adult classroom where the teenagers gathered.

The door was pulled to but not closed. Laughter spilled out of the classroom one moment and in the next voices raised in spirited debate.

“But the Bible doesn’t say anything at all about makeup. Makeup wasn’t even used back then.”

“Not true,” someone countered. “There was henna. And Cleopatra sure had a ton of it on.”

“That was in a movie, you nitwit.”

“No name-calling,” a deeper voice said.

A smile tugged at her mouth. At least someone maintained order.

Haley pushed the door open. “Good morning, everyone,” she called out brightly.

Her gaze scanned the group. About fifteen teens sat around the room, some of the guys more sprawled than seated. In the back, but nevertheless commanding attention, was none other than Matt Brandon. The urban cowboy pose with a booted foot in the seat of a chair and his elbow resting on bended knee wasn’t at all very churchlike.

The only relief from his black slacks and a black suit jacket came from a sparkling white shirt with a banded collar. At his neck, instead of a tie, was a treble clef pin. He looked for all the world like a renegade priest on holiday.

Haley did notice that the earring she’d seen him sport all week was gone. Why was he here? If he wanted to attend Sunday school, he should have gone to one of the two adult classes.

Several of the teens greeted her, but Haley barely noticed. “What’s going on?”

“We were just talking about some issues while we were waiting for you,” Miguel said.

“And Reverend Matt here was telling us about a church he was in where no one wore any makeup at all.”

“The women that is,” one of the guys clarified to laughter around the room.

With so many issues thrown at her at once, Haley didn’t quite know where to begin. “He’s Mr. Brandon,” she said addressing the easiest thing to correct.

A couple of the teens glanced at each other and shrugged.

Matt didn’t say a word. But he did shift position and sit in the chair.

“Well, let’s get started,” Haley said. “Did you pray?”

“We were waiting for you,” Cindy said.

Haley cast a glance Matt’s way, but didn’t say anything as the teens all gathered in a standing circle, clasped hands and bowed their heads.

“Father God,” Haley began. “Thank you for this day. Thank you for the fellowship of your saints and children who have come to this house again to praise your name. Lord, as we study your word this morning, remind us to maintain a quiet dignity in your presence and to, as the Scripture dictates, keep our lives, our words and our actions in decency and in order.”

Murmured “amens” echoed around the room. When Haley looked up, Matt was looking right at her, through her it almost seemed. She could read neither his eyes nor his expression. When he sat down again, it was without the arrogant cockiness she’d witnessed earlier. Or was that merely an illusion, a trick of the light?

“This morning, we’ll pick up your study of Psalms,” Haley said. She was glad the teachers all coordinated their lessons. While she could hardly present to this older group the arts and crafts and Bible lesson she’d planned for her own class, she could easily adapt the Scriptural material to suit a discussion with the teens.

“Does anyone have a favorite?”

Cindy Worthington’s hand shot up. “The Twenty-third.”

Haley nodded. “A lot of people cite that one. Why do you think that is?”

The young people went around the room, each who wanted to say something taking a turn, some citing other Psalms, but most concurring that it was the soothing peace of the Twenty-third Psalm that made it so popular. When they got to Matt, Haley’s breath caught as she waited to hear what he had to say.

“I’m glad you’re studying the Psalms,” Matt said. “As a musician, I can tell you that a lot of Christian music you hear today is based on the sacred hymns and poems of the Psalms. I have many personal favorites. One in particular is Psalms 150.”

For a moment, the flutter of Bible pages turning was the only sound in the room. Then Josh stood and read aloud the short chapter, ending with “Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with tambourine and dancing, praise him with the strings and flute, praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals. Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.”

Everyone in the room read the last line of the verse “Praise the Lord.”

Haley bit the inside of her mouth. So, he wanted to play games, take their personal differences to an open playing field. That he’d use a tactic so low infuriated her. He’d already managed to ingratiate himself with the group at Eric Nguyen’s going-away party. Now he thought he’d try to influence them to his way of thinking by planting ideas that would encourage them to accept his music.

Hiring this man had been a mistake. A big one. There was little she could do about it right now. But the next church council meeting would come, and in just days. Until then…

“Miss Cartwright?”

With a blink, Haley realized that a room full of teens waited for her to say something, to lead the discussion. Collecting her thoughts, she looked out at the expectant faces. “Thank you for reading, Josh. And you for sharing, Mr. Brandon. Let’s talk a little about the reverence of worship.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Matt smirk. But he kept quiet during the discussion. Freewheeling, it ran the gamut from those who thought like Haley did, that worship service should be a time for quiet reflection, to a couple of teens who’d expressed an interest in the non-denominational but Pentecostal-type service held on the college campus during the year. Haley hadn’t heard anything about it, but that these teenagers would be interested in fellowshipping with other young people didn’t surprise her.

“Church shouldn’t be boring,” one of the teens said. “Why should I waste my time coming to something that’s going to put me to sleep?”

“Because your mother makes you.”

That got a laugh all around the room. Even Haley had to smile.

Community Christian Church had 250 members, most of them over the age of forty. The younger families brought their children though, so the congregation had a pretty good mix of both ages and races. Haley’s job as Sunday school director was to keep everyone, young and old alike, interested in the Sunday morning study of the gospel. She had some ideas about outreach efforts to draw more members to the Sunday school. But in the year she’d been in charge, the results had been mixed. Listening to the teens told her she might need to loosen up a bit and offer more activities that would appeal to them.