As she talks, I can’t help but become distracted by this room: the dark paneled walls, stone fireplace, and wood-beamed ceiling. It all seems from another century. The stained-glass lantern above looks like it should be flickering onto a crowd of floor-length velvet dresses. Loud applause pulls me back to reality just as an attractive blond lady wearing a silk fuchsia dress takes the microphone from Heather. She seems more like my stepmom than any professor I’ve seen around Boston.
“Thank you so much,” the lady says in a surprising Southern accent. She puts her hand on her chest as if grateful, and moves it to Heather’s back in a gesture of pride. Heather beams at her approval. “As the sector leader for our campus missions, I’m so proud of Heather’s dedication to spreading our message on the importance of discipleship. And as our top volunteer, Heather made the highly successful Boston Needs project a bigger success than ever. Thanks to the generous outpouring of special donations from students like you, nearly seven hundred poor and needy families were served. With your help, we hope to double that amount next time!”
As everyone applauds, a surge of curiosity about the focus on charity work prompts me to make a mental note to ask more about Boston Needs. “Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. Members, it’s time to find your guests and tables.” The adjacent room is full of small, round tables topped with place cards. “We’ll spend the rest of the symposium getting to know each other and determining your discipleship needs in this beautiful venue. Our goal is to help you, wherever you may be on your journey. This is the reason we’re all here, so go! Go, go, go!”
The ascending rumble of people searching for one another amplifies the room. I start to move with the crowd, but Heather comes up from behind me and snags my arm. “Oh, no, we’re VIP,” she says.
Her hand still on my arm, Heather leads me up a mahogany staircase. The din of voices quiets as we climb past an enormous castlelike window where the car lights flash and glow on the other side of night. Heather leads us into an empty room and sets my Bible Talk worksheet on the table. “Sit, sit, sit,” she instructs. I pull out a chair as Heather takes a pen from her bag and begins studying my answers. She makes a tsking sound. “Okay. Now, see? This is why it’s better to wait and study together as partners for the BTs,” she says.
Soon the worksheet I spent hours completing is covered in accusing blue ink. Maybe I should have followed the instructions and waited to complete the BTs with Heather, even though I thought I understood the interpretations.
“I’m so sorry for working ahead. I was trying to …” I trail off, desperate to fill the silence with something other than the critical swipes of Heather’s pen, but not wanting to say the wrong thing. “Could we maybe discuss what I did wrong? Talking it out really helps me remember later on—”
“Where’s your Bible?” Heather interrupts, looking up from my worksheet.
“Oh, uh, here.” I dig through my backpack and put it on the table.
“Emily!” Her tone is the one used for puppies that do something bad and cute at the same time. “Your Bible has a due date!”
I laugh. Then I realize she’s serious as she waits for me to elaborate.
“I didn’t have one, so I got it from the library.”
Heather blinks at me. I fidget under her stare.
“How do you not own a Bible?” Her voice is strained, her mouth a tight straight line.
“I guess I left it back home? But I can get another one. I mean, buy one.”
Heather picks up my King James Version, scrutinizes the cover, and sets it back down. “Well, don’t buy this one. Be sure to get the NIV translation. It’s easier to follow the study guides accurately with the more modern version.”
“I kind of like all the ‘ye’s’ and ‘thine’s.’”
She smiles, once again kind (if not a little amused). “Well, think of the study guides as the Cliff’s Notes, then. They’ll save you tons of time with interpretation.”
“Knock knock.” The lady who was speaking earlier walks into the room. Heather stealthily slips my library Bible under the table and pushes hers between us to share before introducing me to Meredith.
“Well hello, Miss Emily. I’m so glad to meet you.” She’s even prettier up close. She carries herself like she’s famous, as if she knows everyone is looking at her.
We shake hands as I respond, “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Now, don’t mind me,” Meredith says. “I’m just going to hang out over here in case you have any questions.” She settles into the other chair at our table as Heather continues reading.
I smile, but Heather seems more self-conscious now as she looks over my worksheet. Her eyebrows furrow in concentration, like it’s an assignment she has to ace for a grade.
“I heard you talking about your Boston Needs program. I’d love to learn more,” I say to Meredith, filling the silence in the room. “I’ve been volunteering for and donating to Senior Meals all semester.”
Meredith’s eyes light up with interest. “That’s wonderful!” she says.
“Maybe we could even team up with them? I could put you in touch with the director.”
Meredith shifts in her chair, but her small smile never leaves her face. “Well, we typically keep our community work separate from other organizations, so the Kingdom can spread the donations where they’re needed without any outside conflicts, and to be sure all the money actually goes to the causes.”
“Oh. Of course,” I say. I have no idea how that side of a nonprofit actually works, so I don’t question it. “Well, I’d still love to be involved with your community project.”
“That’s great, Emily. We collect special donations for Boston Needs at our Boston Garden services. I’d love to see you there so we can talk more and get you plugged in.”
Heather abruptly pushes my marked-up worksheet back to me with a solemn look. “I think we should study together next time.” She sounds worried and glances at Meredith.
My face grows hot with embarrassment. Meredith politely clears her throat. She takes my place card from the table and writes something under my name. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. She cuts her eyes at Heather and taps the back of her pen against the table to close it decisively. “It’s crazy how simple it is. You don’t even need a Bible for this. It’s all you need to know.”
The card reads: DISCIPLE=CHRISTIAN=SAVED.
“With Emily, I think we can just get down to the important part,” Meredith continues. Heather doesn’t seem to notice Meredith’s chiding tone directed at her. “Emily doesn’t need as much guidance as some others, but she looks like she could use a prayer.”
They both take my hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. I hesitate, unsure of what I’m supposed to do. Though unexpected, the gesture is surprisingly reassuring. I follow their cues when they bow their heads and close their eyes.
“Dear God. Thank you for your wisdom and protection. Thank you for Emily, for her spirit of generosity and for guiding her to people who truly care about her.” Her voice is composed yet affectionate, not ostentatious like the annoying preachers on television, but also not mechanical like the recitations I grew up saying. It’s like she’s talking to a well-respected friend. “Please protect her from pain and from stress and from sadness. And guide her through this journey.” She squeezes my hand just before saying amen and letting go.