Five teachers approached to tell him he was tempting criminal charges. “You’re not considering the rights of atheists in this room.” His lead science teacher was furious. “No one has any right to mention God in a student assembly.”
“I’m only giving students an option.” Wendell was ready for this. “You want to start an Atheist Club, by all means do so. Get a proposal to me.”
Lonnie Phillips, his vice principal, was one of the last to pull him aside. “You could get us all on the front page with this one.” She raised her brow. “Truth is, I like the idea. But let’s be honest, Wendell. I’ll be surprised if one student shows up.”
For the rest of the morning, Wendell worked in his office and tried to wish away the hours. Other teachers came in to share their concerns or enthusiasm for the program. Everyone was talking, for sure.
At lunchtime he walked through the cafeteria, making himself available for the students. One after another they came to him. “Mr. Quinn, does God really care if I read the Bible?” And the few angry students. “You can’t talk about God in school. You know that, Mr. Quinn.” Or “What are we reading in the Bible first?” And “Mr. Quinn, thank you for this morning. I’ll be there.” Or even the occasional “I don’t believe in God, but I’ll be there. You got a lot to prove, Mr. Quinn.”
Positive or negative, Wendell listened. This was his first hint that maybe—just maybe—students really had truly paid attention earlier.
Finally it was four-thirty. Wendell got caught in a meeting with a parent, explaining that her son had been arrested the day before school started. By the time Wendell carried his Bible into Room 422, he was six minutes late. He rounded the corner and saw students gathered in the hallway near the door.
What’s this? Wendell hesitated, then picked up his pace. Were students protesting already? He eased his way through the crowd. Inside the classroom every desk was taken. Students lined the room, two and three deep. Among them was his son Jordy.
Chick-fil-A had provided sandwiches for the meeting, but clearly they hadn’t brought enough. The group standing outside the door was not protesting. They were trying to be included.
Tears stung Wendell’s eyes. He took the spot at the front of the room and struggled to find his voice. When he could speak, he prayed out loud. “Look what You’ve done, Lord. You brought these students here. Now . . . please, speak to them. That this might be the first day of the rest of their lives. Good, beautiful, productive lives lived out for You.”
A boy sitting up front took attendance as they got started. Fifty-eight students filled the room. Wendell couldn’t believe it. This had to be Jordy’s doing. His son smiled big in his direction. Deep breath, Wendell told himself.
He took his worn Bible and opened it. He loved this old book. The notes in the margin, the highlighted areas. The thin worn pages. His kids wanted him to get a Bible app for his phone. Wendell wouldn’t hear of it. He pulled out his notes. No place to start like the beginning. He steadied his voice. First . . . “God is real. And God created the world. He created all that you see and He created you.”
At the back of the room, Alicia slipped in and leaned against the wall. She stayed only ten minutes. Whatever was going through her head and her heart, Wendell would have to deal with it later. This was for the kids.
When the meeting was finished, an enthusiasm and energy filled the room. A dozen students approached him with questions about salvation and sin and forgiveness and redemption. Wendell could hardly believe it. He had expected maybe a dozen students and at least one who would challenge him. But none of that happened. It had to be the Lord at work. How else could he explain it?
With God at the center of this, nothing could stop it.
After the last students left the classroom, Wendell returned to his office. Jordy had already promised to make dinner for his siblings, so Wendell could take his time getting home.
Basking in the light of all that had happened today, Wendell closed his office door. Once more he took the old football off the shelf and read Les’s words.
In this moment.
Yet if the media got wind of what he was doing . . . if the school district found out and ordered him to stop, then Wendell could be forced into silence. But he had a plan for that, too. He had already looked into his options, already Googled who could help him if things fell apart.
There was a lawyer in Indianapolis who had won several religious freedom cases in the last few years. Given the very real possibility he would need to call the man, Wendell had researched the guy. A Christian with a kind but outspoken faith in God. The man was a successful litigator. Someone you’d want on your side. Wendell had memorized his name.
The lawyer was Luke Baxter.
? ? ?
ASHLEY BAXTER BLAKE took the call ten minutes before the kids would get home from school. They’d been back for a week now. The routine was familiar again.
As soon as Ashley answered the phone, she knew something was wrong. It was her sister-in-law Reagan. She was crying. “Ashley . . . I’m so sorry. I had to call.”
For an instant, Ashley felt her heart drop. The Baxter family had been through enough tragedy over the past decade. Please, God, let everything be okay. Please. Her prayer came even as she got the word out. “Reagan!” Ashley had been slicing apples and string cheese for the kids. She leaned against the kitchen counter. “What happened? What is it?”
“Oh, it’s not anything like that.” Defeat rang in Reagan’s voice. She sniffed a few times and regained some control. “It’s Luke and me. It’s us.”
Oh no. Ashley hung her head. Reagan and Luke had struggled before. This wasn’t a car accident or an illness. But it was bad, all the same. “Tell me.”
“It’s his work. He’s never home. I’m just so tired of it.” Reagan sounded like her heart was breaking. “He spends more time at the office every month.” She sniffed a few times. “First it was Monday nights. Then it was a few nights a week.” A shaky sigh came from her. “Now it’s every day except Sunday.” A sob cut her off before she seemed to find her words again. “I know he’s important. He’s a big-time religious freedom fighter. People need him. I get that.” She sniffed again. “But the kids and I . . . We need him, too.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure how much more I can take, Ash.”
“Awww, I hear you, Reagan. I do.” Ashley felt the urgency. “Have you talked to Luke? Told him how you feel?”
“I’ve tried.” Defeat filled her tone. “He’s too busy to listen.” She started crying again. “I had to call.”
“I’m glad you did.” Ashley wished she and Reagan could talk in person. But her brother lived nearly an hour away, and even now she could see Devin, Amy and Janessa walking up the driveway. “Let’s do this. I’ll call you back in half an hour and we can make a plan.”
Reagan agreed, and by the time Ashley called her back Reagan sounded more in control. “What you asked me before made me think. If I tell him it’s important, he’ll listen to me. I know Luke.”
Relief took the edge off. Ashley smiled. “That’s what I think.”
“I’ll call him now.” A new determination came from Reagan. “Maybe he and I can talk tonight.”
“Yes. Good plan.” Ashley paused. “I’ll pray that it’ll be a breakthrough. Then maybe call me later. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.” Reagan’s voice held the beginning of a smile. “It’ll be okay. God will give me the words.”
“There you go!” Ashley had taken the call outside, in case it needed to be private. Now that it was over, she headed inside. The kids were doing homework at the kitchen table. Amy looked up, her eyes tinged with fear. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, honey.” Ashley’s answer was quick on purpose. She smiled at her niece. “Aunt Reagan and I were just catching up.”