Page 31 of A Hidden Hope

David Stoltzfus sat at his old wooden desk in the back of the Bent N’ Dent, tapping the end of his pen against the worn surface.

The store was quiet, a rare moment. The kind of quiet that seemed to settle in like an old friend when no one else was around.

David appreciated these moments, when chatty Sarah Blank wasn’t here, and no customers were in the store, and the only sound was the occasional creak of the building settling or the rustle of a mouse somewhere.

He wasn’t fond of mice in his shop, but they were God’s creatures too.

He was finishing up a talk he’d be giving on Saturday to a youth gathering, made up of young people from a variety of Amish churches.

Some parents had asked if he’d offer encouragement to their teens to consider baptism sooner rather than later.

Most young people waited until they were eyeing marriage before they chose to get baptized, some as late as mid-twenties.

When he mentioned the talk to his wife, Birdy gave him that look. “Hmm. So the parents want you to convince their youth to get baptized. Do they have any idea what you’re actually going to say?”

Ah, she knew him too well.

Not only would he avoid pushing anyone toward baptism, but he’d probably end up planting the seeds of a healthy fear of it.

He cleared his throat, shuffled the papers in front of him, and tried to picture the group of wide-eyed youth he’d soon be addressing—blissfully unaware of the long, bumpy road that adulthood had in store for them.

“When it comes to baptism, don’t take it lightly. This isn’t about making your parents happy or following the crowd. It’s not about checking a box or doing what’s expected. Baptism is about making a real commitment—one that comes from the heart, fully and completely.”

David paused, and then scratched out the last line. He could hear Birdy’s voice editing him. “Too formal,” she would say. “Too stiff. They’re young, David. You need to make this real for them, something they can grab onto with both hands. Something that will stick.”

He tried again. “There’s no good that comes from being half a Christian. If you’re only halfway in, you’re just living burdened by rules, and you’re missing out on the blessings that faith brings. It’s like trying to drive a buggy with only two wheels.”

David smiled at that. Birdy would like that analogy. These young people had grown up around buggies, and most of the boys had been given a courting buggy. They all knew what it meant when a wheel went bad—a lopsided, bumpy, and downright miserable ride.

He read the line back to himself, this time louder, with a few adjustments. “Don’t be half a Christian!” His voice rang through the empty store, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to him. It sounded better this time, more convincing, more real. But it needed a bit more punch.

“Don’t be half a Christian!” he repeated, raising his voice even more. “You’d live a life burdened by rules and miss all of the Lord’s blessings that comes with faith.”

David nodded, satisfied. That was better.

He scratched out a few more words, changing them to better fit the rhythm he was after.

“You can’t pick and choose which parts of Jesus Christ you want to follow.

It doesn’t work like that. You can’t accept his teachings and ignore his lordship.

You can’t say you believe God is sovereign over the whole earth and then doubt he’s sovereign over your own life.

Halfway belief won’t get you the peace that comes from truly knowing God.

You’ll miss the chance to see how he brings good out of even the toughest situations.

So, if you choose to be baptized, do it because you’re ready to live your faith all in, not halfway. Just don’t be half a Christian!”

David leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment, and let out a long breath.

He could almost see the doubts in the teenagers’ eyes.

He had been their age once, after all. He knew how easy it was to think you could manage on your own, that you didn’t need to be all in.

But half a Christian? He knew that was a road to nowhere.

He sat up again, ready to give it one more try, when the sound of the bells jingling on the door up front startled him.

He hadn’t heard anyone come in or go out, but then again, he’d been so focused on his talk, maybe he missed the telltale jingle.

He stood up, the old chair creaking beneath him, and made his way out of the office and into the store.

“Hello?” he called, his voice carrying through the aisles of canned goods and cereal boxes. No response. The store was just as empty as it had been five minutes ago. David frowned, glancing around, then walked toward the door.

As he peered out the window, he caught sight of a woman hurrying across the gravel driveway toward Dok’s office. Even from behind, he recognized Evie, the traveling nurse who worked for his sister.

David’s frown deepened. Had Evie been in the store?

Had she heard him practicing his talk? The thought made him feel strangely self-conscious.

Preaching to a group of youths was one thing, but being overheard in mid-preparation was another.

He thought of how he had repeated phrases, practicing how he emphasized the words. Almost shouting at times.

Embarrassing. It was like being caught with your suspenders down—just a bit too unbuttoned for comfort.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

Evie was moving fast across the parking lot.

Surely she hadn’t had time to spare to stand around listening to him.

With one last glance at the door, he turned back toward his office.

But as he made his way back, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind: What if she had heard him?

Then, a chuckle of relief escaped him. He’d been speaking in Penn Dutch—it would’ve sounded like gibberish to her!

David sat back down at his desk, picked up his pen, and let the last of his grin linger as he continued to practice his talk to an empty store.

Evie hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Fern had wanted her to pick up a spice pack of chili powder at the Bent N’ Dent for tonight’s supper.

At first, she’d thought the store was empty, but then she heard David Stoltzfus’s voice, ringing out loud and clear, sailing throughout the store from the open door to his office.

Was this how he preached at Sunday church?

Evie felt startled by the disconnect. Normally, the bishop spoke in low, calm tones.

Not this time. His words echoed as loudly as Hank Lapp’s. Curious, she had stilled to listen.

Even though her grasp of the language wasn’t perfect, she understood him, and the message cut straight to her heart. “Don’t be half a Christian!” David had said—over and over, and with every repetition, it felt like he was talking directly to her. Shouting, really.

She wasn’t sure why those words stung so much, but they did, so much so that she fled from the store.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, she couldn’t shake them.

Something about that phrase— half a Christian —shook her, like it had lodged itself somewhere deep, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t expected.

It was a new concept, something she’d never even considered.

And it didn’t help that Charlie’s comment from the other night kept resurfacing—that she was born to be a nurse .

She’d never viewed herself like that, never thought of her role as a calling.

She was just filling in where her grandparents needed her.

Then Darcy had come along, sweeping her into nursing almost by accident.

It was starting to feel like her whole sense of self was off-kilter, out of focus, like she’d been seeing herself all wrong from the start. Maybe she didn’t know herself as well as she thought.

Late in the day, after the last patient had been seen, Evie made her way down the stairs to the garden level.

Dok had offered a ride back to Windmill Farm, so she went to fetch Wren and Charlie.

She knew Wren would be overjoyed to not have to ride a scooter home—even the motorized scooter was bothersome to her.

She wanted a car, but Dok wasn’t budging on that for now, and apparently Wren didn’t have the money for one.

Just as Evie reached the final step, voices—heated ones—drifted out from the little office, with its door left slightly ajar.

Charlie and Wren. Quietly, she tiptoed closer.

Then she stopped short, ashamed, squeezed her eyes shut, spun around, and started to head back, disgusted with herself.

She was becoming a full-time eavesdropper!

But she caught little snatches of their conversation and curiosity tugged at her. She slowed, hesitating.

“But I’m not wobbling,” Charlie said, his voice firm but edged with frustration.

“You are too,” Wren shot back, her tone sharp and unyielding. “I knew this would happen. We had a deal. Everything is ready to roll forward, and now you’re backing down.”

Maybe just one little, tiny listen. Evie turned around and tiptoed back.

“I know you, Charlie,” Wren said. “I’ve warned you about this before, back in med school. You’re sooo close. But if you wobble now, you’ll never pass the boards.”

Evie heard Charlie let out a heavy sigh, then say, “All I said was that I’d like to finish out my residency here. I just don’t want to jeopardize what we have.”

“Look.” Wren’s voice softened just a bit. “I can see that you love it here. And it’s obvious this place loves you back. Or rather, she does.”

Evie’s heart skipped a beat. She? She clasped a hand on her chest. Me?

Was Evie that obvious? Did everyone know how she felt about Charlie? Leaning closer, she strained to hear more, her pulse quickening.