Sunday Service, Hopeville, USA — Beauty, That Is Extremely Expensive — Nov 2
The church doors opened, and Scott L. stepped inside, greeted by the hum of familiar voices, the warmth of friends and family, and sunlight filtering through stained glass.
For two weeks, Scott endured not one, but two molar toothaches — gnawing, relentless, a white-hot ache that seemed to burrow into his bones and eyeballs.
Yet the moment he entered, the pain vanished. Relief washed over him, almost like amnesia. Perhaps it was faith; perhaps it was the spirit of the place. Scott L. didn’t question it—not at all.
Upstairs, where Scott managed the livestream on YouTube, his eyes fell on rows of children’s books, vibrant and carefully chosen. Each book radiated purpose and care. This church meant business. Another wave of joy surged through him. The toothache, once constant, was a distant memory.
Among the bustle, his mentor, Tracy, orchestrated sound and visuals with practiced precision — smoothing transitions, monitoring audio, ensuring every note, every fade reached viewers near and far. And yet, the warmth of the room pressed in, thick and slightly stifling. Fatigue tugged at Scott’s body, but not his spirit.
After the pastor’s sermon on submission and the quiet strength of obedience, Scott sought out Professor Williams.
True to form, Professor Williams carried a Bible — thick, substantial, and well-used, a testament of enduring faith.
Half-teasing, Scott said, “You carry all those books for looks? Most people do that — but with you, you’re the real deal.” Then, with reverent curiosity, he asked, “May I touch your Bible?”
The moment his hands rested on the well-used Bible, Scott felt it — weight, texture, history, presence, like holding centuries of faith in his palms. Unlike tapping a screen, it grounded him. It anchored him. Faith was tangible, a force steadying a life in turmoil.
The conversation meandered, unhurried. At one point, Professor Williams said, “Beauty is not cheap. It’s extremely expensive.”
Scott reflected: Yes. It may be right before us, but if it’s covered in mud or dirt, we wouldn’t know the value of a diamond from a worthless piece of rock.
A quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but absolute.
Professor Williams shared his trials — a divorce, the unraveling of long-held trust, the weight of loss. Reading the Book of Job had given him courage and perspective, strength to endure when life threatened to overwhelm.
Scott recognized a truth: vows may be broken, promises forgotten, hearts misled — yet anchors remain. Like a Shakespearean protagonist clinging to what sustains him, Professor Williams held fast to his Bible as though his life depended on it. And in truth, it did. Just as it did for Scott.
Later, as they walked to their cars, Professor Williams mentioned a hiking trip in Virginia. A Virginia native and an avid hiker, the invitation carried weight.
Scott replied, “I don’t care about my back problems, knee problems, or hip problems — I’m all in.”
Rarely did Scott venture out with his two dogs, yet in that moment, it felt as if God whispered: Go get some mountain air. Circulate your blood. Enjoy life. Share it with others. And praise Me.
And as he watched Professor Thomas drive away, Scott saw him not just as a friend or brother, but as a leader: a man of courage, fortitude, and unshakable faith, unwavering in submission to the Lord.
May He be glorified.
