Featured Story

week of November 9, 2019

Bertie Harris, Mr. Stader, and Mrs. D.

by Edwin Gallagher

Bertie Harris’ left eyelid was twitching. It always did that when he got excited. He was awfully embarrassed about it, and the more it twitched, the more embarrassed he became, and the more embarrassed he became, the more it twitched.

But on this occasion he needn’t have worried. The two standing with him, Mr. Stader and Mrs. Deniliquin, appeared far too engrossed in their discussion to notice Bertie’s twitching left eyelid.

“I have peace, peace, peace,” declared Mrs. Deniliquin, “and you don’t get that kind of peace from climbing Jacob’s ladder.”

“But Jacob strove with the Lord.”

“Yes, Mr. Stader, and look at his reward—a broken thigh.”

“Well, we all need to be humbled.”

“Yes, but humility is primarily a gift. Love, purity, obedience, peace—all are gifts. Salvation is provided free; it’s through grace, grace, grace.”

Mrs. Deniliquin had an unsettling habit of repeating emphatic words three times. Bertie, who hadn’t yet been able to say anything in the discussion, was glad that she hadn’t noticed his twitch, twitch, twitch.

“Mrs. D,” replied Mr. Stader [Mr. Stader had trouble pronouncing her name, so he just called her “Mrs. D.”], “I realize it is all of grace, but we have a response to make— we are to strive to enter the strait gate, we must keep His commandments, work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, and show ourselves approved unto God. Faith without works is dead, dead, dead.”

Mr. Stader had never in his life repeated his words like that. But he wished to show himself equal to Mrs. Deniliquin. He was by nature a shy man, his only advantage over her being his height—he was six feet one and a half, but looked even taller than that because he was relatively thin. Mrs. Deniliquin, on the other hand, was five feet three in height, and appeared to be roughly the same in girth.

“Faith without works might be dead,” she countered, “but works without faith are not just dead—they are moldy, rotten, rat-infested, and full of stench. Look at the Pharisees, look at the Galatians! Our works will come, once faith has accepted the work of Christ outside of us. Yes, the works will be there, but faith must be first, first, first.”

“Well, I think—“ tried Bertie, his eyelid twitching rapidly.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” interrupted Mr. Stader, “but what did the Lord tell the members of the church at Ephesus? ‘Repent, and do the works you did at first.’ I agree with your main point, Mrs. D. We owe everything to Jesus; our works are detestable without Him. But it seems to me that you are leaving so many scriptures unexplained. Your attitude has me concerned. I’m not saying you’re lost or anything, but I do fear your salvation could be in jeopardy.”

“Well, Mr. Stader,” replied Mrs. Deniliquin, drawing herself up and out to her full sixty-three inches, “I appreciate your concern for me, but my concern for you is even greater. There’ll be no one passing through those pearly gates who doesn’t have on the white garment. Don’t you know it, there’s not a thread of human works woven into it! Not a thread! Not a thread! Not a thread!”

Bertie Harris was now twitching wildly. A Christian of rich experience and deep understanding, he was just bursting with the thought that Jesus, who had both Mrs. Deniliquin and Mr. Stader in His hands, would no doubt be happy to tolerate the variation in their thinking as He would be to tolerate the difference in their physique.

He was just about to say this, and Mrs. Deniliquin and Mr. Stader were both about to interrupt him, when there was a very loud noise and a long, bright flash of light—indeed, the noise was louder and the flash was longer and brighter than anything they had experienced before.

Later, sitting together in Levi Square in New Jerusalem, Mr. Stader looked across at Mrs. Deniliquin and said, “Mrs. D., I’m glad your works were OK.”

Mrs. Deniliquin laughed and replied, “Mr. Stader, I’m glad your faith was OK!”

Bertie, sitting nearby, was just about to say his piece about Jesus’ being happy to tolerate differences, when Mrs. Deniliquin looked over at him, smiled genuinely, and said, “And Bertie, we’re so glad you lost your twitch.”

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