Like children, I’m not supposed to have a favorite character. But Frank Post (along with the Talbot sisters) stole my heart. Frank is a blend of so many men I knew growing up. Men who were tough, flawed, opinionated, and most of all tender-hearted beneath those gruff exteriors. There were a few times I even thought about stopping by for a visit on trips home. (Oh right, my characters aren’t REAL!)

This week, I’m sharing Frank’s thoughts about doubting faith.

FRANK POST — THE DOUBTING ONE
Miracle in a Dry Season & Until the Harvest

I think I would’ve liked going fishing with the disciples. Especially if that Thomas feller was along. I’m a lot like Thomas—don’t hardly believe a thing until I can get my fingers wrapped around it and see it with my own eyes.

And there’s been a time or two in my life when I felt left out—like Thomas must have when all the rest of his friends were talking about seeing Jesus back from the dead—alive and kicking. There it is, written in John, chapter twenty. “But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said unto him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said unto them, ‘Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.’”

It’s hard, when everyone else sees a rainbow while you’ve got our head down, chopping firewood and digging ditches. For a lot of years, I just kept my head down. I figured if I wasn’t meant to see what other folks did, I’d just stop looking for it. Jesus probably didn’t want the likes of me anyway.

Thing is though, when enough people tell you how pretty the rainbow is, you get a hankering to see it for yourself. Except I didn’t want to admit the truth of that, so I put conditions on my belief. Like Thomas, who wouldn’t believe until he put his hand in the wound in Jesus’ side.

That’s when I heard about a woman in town—she had a child and no husband, so I knew she’d made mistakes, too. And even though the gossips talked about her behind her back, she stepped up and fed anyone who was hungry that summer the drought was so bad.

I ate her food—best I ever had. And for just a minute there, I caught a glimpse of that rainbow. Eating a plain bowl of beans, I could see how love was supposed to look. I could smell it and taste it and it hit me like it must have when Thomas finally saw Jesus and knew he really was God.

“After eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, ‘Peace be unto you.’ Then saith he to Thomas, ‘Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.’ And Thomas answered and said unto him, ‘My Lord and my God.’”

I’m glad at least one of the disciples was as hard-headed as me. And although I might not have seen Jesus in the flesh, I surely have seen Him—still see Him—in the way poor, sinful folks reach out to give one another a hand. So if you’ve got your head down like I did for so long, you might try looking up and around. Jesus, he’ll sneak up on you, if you let him.

This year will be the fifth anniversary of the release of my first novel–Miracle in a Dry Season. Which is kind of hard for me to believe! Half a decade as a published author. And while I fall in love with each and every character I write, Casewell and Perla will always hold a special place in my heart.

A few years ago I wrote a series of devotions from the points of view of some of the characters in that initial Appalachian Blessings series. So over the next few weeks I thought I’d share those with you. Starting with Casewell.

CASEWELL PHILLIPS – THE CARPENTER

Isaiah 44:13 – The carpenter stretcheth out his rule; he marketh it out with a line; he fitteth it with planes, and he marketh it out with the compass, and maketh it after the figure of a man, according to the beauty of a man; that it may remain in the house.

I remember the first time those words in Isaiah caught my attention. I guess I’d had a way with shaping wood all my life. Even when I was a boy, Dad would show me how to knock a few boards together to make a sled or a crate for potatoes. I even carved a few things that might’ve looked like what I wanted—a dog, a bird, a person.

So when I saw God was talking about a carpenter, I sat up and listened. I was a little bit proud of what I could do with a few pieces of wood in those days. I might’ve misread that verse the first few times. It sounded like a good thing, using my God-given talent to make something that looked like a man.

But there’s the danger of reading just a verse or two. Turns out, God was after Isaiah about the futility of making idols whether cast in metal or carved in wood. That’s when I read more than just the few lines that first caught my eye.

A little further on, verse 18 says, “They have not known nor understood: for he hath shut their eyes, that they cannot see; and their hearts, that they cannot understand.”

That was me for the longest time—blind and hard-hearted. Then I met Perla. I judged her pretty hard there at first. Everyone knew she had a child and no husband, but God opened my eyes. And then he opened my heart and I realized I’d been putting my faith in what I could do on my own. Looks like I was my own man-shaped idol.

So I read that chapter in Isaiah a few more times and turns out there’s a part on down there that says, “I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.”

Turns out an idol can be made out of anything—money, things, people . . . pride. I guess a lot of folks thought Perla was the one in need of redemption. Me, I think we all are. And the best thing any of us can do—carpenter, teacher, doctor, or farmer—is figure out what our idols are and hand them over to God for blotting out. I thank him every day for making me a carpenter, a husband, and a father who finally had the good sense to let God be my redeemer.