Page 31 of More Than This Land

The observation landed too close to Claire’s own thoughts. Her fingers worried the edge of her bulletin.

More people filed in. A young mother with two small children took the pew directly in front of Claire. The toddler turned around immediately, peering at Claire with solemn brown eyes.

“Hi there.” Claire wiggled her fingers in a small wave.

The toddler’s face split into a dimpled grin. “Hi.”

“Honey, turn around.” The petite blonde woman huffed out a short laugh and stuck her hand over the back of the pew. “Sorry, he’s in a phase.”

Claire shook the offered hand. “He’s precious.”

“He’s a handful. I’m Jen. This is Marcus and his sister Britt.”

“Claire Whitlock.”

“Oh, you’re the one helping folks with their books.” Jen shifted to face Claire more. “Rachael Bennett mentioned you at Bible study. Said you helped the Jacobsons figure out their farm taxes.”

“Just doing what I can.” She never performed for the gratitude of others. It made her squirmy to have everyone talking about how great she was for helping like it wasn’t something any of them would do if they had the chance.

The organ played. Luke finished his usher duties and slid into the pew beside Noah. His profile was all Claire could see from her angle, but it was enough to give her the strong line of his jaw and the soft waves of his hair curling at his collar.

Stop staring. Claire forced her attention to the Bible in her lap.

Pastor Mark stepped behind the pulpit. “Good morning, church family. Let’s open in prayer.”

Claire bowed her head and closed her eyes. They stayed that way for a heartbeat, then fluttered open. Luke’s shoulders dropped as he folded his hands. Even in prayer, tension carved lines between his shoulder blades, tightening every muscle across his back.

She should not be noticing that. Lord, whatever is bothering Luke, I ask You to give him peace. And please help me to pay attention.

Once the prayer ended, they moved on to hymns, testimonies, and another prayer before Pastor Mark opened his Bible. “This morning we’re continuing our series on wisdom. Turn with me to Proverbs chapter three, verses five and six.”

Pages rustled. Claire searched for and found the passage, though she’d memorized it years ago. Her father’s favorite verses, spoken over her so many times she used to recite them in her sleep.

“‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart,’” Pastor Mark’s voice carried clear and strong through the small sanctuary. “‘And lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”

Two pews ahead, Luke’s shoulders pulled back, and his entire body went rigid.

“These verses are about surrender.” Pastor Mark set his Bible on the pulpit. “They’re about recognizing that our understanding, our wisdom, our carefully constructed plans, are not enough. We must trust God even when it doesn’t make sense. Especially when it doesn’t make sense.”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck in a brief, barely-there touch.

“I struggle with this more than I’d like.” Pastor Mark’s gaze swept the congregation. “I lean heavily on my own understanding because trusting God feels too risky.”

She shifted in the pew, doing her best not to bump Granny Mama or Linda. Both women stared straight ahead, nodding along with the sermon. Claire did her best to refocus her attention.

“God’s not asking us to be reckless.” Pastor Mark raised one hand and held it open. “He’s asking us to be faithful. When we lean on our own understanding, we’re essentially telling God, ‘I’ve got this. I can handle it. I don’t need Your help.’”

Luke’s head dipped forward.

Claire’s throat ached. She wanted to go to him, to tell him it was okay—that trusting God didn’t mean failure or weakness.

As soon as the sermon closed in prayer, Luke stood. He moved toward the side door with quick strides, resuming his usher position with a tense jaw.

The congregation filed out slowly, stopping to chat in small clusters. Claire helped Granny Mama stand, gathering their things.

They moved into the aisle, flowing toward the exit with everyone else. Luke stood by the door, his professional mask firmly in place.

“Claire.” Ruth joined them at the doorway. “We’d love to have you and Mae over for Sunday dinner. Nothing fancy but it’ll be good to sit down and chat. What do you say?”