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  Advance Praise for The Reason

  “This is a skillfully written first novel with the narrative voice, knack for dialogue, and plot movement of a veteran author.”

  —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “Readers everywhere will identify with these characters’ experiences. An incredible story of second chances and seeing the bright light of Christ shine through in the darkest hour. William is using his own second chance at life to remind us of God’s love. This is a must-read for anyone who needs a reminder of what God asks of us: only believe.”

  —PETE WILSON, PASTOR AND AUTHOR OF

  PLAN B AND EMPTY PROMISES

  “The Reason will serve to fortify your faith and reassure you of God’s constant love and incredible power. If you are not yet a believer, this book will open your eyes to the possibilities of God that can manifest in any and every part of our lives.”

  —CHRIS SONKSEN, LEAD PASTOR OF SOUTH HILLS CHURCH AND FOUNDER OF CELERA CHURCH STRATEGY GROUP, AUTHOR OF IN SEARCH OF HIGHER GROUND AND HANDSHAKE

  “The Reason is one of those rare books whose characters reach off the pages and take you by the heartstrings. It demonstrates an unwavering faith in God that was an inspiration to me.”

  —KIMBERLY BROWN

  “The Reason will serve as a reminder that God wants us to do our part, to only believe, and to leave the outcome (good or not) to Him because He, ultimately, always knows what’s best!”

  —JACQUELINE LYNCH, ASSOCIATE PASTOR,

  LOMA LINDA UNIVERSITY CHURCH

  “Of Mice and Men meets Brian’s Song. The Reason is a powerful story that delivers message after message.”

  —THOMAS LANE

  “While I love to read, I’m generally not into Christian fiction. The Reason is an exception. It is a gritty story about everyday people that are believable and easy to relate with. It had me both laughing and crying at times as a good book should. I would recommend it to both believers and non-believers alike, but non-believers . . . be cautioned . . . you may have to really rethink and question why you don’t believe in the God of the Bible.”

  —MARK DREW, CALIFORNIA BAPTIST UNIVERSITY

  “Pay attention to each and every page or you will miss something. William Sirls is about to take you on an emotional rollercoaster ride that ends in an answer that far too many are still blind to.”

  —KELLY ANDERSON

  “The Reason is an outstanding effort to communicate the love of Christ.”

  —THOMAS AYERS

  “A book you will not forget. A clever tearjerker that invites you to think as you turn page after page.”

  —D. JAMES

  “The people in the small town of Carlson come to life fully. They made me laugh and cry. A book as rich and engrossing as The Reason can make you forget your own problems.”

  —PATTI HOGUE

  “Draws you in with its richly written characters and maintains an intense, almost eerie vibe throughout the story. The Reason is a uniquely compelling tale.”

  —RUSSELL BRADLEY FENTON

  “The Reason will grab you at the beginning, wrap its arms around you, and keep you guessing until the end. Have your Kleenex handy and then only believe.”

  —M. MYERS

  “Anyone reading this book will identify with at least one character with an invitation to change.”

  —JAMES STEERE

  “May this book turn out to be a blessing to an unheard number of more people as it was to me.”

  —MICHAEL STEDMAN

  “The Reason is an intriguing tale of diverse personalities and problems that will lead you to twists and turns that are entirely unexpected.”

  —LORENE MILLER

  “The book started off very well, even had my heart pounding in the opening scene in the church . . . but as soon as I realized it was about Alex having leukemia, I almost put the book down. I have a very difficult time reading/watching books/movies where children are hurt. On top of that, one month ago I lost a best friend to leukemia. It seems that God’s timing was perfect for me reading this book! I certainly sense His Hand in it. Looking back, I am blown away by the slim chance that ‘I’ ended up reading ‘your’ book. That you ended up being connected with me, when it could have been countless others. There are no such things as ‘chances’ with our God! I would highly recommend your book to anyone, and will definitely do that. Thank you for letting me have the privilege of reading it.”

  —LIZ ZELLER, DIRECTOR OF BIBLICAL COUNSELING/DIRECTOR OF GROWTH CLASSES, HARVEST CHURCH, BILLINGS, MT

  THE REASON

  WILLIAM SIRLS

  © 2012 by Complete Curriculum, LLC

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved. From the King James Version of the Bible. And from the HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Publisher’s note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Sirls, William, 1964–

  The reason / William Sirls.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8736-6 (trade paper)

  1. Clergy—Fiction. 2. Faith—Fiction. 3. Domestic fiction. I. Title.

  PS3619.I753R43 2012

  813'.6—dc23

  2012018427

  Printed in the United States of America

  12 13 14 15 16 17 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1

  DEDICATED TO ALL OF US WHO NEED FORGIVENESS

  CONTENT

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  AB
OUT THE AUTHOR

  ONE

  It was the second time in a little under fifteen minutes that the power had gone out at the church, and it was noticeably darker this time. Almost too dark, for the hour.

  Brooke paused—waiting for the lights to come back on as they had before—and stared at the three strange shadows that hovered against the fellowship hall’s vaulted ceiling. Something about them seemed alive.

  She glanced over at her five-year-old son, Alexander, and lowered her earbuds, noticing the howling wind had stopped. “You okay, buddy?”

  “I’m not even scared,” Alex said bravely. He gave her a reassuring smile and waved the small rag he liked to use when he helped his mother dust.

  Brooke turned off her iPod and then pressed the vacuum’s power button a few times. Nothing happened. She shook her head and looked back up at the ceiling. The shadows had somehow become one.

  The weatherman on the morning news had said they may be getting some storms, but when she, Alex, and Charlie had come up from the house to clean, only plump, white clouds and a relatively bright sun filled the southeast Michigan sky. But it had been windy. Really windy.

  And now the wind was gone.

  “It’s too dark,” Alex whispered. “Charlie is gonna be scared.”

  “He’ll be okay, baby,” she said. “The lights will come back on soon.”

  “But the sky just did some big thunder,” Alex said. “You couldn’t hear it with your music on your head.”

  That changes things.

  “Charlie!” she yelled, taking Alex’s hand and heading quickly across the room toward the tall double doors that separated them from the sanctuary.

  Even though Charlie was thirty-eight years old and big as a tree, thunder absolutely terrified him. Even with his familiarity with the church, all his safe places had surely been erased by the darkness and terror flooding his small mind.

  She opened the doors and walked into the sanctuary. It was dark, but not nearly as dark as the fellowship hall. It was perfectly quiet.

  “Charlie?” Brooke said, glancing up toward the front of the church. She heard nothing but could feel Alex pulling on her pant leg.

  “Look, Mom,” he said.

  She turned, and her eyes followed his little index finger, pointing at the two paned glass doors that served as the main entrance. Brooke squinted and cocked her head to the side. She had never seen the sky that color before.

  She took his hand again, walked to the doors, then leaned against one to push it open.

  It was deadly still outside. The air was thick and had a strange smell to it. The clouds were now a dark gray and the sky behind them an eerie crayon green, casting down a steady shadow of the same color over everything she could see.

  “We better take cover,” Brooke whispered, holding the door. She gazed out at the fifteen-foot wooden cross, centered on the church’s front lawn. Beyond the woods, she could hear spirited rolls of thunder approaching off the shore of Lake Erie. There was no way in the world Charlie would have ever come out here, let alone try to make it over to the house.

  “I want to go back inside,” Alex said, letting go of his mother’s hand and wrapping his arms around her leg.

  Brooke took a deep breath and tilted her head up again to stare at the sky, wondering how much time they had. She looked down the hill at the house, which now seemed so far away. More thunder sounded in the distance. Louder this time.

  “Charlie!” Alex shouted. There was panic in his small voice.

  Brooke looked back over her shoulder into the church. She leaned her head against the door and waited for Charlie to jump up from between two pews, as he’d done hundreds of times before during hide-and-seek.

  “He won’t come out, Mom,” Alex said. “You know how he is when he’s scared.”

  “He has to be around here somewhere,” Brooke said, taking one more look outside. She picked her son up and stepped back into the church, letting the door close behind them. “We have to find him fast, Alex.”

  She walked along the length of the back pew and stopped when they hit the center aisle. Brooke could see the push sweeper lying on the floor up near the pulpit. Charlie had obviously abandoned it when he heard the first hint of thunder.

  Brooke put Alex back on his feet and tried to listen for Charlie.

  She looked back at the main entrance. It had clearly gotten darker, and beyond the door’s plated glass, lightning flickered gently, as if God were flashing the porch light for someone who had just missed his driveway.

  “Charlie!” Brooke yelled again.

  “Charlie!” Alex echoed.

  They turned and slowly made their way up the main aisle, taking turns calling Charlie’s name and looking for him in the darkness between the pews.

  “Maybe he did make it down to the house,” Brooke said, glancing back at the front doors. The sky had gone from green to black.

  They both flinched at the thick volley of thunder that coincided with a flash of lightning, like an X-ray of the church’s front lawn.

  “I don’t like this,” Alex said, sounding on the verge of tears.

  “It’s okay,” she said, still staring at the front doors. She held her hand out behind her for Alex to take. He didn’t.

  “I’m over here,” Alex whispered.

  Brooke turned around and could barely see him. He was nothing more than a small shadow kneeling in the pew. “What are you doing?”

  “Praying we find Charlie.”

  Brooke kneeled next to him and struggled to slow her breathing. Please, Lord, keep us safe. She put her arm around Alex and pulled him closer. She could feel his little heart pounding against her palm.

  Alex squeezed her arm and closed his eyes as she pulled him closer still. She kissed the top of his head as a violent peal of thunder boomed directly over the church.

  “No!” Alex cried.

  “Let’s go,” Brooke said, taking Alex’s hand. As they rose, she thought she heard something over the rain. It was dark, but she could vaguely make out some of the shadows around them. The pews. The dim outlines of windows. A stack of rarely used folding chairs against the wall. They stepped into the aisle, and Brooke proceeded to look mechanically to her left, then to her right, her head’s slowly shifting movements reminding her of a low-end security camera.

  She saw little, but she definitely heard something. Charlie. He was crying. But the sound of him was drowned out by thunder so loud it reverberated in her chest, and by the wind that had finally returned with a vengeance.

  “Make it stop!” Alex begged, grabbing hold of her leg again.

  She turned to comfort him and looked outside. Another finger of lightning darted across the grounds, and Brooke flinched as the entire front lawn disappeared into a brilliant flash of reddish-orange light. It was gone before she could shield her eyes, and the deafening blast that followed shook the building, sending them both instinctively to the floor. She draped her arms around Alex. He was trembling, and she didn’t blame him. Whatever had just happened outside was unlike anything she had ever seen or heard. They needed better cover—to get out of this big space.

  “Charlie!” she yelled, quickly standing and then picking up Alex. “Where are you?”

  There was no response.

  “What if he’s hurt?” Alex cried.

  “What in the world?” she said.

  “Do you see him, Mom?”

  Brooke squinted at the glass of the front doors.

  Something was burning outside. Flames seemed to float in the dark about ten feet in the air, then rapidly weakened under the assault of the constant rain.

  “What’s that?” Alex asked. As he spoke, the last of the fire went out.

  “I think it was the cross,” she answered.

  “Oh no,” Alex said, like a concerned old man. He leaned his head on her shoulder. “Please, let’s hurry. Let’s find him.”

  She raised her finger to her lips, gently requesting that he be quiet. As they waited and li
stened for Charlie, all Brooke could hear was the continuous tapping of the rain on the windows.

  “A car’s coming,” Alex said. Headlights made their way up into the parking lot of the small church.

  “It has to be Shirley and Pastor Jim,” she whispered. A peculiar clicking sound came from the other side of the building, restoring the power.

  Only two of seven lights were on in the sanctuary, offering them no real improvement in their ability to see Charlie, but they both breathed a little easier.

  “I like that better,” Alex said.

  “Me too, little man.”

  “Can you turn the rest on, Mom?”

  “Sure,” she said. They heard a humming sound coming from somewhere in the building and looked at each other.

  “What’s that noise?” Alex asked.

  “I think it’s the vacuum cleaner over in the fellowship hall. I must’ve left it on when we lost power.”

  Alex smiled and she kissed the top of his head again. There was more thunder, but it seemed to be fading. The storm was easing away, and now Brooke was sure she could hear Charlie.

  “I hope the dumb lights stay on this time,” Alex said. “I wish they—”

  “Shh,” Brooke said, moving slowly toward the front of the church. One dome light cast a peacefully soothing glow over the altar, an old Wurlitzer piano, and a hand-carved pulpit.

  She tilted her head and lifted her hand. She definitely heard someone sniffle.

  “We need to find Charlie,” Alex said, as if she’d forgotten.

  “We just did,” Brooke said, running her hand through Alex’s bright-red hair. Charlie was up in the nave, lying down between the last two pews, where the choir sat. All she could see of him was the white, size twenty-one tennis shoes on the carpet, sticking out past the end of the bench.

  Brooke carried Alex up to the choir stalls and stepped into the row in front of Charlie’s hiding spot. She lowered Alex to stand on the seat cushion above Charlie, and they both leaned over and looked down.

  Charlie Lindy was perfectly still, flat on his back, with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears.

  “There you are, big guy,” Brooke said. “It’s okay, Charlie.”