Masquerade by Eileen Rife Page B

load.”
    He paused, mouth curved in a slight smile, gazing first at Sonya, then at Sam. “At the risk of sermonizing,” he chuckled, “I want us to consider several key concepts in these verses. First of all, the word load in the Greek refers to a manageable load.” He stroked his mustache. “Like what you might put in a backpack. Takes work to carry the load, but it’s doable.” He raised his eyebrows. “Make sense?”
    Sonya nodded. Where was he going with this?
    “The problem is, if a person keeps stuffing his backpack with more items, sooner or later, it’ll get too heavy to carry. That’s where verse two kicks in, the part about ‘carrying each other’s burdens.’ The Greek word for burden indicates a load the size of a piano.” He paused, licked his lips. “Ever move a piano, Sam?”
    “Yeah. Moved one into our house.”
    “How many men did it take?”

Sam looked at the ceiling. “Oh, I’d say we had about three or four helping out.”
    “Meaning  you  had  help.   You  didn’t  try  to go it
    alone. Right?”
    Sam shrugged. “Right.”
    What was she? A five-year-old? She knew this stuff. Get to the punch line. The part about the survival plan.
    “How long did it take to get the piano into the house?” Pastor tossed out more bait.
    “Maybe thirty minutes or so,” Sam said. “Of course, we weren’t lifting the whole time. Had to stop and catch our breath. Wiggle the thing this way and that, inching it into the living room.”
    “So, it took concentrated effort by several men for a limited amount of time.” Pastor’s eyes twinkled. He closed the Bible and laid it back on the shiny desk, neatly arranged with blotter, an ivy plant, and a framed picture of his wife. No children.
    “Yep, that’s about right.” Sam shifted. He wouldn’t last much longer.
    “Ever see a person hoist a piano onto his back, then try to hoist someone else’s piano on top of that?” He slipped out of his chair and walked to a bulletin board covered with notes, calendar, and pictures.
    Sonya squinted. It looked like one item was gifted by the primary department for Pastor’s birthday. Mia’s name was printed in wobbly lettering underneath a drawing of a little girl with red hair and a watermelon slice grin on her face.
    Pastor unpinned a slip of paper. “Take a look at this.”
    Sonya  and  Sam  leaned  forward, almost  bumping
    heads, toward what looked like a cartoon.
    The cartoonist depicted a man, bent over, sweat flying off his face, carrying three pianos. A player sat at the very top laughing and tickling the ivories. Walking by, a little boy held out a jacket and said, “Can you hold this for me?”
    Sam coughed a laugh, replaced by a poker face when he saw Sonya’s expression.
    Point well-taken, Pastor. She stifled a sigh.
    “That’s great, isn’t it?” He took the cartoon and pinned it back to the board. “Great, for everybody except the guy juggling three pianos.” He sat back down. “I know; I used to be that guy.” He brushed a hand over his pants. “Seemed innocent enough at first. Fulfilling the law of Christ, you know. Loving others as Jesus would want me to. But then I began to study Jesus more. That’s always a good thing to do, by the way. And you know what I learned?”
    Sam’s jaw dropped. She wanted to reach over and snap it shut.
    “Jesus never took on more than He could manage. In fact, He never took on anything without consulting His Father first. Even in the midst of a needy crowd, He got in a boat and sailed to the other side of the sea, because the Father had other plans for Him that day.” Pastor tapped his leg. “When it is the right time to help, love reaches out to the person with a piano-sized burden. But only temporarily and with others pulled in to help.”
    “What are you saying, Pastor?” Sonya knew, but she needed to hear it.
    “I’m saying your burden has turned into an unmanageable piano that you can’t carry alone. You’re trying to