Pastor Nils Hannemann placed his pen on the desk and closed his Bible. He glanced out his office window and stared at the church wall twenty feet away. There were advantages living in the house next to the church, but the view out the window was not one of them.
His eyes returned to the blank pages sitting in front of him. Writing sermons on a regular basis was harder than he had thought. Since he’d graduated from the seminary in May, he’d discovered the reality of the task. After running short of time the first few weeks, he had begun his sermons a bit earlier, so he wouldn’t get caught up in the Saturday night cram routine.
Nils surveyed his books arrayed around him like a general surveying his troops. Fidgeting, he reshuffled his books on his desk. Somehow this made him feel more in command to do sermonic battle with his text.
At least he wasn’t working in the fields back home. His heart had never been in farm work. Pa probably knew that before he did. His brothers seemed to thrive on caring for the animals and harvesting the crops, but for him doing the chores was a boring and repetitive task.
From a very young age, old Pastor Schroeder had encouraged him to think about going to the seminary and becoming a pastor. Maybe Pa had put him up to it in the first place. Nils smiled at the thought.
The ticking clock reminded him time was fleeting. Thursday already. He picked up his pen determined to set out his outline of St. Paul’s words to Timothy. Propping his elbow on his desk, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand. He had to keep going, or he’d never finish.
A knock at the door brought him to a halt. Not what he needed right now. But he had no choice. Time to find out who needed his help at this hour. With a sigh, he pushed back his chair and straightened his tie. The sermon—and battle—would have to wait.