— Ephesians 1:13b

To the casual observer at The Bountiful Kitchen on a late Sunday morning, Caisee Pells and Tate Saunders might have looked like a couple holding hands across a table, their steaming breakfasts sitting off to the side waiting to be consumed.

Or, perhaps, some of the customers in the crowded restaurant — located in a one-stoplight town in northwestern Minnesota — might have surmised they were siblings or close friends coming to grips with some tragic news.

But Caisee and Tate were not a couple and there wasn’t a tragedy to grieve. Tate was just a lost, lonely planet reaching out to a peaceful, confident Caisee, hoping to find a less wayward, more focused orbit around the Son.

“I’ve been a believer in Jesus Christ my whole life, Caisee, but my problem has been a stifling fear of some day losing that faith, being choked out by the weeds or smothered by the rocks in that parable,” 

Tate said, as tears began welling up in his eyes.

Tate started talking about his faith nearly from the time they sat down at their booth, pausing only to take a few sips of water and order a heaping plate of French toast, eggs-over-easy and sausage links — all of which he was ignoring. Caisee not only had gently held his hands to give him comfort, but also to stop his fidgeting with napkins, eating utensils and anything else those nervous hands could grab. She wanted to hear his story and give him any consoling that she could, but she also wanted to get a clear view of the tops of his hands.

What those customers of The Bountiful Kitchen couldn’t see were the symbols that dotted Tate’s hands (or their own hands, for that matter), and particularly the cross that dominated the top of his left hand. Caisee, however, could see that cross and others on numerous left hands that gripped forks or held cups of coffee in the restaurant.            

And while she was doing her best to focus on every word Tate told her as he bared his soul for the second time this morning, her eyes couldn’t help but drift to the strange sight of that cross seemingly springing to life before her eyes.

That’s strange, Caisee thought. I’ve seen that symbol of the cross so many times during the past several years, and it hasn’t so much as flickered. Now it seems to be turning into a bright tattoo. I just hope it doesn’t start sending me messages or I’m going to lose my breakfast before I even get a chance to eat it.

The first time she saw a cross on Tate’s hand was the day they attended church with him for the first time. But it was the last time they sat in a church service with Wakeman, who eventually ran out screaming and wiping his eyes as if they weren’t operating correctly.

He had seen the same things Caisee did, but had a very different reaction. Wakeman thought he was being possessed, while she thought a message from God Himself would be forthcoming. Something like, “Welcome to the club. Please wait 60 seconds for instructions on how to properly execute the secret handshake.”

Wrong on both counts.

Caisee recalled seeing several crosses during that service and marveling at how much they varied from person to person — from glorious, golden hues and  brick- red tones to flesh-colored casts that nearly blended in with the skin.

For several years, Tate’s cross was the latter, always visible, but also easily missed if she wasn’t looking for it. But, today, Caisee couldn’t miss it if she tried. The cross was thick — just like all the others she saw daily — but the inside of that cross was becoming a striking red … almost like the color of blood. And the outline that rapidly was losing its raggedness seemed to have a deep crimson pitch.

Caisee couldn’t help but lightly run her right thumb over the cross to see if she could feel it. No luck, but it still appeared as if Tate had peeled off a bandage to reveal a brand-new tattoo.

Oh, Lord, please tell me what this means? I’ve seen these symbols for so long and have prayed so many times for answers. But I humbly admit that my patience is at an end. I know that this means something important, and my brother is caught up in it, too. Please help us, and please help me wait patiently for Your answer.

While Caisee thought and prayed, Tate never stopped talking. It was as if he was a rookie auctioneer learning how to cram as many words into a sentence as quickly as possible. Amazingly, Caisee was picking up on most of those words, even if she was fairly distracted.

“… While I’ve never personally experienced any tragedies in my life, I hate to think about how I will react when I do. The crazy thing is that I spend a lot of time worrying about things I can’t control — like car accidents, hearing the ‘C’ word at the doctor’s office or having a gun pointed at my head by a thief — but my biggest fear is how I would react if something like that happened to me or a loved one.

“How would I look at God after that? I think I know the answer, Caisee, and it’s bad. I think what little faith I have left would be choked out for good by one of those thorns, or smothered by one of those rocks. I’d be nothing more than a believer with no interest in talking with God. That’s why I answered ‘My Fave’ with the Parable of the Sower; not because it’s my favorite parable, but because it is the only one I ever think about. It scares me.

“That’s where you and I are so different, Caisee. You want nothing more than to embrace Jesus every day, while out of weakness and fear I keep giving him the stiff arm.”

With that, Tate signaled he was done talking by lowering his head and sobbing softly.

What can I possibly tell him? Caisee thought. I certainly can’t help solve his spiritual woes over breakfast. Lord, help me find a way to give him some peace. … Wait, that’s just what Tate needs, isn’t it, Lord?

“Peace. That’s it,” Caisee said. A wide smile awaited Tate as he raised his head.

“Come again?” Tate said, pulling his hands away from Caisee’s and wiping a few tears off his face.

“Tate, I wish I could say something magical that could help you regain your footing with the Lord, but I do know a place to start — peace.”

“Peace?”

“Yes, peace. You said that you and I are very different when it comes to how we relate to God. I think a big part of that is I’m at peace with Him over my future — scary as that might be right now. 

You’re not. You’re reluctant to give God total control of your life. 

When we do give Him total control of our lives, He gives us the peace of knowing that He will always be there for us — in good times and bad — and that He has a plan for our lives.”

“I guess,” Tate said, not sounding very confident.

“I’ll explain more while we eat,” Caisee said, reaching out for his hands again, “but let’s pray first.”

“I thought you might want to do that,” Tate said, smiling for the first time in quite awhile.”

“Oh yes, Tater. I’ve prayed for you every day that I can remember. And that streak is not going to end today,” Caisee said, returning Tate’s smile with a toothy one of her own.

And they bowed their heads to pray, holding off the now less-than-steamy breakfasts and their growling stomachs for a few more moments. As Caisee prayed aloud softly, her right thumb absently criss-crossed Tate’s left hand again. And while she prayed for God to send Tate a healthy dose of that “peace that passes all understanding,” she silently asked Him for a little of her own.