Pastor Neal Perry
In the nearby dining hall, Kaitlyn Maxwell, 28, and Kim Lambertz, 70, took turns reading from the Book of 1 Chronicles, ignoring the loud buzz of a miniature fridge and the occasional sputter of the coffee machine. Maxwell shifted from foot to foot and spoke in a soft voice, while Lambertz sat nearby and sped through her passages. Together, the women read about King Solomon, the construction of God's temple and all that gold —
the gold flowers, lamps, and tongs (all solid gold); the gold wick trimmers, bowls, ladles, and censers — their voices rising to the popcorn ceiling.
Pastor Perry, meanwhile, stood on the sanctuary stage and read from the Book of Leviticus, the wooden pulpit hiding his silver Dickies belt buckle. To his left, a hot tub used for baptisms; five were scheduled for Easter. To his right, the polished surface of a piano gleamed in the soft light of the afternoon sun. Before him: a nearly empty room, to which he intoned in a steady voice how Aaron and his sons slaughtered a calf, then splattered the blood on an altar and burned the organs in a "sin offering" to God.