His siblings and their spouses were instantly in tune. Dad and Elaine, too. “What did he say?” Luke’s father leaned back in his seat. “You look upset.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Luke sighed. “He wants me to represent him.” Luke crossed his arms. “Only the case is a no-win. There’s literally nothing I can do for the man. Much as I’d like to.”
“I read about the case.” Ryan leaned his forearms on the table and shook his head. “The program was voluntary. Seems like he should have a chance.”
“Precedent isn’t on his side.” Luke had gone over this more times than he could count in recent years. Always when a case involved prayer or Bible reading, courts would look back to the original cases that had changed things in the United States. “It all started in 1962 with Engel v. Vitale. It happened in New York.”
Luke explained that back then the children in the New Hyde Park school district recited the same prayer each morning. “I happen to think the prayer is beautiful.” Luke looked at the faces around him. “The kids would say, ‘Almighty God, we acknowledge our dependence upon Thee, and beg Thy blessings upon us, our parents, and our country. Amen.’?”
Ashley looked as shocked as the others. “Kids in a public school used to start their day like that?”
“They did.” Their dad nodded. “I remember praying something similar to that when I was in school.”
Elaine nodded. “Me, too.”
“It was commonplace.” Luke hesitated. “Anyway, that year some of the parents formed a group and sued the school district, claiming that the prayer violated the Constitution’s establishment clause—which basically says, ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.’?”
The case quickly gained national interest, with most Americans standing by the school district. People believed that such a prayer was certainly not establishing a religion, as it was vague enough to serve the interests of nearly all religions.
“But not vague enough for the Supreme Court.” Luke took a quick breath. “That case rewrote the way prayer was handled in public schools.”
“I remember studying that in school.” Brooke took a sip of her coffee and looked at Peter. “People look back on that as the year God was kicked out of the public schools.”
“Me, too.” Peter put his arm around his wife. “Brooke was just helping Hayley with a history test on that the other day.”
“And it didn’t end there.” Luke went on to explain that next came a case brought by the founder of American Atheists, Madalyn Murray O’Hair. The famous 1963 lawsuit became known as Murray v. Curlett, and it led to a landmark Supreme Court ruling that ended Bible reading in American public schools.
“The next year, I believe, Life magazine referred to Murray O’Hair as the most hated woman in America.” John looked troubled by the matter. “Our schools have gotten further and further away from God and prayer every year since.”
“Exactly.” Luke sighed. “With this principal—Wendell Quinn—any lawyer for the plaintiff would call on precedent set back in the sixties, or a number of rulings since then, and Quinn would lose before the case ever got to jury.”
Ryan seemed especially intrigued by the situation. “What about whether the kids wanted to read the Bible and pray? There has to be a way the principal can be vindicated.”
“There really isn’t.” Luke didn’t want to talk about the case all night. He wanted to hear more about how his nieces and nephews were doing, which of them were playing sports or dancing or acting in one of the upcoming Christian Kids Theater plays. He would have to call the principal sometime tomorrow after church and tell him the reality.
He’d love to help, but the man faced a no-win legal battle.
Later that night, Luke’s father pulled him aside. “You have a minute?”
“Of course.” They walked to the living room. John sat on the sofa and Luke took the seat opposite his father. “What’s up?”
His dad crossed one leg over the other, quiet for a moment, as if he were ordering his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about that principal. Son, I think you should help him.”
Luke took his time responding. Of course he wanted to help. But there wasn’t anything he could do. “I’d love to, Dad. You know me.” He clenched his jaw. “I fight these cases for a living, and I love it. Anything I can do to help preserve the dwindling religious rights of the people of this nation, I’m ready to take it on.”
His dad nodded slowly. “You just don’t see winning this one. That’s what you said.”
“Right.” Luke didn’t want to get too detailed, but since his dad had asked, he would do his best to explain the problem. “There was a case back in 1971 that created a sort of test, a way for the courts to determine if a situation of prayer or Bible study was legal in any given situation.”
John Baxter was a very intelligent man. That much was evident as he narrowed his eyes, following everything Luke was saying. “Okay. What’s the test?”
Luke explained that it was three parts. First, the religious activity must have a secular purpose. Second, it must neither advance nor inhibit religion, and third, it must not result in excessive entanglement between government and religion. Luke leaned on his knees, his eyes locked on his father’s. “From what I see, Principal Quinn’s case violates all three of those.”
His father nodded, disappointed. “I understand. I just . . . I can’t get the case out of my mind. I really believe you could help him, Luke.”
Reagan came and sat down, and now Luke’s dad talked to both of them. As he did he tried one more time. “Do you know what happened to Madalyn Murray O’Hair’s son William? The one whose class read the Bible together?”
Reagan thought for a few seconds. “Well, he’s the child Madalyn sued about. So her son wouldn’t have to read the Bible at school.”
“Yes.” John looked at them, taking his time. “But do you know what happened to William in his later years?”
Luke knew the answer. “William became a Christian.”
“Much to his mother’s fury.” Luke’s father let that sit for a moment. “But if there’s one thing that story proves, it’s this: The Word of God does not return empty.”
“Yes.” Reagan looked at Luke, her eyes soft. “And the fact that nothing is impossible with God.”
As the night continued, the idea of Madalyn Murray O’Hair’s son becoming a Christian stayed with him. He hadn’t thought about William Murray’s story in a very long time. His father was right. Reagan, too.
God’s Word was indeed powerful—beyond explanation. And with God all things truly were possible. Luke wrestled with the reality the rest of the night. It wasn’t until an hour later, that he knew there was one case he had to take. One thing he absolutely must do. Whether it made sense or not.
He needed to call Wendell Quinn.
? ? ?
BEFORE EVERYONE LEFT Landon and Ashley’s house that evening, Reagan made her way to the kitchen. Luke and the other men and most of the kids were playing some last-minute Frisbee out front, so Reagan went to the kitchen and found the others.
“Hey, I want to tell you about my plan.” She kept her voice low.
Elaine, Katy, Brooke, Kari and Ashley all stopped what they were doing and circled around.
Ashley dried her hands and set the towel down. “It sounds important.”
“It is.” Reagan’s heart had felt heavy since her husband took the business call in the middle of dinner. “Luke’s doing it again. Giving all his time to the office.”
More than anyone else, Ashley understood the situation. “I can feel it. He’s distracted.”
“Exactly.” Reagan looked over her shoulder. She needed to get to the point before Luke came back in looking for her. “I know God’s over this. He’s speaking to Luke, otherwise we wouldn’t be here today.”