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starspangledbanner27 · 5 years

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**CHAPTER UPDATE – Chapter 4 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers. For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true. However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions.

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, Quotev, or below.

From the beginning: Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or Quotev.

Once again, many thanks to my faithful readers! Whether you comment directly on the story or message me privately, I am always happy to hear from you. :)

A/N: For the purposes of this story, I have aged Don DaGradi down somewhat. Whereas in the movie he is in his early fifties, in this story he is somewhere between thirty-five and forty years old. (If you’re familiar with The West Wing and/or Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, picture something like Josh Lyman in the later seasons or Danny Tripp with auburn hair.)

~~~~~

Chapter 4

The next morning at 9:27 sharp, I stood waiting outside the front door of the hotel with my purse on my arm, my shoulders squared, and my head held high, ready to take on the world—or so I tried to convince myself.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my hands down the front of my royal blue tweed business dress with the sleeves that came halfway down my upper arms. Knowing what I knew about the Walt Disney company and how it was run, I’d packed plenty of semi-casual outfits to wear in the coming days; but today I was most concerned about making a good first impression, and for that the blue tweed dress was perfect. Stylish yet sober, it was my go-to for whenever I needed to look strikingly professional. It came with a matching jacket, which I wore draped over my shoulders lest I overheat with my arms in the sleeves. A large black barrette held my wavy brown hair back in a low ponytail, and a pair of shiny black two-inch pumps completed the look.

With a sigh, I opened my purse and drew out the ladies’ wristwatch that I kept in there because I couldn’t stand wearing it on my wrist. I checked the time—9:28. Any minute now.

Squinting slightly, I gazed out beyond the overhang. The morning air was refreshingly mild, but the bright sunshine promised another torrid California spring day. I wasn’t unaccustomed to heat—our Iowa summer temperatures often reached the mid-eighties—but I had always preferred cooler weather. As a child, I loved to go out on the porch after a summer thunderstorm and smell the freshly-cleared air and feel the breeze on my cheek. I’d look out at the lilac, azalea, and rhododendron bushes that surrounded the house, and I’d smile to myself when I saw the heat-oppressed flowers finally perking back up, daring to breathe once more. The sun beat them down, but the rain brought them back. The rain brought life.

Shaking myself out of contemplation, I checked my watch again. 9:30. And, sure enough, I looked up to see Ralph’s car pull in under the overhang, right on the dot. He hopped out, beaming like a ray of sunshine himself. “Good morning, Miss Schultz!”

“Good morning,” I replied, smiling back at him. “How are you today?”

“Oh, just right as rain, Miss Schultz. And how ’bout yourself?”

“I’m doing well . . .” . . . I think. In all honesty, I had to admit to myself that beneath my formidable exterior, I was, from head to toe, a nervous wreck—but I wasn’t about to let it show. I took a deep breath and drew myself up a little straighter.

By now Ralph had come around the back of the car to where I stood. “Yeah, today’s the big day, huh? Walt Disney Studios, home of the big man himself—boy, won’t that be exciting!”

“That it will be,” I agreed.

Still smiling, he opened the door for me to get in. “Hey, the sun came out again,” he remarked, gesturing towards the bright, cloudless sky.

Though I’d already seen it, I glanced out once more in the direction he’d indicated. “Indeed,” I murmured.

“You like the sunshine?” he asked.

“Yes, I like the sunshine; not so much the heat, though.”

“Ah,” he nodded understandingly. “Well, shall we, uh . . .”

“Oh—right, of course.” I climbed into the car, he eased the door shut, and the next thing I knew, we were humming along the streets of Los Angeles, on our way to Walt Disney Studios.

I spent most of the ride staring out the window with unseeing eyes as my imagination played out everything that could possibly happen in my first moments there, when I would finally arrive and meet the people I’d be working with for the next three weeks. Would they be warm and friendly, or would they be aloof and inflexible? Would they be happy to have me there, or would they be coolly polite at most? Had I made the right decision by coming, or would I end up regretting every minute?

“Well, here we are, Miss Schultz!”

Ralph’s chipper voice roused me from my reverie, and I looked up as the car slowed to a halt beside a small security booth. “May I help you?” asked the man inside.

“I’ve got Miss Carolina Schultz here to see Mr. Disney,” Ralph replied.

After a short pause, the guard spoke again. “All right, proceed.”

We coasted through the entrance and onto the lot, past a large sign with Walt Disney Studios spelled out in silver letters, and around to the sidewalk in front of a tall red-brick building, where three men in business suits stood waiting expectantly. This must be the welcoming committee, I thought as they bent down and waved to me one by one. The apparent head of this trio looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties, with laughter-filled brown eyes, a wide, friendly smile with a deep dimple in each cheek, and reddish-brown hair swept back in a slightly disheveled fashion. The other two looked almost identical from afar—they shared a similar height and build, as well as the same dark hair styled the same way. As we approached, however, I could see that one of them appeared slightly shorter and more upbeat, while the other, somewhat older-looking one was leaning on a cane.

Once the car came to a stop, the man with the auburn hair stepped forward to open the door for me; but before he could do so, Ralph hurried around the back. “Oh, I can get that, sir!” he called.

The man gave an obliging nod and moved back to where he’d been standing before. “Got it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Ralph said, pulling the door open.

As I stepped out of the car, the auburn-haired man extended his arms welcomingly. “Good morning, Miss Schultz!”

“Good morning,” I replied, “Mr. . . .?”

“DaGradi. Don DaGradi, scriptwriter.” Grinning, he held out his hand; and everything I saw in his eyes—the joy, the energy, the infectious enthusiasm—I felt in his handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. DaGradi.” I returned his smile.

“Likewise, I’m sure.” He then gestured to the other two men. “This is the rest of your team; this is Dick and Bob Sherman, music and lyrics.” He turned to address them. “Boys, meet the one and only Miss Carolina Schultz, the creator of our beloved Mary!”

My smile widened. “If she is half as beloved to you as she is to me, then I’m sure we’ll get along very well.” I proceeded to shake hands with the Shermans. “Now, which one of you is Dick, and which is Bob?”

“I’m Dick,” the younger man replied eagerly.

“And I’m Bob.” The older one inclined his head slightly.

“We’re brothers,” Dick added.

“Oh, how nice! So, you’re the songwriters?”

“That’s right!” he affirmed. “At your service.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with for this movie.”

Bob smiled. “Good, ’cause we can’t wait to show you.”

“Wonderful.” I turned back to Don. “Now, I was told that when I arrived here, I would get to speak with Mr. Disney. Is he ready to see me?”

“Well, we were hoping to give you a little tour of the studio first,” Don replied.

“Oh. Does . . . does that involve a lot of walking?”

He shrugged. “A fair amount.” Noticing my hesitation, he asked, “Is that a problem?”

“Uh . . . well, I—I mean, I’d love to see the tour, but I’m just really tired from my . . . trip.”

“Oh, of course; I hadn't thought of that. Well, we can certainly do it another time.”

“Yes, that would be lovely. So . . . in that case, I suppose it’s time for me to go meet with Mr. Disney. Would you be so kind as to point me in his direction?”

“Actually,” Don said, “it’s quite a long walk to where he is. If you’ll just come with me, Miss Schultz, I’ll show you a better way.” He started down the sidewalk, beckoning for me to follow. The Shermans tagged along as well, exchanging a conspiratorial smirk as Don led us around the side of the building to where several small vehicles were parked. He swept his arm grandly toward one of them. “Miss Schultz, allow me to present the Disneymobile, our preferred mode of transportation.”

“Oh, I see; a golf cart!”

“Ah, but no ordinary golf cart,” Don replied with a wink. “This, as you can see, has Mickey Mouse on the front, which, of course, makes it The Disneymobile. You won’t find one of these anywhere else, Miss Schultz.”

Laughing, I stepped forward and allowed him to help me into the cart—or, rather, “the Disneymobile.” Once I was comfortably settled, Don strode around to the other side and sprang into the driver’s seat. Since each cart seated only two people, I expected that Dick and Bob would grab another and follow along; but instead they simply climbed up onto the back and held on tightly as we pulled out and drove across the lot.

As we rolled along, Don pointed out some of the various buildings, describing which part of the filmmaking process took place in each. “Way over there on the right is the Animation building, which is where we’re headed right now. It’s where our artists and animators work, and it’s also where Walt’s office is located,” he explained. “Across the street you have Inking and Painting, where we transfer the artwork onto celluloid sheets and add color so it becomes what you see in the movies. Then we photograph them onto film, over there in the Camera building. And then, of course, there’s the post-production process, which takes place in the Cutting building, right next to Camera.”

I was so absorbed in what he was saying that I didn’t notice the sharp curve in the road until we were whipping around it at full speed. “Whoa!” I exclaimed, grabbing onto the roof of the cart just in time to keep myself from flying out.

Don glanced over at me. “You okay?”

I nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I think so.”

He gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry about that. I should have warned you we’d be going around a turn.”

“It’s all right; I should have been paying closer attention.”

“We forgive you, Don!” Bob proclaimed from the back, and we all laughed.

At last, after several minutes, we came to a stop in front of the Animation building. “And here we are!” Don announced as we climbed out of the cart.

“Wow,” I breathed, gazing up at the three-story building.

Dick smiled. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe I’m really here. It almost feels like a dream.”

“Oh, it’s real,” Bob assured me.

I shook my head slowly. “It’s amazing.”

Don grinned. “Well, get used to it, cause this is where you’ll be spending most of your time for the next three weeks.” He turned to the Shermans. “I’m gonna take her up to Walt’s office; you guys coming?”

“No, you go ahead,” said Bob. “Dick and I will park the cart and then head upstairs to get things ready. We’ll see you guys in the rehearsal room.”

“All right then. Miss Schultz, right this way.”

Together Don and I strode up the walkway and mounted the wide concrete steps to the main entrance, where he reached out to pull the door open. “After you,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied; and we walked in.

The temperature inside was pleasant, but warm enough that I decided to shed my jacket, which was still resting on my shoulders. “I can take that for you if you’d like,” Don offered once I’d removed it.

“Thank you; that would be nice.” I held it out to him, and he took it and folded it over his arm.

They really are going all-out, I mused silently as we climbed the stairs to the third floor. The men were very friendly and courteous, to be sure; but I couldn’t decide whether to feel pleased or suspicious about it. This was business, after all. Fun, hopefully, but still business. Perhaps they were just trying to win me over. And yet, it had to be more than just that, for there was a sincerity in their manner that put me instantly at ease.

At last we reached the third floor and headed down a wide hallway toward a pair of glass doors, through which I could discern what appeared to be a small waiting area. When we arrived, Don opened the door for me once again, and I walked through.

The waiting area consisted of a brown curved sofa and two end tables lined up against the far wall, with a woman in a light blue dress sitting behind a desk near the doors. She had short, dark hair and a round, pleasant face with bright red lips, and she looked to be about my age. As Don and I entered, she stepped out to greet us with a wide smile. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Dolly,” Don replied amiably. “Miss Schultz, this is Dolly, our receptionist. Dolly, the famous Carolina Schultz.”

“It’s such an honor to have you here,” she gushed.

“Thank you; I’m honored to be here,” I said, smiling at her bubbly welcome. “Could you please let Mr. Disney know I’ve arrived?”

“Absolutely! Please have a seat; he’ll be with you in just a minute.”

“Thank you.”

Once we were seated on the sofa, Don leaned over and spoke quietly to me. “A word of advice, Miss Schultz, if I may.”

“Of course. Have . . . have I done something wrong?”

“No, no—nothing like that. It’s just that he can’t stand being called ‘Mr. Disney’; we’re all on a first-name basis here.”

“Oh, I see. So I should call him Walt?”

“He would prefer that, yes.”

“All right.” I hesitated. “Does . . . does that go for you guys, too?”

“Well, I can’t speak for the Shermans, but I know I’d rather be called Don than Walt.”

I blushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry; I should have phrased that differently. What I meant was, do you prefer to be called by your first names?”

He looked at me then, and I saw his eyes were twinkling. “I know what you meant, Miss Schultz; I was just being funny. Or at least attempting to be,” he said with a wry grin. “But in answer to your question, yes, we all go by our first names.”

I nodded. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know . . . Don.”

He smiled. “And what do people call you? Carolina?”

“Well, that’s the name on my books, but I seldom use it anywhere else. I mostly go by Carrie. You guys can call me that, if you want.”

“Carrie . . . I like that,” he remarked to himself. Then, turning to me—“All right then, Carrie it is.” I smiled and blushed a little.

At that point, our conversation lapsed. Don stared off into the distance, bouncing his leg slightly and tapping his fingers on his knee. Meanwhile, as the seconds stretched into minutes, I grew more and more antsy at the thought of meeting Walt Disney—the king of animated motion pictures himself! I stretched my arms out in front of me, clenching and unclenching my hands repeatedly in a vain attempt to alleviate my jitters. Don noticed this and looked over at me with a knowing smile. “You nervous?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m only about to meet the Walt Disney; why on earth would I be nervous?” I gave a half-smile to let him know my sarcasm was meant in fun.

He chuckled. “It’s all right. He has that effect on everyone. But trust me—once you meet him, you’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Are you absolutely sure I should call him Walt?” I asked. “I mean, it just seems so informal, and I’d really hate to appear rude. But you did say he likes everyone to call him that?”

“He does indeed. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself,” Don replied good-naturedly. Then, all of a sudden, his head perked up, and his brow furrowed slightly. “Hold on . . . I think I just heard the door to his office.”

My eyes widened, my heart palpitated, and my hands clasped tightly together. Oh my gosh, this is actually happening. Down the hall, I heard a deep cough; and two seconds later, he—Walt Disney—emerged from around the corner, threw open his arms, and strode across the room toward us, beaming, as we stood up. “Well,” he boomed, “here you are, at last! Oh, my dear gal”—he seized my hand in both of his and shook it vigorously—“you can’t imagine how excited I am to finally meet you!”

It took me several seconds to regain my power of speech. “Oh! Well, it’s an honor, Mr. Disney.” My face reddened as I realized my mistake and quickly corrected myself. “Oh—I mean Walt. Don said I ought to call you Walt.” I gave him a questioning look.

“That’s absolutely correct,” Walt replied warmly. “‘Mr. Disney’ was my old man, and I like to keep it that way. But enough about me—what do you think of the studio? You like what you’ve seen? I trust the boys have already given you the tour.”

“Actually, they were kind enough to give me a rain check. I was a little too tired to handle much walking. But I do love everything I’ve seen so far—especially the Disneymobile.” I threw a smile at Don, who had already been grinning widely from the moment Walt entered the room.

Walt raised an eyebrow, glancing curiously in Don’s direction. “The Disneymobile?”

“Golf cart,” Don explained.

“Ah.” Walt chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. And I guarantee there’s lots more to love around here . . . but I won’t say anything more about that.” He raised his eyebrows mysteriously. “You’ll just have to stick around and see the magic for yourself. Come on, right this way.” With that, he turned and strode back the hall.

I glanced hesitantly at Don, who gave a slight nod in the direction Walt was headed. “Go on. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done. And, Carrie?”

“Hmm?”

“Don't be nervous.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I nodded, smiling my thanks, and hurried after Walt.

I caught up to him where he was standing near another desk with another woman sitting behind it—one who appeared to be in her mid-forties, with dark red hair and a calm, pleasant face with laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Walt looked up from his conversation with her just as I rounded the corner. “Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed. “I was starting to worry I’d lost you.” Before I could reply, he gestured to the woman at the desk, who had stood up when I appeared. “Carolina, this is my secretary, Tommie Blount. Tommie, meet the one and only Carolina Schultz.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said warmly, offering her hand.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I replied, shaking hands with her. “And, please, call me Carrie.” I sent a brief glance in Walt’s direction. “Everyone does.”

“Well, then, Carrie,” Walt said, “won’t you join me in my office?”

“Uh—certainly.” I looked over my shoulder to exchange another smile with Tommie as I followed Walt into the adjoining room.

When I walked through the doorway, I halted in amazement. Never before had I seen an office like his—so spacious, yet so homey. The wall directly to my right was lined with bookcases that held not only books, but also numerous knickknacks—many of which were figurines of characters from his movies. In front of the bookcases sat a three-seat couch and a glass-top coffee table. Two large windows flooded the room with light; on their sills rested more figurines. A large globe in a wooden stand stood near one of the windows, and two plush off-white chairs sat facing each other at opposite ends of the room.

In the corner across the room was Walt’s desk, which he moved to stand behind. “Come, have a seat!” he called, indicating one of two chairs that sat across from him. As I walked over, I took note of the various paraphernalia that cluttered his desk: two small lamps, a few books, a model airplane, a pencil holder full of pens and pencils, and the pixie bell I’d seen him ringing on television the day before. In the very center, on the side closest to me, sat a small wooden plaque that read, We can make them live. And on the wall behind the desk were several shelves lined with even more figurines.

“You like all the trinkets?” Walt asked, noticing my curious interest.

“Yes, they’re fascinating!” I said as I sat down.

His eyes twinkled. “Good, good! Tommie keeps telling me I should clean out my office and get rid of all this ‘junk,’ as she calls it. And you know what I always tell her?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on. “I say, ‘Tommie, these little trinkets represent the things that bring joy to a child’s heart. And as long as that’s true, there’s no better place to keep them than right here in my office, where I can see them every day and be reminded of what we’re all about here: bringing joy to the hearts of children.’” He chuckled. “Of course, she thinks that’s just a fancy excuse for not wanting to clean out my office; but there is truth to it, Carrie. That is what this company is all about, is bringing joy to the hearts of children—and adults, too, for that matter.”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then turned and pointed to one of several framed pictures on the wall behind him—a pencil sketch of a young woman. “You know, Diane here, my oldest daughter—oh!” he interrupted himself. “Can I get you something to drink? A coffee, perhaps?”

“That would be very nice, thank you.”

He nodded and went on. “Anyway, Diane has two little daughters of her own: Joanna and Tamara—but of course, we call them Joey and Tammy. And one time, when I came to visit them, I found them sitting on the couch. Joey was reading to Tammy, and those girls, they were just giggling their little socks off.” He picked up his phone to use the intercom. “Ah, Tommie? A hot coffee for Carrie and me.”

I heard her voice through the door. “Right away, Walt.”

“Ah, you’re a doll. She is, she’s a doll,” he said as he hung up the phone and turned back to me. “And anyways,” he continued, “I asked them, I said, ‘Girls, what’s so funny?’ And Joanna says to me, ‘Why, Grampy, Mary Poppins!’” He laughed, and I couldn’t help laughing with him.

“Well, at that point, I didn't even know what a Mary Poppins was,” he admitted. “But then she gave me one of your books; and oh, by gosh, my imagination caught on fire—absolutely on fire! And now, here we are!”

I nodded. “Indeed. I’m so happy to be here. I can’t wait to start working on the movie.”

“Oh, I feel the same way; and so does my team. You know, we’re doing a wonderful thing here. Our motion picture is not just going to make my grandkids happy; it’s going to make all kids happy, adults too. Because my guys are going to do things with it that are revolutionary, Carolina, revolutionary! Your Mary Poppins is going to literally fly off the pages of your books! Oh, thank you, Tommie,” he said as Tommie came in with our coffee. “This magical woman who has only lived inside your head, well, you are going to be able to meet her, speak to her, and you’re gonna hear her sing.”

“Yes, I’m very excited!” I assured him.

“Do you take cream in your coffee?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Sugar?”

“Please.”

He poured in the cream and sugar, stirring them around as he spoke. “You know, ever since this company was born, we’ve brought dozens of films to the big screen—many of which are based off books just like yours. And in all these years, we haven’t lost an author yet.” He handed me my coffee cup. “I have high hopes for what we’re going to accomplish here together, Carrie, and you can rest assured we’ll do our very best to make this an experience you won’t regret.”

“Mr. Disney—” I caught myself. “I’m sorry—Walt . . . forgive me for being so blunt, but it sounds like you’re trying to convince me of something. Are you worried I might be having second thoughts?”

He took a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee. “Well . . . I suppose I still don’t quite understand why you turned us down the first time.”

After a long pause, I spoke. “It wasn’t that I was uninterested. I do like the idea of this project, and I’m glad it ended up working out.” I sighed deeply. “The reason I said no initially . . . well, it was really just the timing of it all. Your offer just happened to come right after I’d found out about . . . well . . . I believe my agent told you? About my . . .”

“Yes . . . yes, she told me.”

“Right. Anyway, I was going through so much; I just couldn’t handle a movie rights deal on top of everything else. But . . . by the second time you approached me, things had changed; and I wanted to accept this opportunity before . . . before it was too late.”

“I see,” he said quietly. “And you wanted to come here and work on it with us because . . .”

I took a deep breath. “Well, you see, Mary Poppins and the Bankses—they’re like family to me. I want to make sure that they’re portrayed as I know them, and that the life they live on screen is one they’d be proud of.”

He nodded. “Well, we shall do our very best. And, of course, nothing happens without your say-so.” He opened his desk drawer and brought out a paper. “It’s all here in the rights agreement that was approved by your agent,” he said, holding it out to me.

I took it from him and glanced over it. “A live-action film? No animation?”

“Live-action. Here’s a pen.”

I looked back up at him. “Walt, I know my agent has already approved this, but I do make it my personal practice not to sign any contract without first reading it for myself. So if you don't mind, I’d like to take this with me tonight and bring it back tomorrow morning. I hope that won’t cause any inconvenience.”

“Certainly not,” he replied with a smile. “You’re a wise young woman.”

I smiled back at him, then folded the contract and tucked it in my purse.

After a moment’s pause, Walt sat down in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. “Well, now that we have all the business taken care of . . . how are you feeling, Carrie?”

“I’m well, thank you,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re well.”

I shrugged. “As well as can be expected.” After a pause, I asked, “You . . . you haven’t told the others?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t said a word.”

“Good.”

He held my gaze with a seriousness that belied his trademark happy-go-lucky persona. “You’re sure you want to do it this way?”

“Yes,” I replied with a decisive nod. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I just think it’ll be much easier if they don’t know.”

“Very well.” His eyes probed mine. “And you’re sure you feel up to this?”

I shrugged again, smiling. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He nodded and chuckled slightly. “Indeed you are.”

A few moments passed in which neither of us said anything; then he cleared his throat and glanced at the clock. “Well, we can’t keep the guys waiting too long.”

“No, of course not,” I agreed. He rose from his chair, and I followed suit. Together we walked toward the door.

“Now, the boys and Dolly should get you all taken care of; but if at any time you need anything, you know where to find me,” he said.

“I’ll remember that.” Having reached the door, I turned to face him. “Thank you for your time, Walt. It was an honor to finally meet you.”

“The honor is all mine, Carrie,” he replied with a warm smile.

I smiled back, then took a deep breath. “Well then . . . shall we begin?”

He nodded and shook my hand. “Let’s make something wonderful.”

Heart racing, I returned his nod and strode out the door.

~~~~~

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icephas · 3 years

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Covenant Faith - Lesson 12, June 12-18

Sabbath Afternoon

Read for This Week’s Study: Gal. 6:14; Rom. 6:23; I John 5:11, 13; Rom. 4:1-7; Lev. 7:18; Lev. 17:1-4; Rom. 5:1.

Memory Verse: “But that no man is justified by the law in the sight of God, it is evident: for, The just shall live by faith” (Galatians 3:11).

About seven centuries before Christ, the poet Homer wrote the Odyssey, the story of Odysseus the great warrior who — after sacking the city of Troy in the Trojan war — began a ten-year voyage to try to return to his native Ithaca. The voyage, too, took so long because he faced shipwrecks, mutinies, storms, monsters, and other obstacles that kept him from reaching his goal. Finally, after deciding that Odysseus had suffered enough, the gods agreed to allow the weary warrior to return to his home and family. His trials were, they agreed, enough atonement for his mistakes.

In one sense, we are like Odysseus, on a long journey home. The crucial difference, however, is that, unlike Odysseus, we can never “suffer enough” to earn our way back. The distance between heaven and earth is too great for us to atone for our mistakes. If we get home, it would have to be only by the grace of God.

The Week at a Glance: Why must salvation be a gift? Why could only Someone equal with God ransom our souls? What makes Abraham such a good representative of faith? What does it mean that righteousness is “imputed” or “credited” to us? How can we make the promises and hope found in the Cross our own?

Study this week’s lesson to prepare for Sabbath, June 19.

Sunday, June 13

Reflections of Calvary

The Old Testament way of salvation under the Mosaic covenant is no different from the New Testament way of salvation under the new covenant. Whether in the Old or New Testament, old or new covenant, salvation is by faith alone. If it was by anything else, such as works, salvation would be something that was owed us, something the Creator was obligated to give us. Only those who do not understand the seriousness of sin could believe that God was under some obligation to save us. On the contrary, if anything, there was only one obligation, and that was what we owed to the violated law. We, of course, could not meet that obligation; fortunately, Jesus met it for us.

“When men and women can more fully comprehend the magnitude of the great sacrifice which was made by the Majesty of heaven in dying in man’s stead, then will the plan of salvation be magnified, and reflections of Calvary will awaken tender, sacred, and lively emotions in the Christian’s heart. Praises to God and the Lamb will be in their hearts and upon their lips. Pride and self-esteem cannot flourish in the hearts that keep fresh in memory the scenes of Calvary … All the riches of the world are not of sufficient value to redeem one perishing soul. Who can measure the love Christ felt for a lost world as He hung upon the cross, suffering for the sins of guilty men? This love was immeasurable, infinite.

Christ has shown that His love was stronger than death. He was accomplishing man’s salvation; and although He had the most fearful conflict with the powers of darkness, yet, amid it all, His love grew stronger and stronger. He endured the hiding of His Father’s countenance, until He was led to exclaim in the bitterness of His soul: ‘My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?’ His arm brought salvation. The price was paid to purchase the redemption of man, when, in the last soul struggle, the blessed words were uttered which seemed to resound through creation: ‘It is finished.’

The scenes of Calvary call for the deepest emotion. Upon this subject you will be excusable if you manifest enthusiasm. That Christ, so excellent, so innocent, should suffer such a painful death, bearing the weight of the sins of the world, our thoughts and imaginations can never fully comprehend. The length, the breadth, the height, the depth, of such amazing love we cannot fathom. The contemplation of the matchless depths of a Saviour’s love should fill the mind, touch and melt the soul, refine and elevate the affections, and completely transform the whole character.” — Ellen G. White, Testimonies for the Church, vol. 2, pp. 212, 213.

Pray over what Ellen G. White wrote here. Keeping these lines in mind, read Galatians 6:14 and then ask yourself, in what ways can I glory in the Cross of Christ?

Monday, June 14

The Covenant and the Sacrifice

“You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your fathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot” (1 Pet. 1:18-19, RSV).

What does Peter mean here when he says that we were ransomed?

When Peter speaks about Christ’s atoning death on the cross, the “ransom” or price idea to which he refers brings to mind the ancient practice of a slave being freed from his bondage after a price had been paid (often by a relative). In contrast, Christ ransomed us from the slavery of sin and its final fruit, which is death, but He did it with His “precious blood,” His substitutionary and voluntary death on Calvary. Again, this is the foundation of all the covenants: without it, the covenant becomes null and void, because God could not have justly fulfilled His end of the deal, which is the gift of eternal life bestowed upon all who believe.

Look up the following verses: Rom. 6:23, 1 John 5:11, 13. What message do all of them share in common?

We have this promise of eternal life, because Jesus alone could repair that breach that first caused us to lose that eternal life. How? Because the righteousness and infinite value of the Creator alone could cancel the debt we owed to the broken law — that is how wide the breach caused by sin was. After all, what would it say about the seriousness of God’s eternal moral law if some finite, temporal, and created being could pay the penalty for violating it? Only Someone who is equal to God Himself, in whom life existed unborrowed and underived and eternal, could have paid the ransom required to free us from the debt owed to the law. This is how all the covenant promises are fulfilled; this is how we have the promise of eternal life, even now; this is how we have been ransomed from sin and death.

Imagine that someone’s child, in an art museum, throws a balloon filled with ink on a Rembrandt painting and ruins it completely. The painting is worth millions; the parents, even if they sold everything they owned, could not come close to paying the debt owed. In what sense does this image help us understand just how serious a breach sin has caused, how helpless we are to fix it, and why only the Lord Himself could pay the debt?

Tuesday, June 15

The Faith of Abraham: Part 1

“He believed in the LORD; and he counted it to him for righteousness” (Gen. 15:6).

This verse remains one of the most profound statements in all Scripture. It helps establish the crucial truth of biblical religion, that of justification by faith alone, and it does this long centuries before Paul wrote about it in Romans. All of which helps prove the point that from Eden onward, salvation always came the same way.

The immediate context of the verse helps us understand just how great Abram’s faith was, believing in God’s promise of a son despite all the physical evidence that would seem to make that promise impossible. It is the kind of faith that realizes its own utter helplessness, the kind of faith that demands a complete surrender of self, the kind of faith that requires a total submission to the Lord, the kind of faith that results in obedience. This was the faith of Abram, and it was counted to him “as righteousness.”

Why does the Bible say that it was “counted to” him or “credited to” him as righteousness? Was Abram himself “righteous” in the sense of God’s righteousness? What did he do, not long after God declared him righteous, that helps us understand why this righteousness was credited to him, as opposed to what he himself actually was?

However much Abram’s life was a life of faith and obedience, it was not a life of perfect faith and perfect obedience. At times he displayed weakness in both areas. (Does that sound like anyone you know?) All of which leads to the crucial point, and that is: the righteousness that saves us is a righteousness that is credited to us, a righteousness that is (to use a fancy theological term) imputed to us. This means that we are declared righteous in the sight of God, despite our faults; it means that the God of heaven views us as righteous even if we are not. This is what He did with Abram, and this is what He will do to all who come to Him in “the faith of Abraham” (Rom. 4:16).

Read Romans 4:1-7. Look at the context in which Paul uses Genesis 15:6. Pray over those verses and write out in your own words what you believe they are saying to you.

Wednesday, June 16

The Faith of Abraham: Part 2

Looking again at Genesis 15:6, we can see that various translations have rendered the term counted (Hebrew, chashab) or “reckoned” or “credited” (RSV, NIV) or “accounted.” (NKJV)

The same term is employed in other texts in the books of Moses. A person or a thing is “reckoned” or “regarded" as something that person or thing is not. For instance, in Genesis 31:15, Rachel and Leah affirm that their father “reckons” (“regards” or “counts”) them as strangers, although they are his daughters. The tithe of the Levite is “reckoned” (“regarded” or “counted”) as though it were the corn of the threshing floor, although it is obviously not the corn (Num. 18:27, 30, NIV).

How is the idea of reckoning expressed in the context of sacrifices? (Lev. 7:18, Lev. 17:1-4).

The King James Version uses the word imputed to translate chashab. If a particular sacrifice (“peace offering”) is not eaten by the third day, its value is lost, and it shall not be “reckoned” (Lev. 7:18, NASB; Hebrew, chashab) to the benefit of the offerer. Leviticus 7:18 speaks of a situation in which a sacrifice is “reckoned” to the benefit of the sinner (compare Lev. 17:1-4, NASB) who then stands before God in righteousness. God is accounting the sinner as righteous, although the individual is actually unrighteous.

Take some time to dwell on this wonderful truth that we, despite our faults, can be accounted, or credited, as righteous in the sight of God. Write out in your own words your understanding of what this means.

The great truth, that of being declared righteous, not because of any act that we can do but only because of faith in what Christ has done for us, this is the essence of the phrase “righteousness by faith.” Yet, it is not that our faith itself makes us righteous; rather, faith is the vehicle by which we obtain the gift of righteousness. This, in essence, is the beauty, the mystery, and the glory of Christianity. All that we believe as Christians, as followers of Christ, finds an important root in this wonderful concept. Through faith, we are accounted righteous in the sight of God. All else that follows; obedience, sanctification, holiness, character development, love, should stem from this crucial truth.

How do you respond to someone who seeks to be a Christian yet says, “But I don’t feel righteous”?

Thursday, June 17

Resting on the Promises

There is a story told about the famous Cardinal Bellarmine, the great Catholic apologist who all his life fought the message of justification by an imputed righteousness alone. As he lay dying, he was brought the crucifixes and the merits of the saints to help give him assurance before death. But Bellarmine said, “Take it away. I think it’s safer to trust in the merits of Christ.”

For many people as they near the end of their lives, they look back and see how vain, how futile, how useless their deeds and their works are for earning salvation with a holy God, and thus how much they need the righteousness of Christ.

Yet the good news is that we don’t have to wait for the approach of death to have security in the Lord now. The whole covenant is based on the secure promises of God now, promises for us now, promises that can make our life better now.

Look up the following verses and answer the question asked with each one in the context of developing, keeping, and strengthening your covenant relationship with God:

Ps. 34:8 (How can you taste God’s goodness?)

Matt. 11:30 (What is it about what Christ has done for us that makes this yoke easy?)

Rom 5:1 (What does justification have to do with peace?)

Phil. 2:7-8 (What have you gained from Christ’s experience?)

Prayerfully examine your life and ask yourself, what things am I doing that are strengthening my relationship with God, and what things are hurting it? What changes do I need to make?

Friday, June 18

Further Thought:

“The only way in which he [the sinner] can attain to righteousness is through faith. By faith he can bring to God the merits of Christ, and the Lord places the obedience of His Son to the sinner’s account. Christ’s righteousness is accepted in place of man’s failure, and God receives, pardons, justifies, the repentant, believing soul, treats him as though he were righteous, and loves him as He loves His Son. This is how faith is accounted righteousness.” — Ellen G. White, Selected Messages, book 1, p. 367.

“When through repentance and faith we accept Christ as our Savior, the Lord pardons our sins, and remits the penalty prescribed for the transgression of the law. The sinner then stands before God as a just person; he is taken into favor with Heaven and through the Spirit has fellowship with the Father and the Son.

Then there is yet another work to be accomplished, and this is of a progressive nature. The soul is to be sanctified through the truth. And this also is accomplished through faith. For it is only by the grace of Christ, which we receive through faith, that the character can be transformed.�� — Ellen G. White, Selected Messages, book 3, p. 191.

Discussion Questions:

1. What distinction is made between a living and a dead faith? (James 2:17-18). How does Paul describe a living faith? (Rom. 16:26). What is the key word that helps reveal what faith entails?

2. How do you respond to the argument (which comes with a certain logical consistency) that if we are saved only by a credited righteousness, not a righteousness that exists within us, then it does not matter what we do or how we act?

3. “Our acceptance with God is sure only through His beloved Son, and good works are but the result of the working of His sin-pardoning love. They are no credit to us, and we have nothing accorded to us for our good works by which we may claim a part in the salvation of our souls … He [the believer] cannot present his good works as a plea for the salvation of his soul.” — Ellen G. White, Selected Messages, book 3, p. 199. Keeping this statement by Ellen G. White in mind, why, then, are good works such a crucial part of the Christian experience?

Summary: Old Covenant, new covenant: Jesus paid the debt owed by the law, so that we can stand righteous in the sight of God.

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