Missing Paul

OROFINO, Idaho – They are a church without a pastor.

Yet with a Job-like patience, members of Orofino Tabernacle continue to worship – singing and praying twice a week with the fervency of those fueled by the conviction that God is on their side.

“Please, Lord, please bring Paul home,” Joan Adams whispered during service Wednesday night, her eyes closed as she clutched her Bible. “We need him here with us.”

Paul Cross’ absence has left a gaping hole in this congregation, a church that grew from 30 to more than 700 since he became pastor five years ago.

It also has touched the lives of folks in Orofino, population 3,247, a town without a single stoplight, nestled between a hillside and the Clearwater River. From the mayor and the county sheriff to workers at the post office and waitresses at the Ponderosa restaurant, everyone around here knows Cross.

Especially struck by the loss are his wife, Leah, and their three young children. “I can’t stand another day without Daddy,” 8-year-old Isaac lamented Wednesday evening as his mother tucked him into bed.

Paul Cross, 35, left for Africa in early March to check on an orphanage supported by the church.

Now Cross – who is not a U.S. citizen – has been caught in an immigration maze and can’t return home.

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Five years ago, Paul Cross and his family sold everything they owned, leaving their native Wales to start a ministry thousands of miles away.

They didn’t want to leave all their friends and relatives, but Paul Cross felt a strong calling to Idaho when he first visited in 1998 to work with a pastor at Faith Tabernacle Church in Lewiston.

It took the family two years to prepare for that drastic life change. Shortly after they moved to Lewiston in April 2000, the pastor of Faith Tabernacle asked Cross to go to Orofino, to lead another nondenominational Christian church that had lost all but two dozen members.

Almost immediately, the Cross family knew they were home.

“People there have embraced my family and have shown such amazing love,” Paul Cross wrote in an e-mail from southern Wales, where he’s staying with his mother as he attempts to gain re-entry into the United States.

Many in Orofino found themselves drawn to this young, bald man with the melodic lilt in his voice. He would wave to them during his walks into town, often stopping to chat on his way to mail letters at the post office or for a cup of coffee at the Ponderosa.

Those who attended Orofino Tabernacle were often moved by his preaching. It wasn’t so much what he said, recalled 67-year-old Pat Bonner, who’s been going to the church since he was in first grade. It was the way he accepted people, no matter what, Bonner said.

“Maybe they’re smoking dope or drinking, but he tells them that Jesus loves them anyway,” said Bonner, who, like most men in Orofino, used to make a living as a logger. “You don’t have to be perfect. We’re all sinners.”

Although he came from someplace else, Cross was just like one of them, said Steve Spence, another longtime member. That surprised some in this town, which has celebrated “Lumberjack Days” for nearly 60 years and where the high school mascot is the Orofino Maniac.

“I don’t know anybody who loves Idaho as much as Paul Cross,” said Dan Lee, a guitarist who plays during church services.

Those who heard Cross preach invited their friends and neighbors. A year after the pastor’s arrival, membership started growing exponentially until it seemed at times as though a third of the town was at Orofino Tabernacle on Sundays.

With Paul Cross, people “felt the love of God for the first time without feeling condemned,” said Ruth Walker, the church’s youth pastor. He helped release them from what they perceived as the bounds of ritual and religion, she said.

Although he was the head of the church, Paul Cross never acted as though he was better than anyone else, Bonner said. Newcomers sometimes didn’t realize who was in charge because like many in the congregation, Cross wore shorts and a T-shirt to church. He also told good blond jokes, Bonner added.

“When he speaks, it fills your soul,” said Kendra Norberg, a preschool teacher who was born and raised in Orofino. “When you come to this church, he lets you be yourself.”

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On March 7, the day Cross flew to Kenya, the pastor had yet to hear from the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, USCIS, whose permission he needed to leave the country.

Cross boarded the plane, anyway, thinking the situation would work out: He had traveled out of the country before and had never encountered any problems. (He and Leah came to the country with work permits and have since applied for permanent residency.)

It turned out he was wrong. About a week after he left, Leah Cross received a letter from USCIS that said her husband’s application for travel had been rejected because he had failed to provide evidence that he had filed an I-485 Application, the form to register permanent residence or adjust status. Paul and Leah Cross said they had sent the requested documents to USCIS in February, but the May 9 letter from the agency indicated those forms had not been received.

“Your Application for Travel Document is hereby denied. There is no appeal to this decision,” the USCIS notice stated.

With Cross already out of the country, it meant he was not allowed to return.

Whether federal officials are willing to revisit that decision or take into account the circumstances surrounding his departure remain unclear.

Sharon Rummery, public affairs manager for the USCIS’ Northwest regional office, said agency rules prevent her from commenting on specific cases.

Diagnosed with diabetes a year ago, Cross decided to cut short his mission work in Kenya and return to Wales, where he has better access to medical care. Stress causes his blood sugar to rise, which then increases his chances of developing a serious chronic illness, said Dr. Hal Joseph, Cross’ doctor in Orofino.

Meanwhile, back in Orofino, the congregation and the community rallied to bring their friend and pastor home.

They quickly raised $3,500 to hire an immigration attorney in Spokane to take his case to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. They wrote letters to President Bush, Sens. Larry Craig and Mike Crapo and other people in office, extolling Cross’ work in Orofino and asking for their help. Orofino’s mayor, Joe Pippenger, also sent an appeal to Homeland Security officials.

In this town, where unemployment once raged at 23 percent with the decline of the logging industry and the closing of the plywood plant, people like Paul Cross are “the cheerleaders,” said Pippenger, elected mayor five years ago. When the community gets down, it needs people like Cross to feel good again – especially if the town is going to bounce back economically, he said.

Because Cross has been so instrumental in inspiring others, residents of Orofino want to return the favor.

“It’s the nature of a small town and community,” said the mayor, who also owns Panhandle Powerwash. “There’s not a lot of money here, but whenever there’s a problem, people come out and give their support. We help each other out.”

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Stranded in Wales, Paul Cross pines for his family and the people of Orofino. Anxiety rules his life, causing his health to worsen. “Liberty has been taken away from me and I feel like a man imprisoned,” Paul Cross wrote in a recent e-mail.

In Orofino, Leah Cross tries to be strong – no matter how much it pains her to be away from her husband of 14 years, no matter how tough it gets to run a household and raise three children by herself.

Their oldest son, 11-year-old Joshua, was sick with rhinitis last week and had to go to the hospital. Isaac, a third-grader, has become moody. Six-year-old Jessica, who doesn’t understand all the immigration problems, wakes up every day believing her dad will be at home when she walks home from school. “Daddy needs one more signature on a piece of paper,” her mom tells her, trying to simplify a reason for his absence.

At night, Leah Cross locks all the doors, her ears more sensitive to all the noises outside. Jessica has claimed Paul’s side of the bed, her clothes now piled on the floor of her parents’ room. Even the boys, who used to sleep in the basement, have temporarily moved their bedrooms to the main floor to be closer to their mom. Instead of praying together at night in the living room, like they used to when Dad was home, Leah now treads from room to room, tucking each child in while reciting their devotionals.

Leah Cross has cried only three times. “My faith is solid,” she said, sitting in her husband’s office, where shelves full of books, family photos and a large map of the world cover the walls. “I put my trust in God. God’s got a purpose even if we can’t see what’s happening. We just live and do the best we can.”

During worship on Wednesday nights and Sundays, the church’s youth pastors – Ruth and Stanton Walker – and a few other members have been taking turns preaching. “Everyone’s been stretched,” said Leah Cross, who also has been part of that rotation.

Yet, despite Paul Cross’ absence, the congregation continues to see new faces every week.

That’s exactly what Paul Cross had hoped would happen while he was gone, Ruth Walker said. Just before he left for Africa in early March, his last sermon emphasized that he was merely a man, and that the people of the church shouldn’t count on him. Instead, he told the congregants, they should pin their hopes on Jesus.

“Please don’t put me up on a pedestal,” Leah Cross said, recalling Paul’s words. “I’m just like anybody else. You should live your life for God.”

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As they gathered for worship Wednesday night, the hundreds inside the sanctuary broke into song.

“Because he lives, I can face tomorrow,” they sang with outstretched arms. “Because he lives, all fear is gone.”

Bolstered by the guitar-accompanied music, they later focused their energy on prayer.

“God is going to be faithful,” Russ Haralson assured his fellow members. “He’s going to bring Paul back home.”