The Girl With the Cross

Chapter 21: Tyler

  Today is the last morning I have to go to church. I know I'll be regretting it later, but I actually feel pretty excited. I don't quite know why, though. Maybe because Sarah will be there, resting her braided hair on my shoulder; maybe it's because it gives me something to do on Sunday; could it maybe be possible that I'm actually starting to believe again? No-- that's crazy. God is fake. If He was real, why would he let Mom die? What about the things that Dad and JC have always been telling me? 

  What about the things that all the Christians say? That my girlfriend says?

    I don't know.
   Maybe today I'll find out what I believe.

  When we get to church for my third and final time, something feels different. The sun shines brighter, the church seems bigger and more enchanting, and somehow, Sarah is even prettier than normal. To be honest, I didn't think it was possible for her to be any more gorgeous, but apparently cherry-flavored chapstick does her well. I want to kiss those slightly red, softly flavored lips. I want to hold her gently until she falls asleep . . .
  "Hey, you coming?" Sarah asks, looking back at me. I realize that I froze, caught in the thought of her. I blush as I try to recover.
  "Oh uh, yeah." I say, pushing myself to walk forward and trying to kick out the idea of her beauty and focus on the church part. At least that's what I'm supposed to do.
  When we enter, I'm given a small brochure of things going on this week: what we're learning about today, all of that good stuff. She's an older, petite woman, and she smiles brightly at me. It's the same lady as the one from both Sundays before. I like the consistency of it.
  "Good morning." She says, cheerfully.
  "Good morning." I respond. The last few weeks I was here, I mostly ignored her kindly waiting at the front in the heat to give us a brochure of the week to come, her welcoming smile that must be exhausting to keep on her face when people practically don't even notice her.
  Before I continue into the church with Sarah and her mom, I say, "Thank you, for doing this every Sunday." 
  "No problem sweetie. Have a good Sunday, and God bless you." She says, voice lifted and smile bigger and even more genuine than before. We then walk into the church.

  When we sit down, Sarah looks at me strangely.
  "What, princess?" I ask. Oh no. Maybe I pushed too far with "princess". I cringe for just a moment and then open my eyes back up to look at her reaction.
  "What's up with you today? You're different: acting nicer, more well-dressed . . ." She says, a puzzled but impressed look on her face.
  "I feel different today." I say, feeling just as confused as her, but smiling a little anyways.
  Her face expression turns to pure joy as if she's realized something incredible. "Well, whatever is going on with you today, I'm glad for ." She smiles, brightly. She knows something. I can tell. Before I can ask though, church starts, and I hear the beating of the drum, signaling all of us to stand and start singing. 
  The lead singer comes on stage with the widest smile that I can't help but feel joy spreading through my chest.
  "Alright everyone!" He shouts cheerfully. "Clap to this one, and sing your heart out!"
He begins to sing:

"Why?
The question that is never far away.
The healing doesn't come from being explained.
Jesus, please don't let this go in vain.
You're all I have,
All that remains . . ." 

  They all continue to sing, but I have to stop. My throat hurts and I feel like I'll cry if I sing one more word. I take a few moments to actually think about the words they're singing. What if God heals without proving his existence? What if Sarah only came into my neighborhood to bring me back to God, and I wasn't supposed to realize it until this exact moment? What if God was here inside of me this whole time and I just forgot? What's this tingling spreading through my body with every new beat I hear? I'm utterly terrified for the smallest blink of an eye, the shortest flash-- then unexplainable joy.

  I think about this long and hard, and before I know it, the song is over and I have tears welling up in my eyes. If God was real this whole time, just waiting for the perfect moment to get me back, I have been horrible.
  Sarah's dad comes on the stage and begins to speak, "Good morning."
  "Good morning." We all repeat back to him. We all sit down and wait for him to begin.
  "If you are here for the first time, please stand so we can say hello!" He doe this every week and I'm always surprised at how many newcomers actually show up here every Sunday morning.
  I look around me, into the crowd. I see dozens and dozens of people standing up and it makes me smile. So many people are coming to God today.
  They all sit when Sarah's dad requests it, and then he begins the lesson.
  "When my wife was a teenager, she wasn't a believer. She thought that God couldn't exist because most of her family had died when she was very young. She dated many before me, but when we met, her life turned around. God used me to heal her brokenness, and renew her soul so she could see God's glory once again in a way that worked for her. Now I don't know about all of you, but I think at least a few of you need a refresher on the story that defines all of Christianity-- the story that shapes us all for the better. It's the story of Jesus Christ." 

  He talks about how Jesus came on earth and healed people, converted people, saved people. He talks about how Jesus was the son of God and that he was sent to die for us. "Now, why in the world would God bring his son down to die for people that were corrupted sinners? The answer is simple: love. God loves us so much, that he gave his son away to die so that we could be cleansed of our sin. I know some of you choose not to believe this because some bad things have happened in your life, and that is very understandable. People may have brought suffering to you or have hurt you in some very deep, almost unhealable ways. But I promise you can take it from the woman sitting in the front row right here," He points to Sarah's mom, "Wife of a pastor, daughter of God, a wonderful Christian woman; God is so good, and he wants to change your life around today. He wants to save you today. And all you have to do, is accept him into your heart, either for the first time, or again. Please, pray with me." He says. He pauses to let us decide in our minds if this is what we want. If this is what I want. Is it? Do I want God's love again? Do I want to have faith again? Am I ready? If I weren't ready, why would my head be bowed and my hands be together without hesitation? Why does my throat burn, my eyes feel wet? Why am I repeating every word he says?

  "Dear Lord, I accept you into my heart this morning. Please forgive my sins and allow me to feel your grace. Amen." It's a short prayer, but its very powerful to me for some weird reason I can;t explain.
  "Now, I encourage you to pray on your own. To God, to grace, to love and compassion and mercy. It's all waiting for you at the other side of your heart." He says-- and I do

  Dear God,
If you're real, I am sorry. If you love me, I am sorry. If you sacrificed for me, I am sorry. I have not been a good Christian for many years, even though my mother told me to. She is safe with you now, and I need to accept it in my heart and embrace your mercy. So, I need help. If you are real, please just give me a sign. I need something God.
Amen.