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Journey Of Faith_A Contemporary Christian Romance Page 2
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She scoffed at my remark. “Yeah, great bunch of people . . .”
Heather seethed with anger toward all Christians, and frankly, I was a bit surprised she was still seeing me. She had taken jabs against my faith for the last time that night. I couldn’t handle it anymore. So I said something. “The rudeness has to stop, Heather.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes were like daggers and her mouth like a trout. “You don’t command me to do anything. This God business has changed you, James. Changed you for the worst. Listen, I know your dad died and you have this weird fantasy of filling his shoes at his church, but seriously. You have got to get a grip. Look at yourself. You’re going to quit your job and take a pay cut to clean toilets. For what? So that maybe someday, you can be just like your daddy who turned his back on you?”
My anger waxed hotter, and I let the truth pour out. “I turned my back on him. You don’t even know the real me. I have told you a million times that I had a calling on my life to be a pastor someday. And if that means I must clean toilets first, then I will do it. God called, and I’m finally getting around to answering that call. You’re right. I have changed. I fell in love with Jesus and He is my compass now. Pay and location don’t matter to me.”
She shrugged and scoffed again. “What’s that even mean? A calling? Seriously? If you had a so-called ‘calling,’ then why are you scrubbing toilets? Huh?” She laughed. “Honestly, we’ve both changed so much since we cleaned up from drugs. I don’t feel like you even know who I am either, James. We never have sex anymore because of this so-called God. I’m tired of it.”
The veil finally fell from my eyes and I saw the darkness that she was in. “Do you even listen to me? Do you even hear yourself? Do you even believe in God, Heather?”
“I believe in a God, but not yours. My God is love and acceptance and wouldn’t want you to give up a perfectly fine job at the furniture store to go clean toilets, even if it’s at a church.”
“Your God?” I paused, carefully selecting the following words. “Your ‘God’ is what the Bible refers to as idolatry. You can’t customize God. He is who He is, and we have to surrender to Him.”
She took her napkin off her lap, scrunched it up, and dropped it onto her plate. Standing up from the table, she came around to me and leaned in. Kissing me gently on my cheek, she then looked into my eyes.
“I loved you when I met you, and I love you even now. But I don’t like this guy you’ve become lately. I tried to deal with it and think maybe it could be good for us, this Jesus thing, but I can’t anymore. I’m sorry, but we’re done.”
Leaving me in the dining room at my parents’ house, she grabbed her coat and purse off the hook near the front door and left. She didn’t slam the door, like she had been doing the days and months prior after each fight. Instead, this time, she gently closed it. I knew right then that it was over for good.
They warned me in rehab that a lot of relationships would be lost through sobriety. Some relationships, they told me, I had to throw away. Others, though, would eventually go away on their own. Heather and I weren’t the same after we got clean this last time. I know it had to do with my renewed faith after my dad had passed. In the depths of my soul, I always knew that light had no business being around darkness. In the brief moments of clarity, when I was completely honest with myself in rehab, I knew we would never last.
Capping the candles in the middle of the dining room table, I stacked our plates of uneaten food and took them into the kitchen. As I placed them on the counter beside the sink, I caught sight of an old picture of my family from when we were all young and on vacation as a family. I looked into my father’s eyes in the picture and tears welled. I could feel my soul rip as a slice of regret cut through me.
“I am a child of God, and I’m sorry it took your passing for me to realize it again.”
Just then, I heard a car pull into the driveway. I wondered if Heather had forgotten something.
Walking into the living room, I pulled the curtain back and saw it wasn’t her.
It was Mark, my brother-in-law.
He was driving Zeda, the car my father had rebuilt and given to him before he died. A silver 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle Super Sport Coupe with two black racing stripes. It was the car that should’ve been mine, but I was too doped up to ever deserve such a gift as that. Smiling as I saw him get out of the car, I was glad he had come out for a visit when he had. I craved the fellowship with a fellow believer.
Chapter 4 - James
I FIRED UP THE GRILL and cooked us a few burgers since I didn’t get to eat earlier with Heather. After we ate, we took a seat in the living room, him on the couch and me in my dad’s recliner. My stomach was full and my heart was happy. Mark and I had grown closer since my sobriety and had connected with one another as brothers in Christ, a commonality that we both took seriously in our lives. We were like iron sharpening iron and were able to share conversations about God that lasted for hours when time permitted.
“That’s pretty awesome that you’re going to be working out at the church, man.”
“I know.” Thinking of my dad, I continued. “I think he would’ve been proud of me for the progress I’ve made in life. It still bums me out that it all had to happen after the fact. You know? I always thought I had more time.”
Mark paused for a moment. Then he looked at me. “You know, Ed knew you’d come back to the faith someday.”
“I wish, but you’re just guessing. You don’t know that for certain.”
Shaking his head, he continued. “No, I’m not guessing on this. You know that car sitting out in the driveway?”
“Uh. Yeah. How could I forget Zeda?” I laughed, fidgeting awkwardly with the corner of my thumb. I looked at him. “It’s like he knew he was going to die so he named it with the last letter of the alphabet on purpose.”
“He entrusted her to me until now.”
Confusion gripped me. Adjusting in my seat, I narrowed my look on him. “Until now? What do you mean?”
Setting his iced tea down on the coffee table, Mark reached into his pocket. “Listen. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but it’s been long enough.”
He pulled out the rabbit’s foot keychain and tossed it over to me. “Zeda is yours now. Your father said to hold onto it for you until you were ready. I know you’re ready now and have probably known for a while, but it was hard to part with her.”
My heart melted. “He knew he was going to die.”
“Yeah.”
“And he believed in me. That I’d come back to the faith.”
“Yep.”
Squeezing the keys in my hand, I was overwhelmed with the reality of the moment. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at Mark. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I know I don’t have a clue. Listen, don’t be mad at your dad for not telling anybody about knowing he was going to die. You see, I loved Ed, and I knew the best way to honor him was to keep my lips closed on this subject matter, the car and him dying. Now you know that your father believed in you, James. I did too, but it was only after listening to your dad talk about you when you were younger. He loved you dearly, James. That was even while he didn’t love the choices you were making. He reminds me a lot of how God loves us. You’re lucky to have had a dad like that.”
Nodding, I rose to my feet and walked over to the window, drawing the curtain back. I peered out at the car.
I thought about how my father’s hands were once underneath that hood, working tirelessly to fix all that was wrong with it. It made me think of God and myself. I showed up on God’s doorstep, broken and in need of repair. He fixed me and was continuing to fix me with each new day.
My phone rang in the kitchen.
Excusing myself from the living room, I went past Mark into the kitchen and picked up my cell phone.
It was my boss from the furniture store.
“Friday can be your last day. I need you at least for the next couple of days because
of the shipments we have coming in for the big sale next week. Need those extra hands.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Finek. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hanging up with my boss, I returned to the living room. “That was my boss. I only have to work through Friday.”
“That’s great, man. You want to go take the car for a spin?”
I nodded and headed for the door.
“Hey, James?”
I stopped and turned to Mark.
“Check the glove box.”
Once in the driver seat, I leaned over and popped open the glove box. There was an envelope with my dad’s handwriting spelling out my name across the front.
My eyes welled as I grabbed hold of the envelope and brought it to my lap. Opening it carefully, I pulled out the letter.
Dear Son,
If you’re reading this letter, that means I’ve already passed on to glory. First off, stop being sad about my being gone. I’m dancing with your mother and Jesus in heaven right now, and I’ve never been so happy before in my life. Well, maybe once, and that, my son, was the day you were born. I’ll never forget how it felt to hold you in my arms for the first time. Now I’m gone, and it’s God who will hold you in His arms from this point on. Take care of Zeda for me and try to be nice to your sister Bethany. She means well. I love you and always have with all of my heart. I hope you stay strong in the faith this time around. I have a good feeling you will. I’ll tell Jesus and your mother you said ‘hi.’ I love you, Champ.
Love,
Dad
The wells deep in my heart blew open that day. I had no idea how much my dad loved me, how much he cared, how much he believed in me. Lowering my tear-filled eyes, I prayed and thanked God. God was moving in my life, blessing me and leading me down a path. Though I couldn’t see the future or what He had in store for me, I trusted Him. While people like Heather would come and go in my life, I knew God would never leave me. Even when I had faded away from His truth and His way, He was still there with me, waiting for me to come back, just like my dad. That day, I grew in my appreciation of God’s faithfulness in my life. He was taking care of my heart in a way I’d never dreamed possible.
Chapter 5 - James
THE FORKLIFT OPERATOR HAD the easy job of removing the furniture from the semi-truck and placing it in zone 42. Brad, my co-worker, and I were the grunts who had the task of removing the furniture from the boxes, assembling the pieces, and finally moving them out to the sales floor. It was grueling work, but I loved working with my hands as it reminded me of Jesus and His days as a carpenter.
It was just after lunch, and Brad and I were walking the sales floor to go clock back in and unbox another couch.
“So, what new job did you get?”
I turned to him as we walked. “I didn’t tell you? It’s a janitor job out at a church on Diamond Lake.”
“No you didn’t. So, God-boy is getting a job at a church. Sounds about right. I bet you’re bouncing off the walls to get the chance to be hanging out in God’s holiest place!” I was nicknamed ‘God-boy’ because I had the habit of listening to Christian music whenever I had the chance at work. Whether it was in the car, on the radio in the break room, or in the shipping area when my co-workers present wouldn’t be offended. Wherever and whenever I could, I was plugged into Jesus. It was, after all, Christian music that helped pull me from the grip of depression after losing my father. Gospel music had been partially responsible for leading me back to the cross of Calvary.
“It’s not about the building,” I said as we pushed through the double swinging doors that led into the employee-only area.
He stopped and turned to me in front of the time clock hanging on the wall.
“What do you mean? Of course it’s about the building!”
I shook my head, rejecting the notion of a building mattering. “No. It’s the people that make it the body of Christ. Outside of the people, it’s just some paint and walls that come together to make a building.”
“Wait a second. I went to a Mormon church in Utah when I was visiting my aunt last month, and they had all sorts of majestic paintings on the wall and all this art. It was a temple they had open to the public for a little while. Temples are churches, right? I know for sure that it was a holy place.”
“God doesn’t care about those buildings. The only temple that God recognizes is inside our hearts. A Mormon temple is nothing more than a man-made structure. Mormons are not Biblical Christians.”
“What? She said she was a Christian. You just have to believe in God and that Jesus fellow, right? She believes in both of them!”
“Our Jesuses might have the same name, but that doesn’t make them the same person.”
“What? I thought they believed pretty much the same thing.”
“When you research and seek the truth, you find out there are many differences and contradictions between the Bible and the Book of Mormon. One big and stark contrast is the fact that they believe God is merely an exalted man. That’s one of the fundamental differences that separate the two belief structures. Biblical Christianity says God was never born, never sinned, and has always existed.”
“Interesting.”
“If you want to know more, look up some books. I just recently read Unveiling Grace by Lynn K. Wilder. It’s a great read.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Turning, he went and clocked back in from lunch, and I followed behind.
As we started working on unboxing the next couch in zone 42, he looked over at me. “God-boy, your faith seems genuine. Always has seemed that way, and I appreciate that about you. You’re the real deal. You remind me of my sister.”
“Thanks, Brad. Does that mean you’ll finally come with me on Sunday to church?”
“Nah, man. Someday, maybe, when I settle down. I have more life to live before I do that.”
Stopping from ripping the box any further in my hands, I stepped away from it and closed the distance between myself and Brad. Pulling him aside, I lowered my voice and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I haven’t ever told you this, but I used to be into drugs. I partied and did all of that ‘life’ stuff in the past.”
Brad’s eyes widened. “Really? I couldn’t have guessed.”
Raising a hand, I said, “Listen, the point is that I thought I had more time in life, just like you. In my case, though, I thought I had more time with my dad. I always thought I had more time to get things right between me and God before he’d die. You know what happened? My dad passed away, and we weren’t even talking at the time.”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” Releasing my hand from his shoulder, I took a step back. “You never know what will happen from one day to another. You can be here today and gone tomorrow. Today is the day for salvation, brother. Don’t put it off and end up in hell because you wanted to party. I’d hate for that to happen to you, and I know for a fact that there’s an emptiness that comes with the partying lifestyle. And I’m not talking about the emptiness that comes at the end of a bottle.”
He sighed and tipped a wry grin. “I guess you’ll just have to pray for me.”
“I do, and I will continue. Listen, can I pray for you right now?”
“Sure.”
Placing a hand on the back of my co-worker, Brad, we bowed our heads in prayer.
“God, I come to You with Brad today. I pray that You help stir his heart and bring him to a place of repentance. Help him to hunger to know You, to seek You, to find You. We pray these things in Your heavenly and precious name, Jesus. Amen.”
“Anderson! Office, now!” Mr. Finek’s fiery words scolded me from across the cement floor. He was full of fury and fire.
Brad returned to the box, and I walked the floor to the manager’s office.
Chapter 6 - James
MR. FINEK SEETHED WITH ANGER as I entered his office and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. It wasn’t hard to know what he was
upset about. It happened every time I shared anything to do with God in the workplace and he overheard it. It was fine for everyone else to share their views as long as they fit within his limited progressive-slanted scope of reality, but anything outside of that and you’d be guaranteed a stern talking to like what I was about to endure.
“I don’t know what to do with you, James.”
“Well, you can just let me go now instead of on Friday.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, pausing as he stared at me. “You trying to be funny?”
“Not at all.”
He glared and leaned a hand against the desk as he looked squarely into my eyes. “Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?”
“It’s impossible.” I paused and then broke into a grin. “Imagine, if you would, for a moment that Jesus was real, Mr. Finek. That He truly did hang on a cross for you and pay for your sins. Also imagine for a second that He died, was buried, and then rose three days later. All this was done willingly for you by God.”
He stood upright and was silent. Then he shook his head. “I’d say it’s reckless.”
My heart radiated with warmth hearing the word reckless fall from his lips. Reckless Love was the song that helped pull me from my lifestyle of sin. It struck the deepest part of my soul when I first heard it after my dad died and I had the Christian radio station on.
I continued. “And His love is reckless, but not in a bad way like we tend to think of it. His love didn’t consider His own life first, but ours instead. You see, Mr. Finek, He gave Himself up willingly for the chance to have a relationship with each of us. Even with you.”
“Yeah, well, that might work for you and your narrow thinking, but not for me.”
“I’m narrow in my thinking?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s where I have to stop you, sir. Narrow-mindedness is not just a label you can slap on any person you disagree with. The fact that you think this whole world came about through a random chance and just so happened to develop and evolve into the complexity that is called life is insane. If anything is narrow-minded, it’s that.”