New Heart Church

by Jim Barringer

  Chapter Five

  Out of the train we poured, moving in a blob across the parking lot toward our cars, through night air that wasn’t anywhere near as cold as it should have been for that time of year. I guessed it was maybe fifty degrees, definitely cold enough to require a jacket, but not bad enough to make it unpleasant to be outside, not even cold enough to see our breath.

  Abbie and I sat side by side in the back of Stanley’s Nissan for the ten minutes it took us to get home. Once there, we ducked inside the front door of the apartment building, into the common area that housed the administrative offices and lobby. “Where do you want to talk?” I asked Abbie, hoping that she still wanted to, that my childishness hadn’t put her off. The thought of that made my stomach clench. After what had just happened at the game, I felt like I really needed friends, like I should cherish what I had. But I couldn’t explain why I had pushed her away on the train. I kept wanting to be a certain way, kept wanting what my friends had, and kept finding that I couldn’t make myself actually be that person.

  “Let’s go to the park,” she said, looking at me hopefully.

  “Outside?”

  “Yeah. Come on.” She grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me out the front door, past Stanley, who raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

  Abbie and I walked side by side, down roads that were deserted by now, almost one in the morning. The streetlights poured circles of gold onto the sidewalks, guiding us toward the park, where Abbie abruptly turned off the road, into the grass, and I hurried after her.

  She walked to the center of the park, the clearing in the middle where the canopy of trees parted and the sky was visible, and she stood there looking up, as if she expected at any moment to be sucked into the stars. I stepped up next to her and followed her gaze; not too many stars were visible here in the middle of a city, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

  We stood, enjoying the silence and the chill and each other’s company for a few minutes, and finally, I broke the silence. “You wanted to talk?” My voice sounded abrasive, clumsy, in the stillness.

  “Yeah,” she said, and we both sat down. She took a deep breath, as if collecting her thoughts, and then looked at me. “Actually, no. I want you to talk.”

  “What?”

  “I just feel like there’s a lot on your heart that you need to talk about. I enjoy being around you, but it seems you’re using humor and banter to keep me from getting close to the real you.”

  “How do you know the humor and banter isn’t the real me?”

  “Don’t be dense, Eli. I was in the room when you told Stanley about your job interview. I know there’s stuff you’re hiding from me, from everybody. Everybody’s got stuff like that.”

  “Do you?” I was half genuinely curious, and half just trying to change the topic.

  “Sure. I’ll tell you what they are, if you want. But God is already working on those things in me. He’s not in you, because you’ve never made the decision to let him. That’s why I’m concerned about you. You have to get his help for those things, or you can never get rid of them.”

  “How do you know? I’m not dumb, you know. I’m sure I could work it out on my own if I wanted to.”

  She shook her head defiantly. “No, Eli, you can’t. You already tried. You did the best you could, and you created all these problems you’re currently having. Your best is not good enough. Your way is a failure.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but the words seemed to vanish into the night air before I could give voice to them. I wasn’t arguing because I disagreed with her; I was arguing because I knew she was right and I didn’t want to face the truth. An impossible weight settled onto me, and I laid back on the grass, staring up at Orion’s belt, suddenly buried by memories. The night at the grocery store, buying hot dogs and white bread because I couldn’t afford anything else. The job interview. Hearing Danny and Elizabeth’s story. Keeping Stanley at arm’s length when all he wanted was to help me. Fighting with my parents. Not being able to take Jake’s charity. Sitting in the arena just a few hours ago, looking at all my friends and the bond they shared, and being sick to my stomach because I didn’t share it too.

  Everything that had happened to me since I arrived in Texas had been steering me this direction, to the point of brokenness, to the point of realizing and having to admit that I wanted, needed, this thing that my friends had. I couldn’t run from it anymore, but I didn’t know how to stop running. I’d run my whole life. Keeping people away from the real me, putting up a front, that’s who I was and what I did. How could I ever be anything else? How could anyone say, with any kind of certainty, that I could ever have this better thing that they all kept dangling in front of me?

  “Here’s the deal,” I heard Abbie saying. “Each one of us does exactly what you’re doing. We all go through life trying to do the best we can, trying to handle things ourselves. We try to build a life that makes us happy. But the thing is that God already has a life for us, and when we choose our life instead of his, we’re rebelling against him. That’s called sin. And what you’re finding out right now is that sin is painful, because the life you’ve chosen for yourself doesn’t satisfy your heart, does it?”

  Mutely, I shook my head.

  “We believe that God loves us all so much that he sent part of himself to earth, as a man named Jesus, who lived a perfect life – he never rebelled against God the way we have – and then he died, and God raised him from the dead. His death and resurrection made a way for us to get back to God, to have that rebellion erased, so we can approach God completely forgiven. You don’t have to understand how all that works right now. You just need to know that you can turn your life back over to God. You can tell him that you’re willing to live his way, and that you want to repent, which means not living your own way anymore. And it’s as easy as that. You’ve already seen what your independence has done to you, Eli. I think you need to make the decision, tonight, that you don’t want to be independent anymore. You want and need to be loved.”

  Involuntarily the tears came then, wet and cold on my cheeks. How could anybody love me? What could that God want with me? The objections tried to keep coming, but the need was stronger. I couldn’t do it anymore. “Okay,” I told her, feeling like I should say more, but not being able to form the words.

  “Why don’t you go home,” she suggested, “and tell God what’s on your mind. Then we can talk some more tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked, elbow to elbow, back toward my building, where we said a quick goodbye. I paused outside the door, watching Abbie drive away, before staggering up to my room and flopping onto the bed, not even bothering to take off my coat.

  And laying there in bed, it was as if the roof was lifted off my room. I could see in my imagination the whole giant city, slumbering in the purple dark, each house filled with people who had cares and problems and worries and dreams and hopes, and far above them was God, reaching down to them, arms outstretched, longing to do all those crazy things that my friends had been telling me about. I could see it as clearly as I’ve ever seen anything. And then I felt God reaching to me, whispering my name, and for no reason that I could understand, telling me that he loved me and wanted me to love him too.

  It was time to stop running.

  Part Four