Trusting Him to Lead

by T. K. Chapin

  Steve’s expression lightened and he leaned back in his chair. “There is hope. There is always hope in Jesus Christ. Thank God for God! But there are no guarantees that she’s going to keep her eyes on Him instead of her eyes on you. It’s a battle that lasts a lifetime.”

  Shaking his head as sorrow filled him, West leaned across the table. “Then why did you encourage me to come clean for so long?”

  Raising his eyebrows, Steve shook his head lightly. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Our wives deserve to know the truth about us, even if that truth is ugly.”

  West sighed. “Well, Rachel knows now.”

  “Really?” Steve stood up. “When did this happen?”

  “That day I punched you, I was going home to deal with it.”

  “Oh, wow. Listen, I know you don’t care for me, but can I pray for you right now, brother?” Steve moved closer to West but kept a little more than an arm’s length of distance between them.

  Peering up at Steve with tears in his eyes, he nodded. “Please do.”

  Steve came closer and wrapped an arm around West and led him in a prayer.

  It was Rachel’s day to drive the carpool of children to school. After dropping off all the children outside the main entrance, she parked in one of the stalls and wept. As she cried, it began to rain.

  A knock sounded on her passenger side window.

  Peering over, Rachel saw a woman with a look of concern strewn across her face. Quickly, she rolled down the window and wiped her eyes. “Yes?”

  “Are you okay, Miss?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I’m just upset.”

  “May I pray for you?”

  Smiling through the tears, Rachel nodded. “Yes, please. You can come in out of the rain.”

  Opening the car door and sitting down, the stranger placed a hand on her shoulder and bowed her head. “Father, God, we come to you right now with earnest prayer. I want to lift up . . .”

  “Rachel.”

  “Rachel, Lord. I lift her up to You and ask You to help her. I don’t know the situation, Lord, but You do. I pray this in Your Heavenly name. Amen.”

  Wiping a tear away as she lifted her gaze to the woman, Rachel thanked her.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Susan.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Rachel struck her head. “Lancaster?”

  “Why, yes!”

  “Wow . . .” Rachel looked ahead through the windshield as the wipers wiped the rain away. “How crazy. Pastor Matt told me I should talk to you.”

  “Oh, did he?”

  Rachel nodded. “My husband and I are doing marriage counseling with him.”

  “Let’s talk over brunch. Unless you have other plans today?”

  She shook her head. “No plans.”

  “Okay. Let me get back inside and get some stuff squared away. I’ll meet you over at Mona’s Café in downtown Spokane at ten o’clock. I love their little sandwich squares.”

  Smiling, Rachel agreed. “See you then.”

  Arriving at the cafe just after ten o’clock, they found a quiet booth near a window facing the busy street of downtown Spokane. It was still lightly raining that early morning in April.

  Susan broke the silence after they had ordered their food and were sitting quietly at the table. “I know this has to be difficult, meeting a practical stranger at a café to talk about your marriage struggles, but I want you to know that I’m here and I’m listening. We don’t have to talk about anything today if you don’t want to. It’s up to you. Let’s simply get to know each other.”

  By her saying that, Rachel’s emotional guard dropped away entirely. “I am a mother of three, I’ve been married for ten years, and I love my husband very much.” Rachel’s gaze fell to Susan’s and she felt at that very moment that she could trust her, so she did. “West made a terrible mistake, not with a woman, but with images. If you know what I mean. I don’t know how we can move past this.”

  “Oh. Yes, the devil’s favorite sin that often stays hidden away in secret.”

  This woman seemed at ease about the topic and possibly educated on it. “The devil’s favorite sin? What does that mean?”

  “The devil has many tricks and ways to cause people to fall and stumble, but his favorite for believers, especially men, I believe, is pornography. Think about it from the devil’s perspective for a moment. A secret that people are ashamed to admit to is a way for him to keep them locked up and immobilized. Sin keeps people spiritually dead. Sin has to be brought into the light in order to be cleansed, and sexual sin is often hidden and secret, therefore never coming into the light. When it does become uncovered, it’s dark, it’s deep, and its consequences are long-lasting and destructive. There is no better way for the devil to keep a Christian couple ineffective and gimped than to do so with pornography. The person in it cannot have an intimate relationship with the Lord, for their heart is in lust and they have traded the true depth of real intimacy for a lie, for an image. That person cannot have intimacy with their spouse or anyone else, for that matter, because true intimacy has been perverted.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

  Leaning across the table, Susan looked her straight in the eyes. “The devil loves it because a person in a secret sin carries it alone and is stuck in a broken state of living. They cannot escape without jeopardizing everything—family, spouse, friends, and their church family. It’s sickening, but it’s the work of the devil and his schemes of this world. Technology is a beautiful tool, but it’s become a master to many folks. Pornography is one of them.”

  “One?”

  “Yes. There are many issues with technology. A great example is cell phones. Look around, honey.” Susan pointed all around the restaurant. As Rachel surveyed the tables, she saw person after person staring down at their screens. “The devil is using technology to enslave those who are not awake to God and God’s truth. Keep people distracted, and they’ll never see God in their lives.”

  “But do Christian men really have an issue with pornography? I mean, I figured it was a problem outside the church. But inside?”

  “Actually, sixty-eight percent of Christian men inside the church report having a problem with pornography. I know it’s alarming, but there’s good news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “These men can overcome the odds and refuse to be a statistic. It’s up to them to live in accordance to Romans 8:13. But let’s focus on you, Rachel. Let’s talk about you and how you are going through this struggle.”

  Her insides tensed. “I feel . . . terribly alone.”

  “I’ll tell you what I tell everyone when life gets difficult. Pray. The power of a praying wife shapes entire worlds and existences, reaching into as far as eternity. Your connection with God will be tried through this whole process, but at the same time, it’ll be deepened as well. You must rely on God fully or you’ll crumble into nothing.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as earlier that morning flashed through her mind. How it felt when her husband kissed her. The pain that tore through her heart at that moment. She wanted to enjoy the kiss so desperately, but she couldn’t grasp hold of enjoyment, not even for a moment.

  Pulling tissues from her purse, Rachel dabbed her eyes. “This morning, he tried to kiss me and I . . . I felt disgusted. I don’t want to be, but I cannot separate him from his sin right now. Will I ever get over this pain?”

  Slowly nodding as she closed her eyes, Susan seemed to understand completely. “The pain isn’t gone from your heart. That wound that your husband placed into your heart can only be healed and filled in by one—God.”

  “Just give it to God?” Rachel shook her head, confusion filling her thoughts and clouding her heart. “I don’t understand what that means! It’s not like I can take my broken heart down to the church and drop it on the doorstep and come back on Thursday and it’s fixed.”

  Susan smiled. “You’re right. You can’t do that. It
’s a slow process. Let me ask you something. Have you ever had to rely fully on your husband? I mean, everything was relying on him?”

  Her difficult bout of postpartum came to mind. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Now, have you ever had to rely fully on God?”

  Guilt weighed on her heart and mind as she came up dry. “No . . .”

  Reaching across the table, Susan smiled softly. “Now is that time.”

  A week later, one evening, West sat on the couch, watching a movie with the family with his feet up on the coffee table and Jeremy under one arm, Elizabeth under another. Lilly was snuggled up on the end of the couch with Rachel. As the movie came to the credits at the end, West headed to the restroom. As he came out of the bathroom, he could see Rachel with his phone in her hands in the living room. Uneasiness rose within him as he re-entered the room.

  Startled, she hit the Lock button and set it down on the coffee table. Rising quickly from the couch, she excused herself to go make dinner.

  West followed her into the kitchen.

  “What was that about?” West watched as his wife pulled a pot out from the cabinet near the stove. She set it forcefully down onto the stovetop, then turned toward him.

  “I just felt like checking it. Okay?”

  “You know the software is on the phone. Right? You can view the daily email of all the activity.”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  He moved toward her. His tone grew firm. “But what, Rachel?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you can shut the software off? I just got a weird feeling and felt like checking it. How am I supposed to believe you just stopped this thing you couldn’t stop doing for so long?”

  He sighed, shaking his head.

  “I don’t know. I just stopped, Rachel. Maybe it’s the fact that everything came out and it’s a chance to do right by you, by God, and by our marriage. Maybe it’s the fact that I feel like garbage for what I did, and I repented and turned away from doing it. I just stopped. Okay?”

  “Why am I the bad guy now?”

  Tossing his head back as she started to cry, West remembered his conversation with Steve at work last week. It had been seven years for him, and they were still struggling. The hopelessness inside West grew. “Is this ever going to end? Are we ever going to start toward building trust?”

  “I’m trying, West!”

  “Mommy?” Lilly came into the kitchen just then, immediately shattering the tension in the air. They both softened, both wanting to keep the children out of it.

  Rachel wiped her tears away from her cheeks and walked over to Lilly. She bent a knee down and peered into her eyes. “What is it, dear?”

  “Why are you yelling at Dad?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We just had a disagreement. Go find your sissy and tell her to come take the trash out. I think she headed up to her room after the movie.”

  Standing up as Lilly left the kitchen, Rachel turned to West as soon as she was out of sight.

  “We can’t fight in front of the children. It’s not good for them.”

  “I’m not fighting.”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  “Loudly conversing!”

  “Oh, good grief.” Turning to the stove, she took the pot over to the sink and ran water in it. “I don’t know what it is you need from me!”

  West came over to her and spoke softly as he peered into her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I have needs. I need to be able to touch my wife without her cringing, to be able to kiss her without her being filled with a look of disgust. I don’t know how that is possible, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m hanging on by a thread here, babe!”

  Throwing the pot into the sink, she furrowed her eyebrows as she turned and looked at him.

  “Your needs are not my problem right now. I’m sorry that I find you repulsive. I’m sorry that the thought of kissing you makes me queasy. I’m sorry, West!” Tears streaming down her cheeks as she frowned, she shook her head. Holding out her arms to him, she shrugged. “I have nothing for you. Nothing at all. You’ll have to forgive me and wait or . . .”

  Her eyes drifted to the doorway of the kitchen.

  “What?” West glanced toward the doorway and then back at her. “Leave?”

  Coming closer to her, he was only a few inches away from her face now. His voice was level as he looked her in the eyes and shook his head. “It’s till death do we part. I meant it then, and I mean it now!”

  Her gaze dropped down and away from him. He lifted her chin gently with his index finger.

  “Tell me, Rachel. What do you need from me? What am I not doing? It’s been weeks and I don’t see anything getting better.”

  “You don’t see anything getting better because it’s not. I don’t need anything from you other than patience.”

  “So, I have to hurry up and wait?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the meantime?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re in uncharted territory.”

  Sensing a shift in her body language, he took her by the hand and tried to dance with her. Rachel shook her head and stepped away as more tears started. “Seriously? You thought I wanted to dance right now? Are you kidding me? Are you that obtuse?”

  West’s heart didn’t feel like it could sink any deeper, but he found a new level of low in that very moment. His wife’s vicious words stirred an old memory to the surface of his heart. It was a memory from when he was a child. A time in which his mother had spoken harshly to him in a way that crushed him to pieces. He shoved the pain back down and left the kitchen and their conversation.

  In the living room, he joined Jeremy on the couch. Wrapping an arm around his son, he kissed the top of his head. His heart warmed with love toward his child.

  “I love you, kid.”

  Jeremy’s brown eyes peered up at him. “I love you too, Daddy.”

  West didn’t know where his marriage was going, but he didn’t like the direction the ship was sailing. He felt as if he and Rachel were adrift in the sea and the storm clouds above the ship were following the two of them. How could things ever get better? Was there any hope for them? Or would they sink?

  Chapter 7

  West - Age 13

  Walking down the sidewalk that stretched between Columbia River Junior High School and home, West and his friends were creating plans for that evening. A sleepover at Frankie’s house with tons of soda, chips, and video games was in order. There was only one problem. West had a church thing he had to get out of in order to attend the big friendly gathering.

  “Can you convince your parents to let you come?” Frankie lifted a doubting eyebrow.

  West rubbed the back of his neck as he shrugged. “Maybe. My dad doesn’t let church come second to anything, but I might be able to get my mom to convince him.”

  Splitting off from his friends, West walked down the driveway and up to his front door. Walking into the house, he passed through the living room and into the kitchen. His mother, Helen, was pulling out a batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. The aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air.

  “Smells good in here, Mom.”

  Smiling over at him, she grabbed the spatula and began placing each cookie on a cooling rack. “How was your day, West?”

  “Good. Hey, I have a question for you.” Losing his backpack, he placed it near the coat rack in the mudroom and walked back into the kitchen. “I was wondering if it’d be okay if I went to a Bible study at Frankie’s tonight. You know, instead of that youth group thing at the church.”

  Helen didn’t respond right away but finished unloading the tray of cookies onto the cooling racks. Then she set the cookie sheet and spatula down on the stove. Turning toward her son with a lifted eyebrow, she tilted her head. “Frankie doesn’t go to church.”

  “I know.” Opening his arms as he came closer to her, he popped out his hands dramatically. “That’s the cool thing about it, Mom! He wants to know more abo
ut God and is willing to hear what I have to say.”

  “Well, you’ll have to speak with your father when he gets home. He was looking forward to helping out at the church tonight and spending the night at the lock-in. Aren’t you excited at all about it?”

  “I don’t know . . .” West’s shoulders slumped, and he walked over to the island in the kitchen and sat down on a stool. “The kids there are . . . weird, Mom. Jesus is the only thing they care about. I like my friends from school. They play video games and drink soda.”

  Helen laughed. “I’m sure the kids in the youth group drink soda. In fact, your father is bringing a twenty-four pack of that lemon lime soda you like tonight.”

  “You guys hate my friends just because they don’t go to church.”

  “Westley Stewart Kirkland! Don’t you dare accuse us of hating them! That’s untrue.”

  “Jeez. Sorry, Mom.” Slipping off his stool, he started to leave the kitchen.

  “I’ll see if your father will let you skip out tonight. We don’t hate anyone, especially your friends.”

  A smile crept onto the corner of young West’s lips as he left the kitchen and went to his room. Now all he had to do was wait for his father to arrive home a little while later and his mother would go to work on convincing him. Sitting down in front of the TV in his room, he turned on his gaming system and started to play.

  A couple of hours later, a knock sounded on his bedroom door, then his father, Charles, walked in. His dad was six feet tall, muscular, and had brown hair. West peered up at his father as he proceeded further into his room. The sting of disappointment hung heavy in his father’s face as he let out a sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “Your mother tells me you don’t want to go tonight.”

  Pausing his video game, West set the controller down and turned toward his father as he sat on the floor. Looking up at him, West brought his hands together in his lap. “Yeah, I don’t want to go.”

  “I see. Having some fun at Frankie’s, huh?”