His relief was clear on his face. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been feeling pretty guilty.”
She gave him a hug. “Hey, thanks for staying.”
“Of course.” He stepped back, his look intent. “Listen, Rachel … I meant what I said that night, about giving it another shot when you’re feeling better. I know it might be a while, but I don’t mind waiting.”
The admission was an arrow in her heart. “That’s … that’s really sweet, Jack. I’m flattered, and grateful. But …” She scrunched up her face, gathering courage to be truthful. “But I don’t think we’re meant to be together. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, and I’ll change so much from this experience that we’ll work better together, but … there was something missing for me, or maybe in me, I don’t know. And without it—whatever it is—I don’t think we’d last for much longer than we did the first time. I’m really, really sorry. You don’t know how much I wish we did work better together. You’re—it sounds cliché, I know—but you’re a great guy, and I’m sure it’s not you, it’s totally me. Please don’t hate me.”
He laughed, though his eyes belied his disappointment. “I don’t hate you, Rachel. And I understand what you’re saying. I’m bummed, but I understand.”
“Will we be cool at work?”
“Completely professional, I promise. When do you think you’ll come back?”
“I don’t know—I have to talk to R. J. and see what she says. I don’t know if I even have a job anymore, honestly.”
“Oh, you know R. J.—she’s all mush inside. I’m sure she’ll let you stay on.” He gave her one more hug. “I should be going.”
“Okay. Thanks again for everything.”
“Of course.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then let himself out.
Rachel surveyed the room as though Daphne’s ghost might suddenly materialize. “What to do, what to do?” she said aloud, then turned on the television to keep her company. Soap operas dominated the lineup, however, and the last thing she wanted was more drama.
My journal. She found the notebook in her bedroom and brought it out to the bar, then set herself up with a glass of water. She flipped through the pages until she found her most recent entry and reread what she’d written to get back into the line of thinking she’d been following. It was yet another musing about what she’d been trying to run from when she’d lost those three days after Daphne’s death. She still barely remembered anything, and that scared her.
She set her pen to the paper and let it scratch out a word.
God.
She wrote the word in capitals and stared at it. Yes, that was it. She’d wanted to run away from God. She’d known it for a while now but hadn’t been ready to analyze it yet. But now, alone and away from prying nurses and creepy fellow patients, her pen began to fly across the page. But didn’t I already do that? Isn’t that what moving to Chicago was? And giving up on church, and not reading my Bible or journaling anymore, and dating someone who wasn’t a Christian? How much more running do I need to do to feel like I’ve finally gotten away?
Running myself to death, apparently.
Maybe the therapists at the hospital weren’t the people she’d needed to talk to after all. Maybe she needed to talk to someone who understood where she was coming from, spiritually speaking. Like a pastor. Not that she wanted to hash out her troubles to yet another stranger. I wish there was someone who knew me already, knew what I’d been going through, but also understood the way I was raised—in the church, believing in God, having such a specifically formed worldview.
Her pen stopped. She did know someone like that. Two someones, actually. But she knew only one would be wise for her to talk to right now.
She shut the notebook and began writing out a shopping list for her empty kitchen, biding her time until Leah arrived.
o
Rachel took a bite of her slice of deep-dish and smiled. “I can’t tell you how good this tastes. Thanks again.”
“Of course! I had hospital food once, and it was horrible. I can’t imagine five days of it. Gross.”
“Yes, exactly.” They ate in silence for a few minutes until Rachel found the courage to talk about what was really on her mind. “So, I had a few insights while I was in the hospital, and I realized today that I needed to talk to … well, to a Christian, actually. Think I could sort of vent to you for a bit? You don’t even have to have any answers—I think I’m just looking for someone who can relate to where I’m coming from.”
Leah smiled. “I’m all ears.”
Rachel sipped her cherry Coke and mulled over where to begin. “Well,” she finally said, “once upon a time, when I lived in California …”
As Rachel told her story, Leah was sympathetic and angry for her in all the right places, and when Rachel was done she spread her hands in surrender. “So there you go. That’s me in a nutshell, up until I walked into All Together Now. Everything that’s happened since then—my off-kilter relationship with Jack, the alcohol, the never-ending bad mood—has all been rooted, I think, in what happened back in California. And today when I was journaling, I realized that all my issues since moving here have to do with the fact that I’m trying to run away from God. I want to run away from God, but at the same time I don’t know where else to go. But I don’t want to go back to him, that’s for sure. So I’m stuck. And I don’t want to slip back into how I was, so I’m trying to figure out what to do.” She gave Leah a small grin. “Any insights or advice would be welcomed, but I don’t expect you to be able to fix everything—or any of it, really. So if you don’t have anything to say, that’s okay.”
Leah smiled, head nodding. “No, I definitely want to respond. Just give me a minute to mull, okay?”
“Take all the time you want.” Rachel finished her pizza, now nearly cold, and helped herself to another slice while basking in how good it felt to share her story to someone who knew where she was coming from. Despite what she’d said, she really did hope Leah had some kind of advice. Something had to change, she just didn’t know what it was.
Leah finished her own pizza, then sat back with her drink. “Okay, so, here’s what I’m thinking. First of all, I understand why you might feel betrayed by God and are so angry with him.” She thought for another long moment while Rachel waited, feeling awkward. “But I’m wondering ...” Leah flourished her soda can in a thoughtful way. “What if the God you’re angry at doesn’t really exist?”
Rachel sighed. “Yeah, I’ve tried that—the whole ‘God is a myth’ thing, but I—”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean, what if God as you designed him in your head does not exist? What if the character you thought God possessed was actually the result of confused theology? What if your view of him was so skewed that, in reality, you were trying to have a relationship with someone who wasn’t there at all?”
Rachel’s thoughts began to skitter in her head. “Um … concrete example, please.”
“Okay. For example, you thought God required this checklist of activities—pray at meals, read your Bible, go to church every Sunday—and that fulfilling that checklist was the way to his heart, the way into a relationship with him.”
“That’s what Christianity is … yeah.”
Leah smiled wide. “See … I don’t think so.”
“But … that’s how you get close to God.”
“Well … okay, kind of. But I think the problem comes when you view those things as part of some sort of bargain, like you put in X amount of time and you receive Y amount of whatever from God. Thinking of disciplines like that turns them into homework, required tasks—it robs them of their meaning. It’s a world of difference in terms of motivation and mind-set.”
Rachel cradled her chin in her palm. “Wow. That’s, um … interesting.”
“It’s huge—that’s what it is. Your view of God, and correct me if I’m wrong, was that you did everything by the book, so God should have had your back. You did everything righ
t, and therefore your obedience deserved to be rewarded.”
Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Exactly.”
“Well, what if God really was there when everything went down, but his reaction wasn’t what you expected, so you thought that meant he wasn’t there—or that, if he was there, he didn’t care.”
Rachel frowned, thinking. “Well, okay, but … that doesn’t seem any better. To say that he was there but just didn’t respond …”
“I never said he didn’t respond. I just said it was possible that he did respond, but not in the way you thought he should.”
Rachel sat back, her eyes rolling heavenward. “That still isn’t any better. How else should you respond when someone is going through a crisis? It seems to me that stepping in and helping would be the best reaction, so what does it say about God that he didn’t?”
Leah chewed her lip for a second, her brow furrowed. Her words came slowly as she responded. “I think we tend to assume God is silent, or absent somehow, when he doesn’t respond the way we think he should … when in reality, he’s working in the background, orchestrating and preparing and doing who knows what else to take care of us. But we don’t see that—we don’t know what he’s doing—and so we think he’s not doing anything at all.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s like—think of a child, and how a child doesn’t always understand why his parents discipline him the way they do. The child doesn’t necessarily see past the reality of, say, something sharp being taken away—all he knows is that he wants it and his parents won’t let him have it. He doesn’t recognize that getting what he wants might hurt him.” She spoke more quickly, engaged in her explanation. “Or if they discipline him for being rude—he can’t reason the way they can and understand that, by not allowing him to act a certain way, they’re training his character and helping him grow into a respectable adult.” She nodded, looking pleased with her analogy. “I think God is more concerned with our sanctification than in our earthly comfort, and sanctification is hard to come by when life is easy. Hence the need for the ‘refiner’s fire,’ as they say.”
“So … so he let everything happen because he thought it would make me grow?”
Leah smiled. “I can’t speak for God, but I think it’s a reasonable possibility.”
Rachel let out a snort. “How is a cheating fiancé, alcohol abuse, and a stint in the mental ward growth?”
“Well, it’s brought you to a place where you’re analyzing your relationship with him, right? To a place where you’re realizing that what you had before wasn’t a relationship of intimacy and faith, but of checklists and obligations?” Leah quirked a brow. “Sounds like growth to me.”
Rachel opened her mouth to retort, but none came. She thought about her faith before May, about her relationship with God and what it had been like for the last twenty years. She’d been devoted, yes, but to a system. She’d loved God, but in the same distanced and dispassionate way that she loved other concepts, like freedom of speech. Save for that mission trip to Brazil, she’d never felt his presence or felt any kind of real connection, and the connection she did feel in Brazil faded once she got back to her Orange County life. Her amazement over God’s love had been stirred by heart-tugging worship songs, but when simply thinking about his love, she’d end up wondering what exactly that felt like. She’d always wished she would sense him more, and often prayed God would draw her to him—was that what he had been trying to do when everything fell apart?
“Okay, so, assuming you’re right that He didn’t abandon me, then what does that mean? I wasn’t supposed to be mad about what happened in California? I was just supposed to grin and bear it?”
Leah quickly shook her head. “Oh, no, I don’t think God wants us to stuff our emotions. What happened was awful, and I’m sure he thought so too.” Her mouth twitched to the side as she thought. “I can’t think of the references right now, but I know that we’re told a couple times in the New Testament to praise God for all things, give thanks in every circumstance, that sort of thing.”
A song lyric bubbled to the surface of Rachel’s mind. “Sort of like, ‘I will praise you in the storm’?”
“Right.” Leah snapped her fingers. “Oh! One’s in Ephesians: ‘Always giving thanks to God the Father in everything.’”
Thank God all this happened? Patrick’s betrayal, Barbara’s admission, her parent’s divorce, Daphne’s death, her addiction … she cataloged all that had happened and tried unsuccessfully to imagine being thankful for it. “Thanking God feels a bit masochistic.”
Leah chuckled. “I don’t think he means it that way. I think it’s more like, ‘Thank you for the fact that, when life sucks, I still have you to turn to,’ and ‘Thank you for the chance this gives you to grow me and show your power.’”
“So … maybe this was one of those ‘God works good from evil’ kinds of situations?”
“Could be. Like it says in Romans, in everything God works for the good of those who love him.”
Leah sat back and sipped her soda, giving Rachel the time she needed to process. Finally, Rachel ventured a response. “So … if it’s true that he wasn’t up there stonewalling me, and he didn’t actually leave me … then running to him now wouldn’t be like running back to someone who hurt me.” She felt a jolt of pleasant surprise. “Maybe I still have a shot at the relationship I thought I had.”
“No, not the relationship you thought you had. A better one. A real one. A relationship, period. All you had before was what you thought was a mutual arrangement—you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. I’ll obey you and do all these things I think I’m supposed to do, and in return you’ll help me out when I need it.” Leah shook her head. “That’s not a relationship at all.”
Rachel was silent. She had no idea what to say. But the longer she sat with the ideas, letting them steep in her mind, the more she thought Leah might actually be on to something.
o
Leah was getting ready to leave when she got an almost shy look on her face. “So, hey, I have something to ask you.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Well, you know how I’m doing this house church with Declan, right?”
Hearing his name made Rachel’s insides flip. “Um, yes.”
“Well, we’ve been praying for you ever since Jack told us what happened. And we all feel like God is prompting us to help you.”
“Help me?” Rachel didn’t like the sound of that.
“Nothing weird,” Leah said quickly. “Just … with whatever you need to do in regards to your roommate’s belongings, finding a new roommate, and—”
Rachel sat down hard on the sofa she’d just stood up from. “Oh my gosh. I never thought of that. All her stuff—do her parents even know? I can’t believe this—they might not know.” She hung her head into her hands and groaned. “And I don’t think the management company even knows I live here. I never signed a lease. I just gave Daphne my share of the rent every month.”
Rachel felt Leah’s hand on her shoulder. “This is what I’m talking about. Let us help you. No strings attached. Please?”
What choice did she have? She was still so worn out, so mentally and emotionally shaky, she had a hard time concentrating on little things like what to eat. The tasks before her felt monumental. “Okay.”
“Cool.” Leah squeezed her shoulder. “So how do you feel about the rest of your night? Are you all right being alone tonight?”
“I’ve been trying not to think too much about it.”
“If you want company, I’d be happy to sleep over.”
Rachel eyed Leah. “It’s the world’s most uncomfortable couch.”
Leah grinned. “I have an excellent chiropractor.”
“You’d really do that?”
“Absolutely.”
Rachel hung her head again with a sigh. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, seriously. Knowing that Daphne … just right out there … heck, I’d be afraid to sleep
alone here and I didn’t even see it happen.”
Rachel gave Leah a small smile. “Thank you.”
“You’ve got it. And look, you’re not playing hostess or anything, okay? Do your own thing, even if that means locking yourself in your room from now until morning. I don’t care, seriously. I’ll go home in a bit and get my stuff and just set myself up here in the living room.”
Rachel rubbed a hand over her face. “When do you work tomorrow?”
“I have the afternoon shift, so if you want to start tackling things in the morning, we can do that together. And I’ll call the others and let them know what’s going on. They can come over or not, it’s up to you—whatever you’re comfortable with. They’re all eager to help in whatever way they can.”
“And why is that, exactly? I don’t know any of them, other than Declan.”
Leah shrugged and smiled. “Because that’s what the body of Christ does.”
Chapter 21
Rachel thought it might be difficult to sleep that night, but once her head hit her own pillow, she was out. When she woke in the morning, she stayed in her bed for far longer than necessary, enjoying the feel of the clean, soft sheets and the absence of a roommate and intrusive nurses.
The sounds of conversation occasionally floated in from the living room where Leah had spent the night. Rachel heard the front door open and shut twice; she recognized Declan’s voice and but not the other two. The thought of Declan in her apartment made her curl up under the covers even longer. She was still embarrassed by her actions the night they had kissed, and despite the fact that she was now single and available to take him up on his offer, she knew this would not be a good time for her to attempt another relationship.
She got bored of the bed after an hour of lounging and knew she should go out and meet the people who were so willing to help her. She pulled some clothes from her dresser and snuck out to the bathroom without anyone seeing her. She luxuriated in a long hot shower that was uninterrupted by a nurse calling that her time was up, and took her time getting dressed before going out for the breakfast she could smell through the door. She was guessing pancakes, though whatever it was would definitely be better than what she’d had the last few mornings.
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