Still Waters

I’ve been a sinner from the start.

It’s me, Eli. I should have introduced myself first, but I wanted to admit it to you again so you would know I’m aware. You’re probably angry at me every second of every day because I just cannot stop sinning. That has to be a heavy weight to hold, to have sacrificed your only son for the likes of me. You watched as Jesus got whipped with barbs and rocks attached to the ends, again and again until his skin was tender enough to fly off with the whip like shedding skin. He survived the whippings that most men would have died from after the fifth strike. You saw them dig stakes into his wrists precisely at the nerve points that would hurt the most, and you watched as he pleaded with you in endless pain, asking why you would forsake him like that.

The night is silent and dark, the only sound being my soft steps as I murmur to myself asking for forgiveness. Each house I pass by is dark, filled with sinners sleeping soundly, without a care in the world. I don’t deserve that, though. There’s no redemption for my sin.

Dear God, I know I’ll never go through that pain. I know that I put him up there, on the cross, because he knew I would never be perfect. I’ve tried praying to you to be made right for all of my life, but I just can’t let go of the allure.

The light feeling of rain landing on my cheek momentarily stirs me from my prayers. I’ve ended up at a bus stop, the soft glow of a lamppost illuminating a man in a brown jacket slumped in the corner of the bus seat.

God, I can’t change. Temptation surrounds me, but it’s different from other temptations. I know I shouldn’t overeat, murder, or cheat. If I do, I feel the weight of my consequences. I feel the hurt of those I deceived, and the judgement under your gaze. My temptation, it doesn’t escape me. It stays, taunting me, a temptation that seems so good and pure.

My gentle sin is this: I love a man.

With everything in me, I’ve loved him since we were kids. I loved him in high school, and I still love him even as he sits buried six feet under. Dear God, I hope he’s made it to heaven safely. He wasn’t like me. His goodness shined more than anyone I have ever seen, and he would have married a good Christian girl if given a little more time. If it be your will, I wish to be saved.

Rain drips down my cheeks, masking the tear that slips from the corner of my eye. I don’t wipe it away. No one is watching, anyways.

The headlights of the bus flash in front of my face, blinding me with light. I step out onto the street, basking in the sudden light to my dark.

Save me from my sins, God. Redeem me so that I may die cleansed and pure.

My body lurches forward, thrown to the ground. The wet taste of pavement hits my mouth as the right side of my face drags down the street. I feel a heavy weight on me, comfortable as I start slipping towards the other side. I take a final breath, waiting for the end.

Suddenly, I’m pulled up by my jacket sleeve, and the weight is lifted off of me. My eyes leave the pavement and meet still waters. A shade of blue so deep that I’m not sure I could ever get down to the bottom of it.

“Are you okay?” The man with the brown jacket asks, his voice tied up in a knot with worry. Rain drips off of a stray piece of brown hair cutting across his face.

“Are you crazy?” A man yells. The bus driver, shaking his fist at me through the window. “I’m calling the police.” He says, pulling out his phone. I shake my head vehemently at him. The man looks at me, and two other people on the bus stare at me through the window. I shield my eyes from them in shame, my face flushing.

“Don’t call the police. I’ll take care of him.” The man says. The bus driver shakes his head at him.

“I never should have lived in Seattle.” The bus driver grumbles. “Too many damn suicidal people here.”

I stare at the exchange, still sitting in the middle of the road, watching the man’s broad back as he listens to the bus driver. Then, he turns to help me up, and asks if I’m okay. I nod, resisting the trembling of my body.

“Let’s get out of the street,” He says, gently putting his hand across the upper part of my back to nudge me back to the bus stop. I follow him. “I’ll walk you home.” He says.

“You’ll miss the bus,” I say dumbly.

The man laughs, tilting his head back a little, revealing his Adam’s apple. “I think I’ve already missed the bus.” He says, pointedly looking at the bus, having left as soon as they got off the street. “Let me walk you home.” He says again. I nod, realizing the futility of my efforts to make him leave. We start walking in silence. I refuse to look at him, at those still waters.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

“Eli.” I say. I look up at the dark sky. Pure black, except for a few stars. In the country, I could look up and see the whole universe in the sky. Stars and constellations glittering across a whole expanse of sky. I see the goodness of God whenever I look up at it.

“Eli.” The man says, tasting the name on his tongue. I like the way he says my name, like he doesn’t ever want to forget it. “My name is Luke.” He says. I nod in response. Luke, like the disciple.

“What brought you to the middle of the street, Eli?” Luke asks. I continue looking up at the sky while I walk, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I was on a walk.” I say. “What brought you to the bus stop so late at night?”

“I volunteer at a homeless shelter.” Luke says. “They’re often understaffed at night, so I was going to go check on them.”

Luke sounds like a good man-unlike me, someone who won’t let go of my bodily desires despite everything you’ve done for me, God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The thought nearly drops me to my knees. I get the desire to bow down right there on the sidewalk, repent and ask for forgiveness until the break of dawn comes. But I don’t do that. Luke is here, and he has to get back to his shelter. Luke walks me the rest of the way back, asking questions but never pushing. He didn’t mention what happened at the bus stop again. Instead, he just listened to what I was willing to say, which was virtually nothing.

After Luke leaves and makes me promise not to jump in front of buses again, I sit alone in my living room, staring out the window at the spot where Luke left. I wanted him to stay, to be truthful. He seemed so steady and calm, so patient despite the resistance I gave him.

Why did you let me live, God? Even now, with the man I love gone, another one holds my attention. I am drawn to sin. I crave it with my whole being. I am an addict. I asked you to save me, and you sent more temptation instead. I know I am of lowly value, and I cannot possibly understand the goodness of your plan, but I wish to be good. I just want to be good and please you, Lord. I get off the couch and on to my knees on the hardwood floor, clasping my hands together. I bow over, my forehead touching the cold, hard floor. Please save me, God.

I see Luke again at the grocery store. He sees me looking, and his face lights up.

“Eli!” He exclaims. He waits for me to pay for my box of mini Hostess Donuts, then asks if I want to go get coffee with him. I agree, relieved to have something to do. The weekends are the worst for me. There isn’t anything to distract me from my sins. I feel the weight of God’s judgement the most on these days.

I sip my hot coffee in the corner of a Liberal coffee shop filled with posters saying “Black Lives Matter” and detailing rainbow fists. Luke sits across from me with an iced coffee in his hand. The sun shines through the window, making his eyes seem lighter than they were when I first met them, but still with that same tranquil, constant look about them.

“Do you believe in God?” He asks.

I nearly sputter on my coffee. “Of course I do.” I say. Does he know? Can he smell the devil’s presence wrapped around me?

Luke sighs, his shoulders hunching in slightly.

“Yeah. I do too.” He says.

“You don’t seem so sure about that statement,” I say.

He chuckles. “I struggle with the interpretations. But I’d like to believe there’s a God out there.”

“It’s an insult to Jesus if we don’t believe in him. He died for all of us, after all.” I say.

Luke pauses for a second. “Yeah, he did. In the worst way possible. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”

I learn that Luke was cut off from his family for his refusal to go to his church. He later joined a new, non-denominational church. One that preached values he liked better. I learn that he’s deeply embedded in this new community, and they go serve at the homeless shelter as a group every Monday. Slowly, I begin to speak as well.

“I grew up Christian.” I say. “God saved my family, and I got saved when I was thirteen.”

“You don’t seem so happy about it.” Luke says. He swirls the last remaining ice in his cup.

“I am.” I say. “I’m glad I’m saved.” But my voice feels faraway, like another person is speaking it. “After all, I don’t deserve it. So it’s the best gift I could ever receive.”

“Are you glad about your life right now?” Luke asks, looking at me with those deep eyes of his.

I think about my empty house, my Hostess Donuts, and the love I’ll never get to receive.

“It’s all for the glory of God.” I say finally. “Things will be better once I get to heaven.”

Luke chews on his ice, contemplating my words.

“I think you also deserve to be happy in this life, too.” He says quietly. “I think that you are a good person.” A wave of emotion surges from my heart, and I feel like crying.

“I’m not.” I say, my voice cracking. I look away from his eyes. “I’m the worst sinner of all.” Luke sits patiently, as if he had all the time in the world and will wait for me as long as it takes. “I can’t love the people that I love.” I say finally, choking back tears. Images of his grave being lowered in the ground, never to be seen again, flood my mind. His crying girlfriend at the front, wailing because she has the right to hold so much grief. Me, in the back, choking on forbidden emotion.

Luke watches me so intently that I feel naked. I look away, and he takes my hand. His hand is large and warm. A tear slides down my cheek, and I feel so embarrassed to be crying in front of another man right now.

“Love is goodness. It’s the hope that keeps us going in this life. How could loving someone ever be so bad?” Luke asks.

“It just is.” I say, defeated. God says so. God is good, so there must be a good reason behind it. There has to be, or else God wouldn’t be good anymore.

“I think you’re wrong.” Luke says, smiling softly at me. “I wouldn’t want to live without love. In any life, whether that be this one or the next.”

God, I asked for salvation, but you sent me treason. Even so, will you let me savor this moment just a little bit longer?

“It’s getting late.” I say, looking out the window. The sky is starting to darken, earlier than usual. Winter is coming.

“Let’s go then.” Luke says, starting to get up. I throw my cup away and return to where he waits for me by the door. “Would you want to get coffee again sometime?” He asks.

I pause. “Yes. Yes, I would.” I say.

He smiles at me, wide and good, and I smile back for perhaps the first time in years. Dear God, I’ve always been a sinner. I’ve been a sinner from the start, but in this moment, I am saved.