Between These Walls (23 page)

“Thanks,” Gabe said as he settled into a chair across from Hunter, “but I ate dinner on my way over.”

With the formalities out of the way, Hunter didn’t know how to proceed. Part of him didn’t want to discuss what had happened; the other part of him knew he couldn’t ignore it. He respected Gabe for his attempt to face it head-on.

Both men stared at the kitchen table, which contained the CD, a stack of paperwork, and nothing else, minimal evidence of domestication and all the evidence of a bachelor pad. Hunter sensed Gabe catching glimpses of him to decipher what went through his mind—and Hunter followed suit. Hunter felt nauseous and ashamed, but curiosity accompanied the shame, as if he stood on the cusp of the answer to a question he’d asked for years.

Finally, Gabe lifted his head, and Hunter noticed a glint in his eye.

“Well,
that
was unexpected,” Gabe said in reference to the kiss, an obvious attempt to bring humor to a thorny scenario.

“I’ve never exactly ...
done
that before ...”

“Neither have I ...”

“Kind of awkward.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” said Gabe. He shifted in his seat. “It gets more interesting from there, doesn’t it?”

Silence resumed. Hunter didn’t know which was worse: speaking to the man he associated with the shame he felt or allowing the shame to churn in him all alone. Gabe laid his hands on the table and rubbed his fingers over his fingernails.

“So this ...
thing
that happened today,” Hunter began. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Gabe.

At least we’re on the same page,
thought Hunter.

“You uh ... when we, you know ...” Hunter said at last, “you kissed me back, right?”

“Yeah, I think I did.”

A grin twitched at the corner of Hunter’s mouth. Then, in an instant, he started to fidget, still angry he had put himself into this situation. With one quick decision to keep up his guard earlier that afternoon, he could have avoided it. He could have shown up at his next scheduled appointment, he and Gabe would have engaged in their usual conversation and humor, and everything would have remained normal. A nice, comfortable status quo. A
predictable
status quo. But that option had evaporated in a minute, one for which Hunter hadn’t even thought to prepare himself.

He hadn’t moved the CD from the corner of the table, but now he wished he had. One look at the CD, and his thoughts veered toward Kara. Hunter’s nausea increased.

Should he tell her? At this point, Hunter didn’t know. He felt humiliated enough. It didn’t seem fair to reveal this to Kara when he himself didn’t understand it fully. After all, he
wanted
to want her. And after his failed attempts at romance in the past, he didn’t want to sabotage another one because of a stupid lapse in judgment.

Hunter forced a calm demeanor as panic crept in.

“It was a big mistake,” Hunter said. “That’s all it was, right?”

“It wasn’t planned, if that’s what you mean.”

Their eyes locked. How could Hunter rationalize what had happened? Could he make Gabe understand the kiss was a lapse in judgment, not a pattern of behavior? It was real, but it wasn’t
real.

“What happened, it isn’t me—or it’s never been me.” Hunter mustered as much sincerity as possible. “I don’t even know what to make of it.”

“You’ve never had feelings like this for someone else?”

In Gabe’s eyes, Hunter recognized the desperation, the weariness of an endless search for a companion. Eyes that long to know someone else understands your inner turmoil. The yearning to know you’re not alone.

Hunter sighed to himself. “I have, but I’ve never acted on those feelings before. Nobody has a clue about me.”

“Yeah,” Gabe rubbed his eyes, “nobody knows about me, either.”

“Then this isn’t something we need to tell anyone—please,” Hunter said. “Neither of us has this figured out. It would devastate
both
our lives. People would ask questions we don’t have the answers to. Is it worth disrupting our lives for something that might not even ...”

“... have substance to it?”

“Right.”

Each man retreated to his thoughts. For the time being, with Gabe on board to remain quiet, Hunter knew he would have a chance to figure out the impact that day’s events would—or should—have on his life.

Their eyes met again, and Hunter asked, “So where do we go from here?”

Palms open, Gabe shrugged and said, “We can’t pretend it didn’t happen, can we?”

Hunter paused. “Do you
want
to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No,” Gabe replied, his voice tentative. He studied his hands before raising his head again. “I guess we just live. Take it day by day.”

“No pressure on us. We can figure out what it means on our own timetable.”

“And if there’s something there, we’ll take whatever steps we need to take.”

“We won’t cause stress for anyone without knowing there’s anything to stress about with ... with whatever this is ...”

“... and we’ll see where it leads.” Gabe paused, then glanced at Hunter once again. “That is, if you want to.”

Hunter breathed deeper, then looked into Gabe’s eyes and found in them the compassion that had drawn him from the beginning.

CHAPTER 20

On Sunday morning, Hunter heard drum beats reverberate as he approached the church building from the parking lot.

He never had trouble getting to work or an appointment on time, yet week after week, he arrived to church a minute after the worship service started. With its large congregation and a music segment at the beginning of each service, though, individuals like Hunter could trickle in without anyone noticing their late arrivals.

When he opened the door to the worship auditorium, the music’s volume doubled in his ears, the audible equivalent of a blast of heat. A greeter who stood inside the door, a man Hunter had never officially met but had seen for years, gave him a wide smile and a pat on the back. Hunter found an open seat near the middle of the room.

Nearly a thousand people sang the lyrics projected on the wall. From listening to Pastor Chuck’s sermons and getting to know him personally over the years, Hunter knew his pastor sought an environment of freedom in worship. Some individuals clapped to the music, some closed their eyes while others kept theirs open. Many individuals across the auditorium lifted their hands in praise, while the occasional person leaped in place or danced with joy in the aisle.

Rather than singing this morning, Hunter observed the environment around him.

Along the auditorium’s walls hung fabric-covered rectangles to absorb sound, along with framed photos illustrating the church’s history. Dimmed lights, which hung overhead and along the perimeter, ushered a cozy ambience into the room. At the front of the room, on a large platform, the worship band consisted of about ten members: a lead vocalist and several background vocalists; an electric guitarist and a bass player; an alto saxophone player, a keyboardist, and a drummer. The band represented a wide range of ages, yet found common ground as they played an upbeat, contemporary song about God’s love that had set them free.

Hunter loved Sunday mornings in church. He could see the elation in people’s eyes, people from all walks of life whose relationships with Christ had changed their lives. To Hunter, church felt like a celebration. It reminded him of how glad he’d felt when he’d given his heart to Jesus Christ. He recalled the relief he’d felt, no longer dragging chains of failure and overwhelming guilt. And over the years, as Hunter looked back on his life and compared it to how he’d felt
without
a Savior, he’d grown more grateful.

Today, Hunter felt as welcome in church as he always had. He perceived the same sense of joy and wonder among the people who had gathered together. The song lyrics still resonated in his heart. Since becoming a Christian, whenever Hunter stepped foot in a church service, he held an awareness of his personal struggles. He knew he was far from perfect, as was everyone else around him.

Yet today, Hunter had arrived with an altered perspective.

Last week, Hunter had come to church aware of his attractions, but with the knowledge nothing physical had occurred. It had remained a temptation, just as it had every week of his faith life.

As he stood in the worship auditorium this morning, however, he did so with the knowledge of what had occurred between Gabe and him earlier that week.

Today, the contrast lurked in the recesses of his conscience.

The sense of guilt reminded him of how he’d felt before he’d become a Christian, back when he’d given minimal thought to God or religion. And on the occasions he
had
wondered about God, he’d had no idea how to reach out to Him or connect with Him.

Now, in the midst of a sea of other believers, Hunter felt alone.

The final upbeat song came to a close. From their various seats around the auditorium, individuals clapped or gave spontaneous shouts to God. Beyond God’s ability to meet needs and keep the whole world in order, the facet of God that Hunter found most fascinating was that He was a
loving
God. He was a God who noticed each individual, who knew each person intimately. A God who looked at each individual with compassion, loved that person in a manner beyond comprehension, and truly cared about the details of that individual’s life.

The band changed musical keys and transitioned into a slower, worshipful song. As the tone grew tender, Hunter yearned for a connection between God and him. He closed his eyes and shut out the people around him, focusing on the sweet melody and lyrics of the song.

As the music washed over him, Hunter ruminated on his relationship with Christ, who had rescued Hunter from his own devices and set him on a better course than he would have dreamed otherwise. Jesus had set him free. Hunter had received forgiveness for his sins.

But though he had received a clean slate in his life, his struggles and temptations hadn’t vanished, had they? Though he had hope, his problems hadn’t disintegrated.

Unfortunately, while Jesus had liberated him from sin, Hunter hadn’t experienced the smaller miracle he’d sought.

This morning, as the keyboard-driven worship song continued, Hunter’s mind wandered to the electricity he’d discovered when he’d kissed Gabe. Growing more aware of God’s presence amid the worship—of Hunter’s sin compared to God’s holiness—a wave of shame rushed over him. Here he was, worshipping God while he held secret desires for Gabe. A pang hit his heart. Tears formed behind his closed eyelids and seeped out onto his cheeks.

When God looked at Hunter, which one did He see: the genuine Hunter who worshiped God from the depths of his heart, or the Hunter who had succumbed to his weakness?

The truth was, Hunter cared
very much
about what God thought of him and how his faith reflected on others. So where did God stand on this struggle? And in light of that, how was Hunter to reconcile his feelings for Gabe?

For Hunter, the question wasn’t about God’s love. Rather, he likened it to a child who cared about what his father thought of him, who wanted to bring gladness to his father and make him proud of him.

He knew God loved him. That security had provided an anchor for his heart since he’d turned to Christ at sixteen years old. Besides, he knew from his Bible reading that God even loved people who hated Him or didn’t believe in His existence.

The question was, Did Hunter’s feelings and actions bring
shame
to God or this church?

Was Hunter a hypocrite for standing here worshipping while knowing the secrets he hid inside? God knew about his struggle. Was it anyone else’s business? Or was he a hypocrite for
not
confiding in someone, for keeping the issue private between God and him?

The worship song continued, the lyrics of which spoke about God’s grace. Hunter recognized the songwriter had based the lyrics on Psalm 139, a chapter to which Hunter had turned so often in his Bible that the page corner, already thin as onion skin, showed wear marks. When Hunter hit rough times in his life, he read that psalm because it reminded him of God’s presence regardless of where he turned. The psalmist pondered whether there was a limit to where God could reach him, and couldn’t name one. Even if he made his bed in hell, the psalmist said, God would remain beside him.

Hunter returned his attention to the music. If he lost his chance to worship with believers around him, his next opportunity wouldn’t come until the midweek service, and he needed this hour’s worth of refuge.

Yet he couldn’t remain focused. He couldn’t shake the feeling of slipping slowly down a muddy cliff toward a valley, toward unknown territory where answers evaded him.

God’s grace.

God’s grace was the focal point of Hunter’s faith in Christ. Sin brought a penalty, but Jesus had paid that penalty on Hunter’s behalf. When Hunter had given himself to Christ, it had brought him into the family of believers, and Christ’s payment now covered him, the way an insurance policy might cover all members of a family.

But how far did God’s grace reach?

Hunter had never examined that question in such an applicable way. Like everyone else, Hunter sinned in his life. Most of those sins, however, were one-time failures. They didn’t carry with them long-term ramifications or strong emotional components.

Where did God’s grace begin and end? How much did it cover? Did it cover past mistakes only, or current struggles? Did grace come by the act of
asking
for forgiveness, or did grace already exist to the fullest degree in a heart that belonged to Christ? Was it a step-by-step provision, or did Christ’s sacrifice cover
everything
—past, present and future—to free Hunter from having to ask for God’s forgiveness detail by detail?

Hunter didn’t know the answers to those questions, nor did the Bible seem to state them outright. At least, not as far as Hunter could find in his reading.