Between These Walls (38 page)

“Wrong about what?” Hunter lifted his head and found Chuck looking him straight in the eye. Despite all Hunter had confided, Chuck didn’t appear afraid to talk; he seemed neither angry nor displeased. He was approachable. And though the man’s countenance remained steady, Hunter thought he caught a glint in his pastor’s eyes.

“God isn’t disappointed in you,” Chuck said, “and He’s not angry.”

Hunter searched Chuck’s eyes for signs of insincerity, indicators that his pastor’s words were empty or patronizing. But Hunter found none.

“He’s not?” Hunter said, unable to downplay his wonder at what he’d heard.

“God’s with you in this, step by step,” Chuck said. “He sticks with you forever. He puts His arm around your shoulder.”

Hunter’s nose had started to run. He reached for a tissue from Chuck’s desk.

Without intending to do so, Hunter had wrapped his arms around himself in a hug. Maybe it made him feel more secure as he considered his pastor’s response. To Hunter’s fascination, his tears represented neither sadness nor joy. Rather, he felt as though a cleansing process had initiated within him, whereby his tears ushered years of pain and rubbish out of his soul. He wiped his eyes with the tissue.

“An arm around my shoulder: Would you believe that’s all I’ve really wanted?” Hunter chuckled to himself. “When you boil everything down to the essence of what I feel, that’s what I’ve always craved, ever since I was a young kid. I’ve just wanted somebody’s arm around me to accept me for who I am. The arm of someone who knows me and wants me to know I’m loved. It’s the thing I longed for most and, strange as it sounds, the one thing I never received for as far back as I can recall.”

Hunter reflected upon his own words. Though he had the company of another individual sitting across from him, Hunter still felt the pang of isolation because, in the end, he knew he would leave Chuck’s office with the same struggle he’d faced when he’d walked through the door. Yes indeed, in times like these, he craved an arm around his shoulder most.

From the other side of the desk, Chuck studied him with the expression of a father watching over his son. Chuck looked as though he were considering his course of action, the next words to say.

“Tell you what,” said Chuck, “we can take care of that right now. Would that help?”

Would it help?
Hunter mused.
It would mean the world to me.

Hunter couldn’t muster the words to respond, so he nodded instead. Yet that was all his pastor needed.

Chuck didn’t hesitate to make his way around the desk and hold out his arms.

If a stranger had made such a gesture, it would have struck Hunter as creepy. But coming from his pastor, something about the current circumstances fell into place. A trace of respite, however fleeting, hung within Hunter’s reach. Though Hunter never would have thought to ask for this, Chuck, as a pastor, must have sensed how to respond to one member’s unique needs. Yet another fact impacted Hunter more: Chuck, while knowing the truth about Hunter, wasn’t afraid to reach out and make contact with him.

Hunter’s father was never affectionate. Perhaps now, Chuck sensed Hunter had needed fatherly affection his whole life. Regardless, Chuck’s gesture fostered relief within Hunter’s soul. He didn’t have a chance to think about it or talk himself out of it. Before he could catch himself, he responded.

Hunter got up and stocky Pastor Chuck wrapped him in a bear hug. Hunter responded likewise, allowing himself the freedom to fall into the embrace, the innocent bond between a father and son. The affection Hunter had craved as a child. Hunter trembled as he allowed his defenses to fall.

They clung in their bear hug for a minute or so until Hunter began to calm. Soon Hunter drew a deep breath. Chuck patted him on the back, then returned to the other side of the desk. Each man took his seat.

“A little better now?” Chuck asked. “I know it doesn’t solve everything.”

“It’s better,” Hunter said. His muscles relaxed. The fear of looking into his pastor’s face dissipated. “Thanks, I needed that.”

Chuck picked up a pen, turned it back and forth in his hand, then set it back down. “Can I ask you something?”

Hunter nodded his permission.

“Why did you feel you needed to harbor this anguish inside rather than talk to someone?”

“I was never sure who I could trust,” Hunter shrugged.

“Not even in church?”

“I thought about it. I looked around at my Bible study group and wondered which ones I could trust, but you never know for sure,” Hunter said. “People have good intentions, but when rubber meets the road, that’s when people reveal who they truly are. And that’s what my secret would bring to light: What happens when people hear about something that conflicts with the status quo, especially when they disagree with you or get to be the first ones to spread your secret? Some people will jab their fingers at you and make you feel worse, but never offer to listen to what’s going on. Other people gossip, but they pretend to do it in a caring way. They say things like, ‘You might want to keep Hunter in your prayers—oh, you haven’t heard? Yeah, it turns out he’s held this secret.’ And this secret of mine was too personal, too humiliating, to take that chance. So I kept it between God and me.”

“As a pastor,” said Chuck, “did I do or say anything that made you feel you couldn’t come to me until today?” The sincerity in Chuck’s face let Hunter know Chuck’s words weren’t meant as a challenge. Rather, it reflected Chuck’s concern that he might have taken a wrong turn while leading his flock.

“No,” replied Hunter, “but I figured you’d be disappointed in me. You saw me as a genuine Christian, and I
am
a genuine Christian, but it wouldn’t appear that way. I’d look like a hypocrite—I
must
look like a hypocrite, because I
feel
like a hypocrite.”

“I know you, Hunter. I know you’re not a hypocrite. Why would you feel that way about yourself?”

“Because dealing with being gay—gay isn’t considered part of what Christians usually stand for.” Hunter shook his head as his eyes retreated toward his knees again. “I’ve often looked at myself as the worst Christian in the world. It seems my life should be in better shape. Instead, I’ve concealed this dark side of me, whether I wanted it or not. I’ve kept quiet about this since I was young, and when I became a Christian, I thought I’d get cured. Jesus is supposed to change your whole life, right? So when I gave Him my heart, I’d also hoped it would eliminate my feelings and remove the issues from my life.”

“I wish I could tell you it would. But the truth is, not all of our struggles disappear when we give our lives to Christ,” Chuck said. “Some do disappear, but others stick around. They become part of our journey, a journey we need to walk through whether we want to or not. As a Christian, you won’t have a perfect life, but you’ll have God’s peace as you voyage through it. You mentioned you can’t remember the last time you lived in peace. I understand what you’re saying; but at the same time, you’ve made it this far, haven’t you? You’ve found peace knowing you’re never alone. Sure, you might have felt alone with your peers, but you’ve always held Jesus close. Even in the darkest, lowest moments, you’ve known in your heart of hearts that He’s with you. Am I right about that?”

Lately, Hunter had felt so bogged down with shame, he had overlooked God’s love. Even when he couldn’t run to anyone else or talk to them, he had kept his communication open with God because he knew he could trust God. As Hunter considered his pastor’s words, he found reassurance in them.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Hunter said. “I’ve never thrown in the towel and given up on life. I guess I trusted God enough to keep hanging on. I kept drawing close to Him when the battle got fierce.”

“The truth is,” said Pastor Chuck, “you’re never alone. God knows your battles, He knows your shortcomings, and He loves you in the midst of them. He also understands.”

“It’s hard to believe God can understand. He’s perfect, isn’t He?”

“Jesus experienced life on earth as a human being with flesh like ours. When He rose from the dead and went to heaven, He went there as our high priest. He reminds God the Father of our vulnerabilities. He tells God—from firsthand experience—what it’s like for us as human beings, who try our best but don’t live up to perfection, and He reminds God that Jesus Himself paid the price for our shortcomings. That’s why the Bible tells us in the book of Hebrews that we have a high priest who
understands
our weaknesses. Does that make sense?”

“It’s comforting, but it doesn’t change the isolation you feel while you’re step by step on your journey.”

Chuck paused, smiled once again. “Hunter, look at me.”

Hunter raised his head and met Chuck’s gaze.

“You’re never alone,” said Chuck. “I promise.”

CHAPTER 36

Hunter looked forward to tonight’s conversation least of all. But he knew they deserved to hear the truth from him before word spread through the grapevine. He murmured a quick prayer to God for strength.

After leaving Chuck’s office, Hunter had called his parents to make sure they would be home tonight. He had something important to discuss with them, he’d said.

It was Friday night. If his news caused them insomnia, at least they wouldn’t need to rise early for work the next morning.

Heading to their front porch, a blast of winter breeze made Hunter feel encased in an ice cube. He let himself into the house and shed his coat. Compared to the frigid air outside, he almost broke a sweat in the heated foyer. With his first breath, he detected the familiar scent of home, a combination of dinner and his mother’s favorite potpourri, which she placed on various tables throughout the house.

From the foyer, he heard clinking in the kitchen, where he found his mother loading dishes into the dishwasher. He leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek, a gesture he’d picked up as a youngster, a routine more than a display of affection, something they exchanged without thinking. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and gave him a hug. Between his parents, Hunter had always felt more comfortable around his mother, and her hug ushered in a sense that he’d come home.

His gut quivered. She hadn’t a clue what the next hour would hold. This period in the kitchen would be the easiest and most peaceful of the evening.

“It’s about time you stopped by,” she kidded. “How long has it been? A few weeks?”

“Something like that. Sorry, the job hunt got me distracted.”

“Well, at least you’re keeping busy. That’s a good thing. How about a glass of wine?”

“No thanks,” Hunter replied, trying to maintain a casual tone.

“I’m going to have a glass of wine,” she said, and proceeded to pull a bottle of Riesling from the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass. “Do you want to talk in here?”

Hunter glanced at the kitchen table, where the chairs sat in close proximity. Much too close. As difficult as this talk would be, he preferred more space, where his face wouldn’t be inches from theirs when the inevitable awkwardness emerged.

“How about the living room?”

“Fine. Your dad’s working on the computer downstairs.”

Upon reaching empty-nester status, Hunter’s parents had finished the basement, one room of which his father had converted into a man cave. Leading the way out of the kitchen, his mother poked her head through the door to the basement stairs.

“Ed! Hunter’s here!” she said, then headed into the living room without waiting for an answer.

When his mother took a seat on the sofa, Hunter opted to sit in the armchair, close enough but not too close for comfort. If they erupted with anger, at least he wouldn’t be engulfed from both sides. Hunter heard a pair of feet thudding up the basement stairs. Hunter’s father stopped halfway into the living room. Even in the middle of winter, Ed Carlisle went barefoot around the house. He had tucked a short-sleeved polo shirt into a pair of shorts in a manner which, to Hunter, resembled that of a gym teacher. He looked every bit the former athlete who could have gone professional.

Hunter didn’t expect his father to handle the news well. His mother, on the other hand, would try to show Hunter her support, he figured, to whatever degree she might muster. But after some tough minutes, he felt confident both parents would give him reassurance. Whenever he’d made a mistake growing up, they had come around in short order. When nobody else accepts you, your family does. Or should.

“Hunter, want a beer? I’m gonna grab one.”

“No thanks, Dad.”

“You don’t drink beer anymore?”

With a shrug, Hunter replied, “I do. I just don’t feel like having one right now.” Not that Hunter
didn’t
suspect he would crave a glass of alcohol by the time this evening ended.

When his father returned with a can in hand, he cracked it open, sat beside Hunter’s mother, and rested a foot on the opposite knee. “What’s the big news?”

Hunter wondered how many of these awkward conversations he would endure in the months and years to come. How many relatives, friends and church acquaintances would ask? One by one, how many times would he need to recount his story and the background behind it? Maybe it would become routine. Maybe the repetition would numb him to the point where he could itemize the details while, in his mind, escaping the conversation.

Hunter’s eyes dropped to his knees because he knew his parents would look straight at him. He didn’t want to catch sight of the disappointment in their eyes. This was hard enough.

“I don’t know how to put this,” Hunter said as he kneaded a few of his fingers. “I, uh, didn’t think you should hear this from anyone else ...” No doubt, talking to his parents was much tougher than talking to his pastor. “Something happened. Something ... well, a romantic something, and I don’t think it’s something you’ll be thrilled about.”

Hunter said nothing further, hoping he could gauge their reactions one step at a time. He eyed his parents, who stared at him with blank expressions on their faces, until revelation dawned upon his mother’s face and her eyes widened.