From The Dead (32 page)

Jesse exhaled and watched his breath disperse before
him. “I feel like I’ve really let you down. I know I always acted
like I didn’t care what you thought about me—and maybe even made a
few comments to that effect, huh?”

His dad chuckled. “Yeah, a few.”

“But the truth is …” Jesse stopped, bit his lip. “I
really
did
care what you thought. And that’s what made it so
frustrating: that tug-of-war inside my bones.”

“I think you turned out fine.”

Jesse snorted. “My life’s a mess. Los Angeles was
supposed to be my cure-all, but I blew it. All I did was run away,
and now, eleven years later, the inevitable still haunts me. I let
down so many people when I left.”

Chuck had a glint in his eye. With a nudge to his
son’s shoulder, he smiled. “Your heart is open. That’s what counts.
And as for coming to terms with the past—well, that’s a process.
Often it’s not about the destination, but the journey—the growth
that occurs along the way.”

“I guess I figured if I just showed up again, my
issues would disappear and everything would get sewn together
overnight. Naive, huh?”

Chuck peered up at the dark sky. “What you have right
now is a chance to retrace your steps, to start fresh. Rock bottom?
Yes. But at rock bottom, circumstances can only get better, as long
as you don’t give up. You have a fresh opportunity; how high you
climb and what you
do
with this opportunity—well, it’s up to
you.” Chuck paused. “So you have another decision on your hands.
You made the decision to come home; now you face the decision of
how you want to spend the rest of your life. No, you don’t know
what’s up ahead, and you’ll take risks based on what you can’t see,
but that’s why we take life step by step.”

They sat there for a while until Chuck responded to
his son’s silence.

“Is anything else going on?”

Jesse wavered, then admitted, “When I got to be a
teenager, I was angry at God and angry at you. I looked at you and
saw a hypocrite: How could you be a preacher for the God who took
your wife, and then expect me to follow suit with your beliefs? I
resented you for that.”

Expressionless, Chuck listened and nodded. “I don’t
have answers to all the ‘why’ questions. There’s so much I’ll never
understand this side of heaven. It’s part of the walk of faith.” As
they delved deeper in conversation, Chuck’s grimace revealed an
ache for his son and the pain Jesse harbored. “This world isn’t
perfect,” Chuck said. “It’s not heaven, so it has some flaws. The
horrible things that happen here don’t always make sense, but they
go with the territory. I don’t blame God for your mom’s death; the
way I see it, that’s just part of this fallen world, where we have
weakness, disease, and so forth.

“I’ll say this about God, though: I wasn’t even a
Christian when your mom died, but the love I felt during the
ordeal—God’s love—stretched beyond words. And I’ve sensed that love
countless times. As I’ve gotten to know God better—not as a
minister, but as an average Christian—I’ve gotten to know His
nature. And I’ve come to the conclusion that the God who loves me,
who loves my kids, who loved your mom—He’s a good God. He blessed
me with that amazing woman for years, and He’s given her a home in
heaven where there’s no more bleeding, no more suffering, no more
pain. At this moment, she sees things that I can’t even begin to
imagine. And she gets to see God face-to-face. The beauty that must
radiate from His presence! One day, I’ll be there, too. But not
yet.” Chuck tapped his fingers together, then continued. “So the
way I see it, despite her suffering while she gave birth, she had a
victory in the end. I could only wish I had it as good as your mom
has it right now.”

Jesse, his lip in a quiver, contemplated what his
father said. He sensed a yielding inside, a sense that life would
come together indeed.

Jesse nodded, but said nothing.

And he knew his father understood.

The past was past. Healing had arrived.

CHAPTER 50

That Wednesday evening, Jesse fought slight nausea as
he wound through the streets of Hudson. But he knew it wasn’t an
aftermath of the tacos he’d eaten for dinner; no, it was
psychosomatic, a nervousness that surrounded what he was about to
do.

Though he found the church parking lot packed when he
pulled in for the 7:30 service, he managed to locate an empty spot
in the far corner. Jesse checked his watch—a few minutes late as
planned. He didn’t want to be noticed when he walked in.

As Jesse zipped his coat, he made his way past aisles
of cars. Most of the license plates he passed contained a tag for
Summit County, Hudson’s location; but because Hudson sat close to
the county’s northern border, many members arrived from Cleveland’s
Cuyahoga County and other communities to the northeast and
northwest. Few families seemed to travel from areas to the south,
as you headed toward Akron.

Jesse snorted under his breath. He couldn’t believe
he’d actually come here tonight. A year ago, he never would have
pictured himself entering this building again. For that matter, he
hadn’t stepped foot inside a church building while he’d lived out
west. So, in spite of all the time he spent here as a
kid—regardless of its second-home status to him back then—tonight
he fought a queasy stomach and felt like an outsider. But beyond
his abdominal butterflies, he found himself unemotional.

Random snow flurries, Lake Erie’s finest, circled
through the dark air, and Jesse tasted the flakes that melted on
his lips. He inhaled the scent of smoking chimneys, where nearby
households gave their fireplaces a test run for the season. And he
continued to press ahead, determined not to run the other way. He
and God had an appointment.

As he reached the church building, Jesse heard the
sounds of beating drums and a bass guitar, whose vibrations raced
in invisible currents beneath his feet. And when he opened the
lobby door, the volume level doubled in his ears. He detected an
air of excitement in the atmosphere, to such an extent it seemed
all but tangible.

Jesse entered the auditorium, where the music could
be heard at its fullest through the large amplifiers. The room was
dim, like a concert setting. Toward the front, bright lights
focused on the platform, where a band and singers led worship for
over one thousand attendees. Not a single suit could be found in
the building. Though he’d arrived feeling like an outcast, now
Jesse felt invited. A party had begun and they had expected
him.

He headed to the aisle on his far right and counted
rows. While he didn’t want anyone to notice him, he also didn’t
want to sit alone. As promised, Eden had saved him a seat in the
tenth row from the back, at the end of the row. And as the people
around him sang, no one seemed to notice him or whisper. Because
the church membership had expanded during his years away, he didn’t
recognize half of the faces.

Her eyes closed, hands at rest upon her heart, Eden
swayed to the up-tempo music and sang along. Jesse gave her a side
hug to let her know he’d arrived. When she opened her eyes, she
beamed a smile and mouthed hello. And then, once again, she closed
her eyes to enter back into worship. Eden, focused on the one she’d
come to sing to, lifted her hands in praise. She didn’t make a big
deal of Jesse’s arrival. For that he was grateful.

Jesse removed his coat and set it on his seat as the
band moved into another energetic song. Like the church’s members,
the band represented a broad age range. A twentysomething guy
played lead guitar; a man in his sixties worked his way around the
drum set. Jesse remembered the drummer from long ago, back when he
had darker hair—a former hippie who had struggled through a heroin
addiction prior to his Christian conversion. “I never imagined
myself in a church,” the man had said on one occasion. “After an
addiction like that one, I’m thankful just to be alive: I’m
proof-positive that God loves everyone.”

In the semi-darkness, Jesse observed the sea of
individuals around him, some of whom lifted their hands or clapped
in worship, while others rejoiced with bursts of gladness. On a
spontaneous occasion, he saw someone shout for joy or leap up and
down a few times in reverence. Jesse found the twofold activity
fascinating: Assembled as a group, these people worshipped together
in song; yet each experienced an intimate, one-on-one worship
connection with God. Each part came together as a whole.

Chuck’s perspective on worship time, which came prior
to his preaching segment, was that each church member should have
the freedom to approach God from where they are. For some church
environments, that might mean classical hymns and solemn rituals.
But Chuck’s church, like the preacher himself, had always been a
place of expressive worship. And early on, Chuck had taken hits
from critics who misinterpreted this worship style as irreverence.
But Chuck believed God took interest in
hearts
rather than
red tape, and often pointed to David in ancient Israel, who,
although a distinguished king, had danced and rejoiced through
public streets in an expression of worship.

Jesse recalled many moments of worship like
tonight’s. And as it turned out, these fervent acts—the lifted
hands and leaps of praise—were expressions of gratitude to God.
Over the years, many of these people, like the drummer, had told
their stories of deliverance. Some testified to how God had
comforted them after a loss or delivered them from a drug
addiction. Many had a simpler story: They had begun a normal day
and by evening had given their lives to the Lord after a casual
conversation with a friend.

Testimonies of recoveries and healings abounded here.
For some, their answered prayers came by way of an instant miracle,
while for others the road had proven long and arduous—but
victorious in the end. And now, as these memories poured back into
Jesse’s mind, he realized these imperfect people were similar to
him—shortcomings, struggles and all.

So here he stood tonight.

The lights dimmed further and the band segued into a
softer, more intimate song. The claps and shouts ceased as more
hands lifted. On the platform, the lead singer leaned closer to the
microphone during the keyboard-driven song—a song of gratitude, a
song of love. A sense of reverent passion seemed to fill the
auditorium.

Jesse felt broken on the inside, like a piece of
pottery shattered on a concrete floor, fragile. An acute awareness
of past regrets and desperation, a heart’s cry, welled up within
him. In the darkness of the room, unnoticed by others, Jesse closed
his eyes and lifted his hands as though he and God were the only
ones in the room. Though he couldn’t bring himself to sing, Jesse
listened. His heartbeat accelerated. Tears trickled down his face.
And Jesse soaked himself in the lyrics of hope; the chords washed
over him and massaged his heart like the touch of a finger—God’s
finger. Jesse felt a cleansing occur, followed by an acceptance, as
the enormous, soothing arms of God wrapped around him.

How long had it been since he’d felt so
protected?

The band lulled into an instrumental interlude as
Chuck, dressed in jeans, approached the platform. The preacher
stood there for a while. He observed the people engaged in worship,
who whispered praise to God, the same God who had whispered comfort
to Chuck himself. In reverence, the preacher waited for the proper
words. At last, in a tender voice, he spoke through a microphone as
the band continued to play behind him at a softer volume.

“Whether you’re visiting tonight and don’t know God,
or whether you’ve been here numerous times before,” the preacher
said, “I want to tell you we serve a good God here. We serve a God
who loves us unconditionally—no qualifiers, no performance
measurements. And that’s an assurance for each person in this room.
He loves you so much, He gave his one and only Son, Jesus, to set
you free. The Bible says that without the shedding of blood, there
is no forgiveness of sins. So when Jesus was nailed to a cross two
thousand years ago, your sins were nailed there with Him—He shed
His blood to cover those sins. And He would have done it if you
were the only person on earth.” Chuck paused a moment, then
continued, “Jesus rose from the dead and is alive to this day. So
whatever you’re going through in your life, God sees your
situation. He wants you to invite Him into those circumstances.
Whoever calls on the Lord will not be disappointed. He acknowledges
you, and He delights when you acknowledge Him. People speak of the
passion of the Christ; well, I have some news for you:
You
are His passion, His deep desire. If people knew how beautiful the
living Jesus is, how unique He is—they would want Him.”

As the music continued and the band moved into
another song, Jesse abandoned himself to worship and reconnected
with the Jesus he’d known as a kid.

Deep within, Jesse sensed a humble pleasure, a fresh
renewal.

A thirst quenched.

CHAPTER 51

“I want to tell Drew.”

Brick Oven was crowded when they met for dinner the
following evening.

“Tell him what?” Caitlyn asked.

Jesse hesitated, but his resolve resurfaced again.
Confident, he locked eyes with hers. “I want to tell him I’m his
father.”

Caitlyn hadn’t expected this. In mid sip, she
swallowed her iced tea. “Oh, I … oh …”

Jesse examined her eyes in an attempt to read them.
“I mean, if it’s all right with you,” he added. “
Only
if
it’s okay with you.”

“I suppose I’m not surprised. He’s crazy about you,
and you two have gotten along so far.”

“Six months and counting.”