The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 04

"I hope that helps you. If it doesn't, I think I need more from you as to what the problem is. And I should have said at the very beginning: I understand you to mean that you have accepted that moral claim God has on your life, and the need and possibility of forgiveness. And that Jesus' sacrifice is the only available basis for that. Is that correct?"

I had to sit and think for a while, myself. Not about his question, but about everything he had said.

"Yes. That's right. I do believe, and my only hope is to be forgiven. I—. I think I'd given up holding out against that a while ago. I didn't see it because I was having to think about how to go ahead, given that.

"The issues I was raising really were—I guess, about what I'm doing when I repent. And you're right, I should have known at least the general answer. I was bogged down in the details. So thank you very much.

"I guess, though, tonight as I was thinking about it, I was—I guess I'd have to say I was suddenly aware of my many sins over the years. In sharper focus than usual, or something. It all tied together."

"I think it would be well for you to do some more reflecting before you make any general, public profession of faith. But that's not the key, nor is talking to me like this. That's not news to you, of course! The real decision is between you and the Lord. Let me know when you're ready for a public statement, if you would. Not to mention baptism."

We sat quietly for a minute or two. Pastor Mac opened the cookie tin up again and took a cookie, offering the tin to Ellen and to me. She took one and gave me half of it. I glared at her in mock indignation—exaggerating enough to make sure she could tell it from the real thing—and took a whole one of my own, too. She smiled her happy, many-gigawatt smile at me.

Pastor Mac said, "Ellen, I know where you stood before the wedding, I think. Do you mind telling me where you stand today?"

She hesitated, looking uncertainly at me. "I—I had already come, sometime in the past week or two, to where I'm ready to put my fears behind me. I didn't say anything for two reasons. One is just that it's such a big step. But also, I was a little afraid that Phil would feel pressured.

"I'm not troubled, not seriously, by real doubts about the truth of it all, and I haven't been for a good while. My doubts really were about trusting God, trusting his goodness, and I knew that. And Phil gave me the crucial answer on that sometime, quite a while ago now, in fact. If I can say to Phil, 'I'll trust you with anything,' and mean it, I can say that to God as well.

"Well, in the case of Phil, I've been very clear with him. When my former partner just seemed to change, overnight, it left me scarred. I'm willing to trust Phil, but—but if he changes in that way, if he's somehow no longer the man I've made that promise to, I may have to leave. I've promised that I won't leave without discussing it, enough to make clear to both of us that he really has changed and isn't willing to change back. But—. God's a different matter. People change, God doesn't.

"I have to say, though. Um. Phil really understood repentance much earlier, but seeing it in Sam brought his understanding to life, in a way. Well, in the same way, Phil showed me what it is to have someone I can trust. He's shown me—in an imperfect way—what God is really like in a perfect way.

"Anyway, I'd made my decision, but I felt—I still feel—I needed to wait on Phil to say so. I wouldn't have waited indefinitely, but I knew he was close, and I was afraid he'd feel he had to accept to stay with me. I know you can't do it that way."

I stared at her. "Oh, Ellen. Thank you!" I was starting to cry for real, but I wasn't pulling back from the world, this time. I just was overwhelmed with how much she loved me.

Pastor Mac sat back, not speaking for a moment. "Then both of you, take what I said to Phil. Go home. Think about this, and talk about it between the two of you. When you're both sure you're ready, come to me and we'll set up a time for a public profession, and for baptism when you're ready for that. Do feel free to come talk to me, if you think I can help.

"One more thing. I'm grateful that you asked Sam to see me at Christmas, though from what she said I think she might have anyway. And I told you that Miss Brown asked to talk to me as well. They are truly remarkable young women, and they both feel that they owe a tremendous debt to you, Phil. Miss Brown seemed to feel that she needed to make sure I understood that, in some detail, by the way." Ellen laughed at that, and Pastor Mac looked surprised, but went on. "From more casual talk with your friends, especially the young women but the men too, I believe that a lot feel the same."

Ellen waited a moment, I thought to make sure he was done, then said, "I'm sorry I laughed. It's just that, soon after Sam and Jenny brought me in as another partner with them, with Phil, Maggie came to me. She was afraid that I wouldn't appreciate what a hero Phil had been, basically. I had heard what was said during the trial, of course, and Phil and Sam had said some things to me, but she wanted to make sure I knew all the things that hadn't come out." She smiled at me. "I already had realized that I could trust him with absolutely anything, but she surprised me a couple of times."

I said, "Maggie overstates it all. She's a much stronger woman than she gives herself credit for. I'm glad you got to meet her, and at this point. In school, she had always been kind of, well, mousy and timid. After what happened to her, and the trial, she actually was a lot stronger and more confident. But she looked like a completely different woman, at the wedding. She said her father gave her the exterior makeover, as a gift, and she credits that as well as me. But I really think that the makeover just kind of freed what was happening to her inside, so that she could make it visible to the rest of the world. And I trust you can see that I'm very, very fond of Maggie."

Ellen said, "Pastor, thank you so much for seeing us tonight at a moment's notice. I could see I was out of my depth. And please apologize to Mrs. Mac for us. I made sure Phil ate before we talked, he was in such bad shape, but you've missed your dinnertime too."

We took our leave and went back home. It was a short enough drive, but I found time to say, "I'm going to have to give Maggie a call. I'm honored to be her friend and erstwhile protector. And I love her, too, not in any way that makes her a threat to you—and you know she'd die rather than be that. But she's got to stop making it her mission to tell the world how heroic I am!"

"Not the world. Only the people you're dealing with in a way that it matters, Phil. I was your partner. Pastor is, well, your pastor, and I'm sure she could see that he was dealing with you personally. With us. But she thinks you're too modest to tell me, or Pastor, how wonderful you are, and she forgets that it's kind of obvious to anyone who knows you well. I wonder whether Tammy had a little chat with Pastor about you, too. I'll have to ask her, sometime."

Ellen reached over and touched my arm for a moment—carefully, keeping her eyes on the road. "Phil, when I came in, it seemed a lot like you had gotten a shock and withdrawn into yourself again. You really are OK, aren't you?"

I had to think a moment. "It was a lot like that, yes. But not exactly the same. It was more like my thoughts had gotten to running in tight circles, and I went into screen-saver mode. Guru Meditation Error. But, well, I was confronting my own sinfulness, really seeing it differently, grieving for that—and then I was thinking about the things I described for Pastor. If I had to truly, um, reject loving Jenny and Sam and others, loving you and living with you those early months—it was going to feel a lot like losing Nana, losing Jenny that one time, all the rest. So, yes, I think it was the same thing. I think it may take a little time before I'm totally over it, because the feelings linger. But now that I'm satisfied that I can still rejoice in what was good in all those things, it shouldn't take too long. As long as I don't have time to brood on it, anyway."

When we got home, though, Ellen just held me for a minute or so, looking me in the face. Finally, she said, "Phil, one reason I didn't say anything else about my own decision was remembering what my grandmother told me. She said I would believe after I was married, but also that my husband would believe with me. If all this really is true, I really didn't need to push you—for all the reasons I said to Pastor, but also because it wasn't in my hands at all." She hugged me and laid her head against me, for another couple of minutes. I was afraid she was going to cry, and I wasn't sure why.

No more studying that night for me. I was still pretty subdued as we got into bed, and Ellen just held me until I was asleep.

We did what Pastor Mac suggested, talking about it over during the next few evenings. I could tell, and Ellen could even more, that I wasn't up to normal. I was a lot better than I often had been, when I was like this. I was pretty much functional, but my attention wasn't all there. Ellen was obviously a little worried, and I certainly was. I was particularly worried because there didn't seem to be any reason for it.

Friday, as usual, we went to Kelly's for dinner and discussion. As soon as we got there, Ellen looked at me, and then said, "Kelly, we have some news for you. We're not going public with it yet, so please don't tell anyone about it for now, because there are kind of still issues. Earlier this week, Phil became a Christian. I had too, maybe a couple of weeks ago, but I thought I'd better wait a little longer for Phil before I said anything."

Kelly erupted into excited shrieking, of which I could only make out a word now and then. She hugged me, then hugged Ellen, who kind of cried on her shoulder for a moment, tears of joy pretty clearly. Well, Kelly was maybe crying a little, too. She quieted down, not quite instantly, but I definitely understood some phrases. "I'm so happy for you!" and "I've been praying and praying for you!" came through more than once.

When she had calmed down, or mostly so, Kelly looked at me, and said, "Phil, I know you well enough to see that something's wrong. For one thing, Ellen looks happy, maybe not as much as I'd expect, but you don't. What's wrong?"

Ellen said, "Let's go in and get dinner on the table. We can talk while we do that. And having something to do helps Phil." So that's what we did. Dinner was mostly cooked, place settings were on the table but not put at the places, and there were a lot more little things.

Ellen said, "I'd better tell some of it.

"First off, I came in Monday night to find Phil kind of just sitting there, staring into space. Well, dinner was late, so I got something into both of us, and that helped. It took me a long time to learn that when he's hungry when he's like this, he doesn't feel hungry, but it really drags him down.

"So then he told me. And this wasn't how he put it, but here's what it amounted to. He had realized that his problem in believing wasn't really questions about the truth of scripture, any more, and that it hadn't been for a while. It was now a little like what I'd gone through, and much more like Sam's issues, but with a twist of his own." She looked at me fondly, concern still there but love drowning it out, then stepped over and hugged me for a moment.

"For me the crux really was trusting God. I had to think a lot beyond this, but it really went back to the vision I told you about. OK, somebody—and I really didn't doubt any longer that it was God and that he was real, even though I hadn't believed that before—God was telling me I was going to marry Phil, that I needed to so he can do something important, something I still know only a little about. And my problem was, but what about what I want? I wanted to marry Phil, more than I can tell you, but not on those terms—I wanted to marry him because I loved him and he loved me! Well, Phil told me right off that I was looking at it wrong, that those weren't either/or, and that if God willed us to get married he would provide that we wanted to, and not reluctantly. It took me a long time to see that he was right, and there were other things to sort through, but fear that I was somehow just a pawn on the chessboard, important only to the player for my use in winning that game, that was the big thing.

"For Sam, it was more directly something like this. I've got all these things I want and value in life—and you need to understand that Phil was one of those!—but God's calling me to put all those down and put him first, and how can I stand to do it? Remember, she had already gone through this once! She had suddenly been shown, very painfully, that she had been selfish and nasty, and that she had to stop that and live differently, tearing her whole life apart and putting it back together differently. She was tremendously happy that she had done it, but the prospect of doing it again was really daunting. I think Sam is the bravest person I know, bar none, and she really had decided long before she was sure enough to say she had.

"Phil thought all his doubts were intellectual—philosophical, if you will. But he finally saw that those things weren't the issue. Not that they didn't matter, but for quite a while he'd had in hand everything he needed to settle them—enough for a decision. He was using them to avoid the real issue.

"So OK, if he owed God obedience—complete, total, willing obedience—what did he need to do about all the times he'd been disobedient or slow to obey? Well, he knows the answer to that. Confession, repentance, and trust in God's forgiveness."

She smiled big at me again. "Phil being Phil, he wasn't even tempted to try to plead that he'd lived a good life, or anything like that, and you know as well as I do what a good person Phil is. Just a lot short of perfect, and that's all it takes. But what was bothering him was like what I said about Sam, with this added onto it. All the good things about his life and about where he is now—and he counts me as one of those!—are totally mixed up with the wrong parts. You can't separate them out. If he'd been insistent on chastity until he married, he wouldn't have been at that school, and wouldn't have met me. Or if he had refused to take part in sex with me, and a lot of others—you get the idea. How could he truly repent of all these parts of his life, without saying he has to repent of all the good things, too? What's left of Phil?

"I was pretty sure that I couldn't answer that well enough, so I took him off to talk to Pastor, who was gracious enough to wait his own dinner—on his day off—until he'd talked to us. And he said enough that Phil understood, that he was really making difficulties for himself that weren't there."

About this time, everything had been ready for a bit, so Kelly suggested that we sit down and eat. She prayed, thanking God for the food and for our friendship, and also for our recent decisions, asking for guidance about what to do next. And for me to let go of whatever was still troubling me.

We started eating, and Ellen said, "You know, I have learned a few things about Phil over the past year, and I think I understand some of what's going on, I think. Phil, you've gotten a lot better about these things—because this one is even more serious but you're only a little down. What it's like is after Sam came to you and confessed and repented, and you forgave her. You really did forgive her, but you were a zombie for a week and more, and you still couldn't really respond to her as a friend, or later as a lover, until something dramatic happened. I'm pretty sure that it was fear, deep down, that she was going to turn around and attack you again. Your mind knew very well that she wouldn't, but it wasn't until you really saw her joy at having you for a partner that you could let the fear go.

"I think this is the same kind of fear is holding you back, here. I just don't really know exactly what you're afraid of, or what to do to drive a stake through its heart."

For a while we just ate. Kelly, bless her, didn't say anything. I finally said, "You're probably right, but I don't know what I'm afraid of, either. You're definitely right that it's not hitting me like Sam did. I was in a fog after that. I don't know how much of my doing better is due to you, but that's probably a lot."

I sat and thought for a long couple of minutes more. It seemed the girls could see I was still thinking, because they just waited, looking at me. Finally, I said, "Or no. I think it's really something different. Ellen, remember what Sam said when she called us?" I added for Kelly's benefit, "To announce her own decision, I mean." Though we'd talked to Sam so many times since then that Ellen really had no way of knowing what I meant without that, either.

I went on, "She said, basically, that Pastor Billings had preached a sermon that seemed aimed at her, and she knew what her response had to be. But we had one week left, and she didn't want to give up that week with me. As lover, I mean. So she said, she tried to pretend that 'maybe' was an option instead of just 'yes,' and so it took her months to decide what she should have instantly. And she said, it stole a lot of her joy when she did make the decision. I think this might be more like that.

"I had everything I needed by that sermon Thanksgiving Sunday, which you both heard. But Ellen and I had had our fight—quarrel, misunderstanding, whatever we agree to call it—and I had her back, at my request she had burned her bridges and moved in with me, so I felt I couldn't say, 'Sorry, now I see I was wrong, go away.' She was trusting me. But, 'Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise.' That whole sermon really was telling me I needed to quit making myself the judge, and recognize what was plain to me. And I wouldn't do it."

Ellen stood up and came over and sat in my lap. She just held me, without saying a word.

Finally I said, "Kelly, thank you, for all you've done, and definitely for your prayers. Pastor is the one who suggested not making a public profession until I'm more settled, and he's right, but I really don't want to wait too long."

She said, "Phil, I wish I knew something else to do, too. You've made such a difference for me! But praying, that I can do, and I'm glad to know something specific to pray for.

"And just by coincidence, you can consider dessert as a celebration."

It was a deep-dish blueberry cobbler, with a biscuit crust. By now, Kelly definitely knew of my passion for blueberries. She had chilled this, rather than try to have it warm at the right time, but that was fine. She didn't even ask before serving me a little more than she gave the two of them taken together.

She said, "I have—um, news, maybe cause for joy, maybe cause for concern. And given what you've told me, I'll ask you to pray about it, too. You know Jon Golightly."

We did. He was in our Sunday School class. Bright, knowledgeable, nice. Handsome. Always ready to argue for his point of view, but always with gentleness, courtesy, and logic, and always listening to what others said. Willing to change his mind when he was shown to be wrong. If this was going where I thought, my opinion was that he would be a good choice.

"He's asked me several times this summer to go out with him. And I've put him off. I just haven't felt comfortable going out without explaining my past to him, and that felt like a lot to dump on someone who's just asked me to go to a concert or a movie or something.