The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 08

The music in this church was all contemporary, and some of the songs I liked and approved of, but not all. As we looked at nearby churches, Ellen and I had both agreed that we wouldn't go where the music was painfully loud, but that otherwise musical style wasn't a critical factor for us. Lyrics were, but no church is perfect in that. I didn't sing, of course, but Ellen did, and Jenny joined in to some degree, a bit to my surprise. She of course knew why I wasn't singing too. She had heard me try.

The sermon began with the context of the whole list of qualities, the pastor reminding us—as he had for each of them—that this list was plainly not an exhaustive one, but a portrait of the kind of qualities the Spirit should be producing in our lives. He gave a description of what was meant by self-control—my mind supplying "temperance," which in today's language is no longer quite the same. He put it in context of the whole list, and also of the list of the works of the flesh which immediately preceded that, and then turned to some examples from scripture of lack of self-control. He cited the book of Judges as a whole, singling out Samson for special attention, which took most of the rest of the sermon.

I could tell that Jenny was tensing up during the description of Samson. She saw me looking concerned, and murmured, "I'm OK. It's fine." I was relieved. And indeed, where Sam had once wept through most of a sermon, and Ellen and I had each been on the verge of tears at others, Jenny didn't seem to be affected as deeply. Not unaffected, but not pierced to the heart.

We all sang another song—though of course I didn't sing. The pastor prayed, and the offering was taken. The music during the offering was instrumental. After that, some needs of people in the congregation were mentioned, and the pastor prayed for collective needs and individual ones we were all aware of. There was a final song and a blessing from scripture, and we all got up to leave.

We spoke to quite a lot of people, many of whom approached us specifically to introduce themselves to Jenny. As we left the building, we stopped and spoke with the pastor. He thanked Jenny for coming, and said, "I hope you found something worth taking away from the service." She had told him when we came in that she wasn't a believer, but he probably would have said the same if she had been, unless he had reason to say more.

She told him, "I hope it will help, somehow. The reason I'm visiting Phil and Ellen is that my boyfriend abruptly dumped me, and I wanted consoling and advice. Consultation including consoling and advice. We're all aware, from some previous incidents as well as this one, that a lack of self-control in dealing with men has been an ongoing part of my problems, and so the sermon had some extra point for me. I don't know whether the next sermon or two might help, but I won't be here to listen to them. Phil and Ellen are helpful, though."

"If you really want to hear them, they will be available through our web site, by midweek. Week by week, of course. Phil or Ellen can give you the URL. But Phil and Ellen will probably be more help than just hearing a sermon, since they know the situation. I know their discernment and judgment are normally very reliable." I was surprised a little by that. We had been attending this church somewhat less than a year. Soon after we first began—about as soon as we'd agreed this was the church to try—we had met with the pastor, because we thought it was important that he know a little about us. And of course, that had included background about high school. I thought we now would soon be meeting with the pastor and deacons as part of becoming members. But at any rate, I couldn't think of anything we'd said to him to give him reason to trust my discernment and judgment!

In fact—. "Excuse us for a moment, Pastor. I need to ask Jenny a question." We stepped aside, away from the door, which allowed a few people who also wished to speak to the pastor to move ahead.

"Jenny, I hope it's OK if I kind of put you on the spot. We showed him Sam's first drawing and explained, without mentioning your name. Is it OK to tell him that this is you? It's been most of a year, and I don't know how much detail he remembers, except that I don't think he recognized you from the drawing after all this time."

Jenny gave me a quick hug. "Phil, go ahead. In fact, why don't I tell him? But thank you."

So we got back in line and waited. This had the advantage that there was no one after us, waiting for us, this time. When we reached the pastor again, Jenny said, "I'm sorry. I don't know whether you've really had a chance to see how considerate Phil routinely is, but this is a good illustration. He wanted to protect my reputation. And my feelings, too.

"Phil says they showed you a drawing, by one of our friends, of a significant event in his past, serving as a metaphor for another event which happened almost on the same spot, and which was devastating for him." She waited for him to nod, which he did, a bit uncertainly. "It looks like you need a reminder." She pulled out her phone, and located the original photo Ellen took of Sam's drawing, and handed the phone to him.

"Yes, thank you, that helps. I remember some of what they told me. This was in the game they described. Given your bringing this up, I can see that the girl he was chasing might be you. This small, it's hard to be sure, but I gather that's the case? And later, you rather suddenly and publicly broke up with him on that same track, is that right?"

"Exactly right. One example of my lack of self-control in action. Phil being who he is, he forgave me, but I did him great harm. I was hurt, too, but that was my own fault. And Phil and Ellen both have continued to stand with me as I've made a mess of things since, more than once. It's not that I don't see what the problem is, or that part of it—but I don't see it at the critical moment, or I don't care. In the case of what this drawing is about, I was trying to hurt Phil, and I sure succeeded."

I spoke up. "If I'd been paying the attention I should have, I would have seen how I was hurting Jenny. I'm not trying to excuse what Jenny said, and it really was devastating, but the fault wasn't all hers by any means."

She said to the pastor, "I've never known Phil to try to excuse something he's done, but he always tries to excuse other people—as much as he can without being dishonest. I don't know what all they may have told you about their own relationship, but Ellen can testify to what I just said."

I decided that this was a battle I couldn't win. "I can't stand up against both of them."

We talked a minute or two more, about where Jenny lived and her present job. As we were getting ready to go, the pastor said, "Phil and Ellen, I mentioned the context of this whole series, but it was just a reminder to those who have heard it all. Tell her what I've said about whom Paul was writing to."

As we drove away, Jenny said, "OK, what was that last remark about?"

"The context is that this is a letter addressed to believers, whom the Holy Spirit indwells. They—we—aren't fully under the Spirit's influence—hence the need for Paul to say what he did, obviously. And non-believers can also exhibit some measure of these qualities, and it's the result of the Spirit's action in their lives, too. It falls short of salvation and sanctification, but God hasn't just abandoned this fallen world to be completely evil. Still, these qualities should be present, and growing, in the believer's life, in a way we can't expect of non-Christians. I think that's all he meant."

"In other words, if I want to gain self-control, I need to become a Christian?"

"No. Or maybe, yes but it's not that simple. Assuming I'm right in the first place about what he meant. It's more—. Um. If you make self-control, or any of the others, a goal, and work at developing it, you're likely to succeed to some degree. The more you think this is something you're doing, that you're able to choose and do on your own, though, the more likely you are to run into problems. Either you seem to get ahead and then backslide—and that sure happens to Christians, too!—or you develop problems in other areas. Or you can become rigid and self-righteous about it, or other things. Really and truly, all these things are the work of the Spirit. And becoming a Christian and growing in maturity helps, but there's no instant, full sanctification. Um. If our motives had to be perfectly pure, in anything, no one would ever be saved—but still, believing because you want self-control or peace or any of the others is a road to deceiving yourself into thinking you believe when you really don't. And I'd better stop before I muddy the waters even more."

From behind me, Ellen said, "I think what Phil has in mind is something like this. You sometimes hear of celebrities who are dealing with serious problems. Alcoholism, other addictions, problems that land them in jail, what have you. And at some point, they say they've become Christians.

"Well, some of them show signs of real conversion. They've seen how out of whack their lives are, and how helpless and powerless they are to deal with it, and they've humbled themselves and asked for help. Not just for help with the outward situation, but for help with dealing with what's wrong inside them. And they go on, showing that there was a real change. Starting to grow in humility and righteousness.

"But others, it can look just the same at first, but what seems to happen is that they've heard that if only they'll accept Jesus everything will be OK immediately. 'Just get me past this hangover, and I'll never have another drink!' Just like that. And when the difficulty of dealing with the outward mess they're in, or of resisting that temptation, when that gets to them, they just give up. 'I tried that, but it didn't work.' Just like getting in shape when you've let yourself get forty pounds overweight. If you go out running two days in a row and you're no lighter and you're still short of breath, and you ache besides, you can say, 'I tried it and it didn't work,' but the truth is you weren't willing to really try."

By the end of this, I was watching Ellen and Jenny in my mirror, way more than I should have been. I felt like I should say something more, but I didn't know what, so I kept quiet.

Once we were home, we started fixing dinner. That is, I did. My birthday gift to Ellen, a few months after the wedding, was a piano—actually, an electronic keyboard with full-sized keys, weighted to feel like a piano's keys, though not quite a full eighty-eight key span. And yes, it wasn't as big and heavy as even a small piano—not nearly!—but moving it across the country hadn't been fun. It had made the trip in my car—very awkwardly—not with the movers.

It allowed Ellen to plug in headphones, if she needed to play quietly—I mean, to play with a full range of dynamics without disturbing anyone. Unless, of course, she unconsciously started humming or singing along, which had been known to happen.

She wasn't doing the kind of practicing that would push her abilities ahead, but she was enjoying playing, and I sure enjoyed listening, so she was at least playing a little, several times a week. So at my request, she played and sang as I prepared the food. Jenny set the table.

One thing she played was the hymn Aunt Sally had played for Ellen and Kelly and me, "Holy Ghost, with Light Divine." Of course, I'd asked her for it many times, and she knew it was a favorite of mine. But I thought it was particularly apt in view of what I'd tried to explain to Jenny, and maybe Ellen did too.

When we sat down, I prayed before we ate, and something happened that was a little strange and uncomfortable—for me, anyway. I gave thanks for the food, and everyone who routinely does that before meals knows that it tends to become just that—a routine. I went on to ask for our last afternoon and evening together to be a blessing for all of us, for Jenny to find what she needed, and for her to find herself settled and happy in due time. And I found myself praying further along those lines, passionately, words just pouring out from me without any forethought at all. I have no idea where it all came from, but that's what happened. I thought that Jenny didn't think anything of it, but that Ellen looked at me kind of questioningly when I was finished, as we started serving and ate.

We talked about nothing much as we ate, but eventually Jenny said, "This seems a little strange. You've told me about you two and Sam. Phil, you said that each of you heard a sermon that seemed directed at you specifically. Um, the first three sermons you yourself had heard in years, you said. For each of you, it felt to you like God was trying to get your attention. Now you hear one with me, and OK, it's about self-control, which I really, really need to deal with, and there are things in it I'm really going to have to think about. I may even be reading up about Samson, and obviously some of what he said about him hits pretty close to home. So maybe it's the pattern you described, and I guess I need to think about that, too. But it didn't have the kind of, well, urgency you experienced. If there's a God, and he's trying to say something important to me, this seems like a really strange way to do it." She sighed. "Not that, 'You need to learn to control yourself!' isn't something I need to keep hearing—and learn from. Or maybe even, 'You really need to talk to Phil about this.' But it's not what I would have expected, from your own experiences. And I don't know whether to be disappointed or relieved."

We all sat there a while. It seemed obvious enough that there was some kind of question in all that, and that it was directed at me, but I just didn't know what it was, and Ellen seemed content to wait for me—or else didn't hear that at all. So finally I just said that. "Jenny, it feels like you're asking a question or making a request or something, but I sure don't know what it is or what to say. I'm sorry. You keep telling me I'm perceptive, but I'm missing something."

She laughed, but suddenly I realized that she was very tense and near tears. This felt a lot more like when she had come knocking on Sam's door than it had when she arrived on Friday. I said, "Jenny, I'm sorry! I meant what I said, but I really am missing something. I don't know why that hurt you, and I didn't mean it to!"

At that, she did start crying, and I stood up, went around, pulled her up, and held her. It took a few minutes before she ran down. I continued to stand there, holding her.

"Phil, I don't know what I was expecting. A miracle, maybe. What hurts isn't you, it's Jesse, and I know I'm better off without him—way better! But I can't help wishing things were different. I wanted you for myself, and tried and tried to be happy with less, with what I could have, and then blew it all because I didn't have self-control. And what you said and what you wanted wasn't the problem, it was that I wanted what I couldn't have, so I threw away even what I did have. If I'd been smart, I would have sat down and talked to you earlier, and maybe you and I would be married now.

"And I made it worse with Brian. If I'd had the self-discipline—the moral courage—to just ask him what had happened with Ellen, right off, maybe I would have been smart enough to avoid that. But I had to grab what looked good without thinking or asking questions. I was just glad Ellen wasn't in the way." She looked at Ellen, a little ruefully. "I guess I need to apologize to you, too."

She went on. "Then, with Jesse, I should have never gotten started. I'd promised you I wouldn't have sex without a clean test, or at least a condom, but I didn't have the self-control to insist on that and wait. And I really see now that everything he said about that should have made me question, but, well, again I didn't have the self-control. I really hope Kat has what I lacked, that she'll stand firm even after the heat of the moment, because I'm sure he's already been telling her he's sorry, he was wrong—and not meaning one word of it."

She hugged me hard, and stepped back. "Phil, go sit down. Let's finish eating. I know what I need—besides a man I can trust and love the way Ellen does you, I mean. And I do know it, too. I really need self-control, and how do I find that? That's the question, and I didn't ask it clearly because I know it's not something you can just answer and fix things."

We sat and resumed eating. After a minute, though, Jenny said, "That brings up one thing I need to say to you, Phil. What I said about Brian, I mean. There have been a lot of times I should have told you this, and it's gotten harder and harder as I put it off, and it's been years now." I was afraid she was going to start crying again.

She went on, "If I say it straight out, it's going to sound like I'm making excuses, and I'm not! This makes it worse, if anything! But that's part of what made it hard to tell you, back when I should have.

"Phil, one reason I dumped all my frustrations on you at once, the way I did, was that I'd talked to Brian, the night before. And Ellen, at the time, I truly didn't know what had happened between the two of you. Later on, he said more than you did, but it still wasn't much—and I know now it wasn't even true. He made it sound like everything was all your fault.

"Anyway, I wound up kind of complaining about my situation with you, Phil I mean, in a way I shouldn't have, at best. He kind of encouraged me. And he told me that I deserved better, way better, than what I was getting from you. He basically said that the problem was that you didn't appreciate me the way I deserved to be appreciated, and that I was entitled to have you to myself.

"I'm ashamed to say I listened to him! And the sex that night was wonderful. You were right that I needed a good night's sleep a lot more than a night of even the greatest sex, but I wasn't feeling that way, then. And I was brooding on it as I went out to you to run, and as we ran. That's part of why I felt like you were being snide, when you commented on how tired I looked. OK, Brian abetted me, but I knew better. I didn't have the self-control to say to him, that's not the way it is. Or to tell you about it and talk about it straightforwardly, the way you deserved and were entitled to be treated. I let my feelings control me.

"Ellen, what he said about you and your situation—and this was a day or two later—was basically that you didn't really want a partner unless he was just like Phil."

Ellen said, "There may be a grain of truth in that. He kind of threw my feelings about Phil at me, too. And you know what those feelings were. My first and my best—and not just sex! He had some reason to feel dissatisfied—the same way you did. And maybe his whole change really was resentment over that. But it looked to me, and it still does, like that was just an excuse. For some reason, he just decided that everything had to be what he wanted it to be, and no one else mattered." Now she sounded kind of near tears, too. Well, the memory was painful, but beyond that, Ellen hated anything like gossip, and I knew she would feel this was too close. It was a sign of how much Brian had hurt her, and how hurt she still was, that she even said that much. I started to get up, but she shook her head at me, and I desisted.

Jenny sat and thought about that for a few moments before she went on.

"Anyway, it's not just self-control I need, but that's a big part of it. And maybe if I had that, I'd find I had all the rest. But where do I find self-control? How do I get it—without already having self-control?"