God gave me a second chance I don’t deserve.
But I give Evie the Cliff Notes’ version. “I was tired of how I was living my life. I needed a change, but I didn’t have the strength to make that change on my own. I needed help.”
“And . . . God helped you?” She looks disbelieving, like she’s trying not to laugh.
I don’t blame her. To non-Christians, a total reformation of the heart and mind might seem preposterous, or perhaps even impossible—especially to the people who know you most intimately, who have seen you at your worst. But the spiritual experience of becoming born again is very real—more real than anything I have ever experienced with all five of my senses combined. The love of Jesus is . . . life-giving. My new life bears no resemblance to the old.
And it has changed everything.
“He’s still helping me.” Lord knows I’m nowhere near perfect. Evie knows that better than anyone else in the world.
We gaze at each other.
“Well,” Maggie says. When I look her way, she’s watching me and Evie. “Now that everyone’s settled, should we get started?”
***
Throughout our study, Evie peeks over my shoulder periodically, looking both curious and perplexed as I take notes.
“I liked that this passage reiterates that we’re a new creation in Christ Jesus, and we should act accordingly,” Garrett says. He’s a wise middle-aged man who, funnily enough, reminds me of my own father. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to me in his own way. He has discipled and mentored me many times over the last few years. “Sanctification is a journey. One we’re equipped for through the consistent renewing of our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. I find that encouraging when I want to fall back into bad habits.”
“Me, too,” his wife, Wendy, adds. “Until Jesus comes again, we’re going to stumble and fall every now and again. Rather than remaining discouraged, we can repent and walk forward without shame because of who Jesus is and what He’s done for us.”
Maggie hums, pouring over the text. “And let’s not forget that even when we mess up, those mistakes draw us closer to Jesus. His power is made perfect in our weakness.”
A series of Amens echo throughout the room.
“One thing that stood out to me is that we’re called to forgive others because Christ forgave us first,” Sadie says. “That’s a difficult one for me sometimes.” She explains her troubled relationship with her mother, who has intentionally made life difficult at times. “And it’s hard to constantly forgive her over and over. But seventy times seven . . .”
“What a great reminder, though,” Maggie adds, gazing at Evie. “To be forgiving—even if we feel someone is undeserving.”
Evie glares at her grandmother and shakes her head once. My stomach twists into a tight knot as I look down at my Bible. Has Maggie put two and two together somehow? Or worse—did Evie tell her what I did? And if so, why onEarthwould Maggie be rooting for me?
What I did was unforgivable.
Maggie’s gaze shifts to me. “What about you, Brandon? What did you take away from this chapter?”
I am not a shy person, nor do I mind the spotlight. But around Evie, I feel exposed. “Hmm.” I scan my notes, then the passage. One particular verse popsout at me.And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.
I grieved the Holy Spirit when I slept with Evie. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway.
And I’m still suffering the consequences.
“My biggest takeaway is that we must die to our old selves. We are God’s spokespeople, and our behavior is a reflection of our convictions and beliefs.”
Everyone but Evie nods in agreement.
Maggie smiles like she’s proud of me, but I feel like a fraud. “Thank you, Brandon. Let’s all take a moment to reflect on the passage. Or just spend this time in prayer, if you wish.”
We bow our heads, and a moment of reflective silence fills the room.
Once the study is finished, I help Maggie clear up so Evie can take it easy. Before I leave, though, I stop by her rocking chair—which Garrett has graciously moved into the living room for her. She’s sitting in front of the fireplace, toeing the rocker back and forth as she watches the embers flickering in the hearth. She strokes her Bible every so often, looking like she’s conversing with God—although I know that can’t be right.
I drop into the seat closest to her. “A penny for your thoughts?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and rolls her eyes. I observe her profile while I wait. Her ears have always stuck out a little far, and they’re still comically big for her head. Jamie and I used to tease her by calling her Dumbo. When she’s not working, she keeps her long, thick hair down so you can’t see them, and I wonder if I’m partially to blame for that. I purse my lips as, yet again, I’m throttled with regret.
In what other ways have I irreparably damaged this young woman?
