“You doing okay?”
“Yeah, just feeling a little homesick.” I take another drink of my coffee.
“What would you be doing at home right now?”
“Getting ready for church.”
He considers a moment. “Okay. Then let’s get ready for church.”
“Sawyer, there is no church.”
“There are two of us.”
“Yes.”
“For where two or three gather together as My followers, I am there among them,” he says. “Matthew 18:20.”
I stare up at him. As far as I know, Sawyer believes in God and our salvation through Jesus Christ. He prays, blesses our meals, and has always done his best to show love to everyone he meets. But he’s never been a churchgoer. So, to hear him cite a verse catches me off guard.
“We are two,” he says. “And we are gathered together as His followers. So, how about we start our own little church here? Just for now, while we can’t get to shore.”
“You don’t go to church.”
His expression darkens softly. “That’s because some of the worst people I’ve known occupied a pew,” he says. “But Zane taught me that people are sinful and we let each other down all the time. God, however, is just and true. He never lets us down.”
I can’t help but stare at him, tears burning in my gaze. That’s why he doesn’t like to go to church? Because he doesn’t trust the people? I think of the cigarette burns on his back.
“Look, Anastasia, I’ve struggled with the idea of church my whole life because I had a foster family who never missed a Sunday, then looked for every excuse to whip me red with a belt Monday through Saturday.”
Disgust and anger surge through me, both fighting for top spot. ‘Whipped me red with a belt.’ Nope, the anger wins. How desperate I am to track down each and every person who hurt him. “Sawyer, that’s horrible!”
He shrugs. “I’m not there anymore, so it doesn’t matter. But it kind of ruined me for believing in anything for a long time. Then Zane came along. He taught me about faith, about the love the Lord has for us, and I started to understand that God isn’t the one causing us pain—it’s us. We hurt each other. The idea of worshipping God with people who turn into monsters when they leave the building has always bothered me.” He takes a deep breath. “And I’ve been meeting with Pastor Reeves?—”
“You’ve been meeting with Pastor Reeves? More than just when he was at the shop last week?”
“Yeah. We’ve been meeting once a week over the last few months.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We’ve been talking a lot about my past, and I’ve been working toward Sunday attendance.” He meets my gaze. “You actually inspired me to do that.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You told me once that Sunday morning is your favorite time of the week. You said that, when you step into that building to listen to Pastor Reeves preach, and you hear the choir singing, a piece of you that the world has spent the last week knocking out of place fits just right again.”
I can’t even remember the exact conversation, but he seems to recall every word of it. A lot of times, that’s how God works. Something that we don’t think much of can be exactly what someone else needs. The seed that roots so He can water it.
Thank You, Lord.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I think about all the pain he’s kept hidden. I had one secret. One horrific moment in my past that I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
How many has he been through?
How many nights did this sweet man cry himself to sleep when he was a child? How badly I wish I could go back and protect that beautiful boy. I would shield him from the darkness of the world, fighting off anyone who came near him.
I clear my throat. “That’s true.”
He smiles. “So, I’ve been working toward that.” Sawyer reaches out and covers my hand with his. “I’ll grab my Bible, and we’ll study together. It’ll be our church. We can even name it if you like.”
My throat constricts, and the love I already carry for this man grows to a point where I’m sure I’ll explode with it. “I would like that, Sawyer. Very much. Well, except the name. That’s too much pressure.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
