New Heart Church

by Jim Barringer

  Chapter Five

  I woke up the next day pondering how I hadn’t applied for any new jobs in a while. Money problems had been off my mind for a while thanks to the generosity of Jake and the others, but that was only a temporary fix. Even the check from my album review, which would be arriving any day, was only fifty dollars. It was about time to get moving again.

  It was also about time for people to start calling me back for interviews, but apparently they hadn’t gotten that memo, because I came home disappointed and my phone stayed silent. Part of me wanted to go outside and enjoy the afternoon, but another part of me just wanted to lay on my bed plinking around on my guitar, and the second part was stronger.

  I was still laying there plinking when someone knocked on my door around four in the afternoon. “It’s open,” I called.

  The door creaked open and Abbie poked her head in. “Since when do you leave your door unlocked?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been doing it lately, I guess. About the time I realized that nobody had ever knocked on my door who I didn’t want coming in.”

  “Is that an invitation in?”

  “Girl, get in here,” I laughed.

  “Actually, I’ve come with a proposition. There’s a free outdoor concert at a place near here, and I want you to come with me.”

  “Music and Abbie Grant are two of my favorite things,” I agreed. “Where are we headed?”

  “Someplace on the south side of town,” she told me. “You’ll see when we get there.”

  “You’re going to be cryptic like that?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a lopsided smile, “I am. And you’re going to deal with it.”

  “Fine then,” I said, standing up and putting my hands over my eyes, stumbling blindly toward the door. “Lead on.”

  I didn’t hear her move, so I peeked between my fingers to see her shaking her head and giggling. “You’re a riot,” she said, heading toward the staircase. I pulled the door shut behind me and followed her.

  A few minutes later, we were in her car, winding our way south along some road I hadn’t been down before, over some railroad tracks and through residential streets. Finally we crossed one more set of railroad tracks and pulled into an almost-full parking lot.

  “Now can you tell me what this place is?” I asked, as we got out of the car.

  “It’s a seminary,” she told me, “like a Bible school, kind of.”

  “Oh wow. That sounds nifty.”

  “I imagine it is. It’s also a cool place to walk around.”

  I could see why she said that. She was leading me toward an open yard, pocked by huge trees and flanked by elegant-looking brick and stone buildings. A stage had been set up and a large crowd was gathered in the open area, listening to a band playing what sounded like the same kind of upbeat praise and worship that we had been playing on Sunday mornings.

  We stopped far enough away from the stage that we could still talk, but close enough that we could still hear strangers singing off-key near us. “This is pretty neat,” I told Abbie. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  “Thanks for coming with.” She watched the band, humming along to one of the songs. “So Eli, how many girlfriends have you had?”

  I looked over at her, baffled. “That came out of nowhere.”

  “Nothing ever comes out of nowhere with a woman. If it seems random to you, all that means is that she’s been thinking about it for a long time and never figured out how to ask it.”

  “You mean to tell me you’ve actually been wondering about that question?”

  “Well, no, I’ve been wondering about the answer.” She grinned impishly at me.

  I laughed, looking into the branches of the tall trees around us. “You’re unstoppable.”

  “I like to think so. But don’t think you’re dodging the question.”

  “The answer is a little anticlimactic. I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

  Now it was Abbie’s turn to be confused. “Really? You never hung out with a girl in high school or college? Never got a bit lonely and dated someone for a while to take the edge off it?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Well, why not? You can’t just leave me hanging. Was it your choice, or was it that no one would date you?”

  “What? You really think women wouldn’t want a piece of prime Eli Radak?” The band was playing a song I knew, drawing my attention over to the stage.

  Abbie let me be in my own world for a minute, but she plainly was not done with the conversation. “Come on, now. Why have you never had a girlfriend?”

  “I dunno. I just really don’t know. There weren’t a whole lot of girls I’ve ever liked, and I’ve just never felt a strong desire to pursue any of them. I’m not sure I can say why.”

  “Interesting.” Abbie watched the band, but distractedly, as if she was about to say something else.

  “Danny once told me that everybody does everything for a reason. I’m curious; what’s the reason you asked that question?”

  Abbie stood for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “Let’s take a walk,” she said at last.

  We walked away from the stage, toward the sidewalk that ringed the stone buildings. Abbie was walking quickly, aggressively, almost as if fleeing something. “Slow down, racecar,” I chided gently.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Her eyes flitted around, taking in the trees, the leaves on the ground, the grass that was doing its best to survive the winter. “I feel like I owe you some honesty, Eli. I want to get to know you better, which means that I want you to get to know me better too. But I’m scared of what you’ll think when you hear some of the things about me.”

  My heart was beating faster, nervous about what she might be about to say. I wanted her to say it immediately, but a family was coming toward us on the sidewalk, and Abbie waited for them to pass. “See, before I was a Christian, I had a lot of boyfriends. A lot of boyfriends. And we didn’t exactly have pure relationships.”

  I watched her, waiting for her to continue, but she seemed to mistake my silence for a lack of comprehension. “I’m not a virgin, Eli,” she said flatly. “I don’t know how many guys I slept with before God got a hold of me. Maybe over a dozen.”

  I breathed out deeply. I’d never pictured cheerful, innocent Abbie Grant like that before. “Wow,” I said, after a long pause.

  “All I get is a wow?” I could tell she was uncomfortable, like maybe this was something she hadn’t told very many people.

  “I don’t know what else to say,” I confessed. “No one’s ever told me something like that before. I mean, thanks for telling me. I feel honored that you would share something like that with me.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I think I had to. You and I have talked in the past about hanging out, or going on dates or whatever, and I just really felt like it was time to let you know who I was in the past. It took a long time for me to forgive myself of all that, but I do feel like it’s behind me. I was a different woman then. That was before Jesus changed me. But at the same time it was me, and it’s the kind of thing that you have the right to know.”

  “I really admire your courage,” I said. The irony was painful to me. Just the night before, I’d had an argument with Stanley because I wouldn’t share things about my past that I thought reflected badly on me. Here was Abbie, so secure in her identity, so strong-hearted, that she would surrender that kind of information even without being asked, just to let me get a glimpse at her soul. “What do you mean that it took you a long time to forgive yourself?”

  “Well, I don’t know if you can identify.” For the first time in several minutes, her eyes sought mine, and I could see how conflicted she was. It might have been the past, but the things she was talking about were still vivid memories. “For years, I hated myself because I’d done that. I knew someday I was going to have to stand in front of a man and admit that I�
��d whored myself out to anyone who would say the right words. I just couldn’t stand myself. There was so much guilt inside me that I felt like it was crushing me. I felt like no one could ever accept or love someone who had done the things I did.”

  I couldn’t imagine feeling that way, but I could see in my mind’s eye a younger Abbie, standing in front of the mirror, looking blankly into a mirror and feeling nothing but disgust at what she saw. It was terrible even to think about. “What changed? How did all that go away?”

  Another family was walking toward us, and we turned a corner, following the sidewalk down a residential street. “Well, like I said, God got a hold of me. As I started down my relationship with him, I learned that he loved me, and that he forgave me, and that he thought I was beautiful and worthwhile. He didn’t hold my past against me. I was beating myself up for something that was already forgiven. Basically, I had to rest in what I knew. I knew the truth, and I was feeling things that didn’t line up with the truth. I had to realize that my emotions weren’t always reliable, and when they weren’t, I had to take them captive to the truth.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible.” I was quiet for a moment, then asked, “How did you find out all that stuff about your identity? Like about God loving you and forgiving you?”

  “Some of it I read in the Bible, and some of it people taught to me from the Bible. I know why you’re asking me that. But I want you to say what you’re thinking in your own words.”

  “Well, like you say, I’ve never had sex, so I don’t have those kind of regrets to deal with. But I am…how do I say it, unconvinced of my own worth. I want to believe that I’m worth something but there’s never been anybody in my life who told me that I was. I don’t really feel like I know who I am. And I believe that God can tell me who I am, but I don’t know where to start learning any of that.”

  “Just keep your ears and eyes open, Eli,” she advised. “God’s put us in your life for a reason. When you accepted salvation, God’s spirit came to live inside you – I don’t know if anyone told you that, but it’s true. Since his spirit is in me, that means I sometimes say exactly what you need to hear. God gives me the words that will teach you or encourage you or rebuke you or whatever you need. So listen to the people who God is speaking through and you’ll be fine.”

  “That’s good to hear.” But I was still wondering something else, so I finally asked it. “Do you ever still struggle with those things you were talking about? The regrets and stuff?”

  “Not the regrets exactly, no.” The corner of her mouth tugged down. “But…yeah, you know, there are a lot of days when I don’t really feel desirable. I haven’t had a boyfriend since I gave my life to God, and part of me wonders what’s wrong with me and why it hasn’t happened yet. It’s almost like…” Her voice trailed off.

  I felt like I needed to say something then; maybe it was that God spirit she had been talking about, or maybe it was just me wanting to say it. “I think you’re beautiful,” I blurted.

  She didn’t respond, and I saw momentarily that she couldn’t respond; her eyes were wet and it felt like if she tried to speak she would just start crying. Her hand reached for mine and she squeezed, hard, her skin soft and warm. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  We walked in silence for a few minutes, through the long shadows of the afternoon, the sun peeking through the gently waving branches of the trees to our west. It was a pleasant kind of silence, not the kind that I felt any pressure to break. Before long we were back in Abbie’s car, and she started the engine, but the car sat there idling. “Thank you, Eli,” Abbie repeated. “I think I needed to hear that today. And I think God is going to do incredible things in you.”

  “Thanks, Abbie.” I smiled at her.

  “I have to get home,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I made some other plans tonight and I’m already going to be late to them.”

  “Oh, I’m sor–”

  “Don’t say you’re sorry. I’m really glad we spent the afternoon together.”

  “So am I.”

  The ride home passed in more of that pleasant silence, as we both looked out the windows at the town we called home.