"I didn't ask you to come." The words came out in an angry rush. King balled his fist and released it, then pushed past Pastor Winburn to the unlocked backdoor. There was a time when he'd hung on the man's every word, but these days King could barely stand to listen to him. Somewhere along the lines things had changed, like somehow the pastor should have been there for him, been more solidly in his corner. Instead he felt like he'd washed his hands of him, distancing himself ("giving you time to lick your wounds" crap), and now doing just enough to cover his ass for when folks asked him about King.
"I'm here now." Pastor Winburn followed him inside. Better to give him something, any distraction to keep him from exploring any further down this dark path. Sometimes the best way to get over a problem was to get involved in someone else's. To take his eyes off of himself and his tiny corner of the world. "And you've still got a job to do. We're losing our men to the streets. To drugs. Hell, to their couches. There's nothing like comfort to make folks feel like they can get through life on their own. But no matter how good they have it, they're never content. Start getting that itch and feeling the need to scratch it. Wherever and with whomever they can."
"I been thinking a lot about my father." King reached to pull the Caliburn from his hip, his reflex ritual upon returning home. After all this time, he still forgot that he no longer had it.
"Yeah?"
"Wondering if we're all meant to be our fathers' sons."
Heavy, intense eyes rested on him. People loved putting folks on pedestals almost as much as they loved knocking them back down to earth. Hollywood stars. Pastors. Parents. Life was a set-up game which you couldn't let go to your head. "You know what I've always thought? The story of the prodigal son could have easily been called the prodigal father, at least to the son that stayed faithful."
"What do you mean?"
"Here you have two sons. One is faithful to his father, being the best son he can be. The other is selfish, self-focused, out for himself and his own good time. The faithful son stays with his father, continues his work, while the prodigal goes his own way and squanders his life. The faithful son sees his father bend over backwards to reward the wayward son. It can be a tough thing to swallow, seeing your father behave in ways you don't understand, yet love him anyway. Luckily for them both, they were still around to talk things through."
"My dad's no longer here."
"You are a hurt and angry child."
"What did you say to me?" King hated this. He wanted to punch something. Someone. And Pastor Winburn… he hated the man to see him like this. So weak. Pathetic. He wanted to prove himself to the man. To be the man Pastor Winburn saw in him. To even be better than him. Such was the way of fathers and sons.
"You were a… knight. A hero. Now you acting like some simp who's been played by a girl."
"You have no idea what it's like to think you know someone, to love them, and realize it's nothing but lies."
"Nope. Because love is strictly the provenance of the young. I was never young, never hooked up with anyone, and never got hurt by anyone. You're the only one who has ever been through something like this. In the history of mankind."
"You're not helping." King's face remained inscrutable. He kept his face a pallid mask, unmoved even by his own pain.
"It's all right to be angry with Lott. Lady G. Both of them. This whole situation. It sucks."
"I should be beyond that."
"Why? You still a man."
"And I don't want to put you in the middle."
"What middle? They did wrong. I'm pissed at both of them. Love them, but I'm pissed at them."
"They were laughing at me."
"Who?"
"Both of them. I did this for them as much as anyone else. To be a hero to Lady G. To be worthy of Lott's friendship."
"To prove yourself to them. I'm sorry if I don't seem real sympathetic. I'm not going to pretend to know what draws a silly country girl's heart. I'm not trying to minimize the dull shock of sorrow you want to wallow in. I'm really not. My heart hurts for you. I wish you could just remember the good times you had with them and hold on to the love you have for them. But I also know you can't just yet. Right now all you can do is think of the pain. All you can do is re-visit each memory through the lens of that pain and question everything."
"I just want to make all the hurting stop."
"I know you do. I know how hard it is to open up and reveal yourself, only to be rejected. That's the big fear of relationships." Pastor Winburn drew up his sleeves and revealed a scar line of old track marks. "The world is a painful place, full of things and people that will hurt you. And I know the temptation to numb yourself from it and do whatever it takes to keep us from dealing with life and what's going on. That's an easy path to walk down. You're no different than any other addict out here, you just used a relationship to numb yourself. Living life on your own strength, within your own fears."
"That's easy to say."
"What you've been doing hasn't been working." Pastor Winburn rolled his sleeves back down. "How about you listen to someone else other than yourself? You want to run away from folks and be all alone, that's on you. But you'll have no one speaking into your life except you. You don't want to be alone with your demons unattended. They are so many and it gets awfully noisy with all of those competing voices in your head."
"Everything just seems so… It's too much. Too loud. It's confusing."
"I wish I were one of those quick-to-forgive people. How when I feel dishonored, disrespected, or disavowed, or otherwise holding on to memories of someone's mistreatment of me, I can just go 'I forgive you' and all of the hurt and ill will just vanishes. It's like we feel this tacit pressure from other Christians. They hear our struggles with the pain of our situations — the anger, the hurt, the sheer pain of it — and confuse that with not being able to forgive. Almost as if we aren't forgiving on their time table or that a good Christian would have forgiven by now. Or faster. Or better. On-the-spot forgiveness works with smaller slights, but deeper wounds require more, especially if they tap into a familiar one. Sometimes we have to ask if part of what has wounded us is us carrying something else with us from the past that we are connecting to this present person or circumstance. That's part of what forgiveness is about, freedom from the things which hold on to us. A hardened heart can't feel the love nor the forgiveness a faithful and just God has to offer, it has walled itself off. Pursuing forgiveness is agreeing with God that there needs to be healing and trusting Him to heal us through the process. And sometimes it's a hard, long, messy process. But what's broken can be redeemed. And there's a real you that you have yet to find."
King leaned against his kitchen counter. "Help me understand how to do that. How to get to the real me."
"You're always asking 'what do I need to do to make this work?' because you operate out of a need to control. Faith and control don't exist well together. When you are moving from a place of faith, you're asking 'God, what are You going to do to make this work and how do I get involved with that?'"
"I want to be that man."
"Look, King… I've seen how you've carried yourself. How you've fought. There's always going to be someone stronger. Everyone loses some time. It's what you do. In defeat, that defines you. You can become broken and bitter, just like in victory, you could become petty and small. Victory is a matter of spirit, not might. You have a mighty sword by your side, but you do not have to draw it. To wield it is to draw blood. Real love risks and offers redemption."