Page 16 of Whispered Southern Secrets

I try to think of a good way to respond. The honest answer is I enjoying helping people find their footing. But that answer sounds too much like what he’s probably heard before. Generic despite being true.

“I don’t judge people by their past. I know what it feels like, and I hate it. People can change, but if we keep holding their past against them, and bringing it up, dragging them back, they can’t move forward. I want us both to move forward.”

The harsh line between his brows since I sat down next to him slowly fades. His eyes finally soften the slightest bit. I allow him to sit in silence with his thought. He finally turns and whispers, “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

We’ll see.

I might’ve abusedmy power a bit. I give James community service for Sunday morning and it’s helping the elderly get to their seats, and I need him to clean around the sanctuary after service. My heart swells when I see Honey wave for James to sit with her and her grandparents.

“Welcome everyone,” I say into the microphone attached to the podium. It no longer feels like a room full of people but a room of family. My father and I go through the prayer list, hymns, and when it comes time for my sermon, I’m eager to speak to them.

“David. Jonah. Paul. Peter. Jacob. Noah. Gideon. Samson. You probably recognize most of the names. At least a few of them, right? What do they have in common? Anybody? Don’t be shy.”

“They were important figures in the Bible,” a voice calls out.

“They sure were,” I agree. “God used them. They were broken. They were sinners. They were and are relatable. These people weren’t born perfect, they didn’t live perfect lives, but they were chosen by God. Now if He chose them, why wouldn’t He choose you? I believe Heischoosing you. There’s hope for all of us. Listen—Paul persecuted Christians before becoming one. Jonah ran from God. Samson was a womanizer. Whatever it is that you feel that makes you unworthy, there is someone in the Bible that already did it and did worse.”

I take a moment to allow my words to marinate, and to brace myself. Time to practice what I preach. I’m going to own my sins, humble myself before everyone, and hopefully, not lose the faith of my congregation. “I denied God. Growing up as a preacher’s kid isn’t for the weak of heart. The stigma that comes attached with that. Now, I’m not putting the blame on anyone but myself. I had the best parents. But it felt like the bar was high. Too high. Not by them, but by my own insecurities. Then I gave into temptation. It felt good…for a minute. I abused alcohol. Cursed. Resorted to violence. Gave into lust. Indulged in shallow relationships based on desire. Pride. But, I don’t regret it. I have shame but not regret. Those moments proved what I was missing and that I need the love of Christ.”

I force myself to brave the crowd. I make eye contact with each individual. Warmth spreads through me when I’m not greeted with judgment or disappointment. “We’re all broken. We’re all sinners. We’re weak. But we’re also capable of healing. We’re all capable and deserving of love. We’re inspirational. Your story is just as inspiring as those in The Holy Bible. Neverquestion your worth. Because God is choosing you. He needs you to choose you too. Let’s go to the Lord in prayer.”

After church, James and I walk around the church cleaning up and restocking the pamphlets and offering cards. “I enjoyed your little sermon,” he tells me.

“Well I appreciate that, James.”

“Can’t believe you told everyone you were a man whore.”

I cross my arms and lean against a pew. “I didn’t say that.”

“I read between the lines. Player recognizes player.”

“Then I hope you recognize the potential you have. Come on. I’ll take you out for lunch and then home.”

We walk into Mimi’s Gasoline Grove and go straight for a booth. There’s the usual group of elderly men sitting in their corner. Minnie hurries over and takes our order. I enjoy having a conversation with James and learn quickly he’s just gotten involved with a group of idiots, parents have marriage issues and that’s trickling down, and a case of classic peer pressure. He’s finally letting his guard down.

And apparently so am I. James’s question takes me by surprise when he asks, “How long have you had it bad for Honey Beaumont?”

“I don’t—what?”

“It’d take a complete moron to not notice.”

“Am I that obvious?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

“She’s nice.”

“Nice? Minnie, her grandmother, is nice. Honey is a freaking wet?—”

“Whoa! Time out. No.” I point a finger at him. “No,” I whisper.

“Sorry, Preacher Man.” He takes a bite of his catfish and after he chews he says, “You gave an awesome speech aboutinspiration, being worthy, and all that but you’re being a total wuss about a girl.”

He makes a valid point. I am a wuss when it comes to Honey. I’m more focused on impacting his life than getting a date though. “That was about using our gifts for God.”

James chuckles. “There’s some hotties who think I’m a gift from God.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re fifteen.”

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