Page 4 of Redeemed

She smiles, and there’s something about it that’s different than the smiles I’m used to. It’s genuine and full, like she’s expressing herself for the sake of it. “You forget how often I’ve heard Beckham preach.”

I shift my gaze toward my feet. “Right.”

She’s silent for a minute before saying, “There is sin out here, but… it’s not so different from the sin you grew up around. Everyone at Cornerstone just hides it better. Some people don’t bother hiding it at all.”

“Really?”

“Well, not everyone believes sin exists,” Julie says. “I know you know that.”

“But they don’t feel shame?”

“Why would they?”

“Well, deep down, they know, don’t they? They don’twantto believe, but theyknow—”My voice falters, and heat fills my cheeks. “Or… maybe that’s wrong.”

You’re doing it again. Saying something just because you grew up hearing it.

“It’s all right, hon. You don’t have to abandon all your beliefs. If that’s one you want to keep, then you can.”

“Do you believe that?” I ask.

“That deep down, everyone knows God exists?” She shakes her head. “No. But if it’s whatyoubelieve—”

“It’s not,” I say quickly. “I don’t believe it. I don’t know what I believe. I just…”

Julie nods but doesn’t say anything. If I were in her position, I wouldn’t know what to say, either. How do you help a girl who’s finally come to the realization that her whole life has been a series of elaborate lies?

Closing my eyes, I sink into my seat. I feel the way I did when I was a child learning church history. There were so many events and dates to remember, and I memorized them all until I could recite them in my sleep. It became mindless. And now here I am, doing the same thing with opinions I’m not sure I even trust anymore.

“I had to de-program some too when I was your age,” Julie says. “Ah… I believe it’s calleddeconstructionthese days. I think it can be good. Helps you be sure that you’re thinking for yourself.”

“But you didn’t deprogram—deconstruct—all the way?” I ask.

“No. I stayed Christian, I just left some beliefs behind. Being against abortion, the homophobia, the racism… stuff that, in my opinion, Jesus would find heretical if he were walking the earth today.”

I frown. I’ve heard of abortions before, and the same goes for racism. But the other one is completely new to me. “Homophobia?”

“Thinking homosexuality is a sin, dear. Well, that’s not all of it, but I’m not sure I’m the best person to explain all the details. I’m still learning quite a bit myself.”

Pastor—no,Beckham—only preached about homosexuality once or twice. I remember how passionate he was, though. He said it was an abomination.

I never really understood it, possibly because my friend Ruth and I shared a kiss or two when we were younger, and it felt harmless. Nice, even. But after Paul’s first sermon, Ruth avoided me for months and would only hang around me again after I promised her I’d repented.

“You don’t think it’s wrong?” I ask her.

“No, not at all, dear.”

“Oh.”

An ache blooms in my chest. Did I spend all those nights repenting of my feelings toward Ruth for nothing? Was there actually nothing wrong with kissing her? With wanting to do it again? I was so terrified that God would curse my marriage for what I’d done. When Isaiah ended up being cruel toward me, I thought it was my punishment.

But… maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he’s just a horrible, evil person, and I only ended up trapped with him by coincidence.

Again, I stare at my feet. That’s just another thing I’ll have to figure out, I suppose.

How am I supposed to know what’s real?

I feel like a toddler just learning to walk. I’m off-balance and wobbly, and the only way I can stay upright is if I’m holding onto something. Problem is, there’s nothing to grab onto.

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