Page 34 of Devil's Advocate
The truth sat there with me, ugly and unavoidable: I wanted the scales to fall from Jimmy’s eyes like in that Bible story—light, clarity, relief—and for him to see what I saw: that men like his father weren’t shepherds.They were prison guards.
Guilt isn’t faith, and fear isn’t holy.
“This is so unfair,” I muttered, leaning forward until my forehead kissed the cabinet door.
Back in the bedroom, my phone still glowed on the nightstand, half the screen frozen on Jimmy with a guitar.What could I do?I couldn’t chase him.But I could make the Temple safer than his father’s house.Perhaps I could write an email with no pressure in it, telling Jimmy that every door I possessed was open to him.
The headache had eased into a gray throb.I lay back and pulled the blanket up, then pushed it down, then gave up and turned onto my side to face the nightstand.The paused video still showed Jimmy not-smiling.I tapped the screen, let it play for ten seconds more, and paused again when Calvin’s hand came down hard on the pulpit in slow motion.
“I can’t save you,” I whispered.“But I can wait.I can make a place that doesn’t hurt.I’ll be here when you decide you’re not a sin.”
The words hung in the dark, softer than prayer, heavier than sleep.
* * *
After hiding under the covers for the last few days, I forced myself to go to the weekly service at the temple.I was lighting the last candle on the altar when Sarah appeared beside me, holding two cups of coffee.
“You look like you got mugged by your own feelings,” she said, handing one over.
I huffed out a laugh that tasted more like a sigh.“What gave it away?”
“You’ve been a ghost for the past week.You missed Wednesday’s outreach meeting, you ignored my texts, and Mama Jo told me you looked like something the cat coughed up.”
“She’s not wrong.”I took a sip, grimaced at the bitterness.“I’ve been sleeping too much.Or not enough.Hard to tell.”
Sarah hopped up to sit on the edge of the stage.“This is about Jimmy, isn’t it?The one who ran out of your house like it was on fire.”
“I’ve been watching videos of his father’s ministry,” I sighed.“Non-stop.It’s so depressing.”
“Poor kid,” she murmured.“Growing up in that kind of cage does things to you.”
“Yeah.”I rubbed the back of my neck.“He’s probably there now.Repenting.Praying for forgiveness for what we almost did.”
Sarah’s voice softened.“Or maybe he’s figuring things out for himself, and he’ll surprise you.”
Before I could answer, people began filing in.The old bar filled fast—every chair, every corner.The candlelight spread like a tide over the faces of our little congregation, this patchwork family of misfits and survivors who’d come to trade shame for sanctuary.
Sarah slid off the stage, squeezing my arm as she passed.“You don’t have to be perfect tonight,” she said.“Just be honest.”
I nodded, then I stepped up to the microphone.The crowd quieted instantly, their faces soft and expectant in the glow.I should’ve felt comforted by them—their trust, their warmth—but I just felt… tired.
“Welcome, everyone,” I said, my voice steady even if I didn’t feel it.“Tonight I want to talk about freedom that doesn’t come easy.The kind you have to pry out of the jaws of guilt and fear with your bare hands.”
The room went still.Candlelight flickered against faces that looked too much like my own—tired, hopeful, searching.I kept going.
“Some people learned that obedience equals love.That if we just bowed our heads low enough, or swallowed the right words, or hated the right parts of ourselves, we’d be safe.”I paused, feeling the truth scrape my throat.“But safety isn’t the same thing as peace.Peace is when you stop apologizing for the sound of your own heartbeat.”
A soft murmur rippled through the crowd.I smiled, but it didn’t reach my heart.“So if you’re here tonight wondering whether it’s okay to want what you want—to be who you are—remember this: the chains they put on you were never holy.They were just heavy.”
Jimmy.
I wondered where he was, if he was safe, if his father had found out anything.I wondered if he’d eaten, if he was still trying to pray away something that wasn’t a sin.An image of his face after I kissed him—the flicker of courage before fear took over — filled my mind.
And then I saw him.
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.A shape in the shadows, near the back wall, just beyond the last row of people.But then he lifted his head.
Jimmy.
