Part 2 of an 8 part story. If missed part 1, click on Truth & Consequences category.
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I’m sure there was a look of shock on my face as I tried to think of how to respond. I try to apply the Scriptures to the real issues that people face and I am normally prepared for occasional negative, even angry, responses. This time, however, the response seemed to be more of vulnerable despair than defensive anger. “Tell me what happened,” I said.
“You were speaking on the Scripture passage, ‘You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free.’ You started talking about the burden of secrets; how the energy to protect them drains you; how such hidden thoughts eat away at your soul. I think you mentioned something about shouting the message from the roof tops and the healing experience of no longer having to protect yourself and your secrets.”
She paused, as if to gather up her courage and then continued. “I noticed during the sermon how my husband, Harold, was more restless than usual. He was never one to sit quietly for a long time, but he seemed particularly uneasy that morning. I reached out and put my hand on his leg, and he jumped as if I had touched him with an electric probe. He brushed my hand away but didn’t look at me.
“I don’t know what you said in the rest of the sermon. I hope it was good. Because I couldn’t listen. I knew that my husband had some huge secret and my mind raced ahead thinking of all the possibilities. I thought the service would never end. We slipped out the side door.” A small smile came to her face. “Our children didn’t understand why we weren’t waiting in line to shake your hand. They always seem to enjoy that part. I think it’s because you treat them like real people.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Anyway, we drove in silence while our children chattered about what had happened in Sunday school and what they wanted to do that afternoon. I’m sure that I didn’t sound as casual as I was trying to, but I suggested that as a treat we stop at a McDonald’s for happy-meals. Then we would let them go to the community pool for the afternoon.”
I felt the need to say something, even if it was merely a bridge comment. “I bet they liked that suggestion.”
She nodded and a small smile returned to her face. “Yes, that was one time that I was glad that children of that age tend to be self-absorbed. They didn’t pick up on the front seat’s tension. My husband barely said a word.”
Her face colored. “I’m sorry,” she suddenly said, “but when I am really nervous. I get a loose bladder. I need to step to the bathroom for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
She left the room as I sat there stunned by her story and wondering what would come next.
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part 3 on Mon. Ap 22 at 9 a.m.
At this point, what are you imagining she is going to reveal? How would you respond to her to encourage her to keep telling the story of what happened?
