Made To Be Broken

Broken And Spilled Out

“So please, please, please go
I'm not strong enough to say no
Please, please don't stay
I'm not man enough to walk away
Please, please pass by
I can't resist you even though I try
So please go, I'm not strong to say no.”

- I'm Not Strong Enough To Say No, BLACKHAWK

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I don't need your kind of help.

The short hall that ran between the bathroom and the daycare room, leading back to the sanctuary, was at most twenty feet. For reasons that had yet to make themselves clear to Jonah, the short walk had the feel of the last mile of his life.

Stay away from me.

The soles of his dress shoes took each step silently as they sank into the soft maroon carpet. His hands hung loose by his sides but the tension in his shoulders crawled up the back of his neck, burrowed into his skull and began to throb.

Don't ever touch me again.

The door to the sanctuary seemed to withdraw from his approach, as if he were caught in a strange dream from a movie. But he didn't pick up his pace. Suddenly the thought of going back out there, sitting with his family – nearly assaulted him with a bout of anxiety induced nausea.

Somewhere behind him, outside the haze of his thoughts, he heard the bathroom door close quietly – and lock. Afraid you'll come back? Take more of what doesn't belong to you?

Jonah's steps faltered when the door stopped pulling away from him, and it was right there before him. He slid his fingertips over the smooth knob; brass plated and cool to the touch. He stood there, caressing the cold metal, then glanced through the large wall-length window into the daycare room. The walls were plastered with cartoon depictions of Jesus with little children, Jesus holding a lamb, Jesus holding out his hands invitingly with the words 'I Love You' at the bottom.

Jonah's eyes locked onto those words. Back in the bathroom, the faucet turned on. A quiet, barely detectable choking sob filtered through the closed door. Noble's face formulated in his mind; the man hunched over the toilet, eyes red and puffy from crying and puking his guts out. His mind cracking beneath the stress of what he couldn't accept.

He'll never accept it, Jonah spoke silently to the picture. As long as he thinks you hate him for it.

Jonah closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then released it on a weary sigh. The words from the picture stared back at him when his eyes opened again. I Love You.

“Do you?” he whispered, his voice thick. “Do you really?” He didn't ask it in bitterness, or with a lacing of sarcasm. It was an honest question. One which he had little hope of being answered.

The cool knob squeezed against his palm as his fingers tightened and he twisted, slowly opening the door. The congregation was onto a new hymn, though now everyone was seated. He stood in the open door, his hand sliding off the inside knob and lightly gripping the edge of the door.

The music was comforting. He loved being in church, loved the soul soothing hymns, found peace in the word of God and fellowship with God's people.

How many would fellowship with you...welcome you with open arms...if they really knew you?

This wasn't his church, his hometown. He came here off and on, even owned a house here. But this wasn't his home. Very few knew him. Would these people – who expressed the love of God so vibrantly – expel him from their church if they knew what he was? Not that he had to worry about them discovering it; his dad respected him and wouldn't say a thing without his consent, Colleen believed in keeping family issues private and within the family, and Rebecca...