The knock came lightly on the door. Cosmo had been expecting it. He rose from the couch and let Mark into the apartment.
Mark almost had to duck to enter.
Cosmo flipped on additional lighting. He’d been trying to talk to God for the last half hour, but kept finding himself distracted by the impending conversation.
Mark greeted Cosmo by grabbing his hand and shoulder for a firm shake.
“Anything to drink?” Cosmo offered.
Mark shook his head, then changed his mind. “A Pepsi.”
Cosmo fetched his mentor a cola from the small fridge and split it between two glasses without ice. He placed them on the low table and took a seat on the couch next to Mark.
“I’ve taken the matter to anyone who’d listen.” Mark sipped his cola.
“And?”
“I’m afraid there will be no compromise, no negotiation. It’s not how the ministry works. We have hundreds of missionaries—thousands. We can’t make special rules—”
“But this is not what I’m called to do.” Cosmo objected.
Mark sighed. “Calling can be fickle, influenced by mood or fad.”
“You think I’m too—”
“It’s not about what I think, Cosmo.” Mark put a hand on Cosmo’s shoulder. “It’s about the skills and abilities God has given you. It’s about the needs of those we serve.”
“Or is it about the skills that serve your superiors’ needs?”
Mark closed his eyes and exhaled.
Cosmo continued. “I’m tired of feeling used for the things I can do, or for the places I can open for the rest of you.”
“You’ve been put in a unique position. Are you saying you would like God to reconsider?” Mark asked.
“I’m saying I would like Athletes in Action to reconsider.”
“They won’t, Cosmo. There are already ministries, hundreds of them, working in the slums and the villages. You know better than anyone, there is next to nothing for students. The ministry will not change its focus for a single staff worker.”
“Then just reassign me to the Jesus Film. I can use my skills there.”
“Absolutely you could, along with thousands of other high school students.” Mark turned toward Cosmo. “The Jesus Film is a well oiled machine. It’s set up so any fifteen-year-old can help. Your talents would go to waste. Do you know how many people can do what you’ve been trained to do on campus? What you’ve done so easily and so effectively over the past two years overshadows the last several years of my own efforts.”
Cosmo shook his head. “It’s hollow. My heart’s not in it.”
Mark took a long drink. “No one will stop you from following your heart. I’ve come here this evening to tell you, that if you do so, it will not be with Athletes in Action.”
Cosmo swallowed. “Or with you.”
“My ministry is to student athletes. That hasn’t changed.”
“Of course.” Cosmo stood, unsure of what he had expected.
Mark stood as well. “But neither has my friendship with you. Just because we won’t work together, doesn’t mean you’re not a friend and partner in the faith.”
The two stood in silence for several seconds before Mark continued. “And if you don’t mind me saying, a spiritual son.”
“Thank you,” Cosmo said.
“For what?”
“For everything. For approaching me that first time at St. Stephens. For teaching me. For believing in me. For seeing something in me I couldn’t see myself.”
Mark grinned. “I still see it.”
Cosmo raised a brow. He wasn’t sure what Mark was getting at.
“Hey, lighten up.” Mark headed for the door. “You eaten yet?”
Cosmo shrugged. “Not lately.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Let’s get some dinner.”
Cosmo hesitated, a sly look on his face.
“Don’t worry, it’s on me.” Mark opened the door. “As usual.”
YOU ARE READING
Empty Hand Revolution
Non-FictionBorn into a tribal war with India, violence his earliest memory, Comso Zimik trained as a black belt and street fighter from the age of nine. His vow: never show weakness. Tortured and left for dead in the jungle at the age of seventeen, Cosmo birth...
