There Must Be Something More

91 | He's Gold

For the next few days I was alone.

Mind you, I still wasn't kicked out or anything. But I felt like I was.

Mom and Dad were treating me as if I were non-existent. 

For the most part, it wasn't much of Dad as it was of Mom. I could tell Dad wanted to speak to me--I knew it when he would ask me too many times to pass the salt, and then the pepper, then the fruits from our platter during meals. He would even smile at me whenever I left for school. Even just a wrinkle from the corners of his eyes was enough to make me feel assured he still loved me as he did before.

But Mom.

Mom did it to the extent that she wouldn't even want to be in the same direction as me. Whenever we would cross intersecting paths in the living room, she would quickly retreat to the den and read or watch TV there. She would pretend as if it didn't hurt me at all. 

I felt more alone in my own home than ever.

It was bad enough. It was bad enough that they had so little time for me. Now this. Now this.

I was getting frustrated. I didn't know what was coming out of my situation at all. First it was Amanda and Calum, and then baseball, and now Mom and Dad.

I was losing all the important treasures in my life.

Often times, I found myself alone in the attic, looking at all the baby pictures and our home videos from our old recorders. It reminded me of the good old days: Mom and Dad still had loads of time for me, I was still too innocent to do anything wrong, and the world was small for me then.

I would smile at my five-year-old self and see the things that had remained even as a sixteen-year-old kid. My hair was still a wavy chestnut brown, which I got from my dad, my brown eyes looked just like my mom's, and I was already tall even as a kid. And then my tears would well up whenever I sized my current situation and I caught myself embracing the memoirs of the past, wondering if they could ever--somehow--come back for me.

One day I had it. One day I made a decision. One day the clock struck twelve.

"I'm done," I said to Trey as we sat on a bench together in the schoolyard. My elbows rested on my knees, my eyes set ten yards before me. The wind blew my hair to the side of my face. I pushed them back and turned to see Trey's reaction.

He looked confused. "What... do you mean?"

"I can't do this anymore," I said. I shook my head.

"What are you talking about, man?" He asked, chuckling. "You just come out of the silence and say 'I'm done'?"

I clenched my jaw. "It's not funny." I turned to him. I frowned. "I don't understand any of this."

Trey still looked at me puzzled.

"I do everything I can to obey God. Sure, I fail sometimes, but I do my best. I gave up all the sins I loved. I even gave up my two best friends in the world. I gave up baseball, for goodness' sake! My scholarship is in the toilet! And now, I also have to give up my parents!"

"What? What happened?" He asked.

I took a deep breath and fought back tears. "Principal Powell E-mailed Mom about our lecture. But he lied. He told her we were breaking school rules and that we were too... limitless with our quote-and-quote religion. Now my parents think I'm some kind of delinquent for sharing my faith--they even think I'm trying to force God into kids' throats. I thought God was going to reward us for obeying Him, but I don't see a reward anywhere!"

"Whoever said we were going to follow God for a reward?" Trey said.

"That's not the point!" I snapped. I tried not to yell. "I don't see any kind of breakthrough with all the obedience I'm doing. You know Jeremiah 29:11, right? I don't see that happening in my life right now. All I see is loss--loss everywhere. Is that a good plan for you? I sure don't think it is!"

Trey looked me in the eyes all serious. "Just because you believe in God and accept His forgiveness doesn't mean you don't have trouble."

"But what's the point? What's the point for all of this? I didn't have this much trouble when I didn't believe in God!"

"That's the point. That's because your life back then was meaningless. Think about it! If someone ever did something meaningful, there would be a lot of obstacles. Think of it like those treasure hunters portrayed in movies. Before getting to the treasure, they have to go through blistering winds, scorching deserts, you know, fires, booby traps--and then they get to the gold.

"That's what it is with Jesus. We know the truth now. He's gold. He's the treasure we're pursuing. And all these troubles are happening because He's that worth it. He's worth everything. And that's why the devil is doing all that he can to stop you from getting to Jesus. Because once you do, there will be joy like no other. And the devil hates us. He doesn't want us to be with Jesus, where we'll be the happiest. He wants us miserable with our sin. He wants us going to hell with him. So right now, he's trying to give you troubles and tribulations so you'll give up.

"But with Jesus, it's not really much of the journey as it is of the destination. Don't worry about how to get there--just get there."

I looked at him. I didn't say anything. In fact, I hated to admit, I couldn't say anything. What he said was too wise for words. And I knew they were from Jesus right there.

But I felt like I didn't need it at the moment. 

"Stop trying to make it sound so easy," I said, standing up. "You don't know what I'm going through. If you were in my situation, you'd be this way too."

Trey looked at me. "No, I wouldn't be. I know my purpose too well."

I scoffed. I turned to leave.

"Charlie, calm down. Let's talk this out." He stood and put a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go tell Meredith and--"

"No," I said, shrugging his hand away. "I don't even know what to think anymore. I don't think I care about this anymore."

"You mean about God?"

I walked away. My anger grew with every step. I didn't understand myself. I wasn't sure who I was mad at.

Was I mad at my parents for not understanding how all of this is so important to me? Was I mad at Trey for only telling me the truth? Was I mad at myself for being such a wimp and wanting to give up so easily?

Or was I mad at God just because I didn't understand what He was doing?

Before I could come to a conclusion I swung the door open to my pickup and slid into the driver's seat. I started the engine.

"I'll see you at Worship Wednesday later, right?" Trey hollered, cupping his hands to his mouth. 

I backed up and drove away.