Until now. Certainty slid into his soul, as cool and deep as water.
Ever since he’d met Gen, he’d been telling himself that he couldn’t deal with it if she returned to Oxy. For more than twenty-four hours, he’d been standing by that statement, telling himself again and again,I can’t do this.
And each time, God had countered that thought withIn your weakness, I am strong.
He hadn’t been able to handle Kayden’s downward spiral. He didn’t feel able to handle Gen’s downward spiral, either. But when he said“I can’t,”he was lying. Hecould. Regardless of his weakness, in God’s strength he could do the one thing within his ability.
He could stay.
God had brought him to another fork in the road. Once again, he could turn his back, or he could hold on and refuse to give up.
Leaving Kayden had been a mistake.
He’d probably make lots of new mistakes with Gen, but hewould not makethat same one again.
He wasn’t going to let Oxy take Gen without a fight. If he went down, he was going to go down swinging. If she broke his heart, then at least he’d know he’d done all he could. He’d know that his silence and inaction weren’t to blame because, this time, he would not be silent or inactive.
Oxy was stronger than he was. But he was convinced that Oxy was not stronger than God.
The sky seemed to glow with approval. A feeling of rightness solidified within him.
He’d given himself the illusion of safety by regulating his diet, exercise, sleep, restaurant, farm. But he hadn’t found safety in a life protected from problematic people. He’d only found loneliness.
God hadn’t left him here, alone, on this land. Instead, He’d chipped away at him through Gen and forced him to acknowledge that, just like everyone else, he’d been made for community.
Relationships were painful and messy and beautiful and important. The mess came with the beauty. The pain came with the importance.
That was life. And God was calling him to live it.
Whoever had said that the center of God’s will was the safest place to be had either been a fool or hadn’t known God very well.
On the drive back from Atlanta yesterday afternoon, then last night as she’d read Scripture, and this morning as she’d prayed, God’s will for Genevieve had become louder and more distinct.
At last, she could hear Him. And what she heard Him saying was that no matter the cost, she needed to confess her issues with painkillers. To everyone.
Grace and truth.
At present, she was sitting with her family in her mom and dad’s living room. She and Natasha occupied the sofa, her parents the side-by-side armchairs across the coffee table. They’d started off drinking peppermint tea, marveling over yesterday’s events, and complimenting the mantel covered in a Thanksgiving garland, tiny white pumpkins, and two miniature bundles of wheat. After everything that had gone down the day before, their gathering felt very much like a gathering of people who’d survived a catastrophe that should have killed them. They were shell-shocked and sobered and stunned and grateful.
Genevieve would have liked to continue to float in that feel-good pool for the remainder of her visit. Instead, the Holy Spirit had pressed against her from the inside, compelling her to speak. She’d forced herself to tell her mom and dad about the Oxy.
Her parents’ secrets had ripped down their façade of false goodness. Now she was ripping down her own façade. It was as if thefour of them were looking at one another straight in the face at long last, instead of through distorting glass.
Inside Alice’s home yesterday, her dad’s worst mistake had been exposed. He hadn’t been able to bring his perfection to Alice’s table. Afterward, it had hit her. Like her dad, she hadnoperfection to bring to God’s table.
She’d been rescued miraculously in El Salvador and lived the rest of her life striving to execute the big plans she’d believed God had saved her to accomplish. She’d written Bible study after Bible study. She’d taken terrifying flights all over the world to preach and proclaim His glory. She’d worked and worked and tried and tried, pushing herself to her limits. Somewhere along the line, she’d become known as someone who was righteous and honorable.
But even after all that, all those years of service, the only thing she had to bring to God’s table was the sin that made His grace so necessary.
The verse in Isaiah that equated righteous acts to filthy rags had never been more appropriate.
It was like the unfastening of a dungeon’s lock to let go of the idea that God had saved her because He had big plans for her. The people who’d told her that had been well-meaning, but mistaken.
In all honesty, she didn’t know why God had chosen to save the five of them.
Because of their prayers? Because He loved them?
Maybe. But He sometimes said no to prayers. He sometimes took the people He loved to heaven rather than preserving their lives on earth.
