Chapter 6
To love unconditionally

There is a world outside my window. The leaves are almost completely gone now affording me a clear view of the campus. There is a particularly beautiful building that sits across from my window, partially blocking my view of the hillside. It is the church. There are days when I catch myself watching it unconsciously, my eyes gazing over the tall spires that seem to burst from the building’s foundation. On this particular day, I am absorbed in the view of the old priest who had greeted me weeks ago. His presence had been much easier to dismiss that night. I have since seen him with many members of the church and am beginning to respect him, though I am quick to remind myself that it’s easier to create perspectives of people when we have yet to really know them. I have studied his quiet manner, his hearty handshakes and private chats. Today he is outside with a small group of college students. Church is far from a popular pastime in England and his congregation is even smaller than most. One of the students appears to be asking a question of grave importance and the Father is leaned towards him listening intently to every word, his face marked with the same concern he showed me that night.
Something is stirring within me and I can’t pinpoint its origin or meaning. My confession at the coffee shop was unexpected and has since had even wider results. I had never told anyone my entire story and the confession had freed me from the torment of guilt that had been living inside of me. I knew that another step of my forgiveness was sure to come. I had always believed that forgiveness was about oneself, that it was about regaining ownership over your own life and not letting another’s actions rule it. I had already completed this step of forgiveness. I couldn’t let the things that had happened between John, the Church, and I keep my life from moving forward.
But the second step still lingered.
I could move forward and live my own life but I was still bitter. I hated the subject of family or religion. I laughed scornfully at those who expressed a blind devotion to their supposed future and beliefs. I had been a witness to conversations with those who proclaimed a deep faith and yet couldn’t quote a single scripture. These people were the unaware targets of my attacks. I could quote scripture up and down, informing them on what their own denominations really believed. They were left helpless. I knew that I wasn’t helping anyone. These tirades only fueled my bitterness and mostly likely only fueled their blind belief.
Nothing benefits religion more than adversity.
All these thoughts didn’t answer the question as to why I was still sitting watching this church. I couldn’t get its steeple or its minister out of my mind. His words were stilling ringing and since then I had thought of asking God for guidance many times. I was nostalgic for the peace I had once found in his presence, but like the child that finds their parent’s deepest secrets: I couldn’t look him in the eye.
I could forgive everyone but I couldn’t forgive God.
I glanced to the church again but the priest was gone. When he had talked to me that night, I had wanted a great answer. I had been pondering my questions for months and his adage had seemed too quick and simple to be true.
I had coined a phrase when I was in the youth group that was used popularly within our church: There’s no gray in this Black & White. I had been professing my belief that there was no in-between when it came to God’s word. It is written in Revelations 3:16 that God will not tolerate the lukewarm. All these thoughts consumed my mind as I placed it down on my desk and admitted I didn’t know.
I didn’t know what to believe or what to think. I could walk back to the faith but that would mean a blind acceptance again; there was little room for intellectual thought within the church these days. I could forsake it all, but to believe nothing seemed a greater peril and sadness than to believe that the world was controlled by an entity I simply could not understand.
There had been something stirring within me since that night, and I now stood on a great precipice, contemplating a leap of faith.