Learning (21 page)

With that, Sanders broke down, and again the guys came together in a huddle that left no spaces, no distance. In the midst of the emotion, Cody put his hand high over the huddle. “Whose way?”

“His way!”

“Whose way?” he yelled.

“His way!” The room shook with the love of a group of teenage guys who had never cared more. Guys who understood only God could’ve brought them to this point.

Cody stepped back and stood beside his assistant coaches. All of them had tears in their eyes too. The plan had worked. God had met them here at Butler University, and not only had they raised money for the hurting among them, but He had answered Cody’s prayers that these boys might become a team. They would go home caring deeply for each other, aware of their struggles individually and as a whole, tight enough to take on any opponent. They had come here a group of individuals, each one concerned only for himself. But as they headed home that Saturday morning, the bigger miracle was that Lyle High’s football players had become more than a team.

They had become a family.

T
HE MEMORIAL FOR CHRISSY STONELAKE WAS HELD THE MORN
ing of Friday, July fifteenth, a week after her death. For Bailey it was one of the saddest moments in her life. Chrissy’s mom and dad flew in from Montana, collected her ashes, and hurried home without talking to Francesca or the cast, so they weren’t there. From what Bailey had heard, Chrissy’s parents had never wanted her to perform on Broadway. They’d seen her health decline, and they guessed she was taking pills.

But they had been helpless to intervene, counting on the people around her to reach her — something that never happened.

Every member of the cast was in attendance that morning, gathered in the drafty J. Markham Theater to sing a few songs and remember the girl who had danced among them … the girl who had died among them. Bailey sat in the back row, isolating herself from the others. The cast wasn’t to blame this time. Since Chrissy’s death, the dancers she worked with seemed kinder — even toward her. But that didn’t change Bailey’s responsibility in the matter, the way she held herself accountable for her friend’s death.

Bailey had talked to her mom about Chrissy every day since she died. Her mom was adamant — Chrissy’s loss wasn’t Bailey’s fault. Still, Bailey couldn’t get around the obvious truth. She had been in a position to help, but she’d kept to herself. Even when she felt the Lord talking to her, telling her to step in and pray or share a Bible verse, Bailey had done nothing.

Now she held a single folded sheet of paper with Chrissy’s
picture and her name. Her first and last name — neither of which Bailey would ever forget. She watched quietly, tears on her cheeks as one cast member after another took the stage and shared about Chrissy. Like before, Bailey could hear the Lord speaking, feel Him prodding her into action:

This is your time, daughter. Your chance to speak … take courage, and be strong. Don’t be afraid.

Yes, God … I hear You.

Bailey had never been more afraid in all her life. No matter what happened before, regardless of the consequences, she still wasn’t convinced. Did she really have the strength to speak up for God here? Among the dancers and actors who made up the
Hairspray
cast?

A verse from Deuteronomy 20:1 played over and over in her mind.
When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots and armies bigger than yours do not be afraid. For the Lord your God who brought you up out of Egypt will be with you.

God would be with her … whatever He was calling her to do He would stand beside her and give her the words. Even here when she felt absolutely incapable of making a difference. She’d been quiet with Chrissy — when speaking up might’ve mattered. When she’d finally prayed very publicly for Chrissy after her collapse, Chrissy had died. What reason would her castmates have for believing in God now?

When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots and armies bigger than yours …

Bailey’s mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. Francesca was on the stage, looking at them, sizing up the emotion in the room. It was the first time Bailey could remember that the woman had nothing snide to say, nothing sarcastic. She was as broken as everyone else. “Several of you shared wonderful memories, beautiful sentiments about our friend Chrissy Stonelake.” She folded her hands. “We have time for a few more.”

Gerald went next. He talked about how Chrissy had understood him and encouraged him to perform. “My family doesn’t want me here … same as hers.” He hung his head for a moment. “But Chrissy … she believed in me. She was an encourager.” A sad smile brightened his face. “She told me I couldn’t quit performing or she’d hunt me down.” His smile fell, as if he was realizing again that Chrissy was gone. She would never again encourage him to stay on stage, using his talents.

When Gerald finished, a silence filled the theater.
Go, daughter … you know what to say … I am with you.

Father, I’m afraid …

I am with you …

What if they don’t listen … what if they laugh …
Bailey’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it above the sound of her shallow breathing. She grabbed a water bottle from her purse and drank down half of it.
I don’t know if I can do this, Lord …

You can do all things through me … because I give you strength, daughter.

It was those words that finally pushed Bailey up and out of her seat. The words on the promise ring she’d given Cody Coleman before he headed off to war. If Cody could lean on that Bible verse as he left for Iraq, she could let them hold her up as she took the stage now, in front of her peers. She swallowed, gripping her Bible and searching for her voice as she moved slowly up the steps and turned to face them. Nothing gave her the right to be here. She had already failed God’s assignment where Chrissy was concerned.

But just as she was about to turn back, run down the stairs and out the building away from their looks and quiet whispers, she remembered the Deuteronomy verse.
When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots and armies bigger than yours …
It was the perfect description of this moment. These people didn’t like her, they didn’t like her God or her background
or her lack of experience. But there was a truth that mattered more than any of that. God was with her.

Bailey stood a little straighter and looked at her castmates, really looked at them. Past the walls of indifference and arrogance and humanism. Deep inside where it mattered, where they were all hurting as much as she was. They had failed Chrissy, same as her, and they needed hope. They all did. The sort of hope only Christ could offer. She breathed in slowly and asked God for the right words, the right tone.

“In the days before Chrissy died … I knew she wasn’t okay.” Bailey worked to speak despite her dry throat. “I saw the pills … I noticed how thin she’d become. And I heard God … ask me to talk to her.”

A couple guys in the middle seats rolled their eyes and looked down at the floor. Bailey pressed on. “I know … that might sound strange to you. But I have to take this chance … I’m not willing to disobey God this time.”

“We don’t need a sermon,” one of the guys at the end of the middle aisle called out to Francesca. He threw his arms in the air, disgusted. “This is Chrissy’s memorial, not church.”

Bailey expected that would be the end of her moment on stage, and that Francesca would hurry her back to her seat. But the director only shook her head, her face masked in a peace that she had never once displayed before this. “Bailey may continue. Keep in mind these are her opinions, her feelings. And she’s entitled to them.” She glanced around the room. “That’s what a memorial is. A chance to share our thoughts and feelings.”

The guy who had shouted out slumped down in his seat, clearly disgusted.

Bailey hesitated, practically paralyzed with fear.
They hate me, God …

When you go to war against your enemies …

The verse played in her mind one more time and she felt herself grow stronger. “Anyway … in honor of Chrissy, I’m starting a Bible study. We’ll meet Friday mornings in the rehearsal space.” She looked at Francesca. “I’ve already secured it.” Her heartbeat was so loud it was distracting. “I’d like permission to hold the first Bible study here … when we’re dismissed … for whomever would like to stay.”

Francesca had the right to say no, and clearly she was considering making such a pronouncement. But instead she stood, her expression slightly favorable. “Tell everyone what you mean, Bailey. A Bible study … what would that look like?”

Adrenaline surged through her … God was moving walls, opening doors. She blinked, trying to stay focused. “No one has to know all that much.” She shrugged. “I don’t know that much.” She held up her Bible. “We can look at Scripture by topic … addiction … loneliness … rejection. Just see what the Bible says and then … you know, talk about it.”

“This is ridiculous.” It was the same guy who had shouted out before. “Francesca, you can’t be serious.”

“You don’t have to attend.” The director’s answer was sharp, pointed. “This is something Bailey wants to do in honor of Chrissy.” She gave a single nod. “I’m going to allow that.”

A burst of sunlight exploded across Bailey’s fearful, anguished soul. God had pushed her up here on stage, and now He had done just what He’d promised. He had delivered her from her enemies. At least for now. She thanked them for listening, and explained that at the end, she’d wait for anyone who wanted to stay.

Francesca closed them with a sweet story about Chrissy, how she had been so nervous her first day with the cast that she had found Francesca and asked for something unconventional, something no other dancer had ever asked for before or since. Francesca’s eyes glistened. “She asked me for a hug.” The director smiled, fighting her tears. “She always got a hug from her mom
on the first day of school … and working here with all of us … it felt like a classroom to Chrissy.” Francesca smiled at Bailey and then at the others. A tear slid down her cheek. “So I hugged her. Like she was my own daughter, I hugged her.” A slight sob shook the director’s composure, and her smile faded. “I will remember that hug … and I will miss her.”

Bailey wondered if Francesca blamed herself for not taking action regarding Chrissy’s anorexia. So far the director hadn’t said anything to Bailey about it, but several times Bailey remembered Francesca’s admonition the day of Chrissy’s death. The girl’s anorexia was being dealt with. Bailey should mind her own business.

Watching Francesca now, Bailey was almost certain the director regretted her attitude that day.

The memorial was over and most of the cast filed out in groups of twos or threes, several of them whispering among themselves. Bailey stayed seated, her eyes on her Bible. They were whispering about her, she was sure. She even heard her name from a few of them as they left. But she didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the fact that not one person was likely to join her in reading the Bible.

They don’t care, God … You had me go out on a limb up there, and for what? Now they’ll never talk to me, and so how does that help them to know You … to feel Your love, Lord?

Daughter, be still and know that I am God.

The answer caught her by surprise. She felt instantly sorry. No matter what happened here in the next hour, even if she stayed in the empty theater by herself, God had a plan. It wasn’t her place to question what He was doing, or why He had prompted her to act. She was only responsible for one thing: obeying His voice. Just when she was sure every last actor had left the theater, she heard the sound of footsteps.

She looked up and saw three girls and Gerald, walking toward
her. They looked nervous and uncertain, but they came anyway. Gerald took the lead. “You’re brave, Bailey …” He looked back at the others. “The truth is, we’re curious. We’ve never read the Bible.”

“That’s okay.” Again Bailey’s heart raced. How could she do this? “We’ll take it slow, for sure.” Her hands shook so hard she wasn’t sure she could read the text. But she opened her Bible anyway. As she did, panic seized her. She had nowhere near enough experience to lead a study like this.
I can’t do it, Lord … I’m not good enough … not smart enough … not—

Obey, daughter … I will meet you here … you will not have to fight this battle.

Peace put its hands on her shoulders and she felt a surreal calm. Like with Chrissy … or when she walked up on stage a few minutes ago … God didn’t call her to be intelligent or wise or particularly gifted. He simply called her. It was a truth she was learning even now.
You can do this, Bailey,
she told herself.
You can obey.

And with that she asked them to follow her on stage. They sat in a circle, cross-legged, and Bailey let them talk first. “Tell me why you stayed … why you’re interested in learning the Bible.”

Each of the girls had a different answer. One of them had come from a family that believed in God, but after her parents’ divorce when she was nine years old, they stopped going to church. “How do I know God is real?”

Bailey nodded. “That’s a great question … we can look at that.”

Another of the girls wanted to know why Chrissy had died, if prayer works. “I heard you pray for her.” The dancer’s eyes were dark with doubt. “What’s the Bible say about that?”

Again Bailey promised they’d take a look at that topic in the coming weeks. Even as she spoke she had no idea how she would deliver on that promise. But between her parents and the Kellers
and the Bible in her hands, God would give her the wisdom, show her how to help build the faith of her peers.

Gerald was last. “I struggle with my sexuality.” He looked embarrassed about the fact.

One of the girls put her hand on his shoulder. “You have a right to be yourself.”

Bailey cringed.
God, I need Your help … how do I help them see the truth without turning them away?

Lean not on your own understanding … I am God.

Okay. Help me do that, Father … help me.
Again peace silenced the fear in her heart. “The Bible talks about that too, Gerald. We’ll look at it a little later, okay?”

“Okay.” He shrugged, still nervous. “Here on Broadway it’s no big deal.” He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Most of the guys are gay. I get that.” His eyes clouded with pain. “But my uncle’s a preacher. He told me being gay’s a sin, and that I could go to hell over this struggle.” He hesitated, slumping a little over his knees. “I guess I want to know if that’s true.”

Bailey gulped, but she didn’t look away, didn’t break eye contact with Gerald. “There are a lot of sin struggles … the Bible talks about that.” The strength in her heart wasn’t from her. “We can look at that too.”

“Let’s look at that today.” Gerald clearly wanted answers. “I mean, my uncle acts like he knows everything. He makes me feel like an outcast. A pariah.”

This was how Christians had fallen under the umbrella of being judgmental and narrow-minded. The idea that one sin could be singled out as the worst, the area God disliked most. She would’ve liked a few minutes with Gerald’s uncle to show him what his comments had wrought on the kindhearted guy sitting in the circle with her.