Losing Faith (6 page)

Abel sat with an expression of surprise on his face.

“Furthermore,” Cullen continued. “The recap of the story found in Ezekial 16:49 highlights what I believe is the
real
point of the story. ‘Look, this was the iniquity of your sister Sodom: She and her daughter had pride, fullness of food, and abundance of idleness; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy.’ So in other words, everyone using this story as evidence of the sin of homosexuality, in my opinion, is missing the point entirely.”

Cullen sat down again and looked at Abel.

When their eyes met, Abel said, “Wow, I sure wish I’d had you with me last night.”

“Come on, Abel. You know as well as I do the Bible contradicts itself over and over. For every verse that can be used against homosexuality, there are two verses that dispute that claim or contradict the original verse. Anyone arguing on behalf of or against anything can find all the ammunition they need, all in one place. And in my opinion,” Cullen said, “God wrote the Bible to be an all-inclusive Word that can be interpreted in many different ways. The only problem with that is everyone seems to interpret it to suit their immediate needs.”

“But can’t they say the same about homosexuals?”

Touché!
A reluctant smiled tugged at the corner of Cullen’s mouth. “Sure they can.” Cullen looked out over the water and blinked against the sun reflecting off of the rippling waves. “Two years ago I would have told you that
my
God loves everyone. He made us all the way we are, and no one has the right to judge anyone else for who they are or who they choose to love.”

“And now?” Abel asked.

Cullen stared at a sailboat idling along the river, fighting the current, its large white sails luffing in the light breeze. “I still believe God made us who we are, and I also still believe that none of us have a right to judge another.”

Abel sighed. “But you no longer believe that
your
God loves everyone?”

“No. I guess not.” Cullen looked down into his lap. “But”—he looked at Abel and held up his index finger—“not because of their sexuality or who they love.”

“Why, then?” Abel asked.

“I don’t know why. I told you the first day we met that I wasn’t the best guy to talk to about God. All I know is he seems to have turned his back on me.”

Abel opened his mouth to speak, but Cullen put up a hand to stop him. “But what does all this have to do with you introducing me to that girl as Reverend Kiley last night and then tearing out of here like you weren’t able to get away from me quick enough?”

“Like I said earlier. Pure paranoia.”

“Elaborate,” Cullen ordered.

It appeared Abel was trying to find the right words, so Cullen gave him a minute.

At last Abel spoke. “Well, I’d just spent two hours debating homosexuality, and I’d gotten some pretty angry comments, not to mention the mean and spiteful looks I was getting from a lot of the congregation. And to top it all off, hardly anyone spoke to me after the debate, and I started to think they were somehow seeing me differently. When Courtney followed me and saw the two of us sitting side by side, on a park bench, in the dark, my arm over the back of the bench, I panicked. I didn’t know what she thought or what it looked like to her. But I thought if I introduced you as a reverend, that might squash any suspicions she might have had.”

“Suspicions?” Cullen asked in an attempt to get Abel to actually say the words. “Suspicions of what?”

Abel hesitated again.

“Come on, Abel. Talk to me.”

“Suspicions about me. Us.”

“What do you mean,
us
?” Cullen pointed his finger at Abel and then at himself. “Like in
us
? You and me?”

“I’m sorry. I was really paranoid after the night I’d had, and I know it makes no sense, but I just lost it. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” Cullen forced a smile. “I guess I can see how you made the connection. Not sure I agree with it, but I can at least understand it.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I have more questions.”

“How did I already know that?” Abel’s lips curled into a half smile.

Cullen chuckled. He didn’t really know Abel, and Abel certainly didn’t know Cullen was gay, but Cullen needed to know what Abel thought of homosexuality. This could make or break whatever type of friendship they were developing, and well… he just needed to know.
Choose your words carefully. You’re about to step onto thin ice.
“So. Were you more angry that you had to argue on behalf of homosexuality or that the entire congregation was against it?”

Abel looked like he was contemplating the question. Finally, he said, “I don’t really know the answer to that. I mean… I’ve been taught all my life that homosexuality is a sin and all homosexuals will burn in hell.”

“But in some denominations, so will people who dance or drink alcohol.”

“True,” Abel said. “Mine, to be exact.”

“What do
you
believe, Abel?”

Abel looked like he was about to answer when an elderly lady walked in front of their bench holding a small plastic bag in one hand and her cocker spaniel’s leash in the other. “Pastor Weston?”

Abel jumped to his feet. “Mrs. Whitley. Good morning. So nice to see you out and about this fine Saturday. Hello, Chester.” Abel petted the dog on the head.

“Likewise.”

Mrs. Whitley looked at Cullen and cleared her throat as the dog squatted to the left of the sidewalk and started doing his business.

“Oh, forgive me,” Abel said, apparently unaware of the dog’s grunts. “This is my… my….”

Cullen waited.

“…friend Cull—”

“Reverend Kiley,” Cullen said, cutting Abel off and getting to his feet.

Mrs. Whitley smiled, batted her sparse gray eyelashes, and tucked away the stray silver hairs escaping her bun. “Oh, how nice, a reverend. And I do apologize for Chester. He’s very finicky about where he poops, and this just happens to be his favorite spot.”

Mrs. Whitley opened the plastic bag and attempted to stoop down and pick up Chester’s droppings.

Abel took the plastic bag. “Oh, here. Let me do that.”

She smiled gratefully at Abel and turned to Cullen. “Southern Baptist, I hope?” she asked.

“No. Episcopal, actually,” Cullen said.

The woman’s smiled faded, and her face appeared to harden just a little. “Welcome to Southport, Reverend Kiley. I hope to see you at Sunday service tomorrow morning. Good day, gentlemen.”

Mrs. Whitley straightened her shoulders, left Abel holding the bag of poop, and huffed off, dragging Chester down the sidewalk.

“Good day, Mrs. Whit….” Abel’s voice trailed off when he was sure she could no longer hear him.

“Is this what you deal with on a regular basis?”

Abel nodded and looked around for a trash can. “Day in and day out. In all fairness, not every member of the congregation is like that. But most of the seniors were all raised with fire and brimstone. And to them there is only one Word. One truth.”

“I don’t know why anyone would associate with a church that is so judgmental and not welcoming to everyone and all walks of life.”

Abel walked to the trash can, then glanced over his shoulder. “It’s all I know. I’m a very spiritual person, and the Southern Baptists accepted me as a teenager. When I decided to serve God, doing it in the Southern Baptist Church came naturally. I mean… it was all I knew.”

Cullen decided to let that one go. For now.

Abel tossed the poop bag and came back. He sat down and crossed his leg at the knee. Cullen sat as well. “So where were we?” Abel asked.

Cullen knew exactly where they were. “We were interrupted before you got a chance to answer my question.”

“What question?”

“I asked what
your
thoughts are regarding homosexuality.”

“I already told you how I was raised and what my church believes.”

“If you ask me, I think you’re avoiding the question.”

More silence.

This was suddenly very important to Cullen. He wasn’t going to let it go. “Come on, Abel. What
do
you believe?”

Abel was starting to fidget. His hands were resting in his lap, and he was rubbing them together, over and over. He finally said, “I don’t know what to believe. I mean… I don’t want to believe that homosexuals will burn in hell, and I don’t want to believe God hates them, but I just don’t know. I struggle with this every day, Cullen.”

I struggle with this every day.
The words rang through Cullen’s head over and over.
Why does he struggle with this? Because of his beliefs and his church? Or could Abel be questioning his own sexuality?

Cullen’s thoughts were interrupted when Abel spoke again. “I did some research last night on the Episcopal Church and their beliefs.”

Cullen sat up straight.
Can’t wait to hear this.
“And what did you find out?”

“Well, for starters, back in 1976, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church declared that ‘homosexual persons are children of God who have a full and equal claim with all other persons upon the love, acceptance, and pastoral concern and care of the Church.’ Since then, faithful Episcopalians have been working toward a greater understanding and radical inclusion of all of God’s children. And I know there are gay priests and even gay bishops.”

I’m impressed.
Cullen nodded. “You did do your homework.”

“So your church welcomes everyone with open arms.”

“Yes and no,” Cullen said. “It’s not that simple. And for the record, it’s no longer
my
church. But to clarify, the Episcopal Church welcomes all to worship who have good intentions and pure hearts. We are all sinners, so the church also welcomes people with not so pure hearts, but who are repenting for sins committed. Rehabilitating, so to speak. But everyone—and I mean everyone, no matter who they love—is held to the same clean-living standards. In other words, homosexuals are held to the same standards as heterosexuals. Repenting thieves and doctors alike, all to the same standards. The main mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God. Does that make sense?”

Abel’s face lit up. “Of course it makes sense. It makes perfect sense.” Abel glanced at his watch. “Damn! Where did the time go? I’m so sorry, Cullen. I’ve got ten minutes to get to the church to meet with a bride and groom about their upcoming wedding.”

Abel laid his hand on Cullen’s thigh and then nervously looked down at his hand like he wished he hadn’t done that. But to his credit, he didn’t yank it away. He raised his head until their eyes met. “I know we just met, and I have no idea why, but I haven’t opened up to anyone like this before. You’re just… nonjudgmental and so easy to talk to. Please, don’t go. I really wish you would stay on a little longer.”

Cullen broke their gaze and looked out over the water. He realized Abel had opened up a great deal today, but he was convinced there was more. Maybe, just maybe, if he continued to work with Abel, Cullen might get the entire story. His gut told him Abel was struggling with his sexuality and trying to fit into a church and a religion that had no tolerance for anyone who didn’t fit their predetermined image of a good Christian. And in Cullen’s opinion, if Abel was struggling with his sexuality, he was in a no-win situation.
I can’t leave him high and dry.

When Cullen looked at Abel once more, Abel was watching him with hopeful eyes. The sweetest, most beautiful, hopeful emerald-green eyes he’d ever seen. Cullen didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. “Okay.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Sure. I’ll stay a little longer. Under one condition.”

Abel smiled. “Name it?”

“We continue to talk openly,” Cullen said. “If we’re going to be friends, you need to promise to be completely honest with me.”

Abel’s smile suddenly faded, and he started gnawing on his bottom lip. He appeared to be seriously contemplating Cullen’s condition and what the end result might be. Hesitantly, Abel smiled again and finally whispered, “I promise. But… it’s a two-way street. If I’m gonna be completely honest with you, then I expect the same in return. No more ‘it’s a long story’ as an answer.”

“Fair enough.” Cullen smiled. “Okay, I know you need to go, but why don’t you come to my boat tonight? I’ll prepare dinner, and we can talk more.”

“Okay,” Abel said.

“Dock C. Three-quarters of the way down on the right. The boat’s name is
T-Time
.”

“You a golfer or royalty?”

“Neither. In the T-shirt business.”

Abel stood. “Oh. Got it. What time?”

“Six thirtyish?”

“See you then. Bye, Cullen.”

Abel walked away with a little pep in his step.

“Abel!” Cullen yelled. “Anything you don’t eat?”

Abel looked back over his shoulder. “Nope.”

CULLEN REMAINED
on the park bench long after Abel had left, mesmerized by the way the sun shimmered off of the waves, making the Southport Inlet appear to be an ocean of sparkling Swarovski crystals. It was mildly blinding but beautiful at the same time.

Cullen was stretched out, hands linked behind his head, trying to enjoy the warmth of the fall sunshine, but the word
stupid
kept interrupting his relaxation. Then it hit him.
What did I just agree to? I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping Abel with his life, and now I just agreed to be completely honest with him about mine. You know what that means. Telling him you’re gay, about why you left the church, and the hardest part, opening up about Cole.

“Stupid!” he cursed under his breath.

But in all fairness, how could he expect Abel to be honest with him if he wasn’t honest with Abel? Didn’t a friendship work both ways? Did they have a friendship? Maybe the beginnings of one. But if Cullen hadn’t opened up to anyone about Cole in the last year and a half—or why he’d left the church for that matter—why did he think he was ready to do it now?

After about an hour of figuratively smacking himself on the forehead over and over again for getting himself in this situation, Cullen gave up and left the familiarity of his park bench and the Riverwalk behind. He strolled toward the marina but stopped when he reached North Howe and heard the sound of children’s laughter.