A Brilliant White (the Gospel According to Gill)

2018... the Maplewood hollow trilogy

The Gospel according to Gill

There is a longer, darker night ahead.

-a friend

And the dust returns to the Earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

-ecclesiastes 12:7

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Years ago, Gill Pearce called himself a man of faith. For twenty-five years, now forty-one, he was devout in every sense of the word. He'd always taken issue with the peculiarities of the church and the occupants there-in, but figured man always had a unique way of tarnishing that which was meant to be good.

He never could put his finger on when it started to deteriorate. His once habitual chasing of God, was now more of a sluggish, unguided walk. A person can't perceive the graduality of his or her own spirituality wandering like a rogue planet slowly adrift in the firmament. You just wake up one morning realizing something's off, and then, mourn internally for weeks on end because you can't regain what you once had. You desperately desire and pray for its return, but can never seem to bridge that gap. There came a time where he thought now I lay me was better than the schlock he seemed to conjure.

He knew there had to be other people with this feeling, this spiritual solitude that'd been plaguing him, but the ones willing to stare that ecclesiastical monster in the eyes are far and few between. The immense wasteland where God had once tread was now something cavernous and empty, something needing much more than having scriptures tossed about. Maybe there were no answers. Maybe it was apathy. Maybe it was just day to day life getting in the way. He felt he was too far down that blackened path to ever cry out in the pitch that surrounded him.

Besides Sara's dad, believers always had the capability of giving very hollow advice. Advice rooted in sound doctrine according to the church, but at that very moment, utterly useless to the advisee. He never understood why someone would throw out blanket statements regarding problems such as these. It seemed as though they were programmed to do so.

Sara, his late spouse, never knew about his struggles. He chose not to tell her, because she had her own battles in this department. Knowing she looked up to him where faith and spirituality was concerned, it was a very difficult position for him to be in. She would always smile and gracefully dominate a Christian conversation, but she was burned out, totally apathetic, nevertheless existing in that painful state.

He would oftentimes find himself smiling awkwardly when he heard that painfully awkward Sunday jargon such as let go, and let God, among other heaps of stomach churning, superficial rubbish

One time, about four months before Sara disappeared, Ms. Pritchard told him to "have a mountain top experience." Sara squeezed Gill's hand, knowing it made him cringe. It made him feel like christianity was a cartoon full of witty one liners, and he couldn't claw his way out of that cesspool he was associated with quick enough. He could only close his eyes and nod in disbelief. It was a holy, open-handed slap to the head. They giggled for days, and used that phrase at very inopportune times for about a week, especially when one knew the other was going to need to use the bathroom.

Maybe that's what happens when you're force-fed christianity all your life: It turns stale and bland, but you eat it anyway, because it's what you're used to - what's safe.