Why I Can't Rule The World

No. 16

"Godly sorrow is a gift of the Spirit.
It is a deep realization that our actions
have offended our Father & our God.
It is the sharp & keen awareness that our behavior
caused the Savior, He who knew no sin, even the greatest of all,
to endure agony & suffering."
--Ezra Taft Benson

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[] November []

    The weekend passed, which consisted of me worrying about my date with Alivia and wondering about my faith. All morning on Sunday, I was so close to leaving the house. As soon as I was about to walk out the door, my father caught me.

    "Fletcher, what are you doing up so early? On a Sunday?"

    I froze with my hand on the handle, not wanting to turn around so I could tell him. Last week when I went, he actually called me while I was there and scolded me for going. I desperately wanted to go, to see Alivia again, to feel my heart be filled by the message I knew I needed to hear.

    It was strange thinking that something I couldn't see could satisfy me, but God did. I was beginning to learn how it happened inside me and now saw the difference between a Christian's attitude and the world's. Honestly, the world terrified me, and I didn't want to become like it.

    For a split second before I turned to face my father, I considered running out the door. Something made me stay, though. For one, I knew I should respect my father for the sake of my relationship with him. Another was Pearl. I really should consider bringing her with me, since she didn't seem keen on the idea of me leaving her alone at the house at any time really.

    "I... Um..." Slowly, I turned around, well aware that my hands were shaking. I never remember being afraid of my dad, but for some reason, I was scared then. Like he'd crush all belief within me and I'd have nothing left.

    "Speak up," he grumbled.

    "I wanted to... I wanted--" I started, thinking about how to word it. My hands shifted behind my back, hiding the small Bible from him. I needed it. I feared he would take it from me.

    "No use in lying to me," he huffed, crossing his arms over his plain t-shirt.

    "I know, I know," I sighed. "I just wanted to go to church?"

    It came out more like a question, and I hated that for some reason. It made me feel vulnerable, more open about everything.

    "I forbid it," he immediately replied. His voice was even, which set me even more on edge.

    "Please? Just one time--"

    "No Fletcher!" he exclaimed, walking toward me. I stepped away from him, feeling my back being pressed against the door.

    "Why?" I instantly asked. It wasn't accusing or something to try and trip him up, like we sometimes did to each other during our disagreements. It was simply a question.

    For a moment, he hesitated, staring me in the eyes and searching my expression. He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, sighing. He didn't know what to say to me, and for a brief moment I felt like I was winning.

    "Why?" I repeated, more quietly.

    "You are my son," he said, "and I am trying to protect you from those hypocritical people."

    The words should've been comforting, but they were the complete opposite. They sounded cold, and dark. A chill went up my spine and I wondered if he was right.