Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(77)

Matt’s eyes focus on a spot on the desk. “We all start off thinking that way. Like, when we’re really little we like the attention and the prestige or whatever. It’s nice to always have people going out of their way to make your life easy. Giving you extra cards or presents on your birthday, taking interest in your life or how you’re doing in sports, or whatever.”

“But,” he continues, “we grow up some and realize it’s not about us. No one gives a shit,” he whispers. “It’s about getting close to the pastor, so they think they can touch God or something. That’s not everyone,” he’s quick to add. “But that’s not the only thing…”

I shift in my seat, tucking my knees into my chest. I still have my lip ring in, so I suck on it. “What do you mean?”

Matt sighs. “I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do,” I challenge.

“Fine. This isn’t for everyone, I guess, but…home life isn’t… It’s not church life, let’s just say.” The muscles in his forearms flex as he makes a fist and relaxes it.

“I thought Sunday people and Monday people were a secular Christian thing,” I tease softly and think about the old women in my church at home who sing with the best of them on Sunday and gossip like old biddies in their offices come Monday.

That Wendy Sawyer shouldn’t be lobbying for that cause…

Matt’s mouth twitches into a grin, but it falls away as quickly as it came. “In church we’re this family. This God-fearing, Jesus-loving family that prays together and worships together. That uses God to get through anything together.”

“And at home?” I question in a near-whisper.

“At home it was me and my mom and my two sisters, getting through life while my father attended to the spiritual and emotional needs of the congregation. The ones God asked him to serve.” Matt looks up at me with the eyes of a six-year-old. “He was never home. We might see him for breakfast if we were lucky, never for lunch, and rarely for dinner. He did important work, I get that…I do. But he missed a lot of football games and dance recitals. He’d make sure he was there for the important stuff, like holidays and birthdays, but…he was never really available.”

“Past tense?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“You said was never home. Attended to the spiritual needs…”

Matt licks his lips. “Then came the best part of having a pastor-parent,” he says with thick sarcasm. “Burnout.”

Burnout. I think about all the ways I’ve heard that word used in my life. I think about workaholics and students and even athletes, when thinking about my stepdad’s work. “He burnt himself out in the gym,” Dan would say while shaking his head at the MRI images of a college basketball player’s knees. Also, I think about drug addicts.

“Turns out,” Matt shrugs, “pastors are humans too. They can’t guide the needs of the community without ignoring those of their families or, especially, their own. Eventually there aren’t enough hours at the end of the day or days left at the end of the month. If they feel the burnout coming, some will turn to alcohol…or worse. If they don’t, sometimes their kids will.”

“Are you kidding? Of all the people in the world I’d think immune to drug and alcohol use, it’d be pastors’ kids. I mean…right?”

Matt chuckles darkly. “That’s perfect. See? You’re the most cynical person I’ve met here, and even you think we’re squeaky clean.”

“I never said that. I just assumed your secrets and dark spots were in your relationship with God, or your belief at all. What happened to your dad?”

“Everything.” His eyes drift far away. “Look, I don’t want to get into it right this second. This isn’t about me.”

I tilt my head to the side and put my hand on his forearm. He doesn’t flinch. “Isn’t it? Isn’t that why you dragged me in here? To tell me this part of your story and why you don’t, I guess, want it to be a part of mine.”

Finally, Matt pulls his arm from under my hand and stands. “I’m happy you got to eighteen without any of this crap, Kennedy. But now? Now you’ve got to dive in with both feet. You’re basically the daughter of the King of Modern Evangelical Christianity.”

“There’s that hero worship,” I tease half-heartedly as I stand.

Matt holds out his hands. “We’re all imperfect. We all fall short. There was one perfect man who ever walked this Earth. The trick is, it was God, so…the rest of us are screwed.”

Matt Wells is officially the most complicated kid I’ve met—not just at Carter, but in my entire life. It’s clear to me now that he did come from a devout family, what with his in-depth biblical knowledge and all. But it’s also clear he’s got something bigger brewing in him.

“If I knew how to pray the right way, I’d pray with you right now,” I blurt out in unguarded honesty.

In an apparent unguarded moment of his own, Matt pulls me into a tight hug. “You’ve got a big chance here, Kennedy,” he says, pulling back slightly. “The word is out now. Everyone is going to want a piece of you and your thoughts. Like it or not, you’re a PK now and I hate to break it to you, but we’re counting on you. To stand up for us.”