Little Do We Know(52)

“Yes.”

I answered those questions with tears sliding down my cheeks, because I meant them deep in my soul. I believed with everything I had in me. But now I knew that, while two billion Christians believed it, too, three billion deeply religious people didn’t. To them, Jesus was a man. An important one, a prophet and a messenger, but not the son of God.

Who was right? Were we? Were they?

I knew one thing for certain: the Jesus I invited into my heart that day wouldn’t have wanted us judging one another and fighting about what we believed in.

I wondered how Luke was hearing this sermon. Was it giving him the answers he was looking for? Was it giving him peace?

Aaron stood with his guitar and took his spot on a stool in the center of the stage and started strumming in the background while our pastor wrapped up his sermon. Then he asked us to stand and sing hymn number 454, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

Alyssa leaned into my shoulder. “Logan, Jack, and I are going downtown. Want to come?”

I pictured Luke in the back row, wondering if he was still there or if this whole thing had sent him bolting to the parking lot. He wanted answers, and I wasn’t sure he was finding them in the sermon, but I hoped he’d stick around and talk with Dad when it was over. Luke seemed to want certainty when he showed up at my house, and I was in no position to give it to him. But my dad could. He never seemed to have a shortage of certainty.

“I’ll meet you there. I have something I have to do right after church.” I didn’t mention Luke.

Alyssa said, “Okay, cool,” and then jumped right into the second verse without looking down at her hymnal.

We bowed our heads for the benediction, and as soon as everyone said, “Amen,” the room came to life. People stood and started gathering their things, chatting with one another as they left through the double doors. When the sanctuary was nearly empty, I walked toward Luke.

The hymnal was open on his lap, and he was flipping through the pages, reading the lyrics. I sat down next to him.

“Wow. You, like, really sing,” Luke said. “You’re good.”

“Thanks. The four of us have been together since eighth grade. We perform in different churches and festivals and stuff, and we compete against other youth choirs all over the country.”

“Singing Mumford and Sons songs?”

“Not just Mumford and Sons. Lumineers. Hardwell. Sia.” I stopped there but I could have gone on. “It’s kind of our thing. We take popular songs and sing them to Jesus instead.”

“Seriously?”

I suddenly realized how lame that sounded. “Um, yeah.”

“I just…wow. Okay.” He changed course. “Do you have a CD or something?”

I laughed. “No. But we have a killer website and a YouTube channel with over six thousand subscribers.”

We both looked up at the same time and saw Dad walking down the aisle toward us. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue sweater that made his eyes look even brighter than usual. He held out his hand to Luke. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to meet you. And under much better circumstances this time.”

“I’m glad to be here.” I wasn’t sure if he meant in the church or walking the earth in general. Luke bent the edge of the hymnal back and forth and then stuffed it into the wooden rack on the pew.

Dad sat on Luke’s other side. I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to stay there or leave the two of them alone. I glanced over at my dad for guidance, but he was totally focused on Luke.

“I hope I don’t embarrass you by saying this, Luke, but I caught the expression on your face while SonRise was singing.”

Luke sat up straighter and wrapped his fingers around the edge of the pew. He fixed his gaze on the floor.

“It sounds like your soul has had a bit of an awakening,” Dad said.

Luke nodded.

“That’s a good thing, you know?”

“Is it?”

“I think it’s a wonderful thing. And it’s also kind of a scary thing.” Dad angled his body toward him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Luke didn’t say anything for a long time. “I don’t know how to,” he finally said.

Dad looked at me and tipped his head to the back of the room, and I knew that was my cue to let them talk privately. As quietly as I could, I slid out of the pew and left the sanctuary.

When I got into the foyer, I sat on the bottom step of the staircase that led to the balcony and rested my chin in my hands. I could see the back of Dad’s and Luke’s heads through the big glass window. The rest of the church was empty and quiet.

“Hannah?” Aaron was on the stairs behind me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just needed a quiet place to think for a second.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No, it’s okay.”

He sat down on the step behind me. “You sounded great today.” I felt his hand brush against my shoulder, and I sucked in a breath. I wanted to turn around and look at him, but I was afraid he’d stop touching me, so instead I carefully leaned back until I felt his knee. I reclined into it, and he took the gesture the way I meant it: as permission to keep going. He moved my hair to one side and then slid his thumb across my skin on the back of my neck. Goose bumps traveled up and down my arms.