Lament for a Lost Family

Frustration hangs heavy in the air as I cry and beg and plead into the telephone, seeking understanding, seeking to simply be heard.

"We love you," he repeats again, even as he tells me that my opinion, my understanding, my years of study, mean nothing. "You're still welcome here."

The unspoken hangs heavy on my heart, "but your ideas are not."

I think of all that I am about to walk away from and the invitation sounds so good. What I wouldn't give to just pretend all this never happened. To just go back to the way things were. Before.

But the lie will still be there. It will still be told. And they will still expect me to be a part of the telling.

Again, I ask him to simply hear me. "So if I understand correctly, you think it's more than simply..." I choke out between tears, praying all the while for clarity.

"Yes," comes the answer.

"Then how do you explain..." I wonder aloud, seeking to put the pieces together, to see if I can reconcile what he's saying with what I know.

A pause on the other end. Is it possible that he's really going to answer? Did he really hear me this time? "I feel like you tricked me into that one."

It seems he still assumes that I'm just trying to pick a fight. Nothing could be farther from the truth! I want nothing more than for us to be on the same side on this. He's already accused me of "splitting hairs," "making a big deal out of nothing," and a few other choice phrases, each one more acidic than the last.

I understand how hard it is when someone challenges long-held beliefs. But aren't we supposed to test our understanding against the Word? Isn't that how we learn and grow? Maybe he thinks he has nothing more to learn. Apparently he assumes I have nothing I could possibly teach.

"I don't see the point in arguing this with you," he says. So much for love.

We go back and forth and nothing more is settled. He still has no explanation. He still answers none of my questions. He still thinks it's not worth his time to go into it.

"What does your husband think of all this?" he asks.

My hand trembles as I pass the phone over. I can see now that there will be no reconciliation here. I let the tears wash over me. Now that I don't need to worry about them muffling my voice beyond audibility, I can just let them come.

The conversation continues, my husband taking my place and attempting to reason. I hold little hope for it now. The hour is getting late and eventually they wrap things up. Still unsettled.

He hangs up the phone and leans over to put his arm around me. The decision has been made. We won't be going back. How can we?

We get ready for bed and turn out the lights. Still the tears flow. My mind is still racing, trying to see a way out of this seemingly inevitable conclusion. In my head I go through all that has been said over the past few weeks, searching for some way to make the two ideas mesh. Searching for some way for this to be okay.

After a few hours, when it's apparent that I won't be getting any actual sleep anyway, I get up and quietly leave the room. At least I can let my husband get some rest.

All through the night I weep, my heart breaking anew at the thought of all the friends, so dearly loved, that we must now leave behind.

I comb through scriptures, seeking balance, seeking reconciliation, but the only wisdom I find on this is confirmation of what I already knew to be true.

I pray for hours, begging God to show me a way to stay, pleading for some sort of escape clause that would let this stand. Certain my Father's heart must also be breaking, I seek His wisdom. And all I can think, all that comes to me, over and over, is two simple words. "Truth matters."

I cry for those who will hear, and believe, this lie. I cry for all of those who have heard it and whose assurance, whose security, have broken under the weight of it. I plead with God to not let that happen to those I love. I beg Him to guard them against it.

The curtains begin to grow lighter and I hear the alarm clock ringing from the bedside table. Unsure how I can still have anything inside me to cry out, I continue to dab at my eyes, willing the tears to stop.

I know that I have to somehow put this behind me. I have to have the courage to turn the page and move on. I know that such courage is more than I possess and ask God to supply the balance out of His unending supply. I rest secure in the knowledge that He will strengthen me for the days, weeks, months ahead.

But for now, it's a new day.

The past is past.

What's said is said.

What I believe stands unchanged.

What I know remains.

And Truth matters.