The cynical optimist

He stood at the altar’s edge and ran his fingers over the coarse fabric. His mind raced with thoughts and fears and memories, his eyes moistened with unshed tears as his whole life flashed through his head. Every moment of laughter and tears, of hope and fear, of love and loss, every stupid decision, every life changing event. He closed his eyes.

He turned around.

The church was empty, it was 1 in the morning, he had felt lost and needed guidance so he came here unsure of what he’d find hoping against all odds to hear the voice of a God he long ago stopped believing in. No matter how hard he fought against it his faith would always be a part of him, no matter how silent he felt God always was.

He left the Altar.

He found a pew. He sat down and looked up at the crucifixion. How he longed to believe in a world where a man would die for people he didn’t know, where sinners and saints dined. How different were they really?

“Just tell me what I am doing…Show me a sign anything?!” The man pleaded with the wooden cross. “Prove to me that my life is not wasted, prove to me that there is purpose to all of this? That we are not wandering this earth for nothing!” His quiet plea turned into a righteous cry of anger. His words bounced around the empty church.

There was silence..

Then soft footsteps.

He turned around.

A man stood there peering into the church nervously. He looked weak and worn, his hair long and untamed, his clothes dirty. The man watched in silence.

“Have you come simply to stare?”

“Maybe..” The unkempt man said.

“You should leave.”

“I am not here on accident.” The man said

“Then why have you come?”

“Hope, guidance…a chance?” The man said.

“Then you’ve come to the wrong place.”

“Have I?”

“Yes, there is none of that here…Only cold silence.”

“I disagree…” The man said. “I heard as I was walking into the church the anger of a man who thought it had all been taken from him, love, family, all good things stripped away. Leaving only the fear of a man whose decisions have lead him down a path he can not come back from, the hatred for a lord he is supposed to worship. Then tell me sir, Why do you still wear the clothes of a priest?”

“That was my own question tonight…”

“Maybe instead of questioning whether or not God has abandoned you, you ask youself if you are abandoning Him.”

“I can’t.”

“Abandon Him?”

“Yes.” The priest said.

“Then maybe there is your answer, you cannot leave because you know the truth, you once felt it, but life has worn away that undiluted goodness you felt…you have impacted more people in your lifetime, by your belief alone…and remember father…even priests are allowed to falter sometimes..”

The man walked away in silence leaving the priest to contemplate his words…maybe he had not been there for his own hope, his own guidance but to save a priest who had lost his way…whatever the case was he stood, thanked the crucifix and left. His mind still turbulent, but the storm clearing.