We wake up the next day, sore and stiff from being in the tree and sleeping on the ground. We scavenge for some berries. It's not a big breakfast, but it'll have to do. We've got a long walk ahead of us. There's not even a farmhouse in sight.
Charlie seems odd. He's not as talkative as he normally is, but I guess that's understandable, considering the circumstances.
"You okay?" I ask.
"It's Sunday," Charlie says.
"Oh, yeah. I guess it is," I say. Charlie still seems upset about it, "Is this the first Sunday you've ever missed?" I ask.
"No," he says.
"How many have you missed?"
"I don't know..."
"What was the last one you missed?" From my experience (which isn't that great), churchy people know how many times they've missed, when they missed, and (if you're lucky) the reason why they weren't there. It's funny.
"You know, I didn't use to go to church," Charlie says.
"When did you start?"
"It was a week after they started chasing me. Before then, I'd had opportunities to, but I didn't go. I hadn't really thought much about Him before then. I didn't really think that God had done anything for me, so why should I go to church for Him." I raised my eyebrows at him. I thought that one of his foster parents would have made him go to church. But his thoughts seemed to mirror mine.
"Why'd you go?" I ask.
"Well, I had eaten barely anything in that week," Charlie says, "And I thought about how they had communion at church, you know, with the bread and the wine..." It was hard to hear Charlie say this. It reminded me of the first week I was on the run, back when I was that desperate. I didn't like thinking about Charlie like that.
"Anyway," Charlie continued, "I went to a church service. Didn't really listen that much, though. Fellowship was the best. Where they have the homemade cookies and pies. Then I went to one church, where I had to wait through Sunday School before Fellowship. I still didn't pay attention. But, you know me and books. I started flipping through the Bible. I came across a bible verse that really spoke to me," he pulled a piece of crinkly, water-stained paper out of his pocket.
"It was 2 Corinthians 4:8-9. 'We have troubles all around us, but we are not defeated. We do not know what to do, but we do not give up the hope of living. We are persecuted, but God does not leave us. We are hurt sometimes, but we are not destroyed,'" Charlie read, but he didn't seem to need the piece of paper, "God spoke to me that day and I realized that God had done a lot for me. He'd breathed life into me. He had protected me from Them. Without Him, I wouldn't be alive. I owed him my life."
"Wow," I say. Charlie's given me a lot to think about.
"When I grow up, I want to give my life back to God. I'm going to be a pastor. Or a missionary. Or both." I nodded and we walked on in silence. Maybe Charlie was right. But what about all those theories? Evolution, and stuff? What about those?
Gender:
Points: 1147
Reviews: 374