Jason
Gonzalez lay on his back on the carpeted floor, staring at the clock on
the wall, mentally counting down each tick towards eternity. He repositioned himself slightly and crossed his arms on his chest. What a perfect opportunity. His parents had gone out of town for a few days, leaving him an empty house. It was true he had a ride to church on Sunday, but it was only Friday, and no one would disturb him until then. At least, he hoped so.
Suddenly the phone rang. Startled, he bolted upright and reached for the portable phone sitting on the coffee table. Glancing at the number, he grimaced. Mrs. Waters, a good friend of his mother’s. It would be terribly rude not to answer. He
pressed the Talk button and forced out the little greeting he’d been
taught since childhood. “Gonzalez residence; this is Jason.”
“Well, well, it is Jason! Unfortunately you’re not the person I called for, but what does that matter for the moment? How are you?”
Just the opposite of what he’d hoped: she was in a talkative mood today. “Alright, I guess.” Maybe she would pick up on the fact that he didn’t really want to talk and ask for his mother.
No such luck. “You sang so wonderfully last week with Julie! And you’re getting better all the time at playing that guitar of yours. Do you think you’ll be a famous Christian artist someday?”
“I’m not really sure yet.” Why couldn’t she just leave him alone?
“Well, whatever you do I’m sure you’ll be a good servant for the Lord. Is your mother around?”
Finally! “No, she and Dad are out of town for the weekend.”
“Oh really. That’s too bad. It’s great that they can trust you enough to leave you home alone. Have a wonderful day, Jason dear, and keep living for the Lord!” There was a click as she hung up.
Yeah, it’s great that they can trust me. They’re out of the way. He set the phone down, resumed his previous position, and scrutinized the clock again. 1:00 P.M. Two and a half hours. He remembered a line from a speech he’d had to memorize for English class. To be or not to be, that is the question…whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer…or…to die, to sleep. To gain peace, to escape. Was it Shakespeare? He’d certainly had the right idea, that man. In just a short while it would all be over….
Oh great. Just great. He’d have to leave a note. That was the right way to do things, wasn’t it? What would he say? I just got tired of it all? I couldn’t take the pressure? Tell his parents it wasn’t their fault to ease their feelings of guilt? What would his church think of their brightest young praise and worship leader committing suicide? It was too late to consider that; he had firmly purposed to do it. He sat up and went hunting for a piece of paper. What would Julie say? She had been his girlfriend for three years now. Jason brushed aside the thought. Thinking of her would just make it harder to follow through with this.
The sound of the mailman’s car slowing at the end of the driveway caught his attention. He’d think about it some more while he went to get the mail. Getting up, he headed down the hall to fetch his worn tennis shoes. He slipped them on and yanked the screen door open. It always stuck. What a pain. Jogging down the steps, he tried out different ways to begin the note. Mom and Dad, no, Dear Mom and Dad. I know you’re wondering why.
He reached the mailbox and slid in his hand. Advertisements,
a small package that was probably the book his mom had ordered, an
official-looking envelope addressed to his father, and a few letters. One of them had his name on it. Hmmm. Who would write him a letter? Communication was so much faster with texting and Facebook messages. Probably his grandma. She was old-fashioned and refused any offers of help learning to use technology.
While thinking he’d reached the door again. He shoved it open and, keeping the letter, tossed the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter. He tugged off his shoes and went back to the living room. Settling himself on the couch, he examined the left-hand corner of the envelope. Julie O’Connor. Why on earth would his girlfriend be writing him a letter? Unless… With
a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he slit the flap, pulled out
the single sheet it contained, and commenced reading.
“Dear Jason,” the letter opened, “I’ve been thinking and praying for weeks and talking to my parents about our relationship. And you know recently I went to that girls’ conference. And…I’ve gotten a new perspective on some things. I have to come right out and say it: It’s over with us. This
relationship has not been healthy for either of us and I think we both
need some time to refocus and get right with God before we can even
consider getting back together, if that ever happens. I hope you’ll understand, Jason. Please. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do but I know it’s right. Don’t make it any harder by calling me or trying to reason with me. I’m not going to change my mind. For now we’ve just got to be friends and nothing more.” She signed it in her usual neat script, Julie.
Jason sat still, stunned. So that was how much she cared! Breaking up with him right when he was in the middle of a lot of internal turmoil to start with! She’d had to do it even though she knew it would crush him. At
least she’d come right out and said it though, instead of going on for a
page about how she still liked him and she was sorry. That was one of the things he appreciated about Julie—she cut to the chase, instead of beating around the bush forever. But why couldn’t she have called him—or talked to him personally—or anything! He found some satisfaction in the fact that the paper was blistered with tears. It felt good to know that this was hurting her too, although he wasn’t sure how. His resolve grew deeper—if he was gone, she would never have to be bothered with him again. Then why did he have an insane desire to smash something, to yell in protest? He would be ending things anyway, even if she hadn’t broken up with him. It just deepened the hurt. He glanced at the clock again. 2:10 already? Where had that hour gone? He set aside the letter and got back to writing the note.
~
Coach Russell Emmons had had a frustrating day. Fall,
and soccer season, was approaching fast, and he’d just taken two phone
calls from some of his best players informing him they would be quitting
the team. He sighed, thinking about it, as he locked his office door and headed for his car. Pressing the unlock button on his keys, he climbed into the vehicle and flicked on the CD he’d left in last time. The sound of Casting Crowns filled his ears as he pulled out of the parking lot. “What
if the armies of the Lord/ Picked up and dusted off their swords/ Vowed
to set the captives free/ And not let Satan have one more?”
As he often did when driving alone, Russell mentally started going through his prayer list. Matt Adams, Michael Cook, Jason Gonzalez. He prayed for all his players regularly, particularly for their salvation. Mike had been the most resistant, but lately Matt had been more open. And Jason…. He smiled. Jason,
the leader of the praise team at church, balanced music, academics, and
sports quite well and took a bold stand for right. In fact, Russell realized, he would be passing Jason’s house on the way to his own. He decided to stop in and say hi.
His heart sank as he pulled into an empty driveway. He’d forgotten the Gonzalez’s were out of town. Maybe Jason was still home, though. He decided to knock anyway.
~
Inside, Jason heard the rap on the door. He checked his watch. 2:45. Couldn’t they just leave him in peace? It would make things easier. Reluctantly he got up and made his way to the door. Recognizing his soccer coach, he opened it. “Hey, Coach Russell.”
~
Russell waited patiently on the doorstep. He heard footsteps making their way to the door. Score. Jason was home.
When the door swung open, he was slightly startled by Jason’s edgy tone and refusal to look at him. Where was the confident, cheery young man he knew? Yet Jason was calm and otherwise composed. Perhaps he’d just imagined it. Returning Jason’s greeting, he stepped in and followed him into the kitchen. He took the proffered chair and glass of water and got down to business.
“So Jason, are you planning on trying out again this fall for the team? We could definitely use you.”
“No, Coach, I don’t think so. It’s too much. I’m having a hard time balancing things as it is and this year’s the SAT.” Besides, I won’t be there to play anyway.
“That’s really too bad. But I understand. Don’t ever let sports get in the way of serving the Lord.”
Jason grimaced at the mention of God. That was the last thing he wanted to think of at this point. He sat on his hands to keep from biting his nails in impatience.
His discomfort didn’t escape Russell’s notice. “Jason, is there something else going on that’s bothering you? I noticed you’re a little edgy.”
“No, really, Coach, I’m fine.” Anything to get this guy out of here and off his back.
Russell slipped into confrontation mode. There was something, and now he was sure of it. Jason hadn’t been his usual self for weeks. He couldn’t push the feeling away any more. “Jason, there is something going on, and I know it. Come clean.”
“Fine. Julie broke up with me.” It was the least of Jason’s worries, but it hid the real issue well enough. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.
“And…?” There was more, and Russell knew it. He hoped he didn’t seem insensitive and calloused.
“Look, Coach, why do you care? You’re just a soccer coach, not the solution to my life. I’ll get over her.”
“Get over her? Why Jason, you’d been dating her for three years. I couldn’t throw that out the window in a day. But you’re right; I’m not the solution to your life. Only Christ and His Word can be that. I’m just His messenger sometimes.” He tested a smile.
But Jason had abruptly grown cold. He didn’t know what had gotten into him; everything that had been seething beneath the surface bubbled over. “Don’t give me that! I’ve heard Christ, Christ, Christ all my life! I’m sick and tired of it, Coach! I hate every time I get up there to lead worship because I know they’re just a bunch of hypocrites!” There, he’d said it. Let him try to mess with him now.
Russell looked down at the table, praying for wisdom. There was a paper sitting on top that he hadn’t noticed before. He picked it up and scanned the first few lines. Dear Mom and Dad, I know you’re wondering why… He suddenly realized he was reading Jason’s last words. It hit him like a punch to the stomach.
~
Jason saw what the coach was looking at and snatched it from his hands, but too late. He crushed it between his fingers. There was no way out. Gritting his teeth, he waited.
The tension in Russell’s face softened. Sitting
across from him, he no longer saw a star soccer player, an outstanding
worship leader, a guy who hadn’t been giving his best for the last few
weeks. He saw with compassion—a young man who was desperate, hurting, and needed the very One he was running from. Instead of yelling back, his voice lowered and nearly broke as he thought back nearly twenty-five years….
“Jason,
I used to know a young man whose parents divorced when he was three,
whose dad was an alcoholic, and whose mom blamed the whole mess on his
birth. On the outside, though, he had it made. About to graduate from high school with a 4.0 and a full ride to college. He didn’t need anyone and no one needed him. But on the inside, he was a wreck. And he couldn’t tell anyone. His friends thought he had it together and he didn’t dare let them know otherwise. He was trapped by the very thing that made him successful. He
started wondering what purpose there was to his life, besides running
around in circles trying to climb to the top, like a hamster in a cage. Even the greatest athletes in history age out of sports. And they all die, whether they made it to the top or not. So why climb a pointless hill?”
Russell didn’t give up. “That was me, Jason. I’d reached the bottom and there was nothing else to do but give up and end it all. Except…to look up.”
Jason was still ignoring him. Or so he thought.
“Jason, that was the day I found Christ. I know, that’s the last thing in the world you want to hear right now, but it’s the truth. No matter how far you run from Him, He’s always only one step behind you. You can’t fool Him. He knows exactly what’s going on inside of you, even though you may have me and everyone else faked out. You’re right, Jason. Everything you’ve been doing is empty. But only because it’s apart from Christ! He is the only thing that gives meaning to anything, to your life!”
Russell stopped, out of breath and realizing he’d raised his voice even though he hadn’t intended to. He sat, silent, waiting.
Jason studied the tip of his dirty sock.
Russell could hear the ticking of the clock in the background.
“Coach.” Barely audible, Jason’s voice broke the silence between them. Russell met his eyes, scarcely able to believe what was unfolding before him.
“I need Him.”
The clock above the stove read 3:45.
~
An elderly man was checking his mail. He
could have asked someone else to make the hike down the hill to the
mailbox and up again to the house, but as long as he could walk he was
determined to hang on to his independence. He reached the halfway point, stopped to rest, then kept on. Reaching the bottom of the hill, he opened the mailbox and pulled out the daily paper, bills, and a letter. Probably from his cousin. That was the only person who bothered writing him. Even he used technology most of the time. But the upper left corner of the envelope told a different story. He squinted at the name, trying to recall where he’d heard it before. It definitely sounded familiar. He forced himself to wait until he could sit down in his favorite chair and get his glasses.
Several stops later, he had reached his porch. He hunted about for his glasses, grumbling under his breath. Consequences of growing old. He finally found them, settled into his chair, and slit the envelope. A single sheet of paper floated to his lap.
Dear Coach…
~
An hour later the man stirred. He’d fallen asleep in his chair. As he got up, he nearly dropped the letter he’d been reading. He grabbed it before it drifted to the floor. The signature at the end caught his eye and brought a huge smile to his face. A tear threatened to escape and roll down his cheek.
The letter was signed,
Because the gospel changes everything,
Jason Gonzalez
