The Wanderer for Wonderwhat (part one)

(Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17)

That fateful day…

He pressed open the door, and held it open for his wife and children as they walked outside. The air was warm, a stark difference from the cool of the air-conditioned atmosphere of the building. They said nothing as they walked, and the Wanderer looked at the ground as he moved toward their car. He watched the gravel of the parking lot pass under his feet. He stopped, and watched his family; his wife with four children underfoot as they moved through the parked cars toward the old blue station wagon that had hauled them to this place so many, many times.
The Wanderer turned and looked back at the church building, and knew he would never come back again.


Twenty minutes earlier:
“All I’m saying is, I don’t think I can go along with this in good conscience.”
“Go along?” the Preacher repeated the words back to him as though he had caught him in a crime. “Go along with God’s Word? Go along with Truth? What do you mean?”
The Wanderer could see where this was going. The tenor of the Preacher’s voice had changed; his smile had receded back into a thin line on his face. Truth, and God’s Word were the leverage points the Preacher used to shift his weight against the Wanderer.
“I want Truth…I love God’s Word.” He thought. Already, he could feel the struggle; feel the pressure to conform. Then he looked at the Preacher’s face, and saw in his eyes that familiar look of an elevated man, who considered himself the right hand of God, whose arguments were flawless because the Spirit inspired them.
It was then and there that the Wanderer suddenly woke up.
He had been struggling to awaken for months, maybe years, he wasn’t sure. He had heard voices, and strained to focus through bleary eyes; tried to fix his thoughts on his surroundings. Then, with a start, he was alert.
“No, this isn’t a question of God’s Word, or His truth. What I question is your truth, and what you are calling God’s Word. I’m not so sure you’re right, and I just don’t think I can keep going in the direction this church is going. Not in good conscience, at least.” The Wanderer could barely believe what he’d just heard himself say. There was a thrill in the pit of his stomach, and he struggled with all his will to stop his hands from shaking, or eyes from watering.
“Well what have you been doing here all these years, if you haven’t been hearing from God? It just shows how stupid you are, for sitting under my teaching for so long if you don’t believe it’s God’s Word.” The Preacher said through his teeth.
“Sitting under your teaching.” The Wanderer thought. “That’s a good description, isn’t it? Where’d we get that phrase?” Yet it seemed accurate to him. He could feel the aching in his bones from it now. He felt the crushing weight of sitting under this man’s teaching. He was weary from it.
“You’re so right.” Said the Wanderer, never leaving the Preacher’s eyes. “That does make me rather stupid. The good news is, I still can learn.”