Oh My Heart

The right words always present themselves after the moment has passed.

I took a few days off and drove to San Antonio to see my dad this past weekend. We usually just spend our time talking on his back porch, the conversation always and inevitably leading to the farm and everything it entails. Daytime temps are still in the 100° territory (which is stupid hot for mid-September), so I talked my dad into driving out to Kerrville to view the recovery efforts. At least we would be in an air-conditioned car.

It actually looked better than I had expected. Fallen trees and debris still covered some of the river bank in areas, but Kerrville appeared to be in pretty good shape. It did my heart good. The footage from that flash flood last July 4th, the loss of life, the Camp Mystic tragedy, it seemed almost impossible to overcome such devastation. Tragedy always brings people together, even if temporary, at least it’s still possible. Far left, far right, and everyone in between, we Texans cherish our beloved Hill Country.

It was a short trip, and by 3pm we were back on dad’s porch just in time for the heat of the day. I settled in with my Cherry Pepsi, an unusual drink outside of my norm but purchased just for me by my dad’s wife, so, I happily drank it down while dad enjoyed a few beers. I won’t get into specifics, but the topic eventually crash-landed into religion. Dad, already emotional from our lead-up topics, told me all the reasons why he would never worship God, that is, if he believed in God. I quietly listened. I pondered what to say or how to answer his heated questions:

“What kind of an egomaniacal god sends someone to hell for not believing in or worshipping him? Even if someone is a good person who never hurt anyone, they still go to hell? What kind of a god would do that?”

I’m the wrong person to tackle this. I don’t have the right words, the correct explanation, the right scripture, the life-changing wisdom needed to save my dad’s soul. I’m tired and hot and emotionally worn out. What do I say? Help me to say the right thing, Lord, but nothing really came to mind. No profound wisdom, no perfect verse, no bulletproof rebuttal exemplifying and justifying my beliefs—I didn’t have the answers he needed, but I tried to give him something.

“have you ever thought that maybe it’s not about being a good person?” I asked.

His response was immediate.

“Then what’s it about?”

“Faith,” I said.

“In what?”

“Jesus,” I answered.

He laughed. I drank my Cherry Pepsi and lit another cigarette. I failed. I’m no good at this. Another lost opportunity.

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” he finally said. “That’s just how I feel. I will die an atheist.”

“You didn’t offend me,” I said.

And he didn’t. He didn’t offend me, he hurt my heart, but he didn’t offend me.