“Of course, it matters, but I thought you would never know. You … you have it all together. Your life is meaningful and career orientated. And you’ve shared countless times how much your work means to you. I … I didn’t want to burden you with my mistake.”
“Your mistake? First of all, there is no singular in this circumstance, we are responsible. Secondly, you may consider this pregnancy a mistake, but I do not. In fact, when I sat in your church on Sunday morning—” He was interrupted by her gasp.
“Yes, I was there, the fool that I am.
“Anyway, as I was saying—when I realized you were carrying our child, conceived in that one stolen night, I began to believe in your God. I actually thanked him for this miracle, until I heard the pastor pray for the safe delivery of Steven’s baby. Your deceit and betrayal hurt deeper than you’ll ever know.” A jagged pain stabbed in. He decided to leave before saying something he’d regret.
Anna carefully lowered her heavy body onto the couch and placed her hands over her face. Soft sobs filled the room.
“I’m going now. I’ll give you time to process. But I want you to know that I intend to be a father to our child, even if you don’t want me in your life.”
He walked toward the door. “This is not goodbye, Anna.”
Matt’s words had deservedly crushed Anna’s heart. She was a phony and a fraud, and she was pained beyond measure that her Christian witness had damaged Matt. Regret washed over her like acid rain eating into her soul. How had she allowed one lie feed into a million more?
That conversation with Rita flooded in. Day after day Anna knew Rita had prayed for disclosure, for freedom, for a softened heart. Rita’s work was done. Anna’s world, now shaken and turned upside down by invisible hands, left little room for anything but the truth.
Anna gave into the sorrow. It grew from the pit of her stomach and flowered in her throat. Great wrenching sobs worked up and out, as she crumbled in a ball upon the couch. She wanted to lay down and never get up. Had it not been for a persistent kick in her side that reminded her there was a reason to live, she would have given room for her depressive thoughts.
What have I done? If I thought my initial sin was hard to confess, what is everyone going to think now, after months of half-truths and outright lies?
There was only one person in the world she could talk to about this. After a good cry, she picked herself up off the couch and headed to the nursing home. She didn’t care if she arrived with blotchy makeup and red-rimmed eyes.
Huge tears rolled down Anna’s face the minute she closed the door to Rita’s room.
Rita motioned her over and hugged her close. “There, there, child, you’ll be all right. Talk to me, my dear, and together we’ll pray this through.”
Anna tried to speak through sobs and hitches. Bit by bit she revealed the story from beginning to end. Not once did Rita cringe, cluck in dismay, or show any form of condemnation. She nodded and kept a hold of Anna’s hand with an occasional squeeze.
When all was exposed, Rita bowed her head in prayer. “Lord, I ask only one thing, give Anna the courage she needs to do this your way.”
“Now you pray, Anna.” she encouraged.
Anna hadn’t been able to pray for months. Her scattered version of “please, God don’t let the world find out I’m a liar” had hit the ceiling and bounced right back to her.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’ve messed up my life and hurt others by first my disobedience and then lies to cover my shame. Forgive me … forgive me, Father.”
As she prayed, Anna felt weight roll off her shoulders. The concrete brick of sin crumbled. Laughter spilled from her lips with tears mingled in the mix.
“Oh, Rita, how am I going to make this right without hurting so many people?”
Rita pulled her close and hung on for a long moment. When she drew back she admitted. “Confession doesn’t necessarily eliminate pain or hurt, but it’s always God’s way. Ask for forgiveness where forgiveness is needed, and leave the healing to the Lord.
“What you need to know is who you hurt the most, and work the list back from there. Do you understand what I’m encouraging?”
Anna thought for a moment. Different people flashed on the pages of her mind, her children, her sister, the pastor and his wife, her in-laws, the church body.
“The person you’ve wronged the most, dear child, is God! David said it best after his scandal with Bathsheba in Psalms 51:4. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight. And what he meant is that God was the most important relationship to set right, first and foremost. You’ve done that by your repentance today.
“Then secondly, the world would say you need to forgive yourself—”
“But, Rita, how can I ever forgive myself after what I’ve done?”
“My child, you can’t—that’s my point.” Rita smoothed her weathered hand gently down Anna’s face and rubbed a stream of tears away. “You don’t and can’t forgive yourself, that’s God’s job. Jesus died on the cross, so we know that work is finished. You have to accept God’s forgiveness, and that’s the hard part.
“You see, my dear, I know from experience. I, too, have a past that only God can forgive, and it took me years to let him. Don’t make my mistake. Don’t allow your soul to stay tied in knots because you somehow think you have to forgive yourself. If you don’t accept his forgiveness, you’ll never be able to accept his love. The two work together.”
Rita’s words rang true. Anna attempted a smile as she threw her arms around the old soul and hugged tight.
“I love you.”
“There, there dear child …
