Chapter 41

Raindrops pummeled the windshield as Hawthorne flipped the wipers to a higher setting, trying to see the dark road before him.

The GPS on his phone, propped up in the dashboard holder, reported he still had ten minutes to drive before he'd reach the fairgrounds. And even when he'd arrive, he wouldn't know where to find Rebekah. The fairgrounds were massive. It could take hours to find her.

Especially if Butch had…

His heart lurched into his throat, seeming to jam it so he could barely breathe.

No. His mistake couldn't lead to that. Not Rebekah…dying.

But the possibility was all too realistic in this scenario he'd let unfold. All because he wanted to make sure he didn't lose the freedom he'd sacrificed so much to gain. Handy thing that protecting Rebekah's freedom meant he didn't have to give up any of his hard-won autonomy.

Distant thunder rumbled as he had to stop for a red light. Frustration rose inside him. Everything in him told him to run the light, but he couldn't risk being delayed even more by a well-meaning cop.

The pause gave him a moment in which his own thoughts circled back, their echo reaching his consciousness.

Freedom he'd sacrificed so much to gain. Hard-won autonomy.

Had he sacrificed anything for his freedom? Sure, he'd left his parents and family. Had to venture into life at a young age and make his way alone. Didn't have anyone to support him through trials or celebrate his victories.

But that was all exactly what he'd wanted. He hadn't wanted to stay with parents who chose to pursue their own best life at the expense of the well-being of their own children.

Oh, no.Dismay exploded in a cold rush that coursed through Hawthorne's torso. He'd become his parents. Or maybe he'd always been that way. Far more like his parents than he'd recognized.

The realization cut him to the core. He'd made a god out of freedom—his freedom, his wants, his desires. And his love of independence and freedom had only grown since he'd left the cult. He never even got involved at any church, excusing his lack of engagement with the fact he'd be moving on again. But was all the traveling really just a way to keep his life the way he wanted it? Under his control, independent, and free of relationships that would mean he'd have to sacrifice his own desires for someone else?

For the first time, the truth of how he'd been living became clear. And jolted him like he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning. Because it was wrong. Dead wrong. Sinful.

He had even tried to excuse his avoidance of relationships by claiming he'd been called to singleness. That might be true, but being chosen to live as a single person didn't mean he wasn't supposed to be in non-romantic relationships.

And he couldn't know if God meant him to be single the rest of his days. It only seemed that way because he was still single. And, most of all, because he'd always wanted to stay single. The very idea of being married made him claustrophobic.

He didn't want to belong to anyone, be owned by someone, be obligated to someone. That would give the person so much control over how he could live.

He wouldn't be a slave to anyone. Not after the cult.

Wasn't it good to want freedom? After all, one of Hawthorne's favorite Bible passages—one he'd memorized when he'd first become a Christian—said, For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.

Another foggier memory rushed forward, as if awakened by the retrieval of that verse from the storage vault of his mind. Chaplain Terry had shown Hawthorne other passages about freedom and slavery, too. There was one Hawthorne hadn't liked the sound of, but he couldn't recall why.

Hawthorne kept his gaze on the wet road as he tapped his phone's screen to wake it up. "Find the Bible verse about being slaves of sin."

The computerized voice of the phone answered within a few seconds. "But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. Romans chapter six, verses seventeen through nineteen."

Slaves of righteousness? He'd forgotten the Bible used that language to speak of what it meant to be a Christian, to follow Christ. Because it wasn't just following Him, was it? It was also belonging to Christ.

The computerized voice startled Hawthorne as it spoke again. "But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. Romans chapter six, verse twenty-two."

Slaves of God. The phrase reminded Hawthorne of something Terry had tried to teach him at the beginning of his Christian walk. There'd been so much to learn and try to comprehend, this truth must've gotten lost. Probably because it was the part Hawthorne hadn't wanted to hear.

And part of him still didn't want to hear it. But he'd grown enough as a Christian for ten years to know he had to accept everything God said in His Word, not pick and choose only the parts he liked.

His preferences were still driven by sinful desires so much of the time. He wanted to be his own master, to do only what made him happy. Like his parents. And like Adam and Eve, the first sinners in the Garden of Eden.

Hawthorne wanted to be in charge. When he'd been pushing people away, fearing they'd jeopardize his ability to control his life and do what he wanted, he'd also been setting a boundary for God. In essence, he'd been telling God there were lines He couldn't cross. Parts of Hawthorne and his life that he wanted to keep just as they were, under his own control.

But Christianity didn't work like that. Life didn't work like that.

Whether or not Hawthorne liked it, God was in full control of Hawthorne's life. No matter how many boundaries he set, trying to keep God out of it.

Conviction settled heavily and uncomfortably in Hawthorne's gut.

"I'm so sorry, Lord. I got so focused on myself, I didn't realize how selfish I'd become. Didn't see I'd made an idol out of my idea of freedom."

The other verse Hawthorne had loved enough to memorize sprang to his mind.

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

That passage was still true, too. No matter how much Hawthorne thought he was free once he escaped the cult, he'd been a slave of Satan and sin.

Until Christ set him free. To be a slave to Jesus Christ instead, yes. But only in Christ could true freedom be found.

Hawthorne knew that, but he hadn't lived it. Without recognizing it, he'd voluntarily submitted himself again to a yoke of slavery like his favorite verse said. That slavery was his selfishness.

His desire for freedom became the top priority dictating all his choices, making him reject Jazz and keep his sister at arm's length. He'd become a slave to his own desires for freedom and doing whatever he wanted. Which ironically meant he wasn't free at all.

"Please forgive me, Lord. And show me how to live out the freedom I have in you, the freedom to reject my selfishness and choose to serve you instead. The freedom to be in relationships and sacrifice my own desires for others. Remind me how much better it is to be a slave of Christ, living in obedience to You, than to be a slave to my own selfishness."

He knew from the promises of Scripture and his own experience that living for Christ instead of himself would yield much greater happiness and joy than the selfishness he'd been living for in recent years.

But what about the people he'd hurt along the way, thanks to his bullheaded focus on his own wants and his fear of relationships? Like Jazz. The memory of the hurt in her eyes stung like a stab wound in his chest.

She would probably never forgive him, even enough to let him be her friend. He'd completely destroyed any possibility of telling her about Christ, too. Why would she want to listen to him about God when he'd been such a pathetic example of how a Christian should live?

The voice of the GPS told him to take another turn. Good thing, since he'd been too preoccupied to notice the intersection he should've recognized coming up.

Rebekah was the one who might pay the biggest price for Hawthorne's mistakes. But with the reminder that he needed to serve God, not himself, Hawthorne was ready to do anything for his sister.

He only hoped he wasn't too late.