It Is Finished
It was a frantic morning of ridiculous reaching out, an episode made possible only in the age of google, in which I tried to reach a farmer in upstate New York. I had found, randomly, online comments by a man who claimed a beloved Christian writer had tried to molest him thirty years before. The writer is now dead and this man must be in his 70s, yet the wound was still very raw, and in his description I heard my own cries to be understood. I have not been molested, but I was married to a man who works in church leadership. He's written books on church worship and travels the world as a speaker. Churches sing his songs of praise to Jesus. This Easter Sunday, he'll stand in front of a congregation and lead them to the throne room of the Lord. He left me with a $1900 medical bill for our diabetic son after having sought advice on a legal loophole that would absolve him. He told our teenaged boys I cheated on him (I hadn't). He left me with a $272 insurance bill for our