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Standing on our porch I could just barely see Miller's Ridge. The sun had set, but there was still a faint red glow in the western sky. It was beautiful, but my thoughts were not. They were angry, hurt, confused. Dusk was my favorite time of day, ordinarily. Tonight was different. If there was a breeze I hardly felt it, and I had no desire to go anywhere or see anyone. I wasn't sure when I would ever want to see anyone again. "Kirk, we're cutting the watermelon!" Mom's voice called through the screen door. "No thanks, Mom. I'm not hungry." "Ice cold!' "Maybe later." "Would Darren like some?" "He left." And good riddance, I thought bitterly. I had felt uncomfortable -- actually dirty-when he told me. It was a good thing he had come by after supper; otherwise I couldn't have eaten a bite. I closed my eyes and swallowed. How could it be true? Darren had become my best friend during the four months his family had been in town. There was nothing unusual about the way we met. He came to church and I introduced myself. Since I was on the welcoming committee, it was only part of my job, but Darren really appreciated my friendliness. "It's kind of hard getting acquainted when you're new," he told me after youth group. "Leave that to me," I had replied with a grin. After that I just included him whenever possible and soon discovered how well we got along. We had a lot of the same interests, too, including tennis and golf. When I found out that his family lived only a few blocks from mine, our friendship really took off. I'd pick him up for church or choir practice one week and he'd drive the next. His parents invited me to dinner once and then my folks invited him. Before long we were together most of the time. It seemed only natural that we should both be counselors at junior camp. The main requirement -- other than being a Christian, of course -- was that you be 16 or older. We were both 17. "Thanks for asking me, Kirk," Darren said the first time I mentioned it, "but since I'm going to summer school--" "No, this is after summer school ends," I explained. Apparently he hadn't been listening. "Well, I'm trying to get a job," he replied. "Good luck," I told him. No kidding, there were about 25 applicants for every jobi and if you weren't hired by the middle of June, there was little hope. "Look, they really need counselors bad. I went last year and it was a lot of fun. And wait 'til you see the lake--" "I don't think so,' he interrupted. "I don't get along that well with kids." I frowned. He wasn't making any sense. "What are you talking about? You did a great job coaching that kids' baseball team this spring!" "But that was just on Saturday mornings," he reminded me. "So? Kids are kids, regardless. Look at it this way, man. You could have a chance to lead some kid to Christ up there. We have cabin devotions every night." "I think my folks might be going on vacation that week," Darren answered. "Check and let me know," I requested. When he didn't, I checked myself. His mother had frowned. "Vacation? No, we aren't going until the last week in August. I know it's late, but all the other times were taken before Horace was transferred to this office. I thought Darren knew that." I stared at Miller's Ridge. All traces of sun were gone now and it was just a gray, lifeless mountain again, its moment of glory gone for another day. Why couldn't I have dropped it? Wasn't it obvious from the start that Darren wasn't interested in being a counselor? But I wouldn't take no for an answer, pushing him until he was forced to tell me the truth. I felt betrayed. I didn't want to know, yet I felt he should have told me sooner before our friendship became so tight. We were supposed to be such good buddies, sharing our hopes and dreams and yes, even our secrets. My big secret was that I had been in love with Monica Colby for two years, but hadn't worked up the nerve to do anything about it. Compared to Darren's secret, mine was trivial. But why hadn't I guessed? Of course there was nothing in his speech patterns or mannerisms which gave him away. "That's a stereotype," he told me, his eyes searching mine for understanding. "There's no way anyone can tell by outward appearance. At first I hadn't believed him. I honestly thought he was joking. People joke about it all the time, Christians included. "Sure," I replied, laughing. But he hadn't laughed. or even smiled. "What's the real reason you don't want to be a counselor? Afraid of a few mosquito bites?" "I mean it, Kirk," he said, swallowing. I'm a homosexual." When it became clear that he was serious, I got defensive. "But I thought you were a Christian," I began, feeling funny in the pit of my stomach. This was my, best friend! And he was gay? "I am," he assured me. "Have been for nearly a year." "But then--" "Oh, I see what you mean," he interrupted, nodding. "I'm not a practicing homosexual anymore. Haven't been since I accepted Christ." "Practicing?" I repeated, still dazed. "In other words, I don't commit any homosexual acts," he explained. "And I don't intend to." "So you aren't a fag anymore," I surmised hopefully. "Right?" "Man, I hate that word!" he told me. "I cringe every time I hear it. But you're wrong. I'll always be a homosexual, in the same way that an alcoholic who hasn't had a drink in years is still an alcoholic. It's a condition that a person has to accept and then deal with." "But why can't you be a counselor at camp?" I asked, even though the thought of him being my kid brother's counselor made me sick. "I have to avoid situations that could give me trouble," he said. "That's why I don't take P.E. at school; I have to stay away from the locker room. And if you've ever noticed, I'm already wearing my trunks when we have a swim party. That way I don't have to change with the other guys. Verses like I Corinthians 10:13 really work, but only if you realize what your own weaknesses are. I didn't say anything for a few seconds. It had come as such a shock that I hardly knew what to say. "Man, Darren, it's still hard to believe--" I began finally. "That I've had sexual relations with other guys?" he interrupted, completing a sentence I probably couldn't have. "Well, it's true. Of course I didn't really get into it very much, but I was on my way. If I hadn't accepted Christ there's no telling what would've happened to me. And I'll be honest with you, Kirk. I still have some pretty strong homosexual desires, even if I don't give in to them." He looked at me. "Well, enough of that. How about tennis tonight?" "Tennis" I echoed blankly. Any other night I would've said sure, especially if Darren had asked me. We were evenly matched and he could run me all over the court. But this wasn't any night. "Uh no, I don't think, so. I -- I'm gonna be busy." He smiled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. "Okay. Look, I'd appreciate it if you could keep what we talked about to yourself. You're the only person I've told, except for the pastor at my old church. My folks don't even know." "Believe me, I won't tell a soul," I promised. But it was for mv own protection, not his, I admitted to myself. After all the time Darren and I had spent together I might be found guilty by association. Well, that was going to change, I decided. I wasn't having a homosexual best friend, whether he was "practicing" or not! Why hadn't I suspected something, though, I wondered as I sat alone in the dark. Of course there was nothing unusual about him skipping P.E.; a lot of the guys did that when it was no longer mandatory. And the fact that he hadn't dated didn't necessarily mean anything. I hadn't really dated that much, either. Dad said I was a "late bloomer," just like him. "You still out here, son?" his voice said through the screen door. "Uh huh." "I think there's some watermelon left." "No thanks." I heard the screen door squeak and knew he was coming out to join me. At that point I didn't care. Maybe I had been alone long enough. "Problem?" Dad asked. "Sort of." He sat down next to me. "Want to talk about it"' "No." But suddenly I found myself talking, words spilling out before I could stop them. I didn't mention Darreri's name, of course, or even the subject of homosexuality, but somehow I managed to convey the idea that I felt betrayed by a friend who was guilty of something I found intolerable. "Is he a Christian?" Dad wanted to know. "Yes." "Do you know if he's asked God to forgive him for whatever it is?" "Yeah. He has." "And has he made any attempt to repent?" I thought of somc of the things Darren told me, how he avoided situations where he would be around guys changing clothes and all that, even turning down a chance to be a counselor at junior camp. "I guess so." "Well, it God's forgiven him and he's repented. I recommend that you find it in your heart to forgive him, too," Dad advised. "Sure is a pretty night. Cooled off just right." "Yeah, it has," I agreed. Was that it, I wondered as we sat there. Could it be that the real problem wasn't Darren's homosexuality, which he pretty much had under control, but my inability to forgive him and accept him as a Christian brother? "Okay. what are you going to do about it?" I asked myself. I couldn't just toss aside all mv negative feelings toward abnormal sexual activity, even if some of them were based primarily on ignorance, could I? I remembered the pained but trusting look on Darren's face as he shared his secret. It had to be harder for him than it was for me, a lot harder. "God. help me understand," I prayed before going inside. "In the mood for watermelon, after all, eh"' Dad asked. "Nope," I replied, "Tennis. I wonder if Darren's home."
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