Several seconds ticked by as Ben appeared to process his statement. “God never left you alone.” Ben spoke with calm certainty. “I understand why you felt that way, but sometimes our feelings are liars. Think about everything you’ve been through since your mom’s death, but try to think about it differently. Instead of remembering how alone you were, try to remember how alone you weren’t.”

“Like when?”

“Did God give you a good social worker? Did He provide foster parents who tried their best to be there for you?”

Sebastian grimaced.

“Was God with you in that basement in El Salvador? Did He hold up a wall in order to defend you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did He open every single door for you so that you could attend college and medical school free of charge?”

“That’s enough. I get the point.”

“Then try it,” Ben said. “Try remembering through that lens.”

Frustrated, Sebastian rubbed his forehead.

“I can’t count the number of people who’ve tried to convince you to let them in,” Ben said. “You pushed them all away. Then you turned around and blamed God for your aloneness.”

Ben’s words cut through to the center of him with such accuracy that he couldn’t move.

The cars dashing past on the freeway became moving smudges of color as he forced himself to do what Ben had challenged him to do. To confront his history.

After the earthquake, God had given him the best gift Sebastian had ever received—the Colemans. A thousand times, God had shown Himself to Sebastian through their commitment, words, and love.

The day Sebastian wrecked his car, God had brought Leah into his life.

God had been there during every surgery Sebastian performed, faithfully healing the sickest children again and again and again.

In case he needed additional proof of God’s nearness, here was Ben, beside him today in this cemetery. Inarguable proof that even now, God hadn’t deserted him.

Sebastian could powerfully sense God in this moment. But it could be that God had been with him in all the moments.

Some of the events of his life had been bad. But some had been amazingly good. If he could roll with the blessings God had extended to him, why had it been so impossible for him to roll with the hard?

Because he’d taken his mother’s death as evidence that God either wasn’t sovereign, wasn’t good, wasn’t powerful, or wasn’t involved.

Could he accept a more complex truth? That the God who’d let his mother die was still sovereign, good, powerful, and involved?

If he could accept that, then he could quit trying so incredibly hard to protect himself all the time.

He was tired. . . .

He was so very tired of protecting himself.

Ben knelt and placed his palm on the gravestone. He bent his head to pray.