Back in the cabin I opened the Bible again to Matthew, reading the prayer one more time before deciding it was now or never. I opened my mouth and shut it again.

I feel stupid doing this. I’m not going to talk out loud; I’d feel like an idiot. I feel stupid doing this at all. Even talking in my head isn’t too much better than talking out loud.

Just do it already what are you waiting for?

Okay, yeah, just do it. Okay Deep breath. God? I think I want this, although I don’t really know how to qualify what “this” is. I want what Grace has, and Greg. It makes sense, in some weird way. I think in right. I’m not entirely sure, but Im pretty sure. So … what do I do?

Just ask.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to ask for.

Jesus.

The thought was amusing. It sounded like ordering off a menu. I’ll have the Jesus, please. I smiled in spite of myself.

But then it made sense, the things in the New Testament about receiving Christ and having Him with you, and I realized that that’s what you were supposed to do—to get Jesus.

Okay. I want Jesus. I want whatever it is He can give me. I thought of the image of Him in Revelation, the burning eyes and the sword, His intensity and strength. It still roused a mild sense of fear. I didn’t want Him to know what I had done, and in a painful realization it occurred to me that He already did. I feared His response to my … my sin. The word seemed to fit better now than it had the first time I’d used it.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out of my mouth before I had time to think about not saying them. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”