Ryan is on fire for the Lord. We’re sixteen, and it's the
dawn of the new millennium. We meet in our community theatre's production of The
King and I. Ryan is tall and gels the front
of his hair. He used to be home schooled, but now he goes to public school,
which is full of sin but is also a good place for spreading the Word. Ryan
carries around two books with him at all times: a pocket-sized NIV New
Testament and a graph paper notebook where he writes memory verses and
inspiring song lyrics. He plays the guitar. I, as it happens, love boys who
play the guitar.
Doing community theatre isn't really about acting. It isn't
about lights in your eyes or the thrill of applause. It's about the secret
space that surrounds the play: unsupervised downtime. We spend most of this
downtime in the parking lot behind the theatre. No one is up to anything, and
yet, we are up to everything.
Where else, in a town like ours, can you wear a ball gown and sit in the
dark with the boy you like, hoping his knee will touch yours and he'll tell you
the sensitive secrets of his soul? It’s a misplaced prom dream for the meek and
lowly.
In real life, I am chubby and awkward with the requisite
braces and glasses and hair that really shouldn't have been cut into "the
Rachel." But when we perform, I’m wearing contacts and mascara. Surely
Ryan has noticed. Two weeks ago after practice he called me his "sister in
Christ" and kissed my forehead. I can't let go of the feeling of his
Chapstick-perfect lips on my skin.
On the night of dress rehearsal I follow Ryan to the hill
behind the parking lot. It used to be a dirt pile where the law firm next door
was going to expand, but they changed plans and grass grew over the dirt.
Tonight, I can feel the universe pulsing. The night sky spreads out overhead,
full of promise.
"Look at all those stars," Ryan says.
"I know. They're so bright."
"Jesus said, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever
follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.' Isn't
that comforting? If we follow Christ, we can have that light."
"Mmm..."
I scoot a little closer to him on the hill. He leans back,
staring up at the sky.
"Jesus makes it sound so easy, following him,"
Ryan says. "But it's not. It's really hard."
"I think you do a good job."
"You don't know that. You're so pure. I wish I could be
like you."
"Can I help?" I inch my hand closer to his, but he
raises his arms behind his head.
"Pray for me. That’ll help."
"I will,” I promise.
Then the stage manager throws the backstage door open and
hisses into the darkness for all the chorus members to hurry the hell up or
we’ll miss our cue.
Before opening night, Ryan leads the cast in prayer. I try
to stand beside him as we all join hands, but I end up beside weird Mark with
his sweaty palms.
"Dear God, I just thank you for bringing us here today.
We give you all the glory, God. We just pray that everyone tonight remembers
their lines, God. That you bless us, God, and be with us as we share your love
with this audience. In your Son's holy name we pray, Amen."
"Amen."
The show goes awesomely. At intermission, I try to get
Ryan’s attention, but he’s deep in conversation with his friend Brandon. I sit
in the backstage hallway and pretend to read a book Ryan lent me called I
Kissed Dating Goodbye. When Mark comes and
asks me what's wrong, I sigh and say,
"Nothing. I just feel like being alone."
The next night, Ryan asks me if I want to go to Bible study
with him after the show.
"This group is like my family," Ryan says.
"They're spiritual warriors."
I call my mom to ask. This is practically my first
date.
Ryan drives a bright yellow 4Runner because his mom wants
him visible to reckless drivers. It is the best car I've ever seen, and now I'm
in the front seat as we pull up to the house where the Bible study is in full
swing.
We slip in as a skinny guy is giving his testimony. Tears
stain his face and his body quivers as he shouts at us to banish impure
thoughts from our minds. Every time we lust after a member of the opposite sex,
every time we wish to do things only meant for holy matrimony, we are letting
the devil tighten his grip on us. We are letting the devil in.
Ryan is nodding his head. When the skinny guy sits down,
Ryan pulls out his guitar and leads everyone in song. "Over the mountains
and the sea, your river runs with love for me, and I will open up my heart and
let the healer set me free. I could sing of your love forever...I could sing of
your love forever..."
Soon everyone is crying and repeating the lines of the
chorus. The guitar music stops, and it's just our tortured voices, singing to
the God who loves us and hates our sin.
As the group disperses for the night, a blonde girl in
lowrise jeans and a pink American Eagle polo approaches Ryan and compliments
him on his guitar playing.
"You were just, like, so full of the spirit," she
says.
"Thanks, Abby. You're my sister in Christ," he
says. He kisses her on the forehead and asks if she needs a ride home.
I sit in the back seat of the 4Runner. Abby is chatting
about the latest Newsboys album. I lean against the car window. The night sky
is foggy and polluted with the light of the world. I can't see a single star, but I keep looking.
Photograph by: Jaemin Riley
Written by: Dot Dannenberg
