The Weight of Words Unsaid

I called myself a Christian long before I became a “believer.”  Back then, I doubted most of the fundamentals of Christianity, but I believed in Jesus and that seemed like enough.

During some of that time, my brother Thom was alive and still the greatest friend I ever had.  He called himself an atheist, but he was also a reasonable man and even though I never shared the Gospel with him, I expected he’d come to his senses eventually.  After all, we were young and when you are young, life is long.

Then he caught a disease that occurs so rarely that it never rated a catchy nickname like Lupus or Legionnaires.  It was tough, this disease; it worked on him like an aging prizefighter.  No flashy razzle-dazzle, just an efficient relentless beating until Thom grew so weak even the cure would kill him.