Cornerstone

            Sunday came around and there were buses waiting outside the library parking lot to take students to church. Dozens of kids boarded the buses, but I wasn’t one to follow suit. There is something about faith that is very personal; it’s a time between you and God. I walked past the convoy and to my car. I started it up and drove to a church that Berkley buses don’t go to. I knew it was a contemporary church and that it had a live band, rather than a traditional church with a choir that only sings hymnals.

            I pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. I could feel the vibration from the drums rocking the ground from the outside. The music started to fade out and suddenly it was silent. I stood outside for a minute and smoked a cigarette. Then, I heard a familiar chord that was being played on the piano. It was Jonathan and Lisa Moore’s “I Need Thee.” A tear struck my eye as I heard the lyrics.

            The last time I heard the song was in 2007. I just got out of a praise & worship concert where the pair was performing. The concert was called Souled Out Live. This was their closing song. Emotions were high and the Spirit was there in the room. After the concert, I received a phone call from a family friend.

            “Hello?”

            Silence.

            “Hello?” I said again.

            “Ma-Mason? It-Its Lori,” her voice cracking.

            “Hey, what’s wrong Lori?” I replied.

            She began to cry. “It’s James. He’s been in an accident. I’m so sorry Mason.” More silence and then a gulp, “He’s gone.”

            I was sitting in the passenger seat next to my mom. Tears began to stream down my face, my hands became numb, and my chest began to sting. I couldn’t let out a cry or a noise. Suddenly, I yelled for my mom and fell into my chair. We sat in the parking lot for thirty minutes until she decided it was time to leave.

James had been riding with his Dad and sister and pulled up to a red light. When they came to a stop, he unbuckled his seat belt from the backseat to change the song on the radio. That’s when a car, whose driver wasn’t paying attention, rear-ended them causing their SUV to flip over. James was ejected out of the vehicle. His father and sister climbed out of the vehicle and were calling out for him. They searched everywhere for him until finally his sister walked around and noticed his arm out from under the vehicle. It had landed on top of him.

When we arrived home, I ran straight into my dad’s arms and cried.

            “Daddy, I love you so much.” I said.

            “I love you too, son.” he said, squeezing me tightly.

            “Why did He have to take him, dad?”

            He couldn’t answer. How could he? How do you explain to your child (or anyone) the reason God took his best friend? There were no answers and there was never going to be an answer. I snapped into reality. I was back in the parking lot. The greeters saw me and began to approach me to invite me inside. I got back into my car and drove away. I wiped the tears dripping from my eyes.

            I felt abandoned. Lost. Punished, then and now.

            I drove for about an hour in the opposite direction of town. It’s six in the evening and I have to be back at school to check-in at seven, but being back isn’t a priority right now. My head is in a million different places and I decide to pull over. The sun is sitting on top of the Earth a little ways away. The birds are mourning and the breeze is whistling through the air; time seems to slow. I get out of the car and light a cigarette. As I scan across the horizon, I see a church just across a set of train tracks; there’s music coming from it. I put out my cigarette and walk over to the church, angrily. I didn’t know what I was doing by walking into a church with anger in my heart, maybe to show up God in some way?

            It was another contemporary service, I can tell by the thundering pounds of the drums. I sneak inside and slide into a pew in the back. I recognize the song they’re playing from when I was a part of my church’s youth group. It’s Hillsong’s Cornerstone - a powerful song. The bass hits my chest as my face begins to relax and emotions begin to overtake me. Then the lead vocalist sings the chorus:

Christ Alone,

Cornerstone!

Weak made strong, in the Savior’s love

Through the storm, he is Lord

Lord of all!

            The stage accent-lights turn on row by row, emulating a sunrise. There is a slight fog forming from the air conditioning. The song begins to build in sound and tears begin to stream down my face. I lift up my hands and cry out to God. The pain from losing James never healed, nor did I receive closure from his death. I couldn’t do anything, but hide my pain. Then, something came over me and I began to feel hopeful. A strange adjective for what I was feeling, I know, but I don’t know any other way to describe it. Where was this hope coming from and what was I hopeful about? Perhaps, I knew that God had a plan and was in control of the situation. Or, possibly, it was false hope to fill the void I was feeling? I brushed it off and checked my watch.

            It was 6:45; I was going to be late - very late - for check-in. I left the service, got into my car, and drove the hour back to school. I was fucked, I knew that, but I was okay with it. Missing check-in isn’t a huge deal, but when you don’t sign out and proceed to go off campus, it becomes a big deal. I pull into the parking lot of the Hoffman Center (our gymnasium equivalent to ones you find on private college campuses) and walk through the tunnel up to school. My dorm is about a seven-minute walk. I reached the duty office and turn around the corner, preparing myself to be bitched out. It turns out check-in got moved back to 8! Was this just a coincidence or was God looking out for me? I still hesitated to give credit to Christ, so I convinced myself that it was by the grace of Mrs. Mars, not God.

            I open the door to my room and Tayn is playing Zombies. After a quick “hello,” I flop on my bed to fall asleep.

            Then the text comes in…