The length of this man’s employment at the church is absurd.  One of the reasons he got fired is because this particular church is dwindling in numbers and choking to death, financially speaking.  The other, more significant reason for his being let go is due to his extremely high turnover.  That is to say, the kids he was discipling in the youth group loved him dearly, saw him as a father, felt like they could trust him, looked to him for guidance, treasured his input; but they never heard “No,” which was something most of them really needed.  Of the names I recognized, only one of the people who has signed the petition still attends church regularly and has a bona fide relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ.

While the commentary is endearing, it shocks and amuses me that the people making the comments do not appear to realize that they are one of the many symptoms leading up to the termination of this man’s employment.  It has really been fascinating to watch the list grow, inspiring some amazingly ignorant protests.  Are some of the signatures resulting from guilt? Obligation? Or is it just something to whine about?

A few of the man’s children have signed it.  That really concerns me because this silly petition is dividing the church.  Granted, this is a church I have not attended in years and have no intention of attending in the future, but I do not want to see any church divided for any reason.  All this abrupt change in the former youth pastor’s life, and now this petition has created a proverbial uproar that is serving only to further perpetuate the man’s pain, not to mention the negative image some may have of him.  To put it bluntly, the well-meaning individual responsible for said petition has ended up hurting the man she set out to help.

The man is being blamed for the petition; every time a new person signs it, his image is damaged a little further.  Though there are forces at work to prevent this man’s being associated with the petition, the damage is done.  He will not be welcomed back to his former position, and now a part of the congregation may not be willing to welcome him back at all.

I guess my point is that people should really be careful when sticking their respective fingers where they don’t belong.  I have no idea whether the people responsible for this drama will ever read this, but I hope they realize what they have initiated.

Being a veteran of that youth group, I cannot say I disagree with the board’s decision to let him go.  I would not consider myself a fan of the way things were handled, but this event was, in the end, long overdue.  I am sorry for the way things worked out, but I feel that prayer, God’s guidance, and time will heal the hurting of all these different people.

With all due respect to the author and supporters of this particular petition, I hope the fallout from this event will help them to reconsider the next time they feel the need to declare their pointed opposition.

fifty dimples in the

beige ceiling tile in the

far corner of my cold

lips, chapped, longing for a—

just one, need one; right now 

windowed office, door closed.

wall clock ticks, wristwatch ticks—

unsynchronized; discord.

my fingers drum.  sixteen

hours since my last defeat;

trying; failing, always

letters on my scotch tape

dispenser: “corporate

express.” my knees spasm,

my feet, neck eyes cannot

stop—succumb; always just

one sweet relief: silence.

concentrate.  my square jaw

tears at a pathetic

excuse for chewing gum.

insignificant, useless

efforts to end my bad

habit; never ending.

like my secretary,

who bought it; left it on

my ugly desk with a

note and a smile.  the next

five minutes feel like hours—

can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t quit

day, it was a box of

patches, for my arms, chest:

“discreet,” she says.  “easy,”

“totally convenient,”

for anyone else, not

for me; I need the real

“it says so on the box,”

she tells me, naïve and

maddeningly hopeful.

I don’t need these stupid

things; they satisfy, calm.

glorious fixation—

substitutes; they can’t

pacify my hunger.

an undying urge to

scream, snap—all consuming

like freedom: an escape.

I only need just one

rage, edginess compels

me to give in; noises

too loud, harsh: misery.

I get up, give up my

last battle, surrender

comes—finally, at last.

mediocre efforts;

I make my way downstairs—

outside: liberating

warmth.  I light up, just one

more failure: another

defeat—exhale, blow smoke.

for now, another at

noon—before lunch, after

lunch, as soon as I’m off.

I’ll try harder next time.

…put it on my tombstone.

Author’s Note:  This piece has been published in the 2009 edition of the Paradise Review, and is not to be copied, borrowed from, or redistributed by anyone at any time.