Page 45 of Divine Temptations

He wasn’t here to say goodbye.

He was here to say something.

Brother Thomas sputtered into his mic, voice low and tight. “Brother Ethan, shouldn’t you be at the youth camp? I thought you were… ”

Ethan didn’t even slow his stride. Just glared. One of those sharp, soul-deep, don’t-fuck-with-me stares that said more than a thousand sermons ever could.

Brother Thomas stepped aside like he’d been shoved by the Holy Ghost himself.

Ethan climbed the steps and stood behind the pulpit, placing his hands on either side of it like he was steadying himself. Or maybe preparing to shake the walls with truth.

He didn’t open a Bible. Didn’t look down at notes. His gaze swept across us all, then he commenced speaking.

“God is love.”

His voice was calm. Clear. Strong.

“And if we don’t understand what that means, then we don’t understand God at all.”

Silence.

No one moved. Not a cough, not a whisper. Not even a fake church sneeze.

“Love isn’t a threat. It’s not a test. It’s not something to be earned with pain or shame or silence. Love doesn’t demand sacrifice. It demands honesty. Compassion. Connection.”

My throat went tight. My heart was pounding.

“God’s love doesn’t come with fine print or escape clauses. It’s not reserved for people who follow a script, or who perform the right way. God’s love is enormous. Messy. Infinite. And it includes all of us.”

I could see tears in his eyes now. But he didn’t break. He glowed. Like every word was setting him more and more free.

“I spent so long trying to be what this place wanted. I twisted myself into knots, trying to be the man you expected, hoping that I’d be enough. But I was always enough. Not because of this place. But because God made me to love.”

He looked right at me.

Dead center. Bullseye. Like I was the only one in that sanctuary.

“And God gave me you, Jake.”

My breath caught.

He turned back to the crowd, voice trembling now, but not with fear. With feeling.

“He gave me someone brave enough to love me, even when I couldn’t love myself. Someone who held up a mirror and said, ‘Look. Look who you really are.’”

Tears slid down my cheeks, and I didn’t care who saw. And then he said my name out loud, into the mic, like a gospel chorus.

“I love you, Jake,” Ethan said. “More than life itself. Jake, come up here.”

My legs moved before my brain caught up. My boots echoed on the floor as I stood, climbed the steps, and walked toward him.

Heart hammering. Hands shaking.

He reached for me the second I was within range, pulling me into the pulpit like I belonged there. Like this was our altar now.

He looked into my eyes and said, voice thick with emotion, “God doesn’t make mistakes. And loving you has been the most holy thing I’ve ever done.”

Then he kissed me.