Behind The Closed Doors

Chase carefully navigated his car into the parking space and threw the gearshift into park as he glanced down at the LED clock just above the radio, which was still playing music off the bluetooth link to his phone.

10:41

He was later than he'd wanted to be, but considering he'd overslept that morning it could've been worse. Ever since his dream on Tuesday he hadn't been sleeping well, or at least not consistently. He found that he was up several times in the middle of the night, often unable to go back to sleep for a couple hours.

It had left him groggy and irritable throughout the day. Thursday he'd actually snapped at kindly Mrs. Hoffman, the little old lady who lived across the hall in number six. She often joined him for a drink of coffee and liked to see the things he'd been working on in the week. However, when she'd knocked on his door, he merely yelled out, startling her and sending him into a guilty spiral for the rest of the day.

He'd gotten her a fruit basket and rose with an apology card the following day, but she didn't come to the door when he rang. Chase figured she was probably home as her aging Lincoln was still in her spot, but he still hadn't seen her since. More angry with himself than anything he'd left the basket and went back to work for the day.

Still, the fruit basket was gone Saturday morning, and he took that as a good sign.

Shaking his head to clear his mind of his past few days, he got out of the car and began to head towards the double doors. Half-way across the parking lot he could already hear the music playing, muffled by the outer walls but nevertheless recognizable. He double his pace, feeling the cool March morning air rush past him, blowing his shirt around a little.

Chase jogged the final twenty feet to the front doors, and tugged them open. He was more than a little disheartened to see that the foyer was already deserted, not a living soul in sight.

Empty styrofoam cups and small stirring straws were everywhere near the couches and chairs provided for people until the central door were opened for service. Sighing, Chase picked up a small trashcan and began moving from chair to chair, cleaning up after the mess before tables and carpet began to collect stains. He figured the church likely had someone who did this sort of thing, but he didn't like leaving messes for someone else to clean.

After the lobby looked at least a little better, Chase head up the stairs towards the loft, where it was easier to enter late without causing a small scene or being the subject of stares and whispers. As he opened the door slowly and carefully, he could hear the music winding down as the pastor began speaking, his voice amplified by the speakers hidden along the walls and floors. Chase mentally berated himself for his tardiness.

It wasn't that he didn't like the pastor's messages, but he hated missing the music. Maybe it had to do with being an artist himself, but the music always spoke to him more completely than the sermon itself did. Somehow the music made it easier to connect to God, and the sermon always seemed more like a lecture or a lesson, which was fine in it's own right. Still, he always liked the music better, but the music always stopped by 10:42, and Chase had missed his shot.

He quietly berated himself while finding a seat he could take among the wooden pews. As he found a place and sat down next to an elderly man he didn't recognize, the man glanced over at him. This man was likely in his mid-seventies and dressed in a beige suit with a pressed white shirt beneath it.

As Chase made eye contact with the man, he saw the old man's nose wrinkled in disgust as he took in Chase's appearance. As he sat down, Chase glanced down at himself. He had showered and cleaned himself the previous night before bed, and all his clothes were freshly laundered; so he shouldn't stink. However, as he considered his clothes, he glanced up and down the pew, and then the rest of the loft.

While the rest of the loft boasted fine, expensive suits and dresses, he was wearing a pair of jeans and an open button-up over a t-shirt with a band logo on it. It wasn't the first time he'd been judged because of his clothes and it likely wouldn't be the last, but the fact that it came from a church congregation still stung. After all, weren't they supposed to be accepting regardless of past or appearance?

However, he said none of this, just sat back against the pew and mentally argued with himself again.

The pastor went through his message, teaching about the value of determination through bible verses, but Chase couldn't stop his mind from wondering. It didn't help that he could still somehow feel the disapproval of the man next to him, as if Chase was personally wronging the man somehow through his state of dress.

Still, he did his best to listen and after the altar call, he pastor raised his hands to dismiss them, and the worship team played them out to the chorus of Holy, Holy, Holy. Those around him gathered their belongings and began to head for the doors, but Chase stayed behind, listening to the music practically in a trace. As he heard the worship leader sing the words, he let them echo as a prayer in his head.

He watched as the worship leader, who was a young man only a couple years younger than Chase was himself, had his eyes closed as he strummed his acoustic guitar giving praise to God with abandon, as if he weren't on a stage at all, only play for his LORD. It made Chase smile to himself, for the first time in days.

He sat watching the worship team play so long that when the band stopped and he glanced up, only a small handful of the church attendees were still present. However, one of them was a deacon that Chase had talked to a handful of times, and probably the man he felt most comfortable talking to. Straightening his shirt collar a little, Chase rushed down the stairs, slightly a little on the slick souls of his casual shoes.

He saw deacon Travis talking quietly with the worship leader at the pulpit. Chase couldn't hear exactly what they were saying but the conversation was extremely animated, with both gesturing angrily at one another. Without realizing it, Chase found himself creeping closer to them, straining to hear some of this hushed argument.

"I don't see why we can't allow a few extra minutes to…"

"I told you," said the deacon, with the exasperated air of a parent to a child. "Pastor Alexander wants to have a dependable time-slot for the attendees to count on. If he plans for a sermon to start at 10:42 and we don't start until 11:03, that's an extra 21 minutes everyone is late leaving, which can set back everyone's plans."

"This is ridiculous!" hissed the young man. "You want me to stick to a strict timetable, small budget and expect professional results. You're tell me to run a mile right after you shoot me in the foot."

"Yes," said Travis. "We're asking you to be professional. You were hired as a professional."

Chase had heard all he cared to hear. Travis was not the man who could lead him to an honest conversation about God, not if he was attacking someone over something as trivial as a timetable. He slowly backed away, traveling the direction he'd just come and instead heading for the pastor's office, which he knew to be in the east wing of the building.

The pastor himself should hear about what was happening between his teams and if Chase was going to get some help with his sleeping issues it might as well be from the pastor if he deacons were struggling so much. He knocked three times on a dark oak door and was told to enter. He did so, sliding the door closed behind him.

"Ah hello," said the pastor, pausing a moment before adding. "Charles right?"

"Chase," he corrected the man, trying not to take it personally. "I actually wanted to talk to you about an argument I overheard. I was staying after the service and happened to hear deacon Travis arguing with your worship leader."

"Oh yes," said pastor Alexander. "Leo… is he causing trouble again?"

The pastor clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Well," said Chase awkwardly. "I don't think it's that so much. I think he just feels that some of what is being asked of him is unreasonable."

Instead of the concern of worry Chase expected to see, he saw only slight bemusement on the pastor's face. The man chuckled slightly, as if Chase had told a somewhat amusing joke.

"I'll have a talk with Leo, this is going too far now."

"Well sir—pastor," Chase corrected himself quickly. "I think perhaps if you could talk and listen to what Leo's trying to say…"

The man held up a hand, cutting him off.

"I understand your concern Chester, truly I do. However, this is a matter that should really be handled by our teams. I appreciate what you've brought to my attention, but trust me, we have the matter well in hand."

There was nothing more for it, and Chase knew when he was being dismissed. Trying his best not to snap or argue with the man, he stood up and exited the office, fuming silently. He'd never talked at any great length with pastor Alexander before but he'd never thought the man to be so unreasonable. Granted he didn't really know Leo personally, but what he was asking didn't seem like anything that couldn't be handled calmly or even considered.

After all, he was the lead musician, so why was it unreasonable to think that he could let the spirit of God lead the music? Sure it could mean that the starting time for the sermon was a little off, but were people really booking themselves that tight on a Sunday? Even if they were, that seemed more like a personal issue that meant maybe that would have to leave before everything was finished, rather than the church's responsibility to bend to them.

Chase walked out the double doors into the parking lot and sat down on one of the benches provided by the church, putting in his earbuds and hitting the music app on his phone to try and release some of his tension and anger. It didn't help much.

What made matters worse was around half-an-hour later when Leo came storming out, his guitar strapped to his back with a single, long tear trailing down his face. Chase almost called out to him, but mastered the urge when he recognized the look in Leo's face. It wasn't exactly hard, because Chase had seen that look in the mirror a number of times before when he'd been expecting a big gig that didn't work out.

Leo had just been fired by the church as their music director. Chase let the thought run through his mind twice, trying to see if anything changed. It didn't. He realized that his hands were shaking and his blood was pounding in his ears, he was so angry. When had his church become this way: obsessed with time and money constraints over delivering the message of God?

Leo had been right; this was ridiculous.

So instead of talking to the pastor or the deacon, Chase put his hands in his pockets, and fished out his keys, preparing for what he knew would be yet another rough night.