Your Servant is Listening Lord, So Speak
“The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, and debauchery.” Lucas’s fingers froze mid-turn as he read the familiar words that engraved themselves into his thoughts. His hand hovered over the next page, but he didn’t dare turn it. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the passage as if it was an instruction manual for a life that felt increasingly foreign to him—a life he could only hope to forget. The priest’s voice reverberated through the mass gathering with authoritativeness laced behind his words. “And if your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”
Stilled, yet shaken, Lucas’s stomach clenched at the severity of the words. His heart pounded as he tried to focus on the creased pages of the Bible in his hands. He could feel the eyes of the congregation burn into the back of his neck, as if they knew—just like he knew, that the things he did weren’t right. The words spoken by the priest, whose smiling gaze seemed to ponder on Lucas, cut through the thick air like a serrated blade. Words he was taught to take as the ultimate truth to lay as a foundation for his life. Yet, in a secluded region of his heart, Lucas was a heap of sin. It crept in like an intruder that bonded his soul to a chain—the weight of the Bible in his hands—and there was no way of escaping it.
As if on cue, the church’s pianist played a daunting tone that echoed faintly in the background, amplifying the priest’s doomful words that wrapped around Lucas like a dark cloud. Yet, he forced himself to listen intently. He knew the scriptures, all about the wages of sin and what one should do to live a righteous life, but what if he was incapable of this? What if who he was, what he did in private, went against all the beatitudes of life? There weren’t many things prohibited on such a small island like Nassau, but as a ‘Christian nation’, Lucas knew within himself that his feelings were despised amongst many. As if his lifestyle was blasphemy in itself.
The idea of being an outcast once more, or worse, disowned by his father, plagued him like a swarm of locusts. He was suddenly reminded of the words in the bible, “the acts of the flesh are obvious.” Was that true then? Was that what he was? A product of worldly desires that had to be ‘gouged out’ of everyone’s lives.
Lucas closed the Bible with a sharp snap, trying to steady his breathing, but everything felt unbearable. The priest’s sermon, the Bible, the old lady’s grunts of agreement beside him—it all pressed on him like a concrete mixer, suffocating him.
“Lucas?” The young male felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. There was his father, a disgruntled look on his slightly wrinkled face, staring back at him like all the other unyielding gazes of the church. “What’s the matter with you?”
What was the matter with him? Lucas had an idea. His very existence was a flaw in the Almighty Lord’s grand design. “Nothing,” said Lucas as the music swelled again, the B-flat key resonating through the air while he sat there with tension dancing around in his body. “It’s the cold air from the AC vent above us.”
His father didn’t look the least bit convinced, but he seemed to accept his excuse anyway. There were more significant things to pay attention to like the oversized lady running around screaming “FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!” and the tone-deaf sopranos walking on stage to sing Hail Mary: Gentle Woman for the third time that morning. The worship felt like a cruel joke. A place where people came to belong, but all he could feel was isolation, the desperate need to escape his own skin.
Lucas’s gaze flicked back to Father Simon, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed. The priest was staring back at him—no smile this time, but an intense gaze. It made Lucas’s breath hitch, his heart pounding in his chest. Yet, through all the commotion, Lucas remained torn between the life he was meant to live and the life he secretly indulged in. He wondered, ‘did it make sense to be in church with his father? To pretend? Would they forgive him for something that he couldn’t change, that was embroidered into who he was? Or was he too far gone for forgiveness?’
The choir reached a crescendo, their voices rising in a final plea to Mary, but all Lucas could hear now was the sound of his own heartbeat, thumping in his ears, louder than any hymn or prayer. He stood awkwardly, following the crowd to the altar as they started communion, each step heavier than the next. He knew what this central act of worship meant, a claim to the body and blood of Christ. But he wondered if it was all a lie—a facade he had to maintain for whatever salvation the Lord promised them.
When it was his turn, he approached the altar slowly, feeling more and more unsteady as the priest’s gaze met his. He couldn’t stand it, feeling like he was being watched under a microscope by the priest who vowed to unravel the truth buried inside him. “Father,” Lucas said under his breath, trying to will himself out of his own thoughts. Father Simon’s hand hovered over the chalice; his expression unreadable as he looked down at Lucas. The air between them felt thick, like it was charged with something unspeakable.
“Body of Christ,” Father Simon said softly, his voice just above a whisper. The words felt like a knife to Lucas’s chest, not because they were sacred, but because of how they were said. As if the priest was offering something far more dangerous than communion. Lucas swallowed hard, his throat dry as he took the wafer from Father Simon’s hand. For a second, his fingers brushed against the priest’s, sending a jolt through him. It was odd, but no one seemed to notice the tension, not even his father.
Yet, Lucas’s mind traced back to their brief interaction a few days ago. Father Simon had stopped him outside the church, his hand briefly resting on Lucas’s arm as he inquired about him joining bible study. It was innocent enough—at least it seemed that way at the time—but after today, it seemed as though there was something more behind the priest’s gaze. Or was he just imagining it? He tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than the priest being kind and doing his job. But deep down, a small part of him wasn’t so sure. And that part, the part of him that was beginning to stir, unsettled him more than he would’ve liked to admit.
Now, the chalice, filled with dark wine, was being passed down, the scent of it rich and sharp looming in the cold air. “This is the Blood of Christ. Let his covenant be fulfilled and nourish our bodies,” Father Simon said, his voice low and clear, reverberating through the hollowed church. The words were sacred, yes, but they felt different now. They felt like something more than just an offering, a challenge— a test.
Father Simon extended the chalice toward Lucas, his hand steady, unshaken. There was something in the way the priest held it—something deliberate, almost reverent, as if the cup contained more than just wine. Lucas’s hands trembled lightly from nerves as he reached for it, his fingers brushing against Father Simon’s once again. The brief contact sent a shiver down his spine, the kind that lingered in your chest, settling deep inside him, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Father Simon’s eyes didn’t move from him either, didn’t blink. They were heavy, pulling Lucas in, as if daring him to drink, to accept the invitation. The male’s heart pounded in his chest as he brought the cup to his lips, but he followed the unspoken command. The wine was bitter and smooth all at once, the unfamiliar taste lingering on his tongue, yet it seemed to ground him.
When the service finally ended, Lucas moved quickly, almost too quickly, as if escaping from a room full of flaming arrows targeting his secrets. He didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to risk crossing paths with anyone, especially Father Simon. Although, it was inevitable. But Lucas wanted to draw away the attention—the focus of his lingering feelings. He trailed behind the dispersing crowd as the priest began his customary greeting at the back of the church. Lucas felt his heart race again, but this time he didn’t hesitate. He turned, making his way towards the door, every step purposefully as he kept his head down.
“Lucas.”
The voice, firm and steady, cut through the noise of the departing congregation like a thread pulling at him. He froze. And for a moment, Lucas considered ignoring it, pretending as though it was a phantom noise, but that would be impossible. It would be impossible because Father Simon had called him by his name, not “son” or “my child”, his name. He had no choice.
He turned slowly, forcing a neutral expression as his chest tightened with a sudden rush of anxiety. Father Simon stood near the door, his hands folded in front of him, his face unreadable but his eyes still intense, searching, waiting.
“Father,” Lucas said, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange, too formal, too distant.
“I wanted to speak with you,” Father Simon said, his voice calm, measured, worthy of his title. “About the bible study... I thought it might be helpful. For you, I mean. As your priest, I notice things about my members, particularly when they seem to be battling against the odds of Satan.”
Lucas nodded, though his heart didn’t slow. “Right...I’ll think about it,” he said quickly, trying to sound casual, but the words felt empty, hollow. Father Simon’s gaze didn’t shift. “I hope you will. It’s an opportunity for someone as young as yourself to search for answers, if you feel ready and lead by God.” His voice softened, a trace of something that might have been empathy—or was it concern? —lacing his words.
The look in Father Simon’s eyes lingered a moment too long, and for a heartbeat, Lucas couldn’t tell if the priest was speaking of Bible study or something else entirely. It felt like the silence between them had stretched into something thicker, something heavier, something that was no longer about religion, but perhaps—no, he shouldn’t do this again.
Father Simon broke the stillness, his lips pressing into a thin, polite smile. “I’ll be here if you ever decide to come.” His voice had returned to its usual tone, serene and detached.
Lucas nodded, barely acknowledging the priest’s words because whatever he thought had transpired didn’t. He turned quickly, his pulse still thudding in his ears as he walked away from the church, away from the strange, unsettling heat of Father Simon’s gaze.
******
The evening sun poured through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the wooden pews of the church. The lingering scent of incense hung in the air as Father Simon stood at the pulpit, flipping through his Bible. The soft murmur of voices filled the room as the members of the Bible study group settled into their adjacent seats. At the far end of the room, he saw Lucas shift nervously in his seat, his fingers tracing the edges of the Bible in front of him. Father Simon noticed the trouble in Lucas’s eyes, masked behind a smile as he sat at the end of the congregation withdrawn. As the session began, the priest stood by the podium, listening to the other members discuss the scriptures, yet his attention was focused on Lucas, whose quiet demeanor seemed more fragile than ever. His heart quickened with an undeniable want to reach out and guide Lucas spiritually because he knew the boy needed to heal whatever inner turmoil he was facing.
His fingers brushed the edges of his own Bible, trembling slightly. He could feel his chest tighten because maybe…maybe Lucas needed him, just as much as he needed Lucas. This thought felt like something primal was scraping against the inside of his ribs.
Father Simon’s voice broke through the low murmur of the group. “What are your interpretations from this passage, of the Lord’s compassion for the lost?” His eyes moved over the room but lingered for a moment too long on one lost soul that begged for his helping hand. “Lucas?”
The young man looked up at him, a mixture of confusion and uneasiness shown on his face. Lucas’s lips parted, his voice soft and hesitant as he offered his thoughts about the passage, his words stilted but earnest. Father Simon’s heart pounded as he watched the boy speak, fingers tightening around the Bible in his hands. He felt himself leaning closer, drawn into the orbit of this boy’s knowledge, proving that he was more than ready for his mentorship in becoming a pastoral associate. The priest was so drawn into Lucas’s words that he hadn’t noticed the silence that fell upon the room. Each member expectantly looked towards him as they awaited his response; yet Father Simon did not have one.
The priest cleared his throat, a look of approval stretched across his face as he decided to step forward, moving closer to Lucas. “Good point, Lucas,” the priest murmured, his voice was rougher than he intended, but the least he could do was not show any signs of favoritism. However, the boy had noticeably tensed up in his seat, his eyes flicking up to meet Father Simon’s. As the members continued their discussion, the priest bent slightly to speak to Lucas. “I want you to know you’re not alone. If you need to talk, we can, Lucas. You have more potential than you think.
Lucas’s breath caught and his wide eyes glistened with uncertainty and hesitance, urging Father Simon to want to take the boy under his wings.
“Father…” Lucas’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes now locked on Father Simon’s with intensity or determination perhaps? Maybe his previous words had somehow comforted and inspired the young man to seek help from him. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Lucas murmured, barely audible as he stood quickly and turned towards the door. So, maybe his words were no help at all.
By the time the boy came back, the Bible study group was already packing up to leave, so Father Simon thought it would be the perfect time to bring up the position to Lucas. “May I speak with you for a moment, Lucas?” he softly asked the other.
Lucas hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door, but then his eyes shifted back to the priest. There was a flicker of apprehension in his expression, but something else too like an unspoken agreement, a quiet curiosity that showed he was interested in what the priest had to say. Slowly, the boy nodded as the rest of the group moved on. Father Simon led Lucas to a quiet corner away from any possible distractions or disruptions. He gestured for Lucas to sit, and then he followed suit, sitting down across from him. Before speaking, Father Simon found himself staring at Lucas’s hands that were folded neatly in his lap. He noticed the subtle tremor of the boy’s fingers, portraying his nerves which made the priest feel sympathetic in a way for the other.
“Lucas,” Father Simon began, his voice low and soft, gauging between careful and tentative as he continued to say, “I want you to know that I’ve also been in your shoes before. Scared, afraid, unsure of what to do next because I thought my sins were unforgivable.”
The boy’s eyes flickered up to meet Father Simon’s gaze. “I highly doubt you’d even come close to understanding the things I’m feeling right now, but okay,” Lucas mumbled a bit too quickly.
“You won’t know that unless you try, so lean on someone. Lean on me, Lucas.”
There was a long pause before Lucas finally spoke, his voice cracking just slightly. “But what I’m feeling—it’s wrong, at least that’s how people make it seem.”
“Do you believe in redemption?” Father Simon asked quietly, his voice was thick with desperation to help the young boy that sat before him.
“Is that something I should believe in? Cling onto?”
Father Simon’s breath hitched, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. He wanted to reassure Lucas, tell him all the right things that he needed to hear. But there was a hint of doubt lingering inside him because there was a chance Lucas would completely pull away from him if he chose to go down that path of brutal honesty. The priest leaned in slightly, his heart hammering harder with every millisecond that passed. “Redemption,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving Lucas’s. “That’s something everyone should take note of remembering or believing in.”
“Is that something you want me to believe in then, Father?” Lucas’s voice trembled.
“As your priest, would that be wrong of me to want you to?”
“Wouldn’t you know the answer to that?” Lucas’s voice was a whisper, barely audible, but his response proved that he was capable of being authoritative as if his reclusiveness was only a facade.
“Then,” Father Simon started to speak, “wanting redemption isn’t wrong. It’s the things you do to get back on the right path that ultimately matters.” He stood up from the chair as he continued, “but, let me ask you this, Lucas…are you willing to take on the mantle of following in my footsteps?” It was a simple question, yet a very heavy one, and the priest knew that this is what Lucas needed to navigate his convictions. As he continued to inch closer to the boy, he reached out to him, his fingers brushing against Lucas’s arm softly to provide solace. “If that is something you want, I’m more than willing to help you in this journey.”
“Father, not saying that I’m refusing your offer, but what if there is more to what I want?” Lucas asked, his voice was a mere thread of sound, vulnerable, fragile.
“I can help you clarify that,” Father Simon said quietly, his voice low, almost tender. “Let me guide you,” he continued to say gently.
“I don’t know how to explain myself,” Lucas admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “Father—”
“I’m here for you, so just be patient with yourself,” the priest said as he rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he repeated. He wanted to coax Lucas into sharing more about his feelings, become someone he could willingly confide in, but as he was searching for the right words, the door to the front of the church creaked open.
“Forgive me Father Simon, but I forgot my purse—,” The voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. It was enough to make both men freeze, but Father Simon was quick to turn his attention towards the interruption. However, his gaze lingered momentarily on Lucas, whose eyes were wide as a deer caught in headlights. They were filled with a mixture of nervousness and a hint of disappointment? While his posture stiffened tremendously.
The person who had walked in was one of the members of the Bible study group, their face clearly distressed due to the missing item. “Thank God you were still here and oh— Lucas? Are you waiting for your dad to pick you up?”
“Um— no. I was going to take the bus,” Lucas stammered out.
“It’s past eight… all busses stop running by now,” the lady added.
Lucas blinked rapidly, his fingers trembling slightly by his side. “Right. I’ll just walk or something.”
“Well, you be safe out there and don’t get into any trouble. They killing just for looking at them funny,” and with that, the lady took her belongings and left.
“I—I should go,” Lucas whispered, his voice shaky as he tried to avoid the priest’s eyes. Before Father Simon could say another word, the young boy was already moving toward the door, his movement stiff, as if he needed to distance himself from the weight of their conversation.
“Wait, Lucas!” Father Simon called out, but the boy didn’t turn back. He was already gone, the door clicking behind him.
******
Blandness.
That’s what Lucas was feeling as he watched his literature professor express pure admiration of his favorite piece of reading for the umpteenth time this month. To be fair, the boy was secretly fond of the book himself yet couldn’t bring himself to care or be fully immersed in the class. His body was convulsing as time kept ticking, and his mind was racing. Bathing with uneasy thoughts that consumed him whole and erupted him in fear. Was it the girl standing close to him that purposely wore her clothes two sizes smaller to perfectly ‘accentuate’ her breasts? Or was it perhaps, the failing track star that chose a very thoughtful method of interruption by ejecting his leftover food from lunch? Certainly, it was not because of those, but the thoughts that kept tracing back to his interaction with Father Simon a few days ago. The slight touches he initiated, his lingering stares, the way he addressed him by his actual name… He knew it all had to mean something.
He also knew he wasn’t being delusional because he felt a pull between them, but would he be able to act on it? Should he see what those slight touches could possibly turn into? He needed to confide in someone, but there wasn’t anyone he could turn to about this because feelings towards another man was equivalent to murder in this country.
Nevertheless, he had to find an answer some way somehow. So, after class, the young boy thought of a way to subtly get this ‘answer’. “Are you as religious as your parents, Johnny?” Lucas questioned his friend whose honey skin had piqued his interest a bit too much when they first met in seventh grade. He was a year older than him with curly hair that covered his balmy brown eyes. It was odd for someone so foreign looking to attend their government school, but he was the first match that ignited these types of feelings in him.
Johnny paused, “And what if I’m not? You gonna suddenly bash me because you’re holier than thou?” There he went again, Lucas thought, twisting his question with another that implied he would judge him for his actions.
“Why would I do that?” Lucas scoffed. He was slightly offended at how low Johnny thought he could be. Now he was even more hesitant to speak about his situation. “Can I tell you something?” Lucas asked to which the other male hummed in response. At least he was listening to him. “I feel things…odd things…and I know it’s risky but something’s pulling me to act on these feelings.”
“Sounds like a case for Sandilands,” Johnny snickered. “You sure you not crashing out?”
Was he mocking him? No, he was taunting him, just like everyone at his high school did.
“I was just playing, Lucas. That place is meant for druggies and crazy people, not some student that stay up til dawn because he’s addicted to social media. They don’t care about our kind anyway.”
Lucas kept silent not because of the words spoken, but because of the fact that not even his closest friend would be able to understand him.
“We don’t fit in…we can’t.” Johnny stretched with stubbornness, but Lucas couldn’t hear him anymore. It was clear that he was living for his flesh. His eyes snapped shut, barely opening to sneak a glimpse at his friend who was caught in a calming daze as they waited for the bus to stop at his hand signal.
“I need to go.”
“What the hell?” Lucas heard the other in the distance as he stumbled off the sidewalk.
One…two…three Civics honked and sped past, sneering and throwing insults at him instead of stopping.
“Deliverance is what this country needs. Just look at that blessed’ ed young man practicing foolery in the midst of this three o’clock traffic!” Someone yelled, throwing a water bottle at the male who stumbled in the middle of the moving traffic. Was everyone after him because they didn’t want his feelings to disrupt their painted-picture peace?
Lucas’ heart raced as he quickened his pace towards home, the sounds of the passing cars and angry shouts fading into the background as his mind continued to replay the events of the past few days. He entered the quiet, almost suffocating space of his house, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. It was half past five, meaning his father was still at work or stuck in traffic, which was good enough for the young boy. He tossed his bag onto the couch and sank down beside it, letting his body collapse in exhaustion. But his mind… his mind was wide awake, whirring with thoughts he could barely keep up with.
Even after his sudden midday crisis, Lucas could still feel the lingering touch of the priest’s hand on his shoulder, the soft, almost unnoticeable caress that sent a surge of warmth through his body. It wasn’t a gesture of comfort; it was something more. Something unfamiliar yet tempting because his body betrayed him every time he thought about it, reacting in ways that made him feel both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.
Lucas stood up, pacing around the living room. He needed to understand what was happening to him. Was it just a momentary lapse, an accidental brush of skin? Or was it something more, something real? Father Simon had been so close, so gentle… but was it enough to mean that what he was feeling was mutual? Or was it just his desperate desire for connection clouding his judgment?
Briefly, his mind shot back to the conversation he had with Johnny. When Johnny snickered about Sandilands, Lucas’ stomach had dropped. He’d never been to a place like that, but the thought of being labeled as “crazy” or “broken” made him want to sink into the floor. He was just trying to make sense of his current feelings towards the priest.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was a text from Johnny: “You good? You disappeared on me.”
Lucas stared at the message for a long moment, fingers hovering over the screen. Could he tell Johnny the truth? Could he confide in someone, even if he knew it would only bring ridicule or worse? He wasn’t sure. The thought of explaining what he was feeling, of admitting to the turmoil inside him, made his stomach twist. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop hiding from himself.
He typed a quick response: “Yeah, just needed to get home to finish some dishes I left in the sink last night.” As he sent it, Lucas noticed that the object of his desires had sent a message to their church group. It was one of those encouraging quotes that older folks would often find; but to Lucas, it was practically a sign.
“Let your heart be open to the possibilities, and the path will reveal itself.” Lucas read the message over and over again, his pulse quickening each time his eyes lingered on the words. It was like Father Simon had somehow known what was on his mind, as if the message had been sent directly to him. Could it be a sign? Or was it just a coincidence? The idea was both thrilling and terrifying while the uncertainty of what was real and what wasn’t clawed at him. However, he needed to take action, to see if his feelings had any foundation. The more he thought about it, the more Lucas realized how much he wanted this to work, how much he was ready to take a leap of faith. He had been holding back for so long, afraid of the consequences he could face again. But what was life without exploring more options? His feelings for Father Simon had grown too strong to ignore, and he was no longer sure he wanted to.
Lucas sank back into the couch, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced with possibilities. His phone buzzed again, this time with a notification from the church group chat. Another message from Father Simon. “Sometimes the hardest paths lead to the most rewarding destinations.”
Lucas let out a shaky breath, almost laughing at the coincidence, but his mind was made up. It was time to find out if what he was feeling was real, time to see if there was a chance for something more. With a final glance at his phone, Lucas grabbed his jacket and stepped toward the door. There was no turning back now.
******
Lucas stood outside the church, the cold spring breeze kissing his cheeks as he contemplated walking inside. It almost felt like he was about to enter enemy territory, each century old statue judging him with their stony eyes. Yet, despite the unease gnawing at him, Lucas took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The familiar scent of incense mixed with cleaning supplies filled his senses, offering a strange comfort as he allowed his feet to guide him. The dim lighting and the echo of his footsteps against the freshly mopped tile floor amplified his growing sense of anticipation. He hesitated, unsure of what he was hoping to gain from going there. It was close to nine o’ clock—did he expect to see Father Simon waiting for him with open arms?
“Lucas?” A deep voice reverberated through the halls of the church, staring at the young male slightly. As he turned his head, Lucas saw Father Simon standing in front of his office’s door frame. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a white collared shirt, fairly different from his usual cassock and collar. “What are you doing here?” Father Simon questioned with a small radiant smile.
“Am I not allowed here?” Lucas looked at the priest, his tone rather daring than normal.
Father Simon chuckled, shaking his head as he replied, “come this way,” he gestured at his office. “Would you also like a bottle of water?”
Lucas wasn’t thirsty, but his compliant nature led him to answer, “yes,” as he took a seat on the couch opposite the priest’s desk. His eyes scanned the room, observing the multiple certificates and degrees framed on the wall. On the priest’s desk, Lucas noticed a picture of Father Simon and a few males all dressed in a traditional academic gown with diplomas in their hands.
“That was my graduation from seminary,” Father Simon said, handing Lucas the bottle of water as he took a seat behind his desk. “Are you interested in joining the Mdiv general ministries?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” Lucas scratched his head, unsure of what to say. He didn’t come here to talk about university—no—he had a more pressing manner that needed to be addressed. “How long have you been celibate for, Father?”
Father Simon paused, the smile on his face faltering for a moment as he processed the question. He leaned back in his chair, studying Lucas carefully, as though weighing how to respond. “Celibacy,” Father Simon murmured softly, more to himself than to Lucas. He sat forward again, eyes locking with the young male. “It’s a vow, not just a commitment. A choice. But it’s not very often that someone asks about this directly. Most people don’t really want to know or care to take on that responsibility.”
“I just... I don’t understand it,” Lucas admitted, fidgeting with the bottle of water in his hands. “How can you give up something like that? Something so... natural?” The other male knew the weight of his questions, but he was determined to see it through.
“I don’t see it as giving up something, but more about choosing something greater. Love is still an option, but of course, this kind of love isn’t what most people desire. However, it’s still real and very fulfilling.”
“Is it though?” Lucas retorted. Sure, what Father Simon was saying might be true, but they were men—men with needs. “I didn’t come here for advice on celibacy, Father,” Lucas muttered. “I came because I needed to make sense of some things in my own life; and I think you’re the only one who can help.”
Father Simon raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. “And what things are those, Lucas?”
The air in the room shifted again, a quiet anticipation settling between them. This time, Lucas was ready to open up, to reveal the secret that had been weighing heavily on him for months— no years. “I don’t find girls—women— attractive.”
Father Simon sat quietly for a moment, his expression unreadable, as if processing the intensity of Lucas’s words. The air in the room seemed to freeze for a brief moment, a silence that felt almost sacred. Lucas shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling exposed in a way he hadn’t anticipated. “I see. I don’t think that’s much of an issue—”
But Lucas interrupted him saying, “I think men are beautiful.” He swallowed hard, the bottle of water in his hands felt heavier now. “Since junior high, I found myself looking at them, noticing every crease of their body while they changed for physical education at school. Tell me, is that an issue?”
Father Simon leaned back in his chair; his hands folded on the desk in front of him. “I’m not entirely sure of what you’re trying to tell me, Lucas.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Lucas cursed, the frustration growing inside him. “I like boys, Father, men. I think about them at night when I touch myself— being held down and handled like a woman. Do you understand me now?”
A shock expression flooded across Father Simon’s face, pushing Lucas to let out an annoyed laugh. “What? Are you, my priest, judging me? Do you think this is my first rodeo?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but no---no I’m not judging you,” Father Simon finally answered, briefly stumbling over his words. “But have you thought about doing confessions? Seeking forgiveness?”
“Don’t we all talk to you though?” Lucas knowingly said. “If that’s the case, then sure. Let’s start now.” The young male got on his knees, putting his hands together as he looked up at the priest. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I am a sinner because I have erotic dreams of my priest. Actually, it’s not just dreams but every time I attend church, all I could think about is taking off his clothes. Can this be forgiven?”
Father Simon froze; the room was thick with tension. This was a line he had never imagined crossing. The humor in Lucas’s voice didn’t mask the raw vulnerability beneath it, and Father Simon could see that the young man was desperate for something—anything. “Lucas, get up.” He said, taking a slow breath trying not to show his own internal shock while regaining control of the situation. “I think it’s best if you go home and cool down. Your emotions are very high, and I believe it’s clouding your thoughts.”
“Is it?” Lucas laughed in disbelief. “I may be young but I’m quite aware of everything that comes out of my mouth. You can’t deny that a small part of you isn’t harboring the exact feelings as me.”
“I think you’re confused, Lucas. You need to go home.” Father Simon was adamant, practically demanding that Lucas left the church now.
“Fine.” Lucas got up, slamming the unopened water bottle on the priest’s desk. The perfect picture frame that started their whole conversation had fallen to the floor and cracked in the very middle of Father Simon and his classmates. “Goodnight, Simon.”
******
The days following the confrontation with Lucas were a blur for Father Simon. He had spent restless nights reflecting on the encounter, replaying Lucas’s words in his mind. Was there some truth to what the other male had said? It couldn’t be...yet Father Simon couldn’t deny the discomfort that had settled deep within him, one that had little to do with Lucas’s confessions and more to do with his own interest.
It was Sunday morning now; the church was filled with familiar parishioners humming along to a processional hymn. Father Simon stood at the altar, his fingers loosely clutching the edges of his stole, his gaze drifting to the congregation as they filled the pews. The usual rhythm of the service was comforting in its predictability, but today it felt different. It felt different because, as a particular male shifted his stance, running a hand through his corkscrew curls, their eyes met.
As the bells rang out and the hymns began, Father Simon tried to shake the tight feeling settling in his lower abdomen. He had to focus. He had to lead. This was his duty. The steady flow of the mass continued around him, but Lucas’s face lingered in his thoughts, an image of his dark eyes boring into his soul as he went on his knees...begging for forgiveness; the sudden shift in confidence as he insisted on their feeling being mutual fueled the burning in his abdomen even more.
“Father?” A voice softly called out and the weight of someone’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Of course.” Father Simon responded flatly, his mouth dry as if he had been caught. “Why’d you ask?”
“It’s just....” the usher began to say, “you look a bit flushed in the face.”
“Do I?” Father Simon cleared his throat as he straightened his posture. “It’s a bit hot in here, so that must be why. It being summer and all...”
The choir sang with beautiful harmonies, their voices rising in unison as they reached the crescendo. The priest, however, found it hard to focus. He could see Lucas looking directly at him, those damn eyes searching for something. “Excuse me,” Father Simon said as he stood up. “I need to go into my office for a moment.” The ushered nodded, allowing the priest to exit the pulpit. He made his way to the back of the church, loosing the restraints of his robe from around his neck as he reached for his office’s door handle. The door clicked shut behind Father Simon with a soft, almost inaudible sound. He stood there for a moment, his back pressed against it, eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. The rush of emotions overwhelmed him the moment he tried to hold the gaze of the younger boy. Father Simon slowly sank into his chair behind the cluttered desk, the broken picture frame amongst the pile. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for a bottle of water. He wasn’t sure if he was parched or too consumed by his nerves, but a soft knock at his door quickly pulled him from his thoughts.
“Come in.”
“Father,” there in his doorway stood Lucas with his hands clasped tightly as if he was trying to hold something in.
The tightness in Father Simon’s lower abdomen appeared again at the sight. “Do you need something, Lucas?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone.
“No, but I saw you leave abruptly,” the younger responded, stepping further into the office so that the door could shut behind him. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I appreciate your concern. I really do, but this must stop.”
“But I’m just checking in on you--”
“Stop this, Lucas!” Father Simon’s voice had elevated, and by the look on Lucas’s face, he wasn’t expecting it to.
“Sorry...it’s just,” the priest paused, “our conversation from the other night has been on my mind constantly.”
“What part of it?” Lucas strode closer to the priest. “Being celibate? Me on my knees? Me confessing my feelings towards men...towards you.”
Father Simon took a deep breath as he replied, “All of it.”
“Yeah?” There was that peak of confidence displaying across Lucas’s demeanor again, as if he had transitioned into another person. “Is there anything I can do to help, Father?” It was like his words were laced with sugar, leaving a trail for Father Simon to follow.
“This is wrong,” the priest looked at the young male who had now positioned himself on the top of the desk.
“We’re just talking, so how is this wrong?” Lucas placed his hand under his chin to mimic pondering. “Unless....your mind is elsewhere.”
“What are you insinuating, Lucas”
The young male leaned into Father Simon’s face, his breath fanning over the other’s lips. “That you want me. And not in the way a mentor is supposed to.”
Father Simon’s heart hammered in his chest, the room suddenly feeling unbearably small. His palms were sick with sweat as he gripped the edge of his desk, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation—his emotions. Lucas was so close now, his presence overwhelming, his scent intoxicating, all while Father Simon felt his thoughts fracture ever passing second under the intensity of the moment.
His breath hitched, and for a fleeting second, he considered indulging in the other because something in his gut—a tight, almost instinctual pull—made him ponder on it.
“Lucas...” Father Simon began, his voice trembling. “This...this isn’t right. You’re confused. You need to go back to the service.”
But Lucas, with his piercing gaze, didn’t move. He leaned in even closer, “I’m not confused, Father. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I see the way you look at me.”
Father Simon’s mind screamed at him to push Lucas away, to storm out of the room. But he didn’t...he couldn’t. He was trapped, enclosed by the other. After his conflictions over the past few days, the priest had no strength to continue pretending as if he wasn’t stirred by the younger’s presence.
“Please,” Father Simon managed to croak. “Please, this isn’t what either of us need. Leave before I do something we will both regret.”
“Who said I would regret it?” Lucas’s expression softened, but there was still a glimmer of unsettling intensity. Lucas’s fingers brushed gently down the collar of Father Simon’ s robe, his eyes never leaving him. “And something tells me you wouldn’t either.”
“Lucas....” Father Simon eyed the way the young male had wet his lips with his tongue almost in slow motion; and before he knew it, he was the one leaning in, capturing the other with full intent of giving in to the pull between. Desperation consumed them as they both poured every unspoken truth into it. And then, without warning, the door to the office swung open, a figure standing in the doorway.
Father Simon froze, panic flooding him as he looked at the unexpected interruption. The person at the door paused, their eyes widening at the scene before them. It was a young male, someone around the same age as Lucas.
“Johnny--,” Lucas said as he pushed the priest away from him, his face flushed with a mixture of shock and embarrassment.
“What the hell is this sick bastard doing?” Johnny stormed in, pulling his friend fully from the priest’s space.
“It---it’s not what it looks like.” Father Simon scrambled to find his words; his heart clenched the more he dissected the situation.
“Really? Because it looked like you were forcing yourself on Lucas. And don’t give me that bullshit saying he’s off age...you’re a fucking priest!”
“Tell him, Lucas,” Father Simon looked at the younger, his eyes pleading with the other. “Tell him you were the one that came onto me.” He waited for the other to respond, but Lucas never did. “Lucas?”
“You’re disgusting. Lucas ain’t a faggot like you.” Johnny looked at the priest in disgust, ushering Lucas to leave the room. “Consider yourself done with the church after this.”
Silence flooded the room as he watched both boys leave his office, the door slamming shut behind them. Silence flooded the room, leaving Father Simon to stand there, shaking, unable to process what had just happened. He was a man of faith. He had taken an oath, dedicated his life to serving God and his congregation. But now, someone had tested his humanity, and he had failed. The faint sound of the bells ringing for communion drifted through the door, but Father Simon remained unmoving, lost in the start of his downfall.