Author's Note
Okay, so, this is my very first explicitly Christian story. I had ideas for stories involving Flash and his family in church before, but they never really amounted to anything. I honestly have no idea where this story came from. I just got it one Sunday while I was sitting in church, and the sermon that day didn't even have anything to do with what this story is about. I just felt like writing about something that I struggle with as a Christian, and I know my friends from college struggled with it too. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure every Christian has struggled with this at least once, maybe not this exact thing but something similar.
By the way, this is completely unrelated to this story, but I'm thinking of making Sci-Twi and her family Methodists. I don't know why. I don't even know anything about Methodists except that the Finches from To Kill a Mockingbird and the aunties from Crazy Rich Asians are Methodists. That little idea might not even come into play in any of my stories. I might not even mention it. It's just something that I'm thinking about.
Last thing, see if you can identify the songs I used in this story. One of them is by Bethel Music; the other is by Hillsong Worship.
Good Enough
“Come on, everybody. We’ve gotta go,” Grandma Birdie called up the stairs. “I know church doesn’t start for another hour and a half, but Flash is on the worship team line up this week. We have to be there early.”
“Coming, Grandma,” Flash answered from the boys’ bathroom. His younger brother First Base was standing next to him, hunched over the sink. Base would have answered too if his mouth wasn’t full of toothpaste foam.
Flash smiled as he finished slicking back his hair, shining his already clean teeth at his reflection. He set his comb down next to the toothbrush holder and turned towards the door.
“Don’t forget to fix your hair when you’re done,” he said to First Base before he left.
“Mmmm-hm,” First Base replied before loudly expelling toothpaste foam into the sink.
After Flash left the bathroom, he straightened his shirt collar and adjusted his tie as he went to get his guitar from his room. Even though the dress code at their church was casual, Grandma insisted that the family dress up on Sundays, and that meant collared shirts and neckties for the boys. Base hated having to wear a tie, but Flash didn’t mind. At least Grandma let them go to church in their jeans.
Flash grabbed the guitar case holding his acoustic and met his grandmother at the bottom of the stairs. The two of them were soon joined by a middle-aged woman in a medium-length green dress holding a pair of short brown boots in one hand. Her red hair with brown highlights was down and still slightly damp from her recent shower.
“Are we ready to go?” she asked as she sat down in a nearby chair and pulled her boots.
“Still waiting on Base, Aunt Flare,” Flash answered.
“I’m here,” Base announced, not even five seconds later, as he bounded down the stairs.
“Hold on, hun. Your tie is crooked,” said Grandma as she straightened First Base’s tie. As soon as the tie was straightened to her satisfaction, the whole family headed outside and piled into Aunt Flare’s car.
“Can’t we just skip the ties for one Sunday, Grandma?” Base grumbled tugging at his collar.
“I know kids today aren’t too keen on dressing up for church, but I really don’t see what the problem is,” Grandma replied. “Maybe I’ll let you boys go completely casual one of these days, but for now, no, you can’t skip the ties. If you want to know why dressing up on Sundays is so important to me, it’s because it helps me,” she paused, “well, it helps me remember.”
“You need memories with fewer ties in them.”
Aunt Flare pulled into the church parking lot, and everybody stepped out of her car. Her hair having dried on the way over, Flare pulled her fiery locks into her usual ponytail. Flash took his guitar case out of the trunk before closing it while Grandma Birdie and First Base simply waited for them.
Not even five minutes after entering the building, the family was approached by a middle-aged man with brown hair and moderate blue skin dressed in a loose-fitting collared shirt and khaki pants.
“Ah, Flash, there you are,” the man said as he approached.
“Pastor Stream,” Flash greeted back. “What’s up? Am I late?”
Flash started to take his phone out of his pocket to check the time, but the pastor shook his head.
“Oh, no, not all. It’s just that the worship team needs you for something.”
Flash shared a look with the rest of his family. He was just the back-up guitarist. What could the worship team possibly need him for?
“Okay, what is it?” Flash asked.
“Freedom Song called in sick today, so he isn’t going to be able to lead worship,” Pastor Stream explained, “and I noticed that you were the back-up guitarist on this week’s line up.”
“Yes?” Where was Pastor going with this?
“Well, I’ve discussed this with the rest of the worship team already, and we all agree that you’d be capable of leading worship in Freedom Song’s stead.”
“Maybe I could be. So, what?” Flash was trying very hard not to look or sound nervous. He hoped that the pastor wasn’t asking what he thought the pastor was asking.
Pastor Stream frowned in confusion at Flash’s cryptic answer. Did the young man understand what he was trying to ask or not?
“Flash, we need you to lead worship today.”
“WHAT?!” Flash squealed, much louder and much higher-pitched than he was intending to sound.
“I’ve already discussed this with the rest of the team, and everyone is fine with it,” Pastor Stream repeated, seemingly oblivious to Flash’s distress. “You and the team just need to practice together and be ready before service starts. I know it’s a pretty tall order, but I think you’ll be able to manage.”
“Uh, sir,” Flash managed to stutter out, “I-I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t think I should be the one leading worship.”
“Why not? You know the songs; you play and sing well; you work well with the rest of the team. Why shouldn’t you lead worship today?”
“Umm, well,” Flash began, looking from the pastor to each member of his family and back and forth. “It’s just that, well,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping forward, “I’m just not good enough.”
“What do you mean, hun?” Grandma Birdie cut in. “I’ve heard you sing and play, and you’re very good, and I’m not just saying that ‘cause I’m your grandma.”
“Grandma, I’m not talking about my playing or my voice. I meant,” Flash trailed off and sighed again before gesturing to himself.
“You just gestured to all of you,” Base pointed out. The adults all shared a look as comprehension dawned on them.
“Pastor, the rest of us are just going to wait in the sanctuary while you talk to Flash, okay?” Aunt Flare said to the pastor.
“Of course,” Pastor Stream replied.
Flare took First Base by the arm and led him to the sanctuary. Grandma Birdie followed them but not before giving Flash’s shoulder a squeeze and smiling at him reassuringly. Flash found himself standing in the hallway alone with the pastor.
For a while, the two of them simply stood there, and neither spoke. The whole time the pastor was giving Flash a particularly parental look. Flash stared back blankly, trying to decide if he found the look Pastor was giving him comforting or terrifying.
“Tell me, Flash,” Pastor Stream began. “Why don’t you feel good enough to lead worship?”
Flash rubbed his hand on the back of his neck as he looked away. “I’m not really sure. I don’t know if I can talk about it.”
“Just try to explain it the best you can.”
Flash pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “I’m not good enough of a person.” He began to talk rather fast, “I know how other people see me. I know they think that I’m this nice guy who is always putting everybody before himself, but what if that’s not who I really am? I mean, I’d like to be that good person that everyone thinks I am, but what if I’m really not? I can’t even tell you the number of times when I’ve really wanted to put myself first or the times I’ve gotten upset that I didn’t get my way. I’ve always tried to hide it so that I don’t end up upsetting other people, but I still end up feeling horrible for thinking that way.”
Flash bit his tongue. Okay, that’s enough self-disclosure for one day. Part of him felt relieved to finally be talking about how he really felt; another part was worried that Pastor was going to kick him off the worship team over what he had just revealed. If Pastor Stream wasn’t the kind of man who attempted to practice what he preached, Flash would probably even be worried about getting kicked out of church.
Pastor raised an eyebrow and intoned, “You’re kicking yourself for not being perfect, for being a human being?”
“No,” Flash cried defensively before changing his mind, “uh, yes, no, yes, no, yes. I don’t know. I just—.” He stopped abruptly before continuing, “Pastor, have you ever felt as if there’s a, a monster inside you just waiting to come out and destroy everything?”
“A monster?”
“Let me put it this way. Say that I do agree to lead worship today. What if I get up on that stage and start making it about me instead of God? I mean, I know I’m not supposed to, and I have absolutely no intention of doing that, but what if I can’t control myself with everyone watching me?”
“In other words, you’re afraid that you’re going to turn into the Hulk except that instead of an angry, one-man wrecking crew, you’re going to turn into an arrogant jerk who doesn’t care about anyone except himself.”
“That, that is one way of putting it.” Boy, was that painful to admit!
“And how long has this been going on?’
“I don’t know. It kinda comes and goes.”
Once again, the hallway went silent, and once again, Pastor Stream was giving Flash that comforting yet terrifying parental look from earlier. Why can’t Pastor just make this whole ordeal easier on the both of them and just kick him off the worship team?
“Who exactly are you afraid of turning into?” the pastor asked.
“Oh, of all the questions to ask!” Flash thought to himself as he winced.
“My—,” Flash began before suddenly stopping as he clenched his jaw. Every part of his body did not want to finish that answer. “Somebody that I know.”
Pastor Stream once again raised an eyebrow at him. He opened his mouth to press further but thought better of it and shut his mouth instead.
Pastor nodded contemplatively a few times before saying, “Flash, I don’t know who you’re afraid of turning into, but I know for a fact that you aren’t him because if you were, you wouldn’t be you.”
“Well, obviously,” Flash couldn’t help but chuckle at that last statement.
“Secondly, I don’t need someone who is good enough to lead worship today. I need someone who isn’t good enough but chooses to glorify God anyway. Can I count on you to do that?”
“I,” Flash took a deep breath, “I guess I can try.”
“Good. Better hurry up. You and the team still need to squeeze in at least one practice before service starts.”
Flash nodded and turned to leave.
“And another thing,” Pastor called after Flash, causing the teen to stop, “you’re a good kid, Flash. If this ever happens again, don’t hesitate to talk to me or someone else you trust about it.”
“Um, thanks,” Flash replied, the tone of his voice indiscernible. Then, he took another deep breath and continued on his way.
Flash gulped as he watched the sanctuary fill up from the stage. He could see his family sitting in the front row. Derpy, Micro Chips, and Button Mash waved at him as they took their seats with their families. He waved back as he continued to smile nervously.
Flash’s hands shook as he held his guitar. He hadn’t been this afraid of playing in front of people since the first time he played in front of a crowd. However, this was different from all the times that he played with his band. In all those other times, he was the cool, fun rocker guy without a care in the world as his music crashed with the roar of the crowd. This time, well, this time, he was just Flash Sentry and everything good and bad that comes with it.
“Dear God, if I’m not supposed to be up here, please get me off this stage,” Flash silently prayed. “I don’t care how. Just get me off.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Flash could see Pastor Stream signaling him to start worship. Flash nodded back as he stepped forward to the microphone.
“Uh, hi, everybody,” Flash said into the mic, resisting the urge to cough as his throat tightened. “Welcome to Canterlot Baptist. My name is Flash Sentry. I’m leading worship today because our regular worship leader, Freedom Song, is sick. Please pray for him. We’re just going to wait a few minutes to let everyone find their seats. Then, we’re going to start.”
Flash turned to the drummer and signaled her to begin the song. The drummer struck her sticks together and began to play, the rest of the band following.
“Jesus is alive and He saves, He rescues and saves,” Flash sang the closing lines of the first song. So far, so good. One song down, one more to go, and thankfully no sign of selfish jerk Hulk.
Flash relaxed as he began the second song, “Who am I that the highest King/Would welcome me?/I was lost but He brought me in/Oh His love for me/Oh His love for me//Who the Son sets free/Oh is free indeed/I’m a child of God/Yes I am”
However, as soon as he finished singing the first chorus, something happened that definitely did not happen during practice. Flash’s hands and voice seemed to go on autopilot as his mind zoomed into the past.
Ten years ago…
“Dad! Stop! Come back!” Flash cried as he ran out of his house, heedless to his mother and grandmother’s calls. His sole focus was on stopping the black sports car that was beginning to pull away from the front of his house. In his desperation, he had forgotten that he was just a seven-year-old human boy and not one of the Power Ponies.
“No!” Lantern Heart screamed as she watched her oldest son run in front of the car. The car’s tires squealed as its driver slammed the brakes.
A pair of thin, sinewy arms grabbed Flash and pulled him from the path of the car, allowing the car’s bumper to just barely miss him. The car came to a stop inches past where it would have hit Flash. The car’s driver rolled down the window, his slate gray face red with anger.
“What the heck is wrong with you?!” the man screamed at Flash. “You stupid, good-for-nothing kid!”
The man slammed on the gas and sped away, leaving a shaking Flash in his rescuer’s arms. His rescuer turned Flash to face him, revealing him to be an aged man with orange-tan skin and silver hair. His grey eyes looked at the boy with concern behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
“Flashy, you alright?” he said to the boy.
Flash scowled as he pushed his grandfather away and ran into the house, fighting the tears welling up in his eyes.
Three years later…
Flash sat on a park bench, hugging himself as tears fell down his face. His chest shook as he struggled to hold in the sobs that were threatening to come out. His shorts and shoes were wet from the water balloon that he had dropped. A short distance from him, the rest of the boys in his class as well as every other 5th grade boy in the school district were still playing games with their dads, well, except for one bespectacled kid who was looking at him with concern.
“Flashy, calm down. It’s just a game,” Lionheart knelt down so that he was at eye level with his grandson. “We can still place in one of the other ones.”
“What’s the point?!” the 10-year-old screamed. “I’ll just mess everything up again. I always mess up. I’m just a stupid, no-good kid that my own dad didn’t even want to show up for!”
Flash felt his grandfather lift his head up so that he was looking his grandfather in the eye. His grandfather’s eyes communicated what Flash could only describe as a mixture of anger and love.
“Don’t ever, ever let anyone, especially your dad, make you feel like you’re no good,” Lionheart admonished, “because you are a good kid, Flash Sentry. You are a good kid.”
Something awoke inside of Flash as he listened to his grandfather’s words. Flash didn’t know what it was, but it felt like a painless fire that started from his heart and spread to the rest of him. A fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes as he threw his arms around his grandfather and cried into his grandfather’s chest.
Flash looked up to the heavens as the last of the memory faded from the forefront of his mind. He could feel the fire from seven years ago filling him as he sang the bridge.
“I am chosen/Not forsaken/I am who You say I am/You are for me/Not against me/I am who You say I am” He sang the bridge a few more times, getting louder each time. The rest of the congregation sang with him as the fire in his voice spread to everyone in the room.
“Yes, I am who You say I am!” he belted before singing final chorus. “Who the Son sets free/Oh is free indeed/I’m a child of God/Yes I am/In my Father’s house/There’s a place for me/I’m a child of God/Yes I am”
Pastor Stream stepped up to the pulpit as the music began to wind down. Flash and the rest of the worship team put their instruments away and left the stage.
“Thank the Lord for that,” said the pastor. “Good morning, everyone. I am Pastor Gentle Stream. Before we begin service, we would like to dismiss the children to Sunday school and teens 13-18 to the youth service.”
Flash put away his guitar as he got down the stage to join his brother and his friends at the youth service in the church’s loft. He ended up meeting with Micro Chips at the back end of a crowd of teenagers who were going up the stairs.
“Hey, man,” Micro greeted him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Flash answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh, well, it’s just that,” Micro stammered before saying hesitantly, “you’ve been crying.”
“What?” Flash exclaimed as he put a hand on his face. He could feel a trail of wetness coming from the corner of his eye and going down his cheek. “Oh, I guess I have been. I didn’t even notice.”
