Chapter Text
“Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be Thy name...”
Worship Him.
“Thy Kingdom come...”
For He will be your salvation.
“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven...”
Surrender everything to Him.
“Give us this day our daily bread...”
And you will be forgiven.
“And forgive us for our sins...”
He is the way, the truth, and the life.
“As we forgive those who sinned against us...”
We are all sinners.
“Do not bring us to the test...”
But we can choose to pretend not to be.
“But deliver us from evil...”
Just kneel, bow, and preach.
“Amen.”
Zhang Hao had always found familiarity with the church. It was in the way the pews creaked beneath him every Sunday, the smell of incense lingering in the air, the hymns he sang, and the sermons repeatedly spoken until they dissolved underneath his skin. It was a constant, like the tick of a clock that measured not just time but a life laid out before him, predictable and unchanged.
He had grown up in the church with his father serving as a pastor and his mother the well-behaved woman beside him. Hao had never questioned his place in this life—well, not until recently.
The town was small, each house somehow similarly plain and bland from one another. And there, in the heart of it all, was the church—the constant reminder of everything Hao was expected to uphold. It stood tall and proud. It was a symbol of unwavering faith and tradition, and it was here that Hao spent most of his days. Whether it was listening to the Sunday morning service or playing and singing with the choir, the church had always been his second home.
Today, like every Sunday, Hao sat at the front, back straight and hands folded neatly on his lap. He could feel the eyes of the congregation on him as he listened to his father deliver the sermon. He knew he was the perfect image of devotion—the dutiful son of Pastor Zhang, the boy who would one day take his father’s place at the pulpit. But today, as his father spoke of love, Hao couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot in his stomach, a sense of unease that had settled deeper with every passing year.
“Love,” Pastor Zhang’s voice boomed, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Love is patient, love is kind. Love is selfless, it is pure, and it is what binds us all together in the name of our Lord.” He paused as eyes scanned the room. “We must love one another as He has loved us.”
Hao’s mind wandered as his father continued. Love was something he had always been taught to give freely, to others and to God. But there was a disconnect—a gap between the love his father spoke of and the one Hao had yet to understand fully. His thoughts drifted to the whispers among the other youths at the church, to the late-night debates over sin and virtue, and to the long hours spent praying for clarity, praying for peace. But there had been no answers, not truly.
And somehow, his thoughts drifted back to him.
Him. That boy. That beautiful boy.
Pastor Zhang’s voice grew louder, more impassioned as he spoke about the love that bound families and the love that built communities. But then, his words took a turn that made Hao's chest tighten.
“But we must also be vigilant,” his father continued, “for not all love is righteous. The Bible teaches us that love between men and men, and women and women, is an abomination. In Leviticus 18:22, it says, ‘Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable.’ And in Romans, the Apostle Paul writes, ‘Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones. In the same way, the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another.’”
His father's voice boomed across the church as a collective murmur passed through the congregation. His own heart began to race as his hands trembled slightly in his lap. He had heard these verses many times before, yet they never settled in his heart.
Painfully too many, yet his heart still rebelled.
“And we must not be swayed by the world’s temptations,” Pastor Zhang said as his eyes slowly fixed on his son. “For the Lord has made His commandments clear. The love we are to strive for is pure, undefiled, and in accordance with His will. Anything else is a path to destruction.”
His father's eyes and words felt like a physical force pressing him down. Anything else. He tried to breathe, but it felt as though it was suffocating him, his mind racing as his breathing quickened. He couldn’t shake the way his thoughts twisted in knots at the mention of those verses. He had always tried to suppress them, to ignore the stirrings of confusion and longing that surfaced in the quiet moments of his life. But hearing his father speak those words with such conviction and hearing the congregation agree with him felt like a wall closing in around him.
Love is not for you. Not the way you feel it.
His father’s voice continued to reverberate in his ears. Hao’s gaze dropped to his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. Was this love? Was this truth?
Love, Hao thought, was supposed to be the answer to everything. But here it was—staring him in the face, forbidden and sinful. How could love be wrong? How could something that felt so real, so deep inside him, be a sin?
“Remember,” Pastor Zhang concluded, “we are called to love, but we must love in the way that the Lord has instructed us. We are to love without perversion, without sin.”
Was his love really considered a sin?
As the sermon drew to a close, Hao stood with the rest of the congregation, legs unsteady beneath him. He followed his father to the back of the church to greet the departing parishioners, forcing a smile as they praised him for his efforts and dedication.
But inside, Hao felt as though he were crumbling, yearning in the absence, slowly walking to the cessation of his existence. He was numb, and every move felt wrong. How could he carry his heart when all he could feel was the sharp ache of what could never be?
As the last of the congregation filtered out, Hao remained seated in the empty sanctuary. He glanced at the stained glass windows, the image of Christ extending His arms in love, and for the umpteenth, he wondered if he could ever be worthy of that love. Could he reconcile the truth of his feelings with the gospel that defined his life?
The question echoed, unanswered, in the silence of the church.