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November 6 & 7, 2024 — A sermon, a credo, and trust
The morning after the election, Violet sent Jack a picture of a tiny penis figurine that she kept on her desk at work.
“Here’s a dick pic to cheer you up.”
The election still sat heavy over everything. Jack replied hours later with a heart reaction and, later that evening, a selfie accompanied by an apology.
“My smile today,” he wrote. “Sorry, I’m short on words today.”
“That’s a first lol,” Violet replied. “But I love any smile on you 😉”
Before bed she found herself thinking about him again.
“Wish I could give you a hug.”
The next morning his response was waiting for her.
“I wish that I could feel you give me a hug.”
Then:
“I want for you to help it come out right.”
The conversation wandered easily between humor, flirtation, and genuine curiosity. Violet found herself teasing him as often as she answered him.
“Why can I never tell if you’re being serious or trying to get in my pants?”
“Never mind, that was a dumb question.”
He didn’t seem offended.
“The dick pic you sent got me all turned on.”
Then he circled back to the kiss from their second date.
“Why did you kiss me the way you did the other night?”
“What way was that?”
“With that primal energy.”
“Is there any other way to kiss?” she replied.
“You know what you’re doing.”
“Are you calling me a dick tease?”
Hours later he returned to the subject once again.
“It felt like you were trying to steal my soul, or mend it. I couldn’t tell which.”
Violet admitted she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.
Before long they were talking about something else entirely. The conversation rarely stayed in one place for very long. Jack seemed equally comfortable discussing sex, spirituality, and what he was making for dinner, sometimes within the span of a few messages. Violet wasn’t always sure what to make of him, but she found herself increasingly curious. Each exchange seemed to open another thread of conversation rather than bring one to a close.
When she asked when he was going to send her the sermon he had mentioned, he surprised her.
“I want to share my sermon with you. I’d feel more comfortable if we watched it together.”
Violet responded with an offer of her own.
“I might consider sharing my most recent credo with you.”
A little later, Jack sent her a photo of the meal he was making for his son.
“Damn, when are you going to cook for me? I’m starving.”
“Would you be available Sunday for me to cook for you? And would you be available to come over later tonight to watch the sermon?”
“Yes and yes.”
“My son will be asleep by 8:30. Do you want to plan to come then?”
She did.
His house felt small and cozy; he made her comfortable. He sat her in front of the laptop and then settled in behind her to watch the sermon. He explained that he didn’t want her to watch him watching it.
Violet listened carefully, trying to understand how the man sitting behind her fit together with the man in the pulpit. The sermon touched on many of the concerns that mattered deeply to him: questions of equity, justice, and community. Although she was not Christian, she had spent most of her life in faith communities and understood how profoundly people could be shaped—and wounded—by institutions that attempted to lay any claim on moral authority. As she listened, she found herself trying to understand what had led him to leave ministry. The concerns he raised in the sermon clearly mattered deeply to him, but she was still piecing together how those convictions fit with the man she was getting to know.
When it ended, she understood more than she had before. But she also had more questions.
Afterwards, Violet offered to share her credo. Before she began, Jack asked if he could hold her. They settled together lying on the couch, their bodies entwined, while she read it aloud. She had shared the credo publicly before, but never in a moment like this. Reading it to someone she was only beginning to know felt unexpectedly intimate.
Credo means “that to which I give my heart.”
Violet’s credo had evolved over decades of questioning, learning, loss, community, recovery, and service. It was the closest thing she had to a personal theology: not a statement of what she believed, but a reflection on how she tried to live. Through it she shared her understanding of love, responsibility, truth, justice, and what it means to be human in relationship with others.
Neither the sermon nor the credo was new. But sharing them with each other felt different. They were clearly important to each of them, though perhaps for different reasons. Violet was still trying to understand Jack. There were things she couldn’t quite make sense of, including why he hadn’t simply told her his real name. Yet curled together on the couch that evening, those questions felt less important than they had a few days before.
Some things didn’t quite fit. The evening felt genuine all the same. After she finished reading, they stayed close. They talked, held each other, and kissed. As the evening unfolded, Jack pushed at physical boundaries, testing how far things might go. When Violet told him she was not ready for a physical relationship, he made it clear that he wanted more but did not push her.
When she got home that might she sent him the credo and texted:
“Thanks for a great ending to a shitty day 😘”
“Let me know when you get home. I have so many questions for next time,” he replied.
“If you can keep the groping under control maybe we can have a conversation lol.”
That night Violet found herself replaying the day piece by piece, trying to fit it all together. The conversations, the sermon, the credo, and the questions that still lingered between them. In the span of a day, Jack had invited her over to watch the sermon and offered to cook her dinner in just a few days. He seemed eager to spend more time with her, and she felt much the same. There were still things she didn’t understand about him. There were also conversations she couldn’t wait to continue.
More than anything, she found herself looking forward to seeing him again. She still wasn’t sure where they were headed but she was becoming more and more eager to find out.