Losing Faith

By Scotty Cade

Father Cullen Kiley, a gay Episcopal priest on hiatus from the church, decides to take his boat,
T-Time
, from Provincetown, Massachusetts, to Southport, North Carolina, a place that holds an abundance of bittersweet memories for him. While on a run his first day in Southport, Cullen comes upon a man sitting on a park bench staring out over the Cape Fear River with his Bible in hand. The man’s body language reeks of defeat and desperation, and unable to ignore his compassion for his fellow man, Cullen stops to offer a helping hand.

Southport Baptist Church’s Associate Pastor, Abel Weston, has a hard time managing his demons. When they get too overwhelming, he retreats to Southport’s Historic Riverwalk with his Bible in hand and stares out over the water, praying for help and guidance that never seem to come. But Abel soon discovers that help and guidance come in many forms.

An unexpected friendship develops between the two men, and as Cullen helps Abel begin to confront his doubts and fears, he comes face-to-face with his own reality, threatening both their futures.

First and foremost, this book is dedicated to my husband, Kell. He’s my true soul mate and has never wavered in his complete encouragement and never-ending support. Twenty-one years later and I still feel just as blessed as I did the day we met. I love you with all my heart.

This book is also dedicated to anyone who is struggling with sexual identification, loneliness, addiction, isolation, depression, or any other negative thoughts or feelings. The darkest of nights can seem cold and lonely, and you may feel lost and alone, but there is always someone out there who can help you awaken to a brand new dawn. Cullen found Abel, and if you reach out, someone will find you as well.

And lastly, if you see someone in need, please reach out. Don’t let fear or intimidation hinder your natural instinct to help. Trust me when I say if you don’t, it will stay with you forever.

HI, ALL.
Scotty Cade here. Well, I’ve got to say I’m a little nervous about this one. This story deals with religion, faith, and the power of our dreams to help guide us to things that are right in front of our faces.

I normally shy away from religion as subject matter because it is such a personal thing, but this book called to me so strongly, I couldn’t not write it. The story was inspired by a single moment in time. One instant when two virtual strangers made decisions that altered their lives. A personal encounter that stayed with me for weeks until I had no choice but to write the book.

The only difference in my encounter versus the one in the book is that the fictional character did the right thing where I lacked the courage—a decision I will regret for the rest of my life.

Here’s how it went. Kell and I were on our boat on our yearly trek down south and had just arrived in a little town called Southport, NC. It’s really a charming town, and we planned on staying there until December, before we moved farther south to Charleston. So after eight days on the water from Martha’s Vineyard, we were very excited to finally be there.

On our first morning, at dawn, I went for my usual five-mile run and chose a route that took me along the Historic Southport Riverwalk. It was a beautiful morning, and the sun was just above the horizon, causing the dew on the grass to sparkle like little diamonds. I remember it so clearly.

I was running along at my usual pace, enjoying my solitude with no one else in sight, when I saw a man sitting on a park bench quite a distance ahead of me. Even from my vantage point, his body language seemed ominous and overwhelmed. His elbows were resting on his knees, and he was staring blankly out over the Cape Fear River. As I got closer, I saw the man was extremely handsome, well-groomed, clean-cut, and very well-dressed in a crisp white shirt, dark slacks, and a tie. The type of guy one might describe as metrosexual. And he was holding a book and rubbing his thumb gently over its cover.

Then the man moved his book a certain way, the sun reflected off of something gold, and I knew in my heart he was holding the Bible. The man really looked like he needed a friend. All sorts of possibilities ran through my head. Death. Depression. Illness. He was clearly struggling with something. I continued running toward him, trying to decide if I should stop, but I looked around, and there was no one except the two of us in the park. There were plenty of open park benches and swings overlooking the river, so I could think of no good reason to stop at his particular bench. In addition, I was fearful if I stopped, he might think I was trying to rob him—or even worse trying to pick him up. So therein lay my dilemma. Take a chance on being considered a pervert or stop to help someone who might be in need.

I think you know where this is going. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the courage to stop, and I ran right past the guy. Truly, I don’t think he even saw me as he was so deep in thought. I did greet him as I passed, but if I got a response, I didn’t hear it.

When I got back to the boat, I told Kell and the friends who were on board with us about my experience, and they seemed unaffected, but the encounter stayed with me all day and night. The next morning, I ran again. The same time and the same route. And I’ve done that every day we’ve been here—over a month. But I never saw the stranger again. Of course, this sent my mind into a tizzy of guilt. Was the guy sick? Or, even worse, was he so distraught he took his own life? All these ideas plagued me and stayed with me. Even after I started this book.

Just know, although I am a very spiritual person, I’m not a particularly religious one. I have my own personal relationship with the man upstairs, but I’m not a fan of organized religion. In my humble opinion, organized religion sometimes gives a certain group of people the right to discriminate against others who are not like them in the name of their God. Those of us in the LGBTQ community have most recently seen this regarding the right to marry. I won’t give this woman any more publicity by mentioning her name, but you know to whom I’m referring. On the flip side, sometimes organized religion helps people be accepting of others. So there. I’m trying to be diplomatic.

Anyway, this book focuses on two very different denominations. The Episcopal Church and the Southern Baptist Church. I did a lot of research on both, and apart from their mutual love of the Gospel, they have very little in common. The Episcopalians welcome everyone to worship. They even ordain women and gay men as priests and bishops, while on the other hand, the Southern Baptists do not believe in women as ordained ministers and believe homosexuality is a grave sin. In fact, if you are gay, you will only be welcomed into the church if you denounce your homosexual desires and seek their help to change your sexual orientation through prayer and fellowship.

Now this is generalizing the denominations, and the last thing I want to do is offend, but for the record, I got all my information from the Southern Baptist Convention’s official website and the Episcopal Church’s official website. Their beliefs are clearly written there, and all you need to do is google either to see what I mean.

However, the next part of the book delves into the power of our dreams. Many people believe dreams are an open doorway to our souls, a way for our lost loved ones to communicate with us. And… I just happen to be one of those people.

But many others believe dreams are just our subconscious validating things we want to believe. Things like getting one last look at a lost loved one or simply knowing they are okay and have moved on. Things along those lines. In addition, when some people dream of a tragedy, they take it as a sign and try to avoid a certain situation, while others simply dismiss it as a nightmare triggered by something they saw on television or something someone said. In this book, one character’s dreams are portals, for lack of a better word, for a lost loved one to come back and try to help him move on with his life.

I hope you take all of this as it is meant. The story is one of loss, identity, hypocrisy, need, and love. Writing it has helped me gain a little closure by giving my characters the happy ending I so hope my stranger enjoyed and easing my guilt a little for not stopping to help a fellow man in need.

Also, Kell and I loved Southport so much, I thought I would include a few photos so you can get a feel for the town’s charm and the locations I wrote about.

I hope you enjoy!

Scotty

Southport, North Carolina

Southport Baptist Church

Southport Historic Riverwalk

Angels descending bring from above

Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Watching and waiting, looking above,

Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

—
Fanny J. Crosby, Blessed Assurance

WHAT STUPIDITY!

A Cabo sports fishing yacht had just blown past him at top speed, creating a massive, unpredictable, and potentially devastating wake. Cullen Kiley sucked in a ragged breath and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. While he prepared for the impact of the tsunami-like wave, Cullen said a prayer for the tiny houseboat off his starboard bow, which was surely going to be swamped. He didn’t know why he prayed. Out of habit, he guessed.

On the Intracoastal Waterway, everyone was responsible for their own wake, so most boaters were kind, courteous, and offered nice slow passes to smaller boats. But not this guy. He was blowing past every boat on the busy waterway, literally leaving pandemonium in his wake.

Cullen had little time to do anything but cut into the large waves and hope for the best. The first wave smashed against his hull, the impact sending
T-Time
, his forty-eight-foot Sea Ray motor yacht, rocking and rolling. He could hear objects flying off the shelves down below. He imagined drawers opening and slamming closed and then cringed when he heard one extra loud crash he couldn’t begin to identify.