He wrote a new email. Not to the elders, but to the only person he still spoke to from the congregation: a quiet, gray-haired brother named Mark who sat in the back row and never commented, just like Elias used to do.
Elias thought about the jw.org bookmark in his hand. The website’s articles were always so clean, so certain. Why Does God Allow Suffering? How to Be Truly Happy. He had memorized those answers once.
“Hey Mark. I’m not coming back yet. But I wanted to say I don’t think God hates me. I just don’t know what I believe anymore. If you want to get coffee sometime—not to ‘encourage’ me, just to talk—let me know.” jw-org
Without her, the meetings felt like a play where everyone knew their lines except him.
“That’s good,” Elias had said. “That’s really good.” He wrote a new email
But the answers felt different now, because the questions had changed. It was no longer “Why is there suffering?” It was “What do I do with my own?” And no brochure—no matter how well-designed—had a page for that.
It was the third email this month. The first one had been warm, almost cheerful. The second had been concerned. This one, sent by the Congregation Service Committee, was gentle but firm. It spoke of “spiritual drowsiness” and “encouraging one another.” The website’s articles were always so clean, so certain
He realized he was not angry at the organization. He was not seduced by the world. He was just tired. And in that tiredness, the Kingdom Hall felt less like an ark and more like another room where he had to perform.
He tucked the bookmark into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he would ever walk through those gray doors again. But he knew he wasn’t done searching. And perhaps, he thought, that was the most honest prayer he had offered in fourteen months.
Tonight, he decided to answer.
Instead, he opened a drawer in his desk. Underneath old receipts and a dead cell phone, he found a faded jw.org bookmark. On the back, in his mother’s shaky handwriting, was a single scripture: “Jehovah is near to those who are broken at heart.” — Psalm 34:18.