Noah James thought Noah was a girl’s name, and was thinking of going by James, but everyone called him Noah, so I called him Noah James.
In Hebrew, Noah is a girl’s name. But we speak English, so Noah is the name of a man.
“So what,” said Noah James. “It’s gay.”
I had been traveling again, and when I got back to the mission, Noah James was already kind of a legend there. He rode a skateboard with some wicked graphics. He was a total shredder, just not yet. He was still working on the basic techniques, but he’d be doing big tricks soon.
Noah James was a legend for his mouth, not his skateboarding skills. He was always funny and always starting fights at the same time, which will make someone legendary fast.
He was busy starting fights with half a dozen people I know.
“He’s a scared kid lashing out in defense,” said big Portuguese Bobby, the resident Jordon Peterson aficionado. He happened to be right for once, which rubbed me the wrong way.
Noah James immediately took a liking to my preaching and prayers. In the dining hall, he’d kneel for prayer.
He wanted to follow me around all day as I walked and talked to people about Jesus, the truth. A couple other men were also walking with me at the time. Those walks were mostly three men trying to bridle their tongues, like I preach to do, then failing every few minutes, then apologizing to me, then apologizing for apologizing to me, on and on…
My walks alone with Noah James were mostly focused on not lusting after women, which was a perpetual temptation for him because women liked him and he knew it. He’d almost hookup with a woman while talking to her, then apologize as if he accidentally said a bad word.
Thing is, the city of Santa Barbara is crawling with whores (and witches), and if you’re not a total incel, you can easily get yourself in trouble with them.
My expectation was that I’d soon be counseling him on a slip-up, but he never had anything to report. He confessed later that he just wasn’t telling me about his hookups. He got with onewoman in a public restroom at the harbor (yuck).
His even bigger trouble was with the gays. I was walking through the dining hall when gay Aldo pulled me aside. He spoke like a Mexican lady with an accent.
“Why does Noah hate me?” he asked.
“I’m sure Noah doesn’t hate you, Aldo.”
“Oh yes he does hate me. You ask him yourself.”
He was eating nearby, so I went over.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Aldo says you hate him.”
“That’s cuz I hate Aldo.”
“What now?”
Noah James dropped the apricot pit he was nibbling on and pushed his tray forward, then clasped his hands and smiled.
“I. Hate. Gays. That’s what.”
“Well I wasn’t expecting you to just say it.”
(Except he was using another word for gay.)
Noah James explained that his problem with gays goes back to grade school. He and his best friend were fighting, and he got his friend prone and started dry humping him in front of the whole school, calling him names.
Well, he had to see a therapist, and that man informed him that he hated gay people. Noah James believed him, and still believes him. Then his mom divorced his dad and married his therapist. They’re still together, and the therapist is now his step-dad.
That’s all kinds of messed up.
After talking to Noah James, I went to Aldo’s table.
“Well, you’re right. He says he hates you.”
“I told you.”
“You shouldn’t take it personally, though. He’s got issues.”
“We all got issues, honey.”
“I don’t got issues.”
Before he could dispute that, I got up and left.
I didn’t see Noah James until the next night, and when I did, he was steaming mad at me.
“You told Aldo I hate him?”
“Was that a secret?”
“Why are you even talking to those queens?”
“I talk to everyone. You know that.”
And like that, Noah James was against me, and against Jesus.
Noah James strutted into the courtyard with a new skateboard. Custom Bart Simpson graphic on the top-side, which resembled Noah James himself.
“I’m the preacher around here now,” he announced, perplexingly.
I stared at him.
“What’re you staring at?” he asked, and came closer. I kept staring at him.
“Just keep staring and see what happens.”
What happened was, I kept staring and then he walked away all pouty.
Noah James was into trading up his things. He always wanted better shoes, and if he saw better shoes in someone’s camp, he’d swap them out. He was wearing some sweet leather Vans today.
Turns out he had traded up his skateboard, too, and that Bart Simpson deck was highly wanted.
When I saw him with two black eyes and skinned up arms and legs, I knew the skater kids tracked him down and worked him over.
“I hate skater kids,” he mumbled.
Turns out Noah James was rescued by illegal aliens. He was saved from an even worse pummeling by a couple Mexican men who didn’t even speak English. You’re not gonna hear that on the news. The men who intervened had everything to lose, and only Noah James’ life to save. They chose to put their own flesh at risk to save a güero from a gang of younger güeros.
That’s love, and Noah James couldn’t see it.