The PowWow

Jacob didn’t wait for me when we got back to the apartment. He just moved ahead on his own. That was new.

Usually, we moved the same direction without thinking about it. Same pace. Same rhythm. It wasn’t something we talked about. It just… was.

Tonight, he drifted.

Not fast. Not obvious. Just enough to put space between us. He was punishing himself.

I let him, but only for a minute. Then I followed.

“Why’d you fight him?” I asked as I hung the keys on the peg by the door.

Jacob didn’t slow. Didn’t look back. He paced a bit, looking like a trapped tiger.

“Levi—”

“No,” I said. Not sharp, but not letting it go either. “Why’d you fight him?”

He kept walking. I stood in the center of the room. There was no getting away from me.

“You didn’t have to,” I went on. “We could’ve walked out of there. We didn’t have anything yet.”

Still nothing from him.

“I’m not asking how it went,” I said. “I was there.”

That got the smallest reaction. Not a look. Not a word. Just a shift in his shoulders.

“I’m asking why.”

He stopped. Not abruptly. Just… done moving. The tiger finally realizing there was no way out of the cage.

For a second, I thought he was going to keep ignoring me.

Then—“I thought I could handle it.”

Same words as before. Same answer. Different weight.

“Handle it how?” I asked.

He exhaled slowly. “By staying within it.”

There it was again.

I nodded once, more to myself than to him. “Within what?”

“You know what,” he said, a little sharper now.

“Say it anyway.”

Jacob turned then, finally looking at me.

“Control,” he said. “Within control. What I’m supposed to be.”

I held his gaze. “And that was enough?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away.

“I thought it should’ve been,” he said.

There it was. I let that sit for a second. Not rushing it. Not pushing too hard too fast. My mind was moving now, putting it together. Lord, grant me discernment to help my brother.

“You thought being right was enough,” I said.

Jacob’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

He shook his head, already starting to turn away again. “No.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

He didn’t walk this time. He just stood there, back half-turned, like he couldn’t decide whether to leave or stay.

“You thought your righteousness would carry it,” I went on. “That if you stayed inside it—inside what you believe—you’d win.”

“That’s not—” he started.

Then stopped. Because it was close enough to hurt.

I stepped up beside him, not in front of him. Didn’t block him. Just stayed there.

“That’s not faith,” I said.

Now he looked at me again. “What is it, then?”

I didn’t answer right away. Picked the words instead of letting them pick me.

“Was the strength for you, or for the Lord?”

I waited a beat

“Was it pride?” I asked.

That landed. Harder than anything else had.

“No,” Jacob said immediately. Flat. Certain. “No.”

I nodded.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought too.”

He frowned.

“It doesn’t look like it,” I went on. “That’s the problem.”

I glanced down at his feet. Barefoot. Always.

“It doesn’t feel like it either,” I said. “Not when it’s dressed up right.”

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t argue. He was just listening. That was new too.

“You’re not saying you’re better than anyone,” I said. “You’re not trying to take anything for yourself.”

I met his eyes again. “But you are saying you’ve got what it takes.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Even if what you’ve got came from Him,” I said, cutting in just enough to keep him from slipping past it. “You still treated it like it was yours to carry.”

Silence.

“You believed you could be victorious,” I said. “Because you were right.”

Jacob didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it this time either.

“That’s self-righteousness,” I said. “Not the loud kind. The quiet kind.”

I shook my head slightly. “The kind that slips in where it doesn’t belong.”

He looked down again at his hands this time. Not his feet.

I didn’t press. Didn’t need to. He was doing the work now.

A long second passed. Then another.

“…What do I do?” he asked.

Quiet. Not defensive. Just honest.

That caught me a little off guard. Not the question. The way he asked it.

I took a breath. And for once, I didn’t have a smart answer ready to go. Didn’t need one.

“Repent,” I said.

He didn’t look up.

“And pray.”

That was it. No speech. No lecture.

He nodded once. Small. But real.

Then he looked up again. “What about Nathanial?”

There it was. Back to the fight. Back to the problem. He made a mistake, he would own it, but it was back to business. I almost smiled.

I felt the shift in myself too. Back into something more familiar. A little steadier. A little sharper.

“Next time we meet him,” I said, “you need to climb the tree.”

Jacob frowned. “What?”

I huffed a small breath.

“Zacchaeus,” I said. “Short guy. Couldn’t see over the crowd.”

Recognition flickered.

“So he climbed,” I went on. “Not to prove anything. Just to see.”

I shrugged slightly. “That’s all he was trying to do.”

Jacob watched me now. Actually watched.

“Jesus didn’t show up because Zacchaeus had it together,” I said. “He showed up because Zacchaeus was looking.”

A small pause. “Because he climbed.”

I tilted my head a little. “You’re looking for the wrong thing.”

“What am I supposed to look for?” Jacob asked.

“Not strength,” I said. “That’s not the problem.”

I held his gaze. “Look to the Lord.”

That hung there for a second.

Then I added, quieter, “For the righteousness to do it.”

Not to win. Not to prove anything. Just to do what needed doing.

Jacob didn’t answer right away.

He looked down once more at his feet.

Bare on the carpet.

Then back up. And this time, he didn’t step away. We stood there a second longer. Jacob embraced me, at the same time I reached for him. Together, in the same rythm.

Thank you, Lord