Short story
Behold, All Things Are Become New
by David Harlen Brooks
Some wounds don’t heal on their own. Some fathers don’t stay gone.
Tyler has spent years running from an Illinois river town and the man who left cigarette burns on his back and rage in his blood. Now, minutes before his wedding, his abusive father appears in a Sunday school room in Florida, sober, humbled, and asking for forgiveness. What unfolds is not a fairytale reconciliation. It is something far more honest, far more painful, and far more human. Because Tyler carries a secret of his own, one that forces him to look his father in the eye and recognize a reflection he desperately does not want to see.
Meet David Harlen Brooks
David Harlen Brooks tells stories where broken lives collide with unexpected grace. Shaped by his Midwestern roots, he earned degrees in English and history from what is now Cornerstone University and journalism from the University of Missouri before beginning a career that took him far from the Mississippi River towns of his youth.
After inspecting rubber gloves for a factory and stringing for newspapers in Chicago’s western suburbs, he accepted an overseas role with a Philippine-based discipleship organization—an unexpected path that became his life’s calling. There, he chronicled stories of changed lives, ministry outreaches, and edited submissions to the organization’s newsletter. Most recently, he assembled a communications team to continue the work after him.
His writing blends literary sensibility with spiritual depth, drawing readers into character-driven narratives that explore guilt, grace, and healing. Whether set in rural America or Philippine urban settings, his stories honor simple folks muddling through life until grace meets them in their brokenness.
He lives with his wife in the Philippines. They love watching movies and eating popcorn.
Book Description
What do you do when the man who scarred you asks for forgiveness on the most important day of your life?
Tyler has worked hard to leave his past behind. Raised by an abusive alcoholic father in a small Illinois river town, he hitchhiked to Florida, built a career, and found the woman he wants to spend his life with. Today is supposed to be the beginning of everything good.
Then his father walks through the door.
Behold, All Things Are Become New is a gripping, emotionally charged story set almost entirely in one small room during the thirty minutes before a wedding. In that confined space, two broken men are forced to face each other and the damage that has passed silently between them. Ralph arrives sober for the first time in decades, carrying regret and a rehearsed apology. Tyler arrives ready to fight, but hiding a wound of his own he has never admitted to anyone.
This is not a story about easy forgiveness or tidy emotional resolution. It is a story about the terrifying weight of inherited trauma, the thin line between victim and perpetrator, and the fragile, imperfect first steps toward breaking a cycle that has repeated for generations.
Sneak Peek
“Stupid tie.”
I jerked the uncooperative bow tie from my upturned collar and thumped my knuckles against the wall before I could stop myself.
Behind me, the groomsmen whispered in hushed tones as they tucked in shirts and fastened cuff links. My face flushed. I left my hand against the wall until the sting settled, then turned back to the smudged mirror. Despite the air conditioning, the Florida sun pressed through the walls, broiling me.
I started whistling to steady my nerves, but somewhere along the way it narrowed to the same five mindless notes on a loop. I was still at it when the Sunday school room door burst open. I spun around to find my best man, Bryce, hovering in the doorway.
“Tyler!”
His usual EMT composure had gone, and my off-tune whistling died.
“Someone out here says he’s your dad. Sorry—I tried to stop him.” He glanced sideways, as if checking the man’s story. “Says he wants to talk to you.”
“Huh? Speak English, Bud. What are you talking about?”
His slow blink and pressed lips waited for me to catch up.
When I did, an acrid tang rose in my mouth, the taste of brutal nights from an Illinois river town. I paced the narrow room, heat building under my skin, pulse climbing—too fast—while Bryce waited.
“He wasn’t a dad. Just a man needing a punching bag.”
I didn’t care if the man outside heard me. I shoved my hands into my pockets, fists pressing against the fabric.
Bryce’s eyes followed me.
“Is my mom with him?”
“Doesn’t seem to be.”
I had sent her an invitation at her work, an attempt to reconnect, figuring she couldn’t get away without him knowing. He must have found out anyway.
“Drunk, isn’t he? Can’t imagine how he managed to get down here.”
Bryce shrugged. “Seems calm and collected.”
I bit my lip before I said something inappropriate in a church. My father had a knack for showing up at the wrong time and causing the most pain. I grabbed a broken crayon and fired it at a box of worn-down colored sticks beneath a crooked banner, glitter flaking onto the cabinet.
Bryce stepped in, eyes softening, knowing my history.
If he was drunk, Bryce and the guys could cart him off, but I couldn’t allow a scene in front of Julie or her family.
Sweat trickled into the cracked terrain of old scars along my back. I reached behind to scratch one, angered that it still itched after all these years. Agreeing to meet him meant opening a door for him to worm back into my life.
“What do you think?” Bryce asked.
“No way!”
Bryce looked away, then back. “Buddy, I can only imagine what you’re feeling. But might you reconsider?”
A low growl escaped me.
When he rested a hand on my shoulder, I resisted the urge to shake it off.
“Tyler, hear me out. He’s already intruded. Get it over with so you can focus on your big day.”
“My day. Exactly.”
“To find out his intention, at least.”
I slapped my pockets. “You’ve got the ring?”
“Yes. And?”
“Whose side are you on, best man?”
