Death on the Borderlands

20 10 2008

December 8th, 2006

It was right when I passed the 12th Street BART station in downtown Oakland that I realized my life had changed. I had chased my own tail for long enough, and at this point I was throwing in the towel. Up to that time, I thought that God’s role in my life was to prevent me from having to live it. I thought that I would just be carried effortlessly, as if on the gust of the ceaselessly flapping of angels’ wings. But now, it felt like my soul was being ripped out of me. It was turning out that the Cross was no longer going to be some vessel that would lead me across this valley of shadows into the land of happy endings. Now, it was merely going to be a crutch that I would have to use to hobble through the rest of my life. If I did reach the finish line, it would be battered and bruised, defeated and drenched in my own shame. But that was what the score was at that point, and the game was up. I had to stop running.
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