I was sitting on the floor, looking up at him. I remember that detail.
“I’m not sure you should be asking those questions,” he said to me. Those words from my spiritual mentor, the man I’d followed on a wild, wide-awake journey through radical sold-out faith. I’m not sure you should be asking questions.
Even then, even in my devotion and my awe and my person-worship, I knew it was over.
So I wanted to write a little letter to myself — to the self I was before it began.
* * *
Today I have the distinct honor of guest posting over at Preston Yancey’s blog. Preston is a storyteller, a beautiful, haunting writer whose words swirl around and stick to you, hanging on to whisper later. He’s been hosting a series called Conversations with Ourselves, where writers address our past (or future) selves somehow. There have been some beautiful, amazing submissions, and I can’t believe I got to join in the fun.
Here’s a little preview of my piece:
There’s this pastor you need to know about. I’m telling you now before he shows up on your topography, because after he’s here, words and accusations will fly and flare and you’ll be defensive and you won’t hear me. I’m not going to give it all away, but know this: He’s light and dark. He’ll bring lasting good; he’ll damage forever.
You’ll consider this at length later, this human condition, this light/dark, good/evil paradox. But in all your life, you may never experience something so undeniably from God while at the same time having the devil’s fingerprints all over it.
Join me over at Preston’s place to read the rest.
(This is obviously a very personal one for me — one of those pieces I’ve read and re-read dozens of times and I’m still not sure if it will connect for anyone except me. Deep breaths…)