Approximately three years ago, I found myself dragging my soul through the darkest corridor I’ve ever traveled through. It didn’t help that I created this mess myself. Somewhere along the line of trying to navigate life outside of my calling….
I was aware of her traumatic childhood. I was also aware of how it had impacted her life. Her father was extremely abusive to her mother and to the family. In fact, she bore a small scar near her eye from a brick that her father had flung at her when she was little. Her experiences caused her to be abrasive in her interactions at times. She could be distrusting of people and it took a while to gain her trust.
The proposition was a simple one. The church needed both a janitor and an associate pastor. Unfortunately, they could only afford to hire one. I could tell that the pastor was trying to sell me on the arrangement, but his efforts were pointless. I had my mind made up before any attempt to convince me was made.
I rehearsed a handful of responses as I walked toward their car. Although I didn’t know them, I was certain that they were going to ask me for money. Lately I had been approached by a number of transients asking for help. Rather than constantly giving money, I made a practice of keeping snacks in my car to give to give to those who were hungry. But honestly, I found this to be tiresome, and was no longer doing it with a joyful heart.
I have a history of giving into shame. She’s a beast and my natural tendency is to let her have her way without putting up much of a fight. However, in that moment I felt something that I had not felt in a very long time…