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.
For quite some time, my emotional health could be compared to a bottle of soda-pop that had been violently shaken and was waiting to surprise any person who dared to open it. In turn, my emotional pain began to manifest in other ways.