It wasn’t until I actually said those words that I realized I’d hit rock bottom. I didn’t just say them. I
meant them.Think back to your school days. Do you remember the kid in the back of the classroom? That quiet one who was different from everyone else? Maybe he didn’t dress the same as most kids. Maybe he had a different haircut or liked different music. Perhaps he came from a poor family and his clothes were often dirty. You picked on him for being different. It was no big deal; everyone else did it. You giggled at him and called him names. You knocked his books off his desk and pretended it was an accident. You shot spit-wads at him. You excluded him from games at recess. It was funny to you, and that’s all that really mattered.
Remember that kid?
That was me.
Now, I’m about to relive my past in an attempt to understand why God, the God of peace and love, permits the cruel injustices of the world.
