I first saw hate up close and personal in my early teens. I intervened when a couple of guys from school decided it was a good day to beat up one of my best friends because they perceived him as being gay. Did you get that? They didn’t know, they just assumed, and they deemed him worthy of a beating because of it.
Something in me broke that day. I felt it snap, and as I jogged around the cemetery near my house that evening to shed the remaining adrenaline and anger from the fight, I lashed out at God. Yep. That’s right. Little ol’ teenage me was furious with God. Please let me explain.
2 Comments