I had a fiery and loose tongue in eighth grade. I inherited the ability to make anyone feel two inches tall with just a few words. I was messing with the wrong red-kneck kid in class one day and he just snapped. I learned from another kid that between classes I should watch my back because I was going down when the bell rang. Now that I knew what my mouth had done I wanted to apologize and make amends. No dice. My lover-not-a-fighter instincts arose and I determined to “turn the other cheek.” By the time the bell rang this kid had four friends ready to beat the tar out of me. I walked up the hall and got slammed into lockers, beat about the head, my clothes ripped and shoved to the ground before faculty finally pulled the kids off of me. This generally served to throw me into my shame mode. I spent most of the rest of the week hiding in the principal’s office afraid to go to class.
After this experience I felt like I had hit rock bottom and I called out on Jesus begging for help. The change in my life was like night and day after that. I started reading the gospel of John and it was like everything came alive to me for the first time. I really wanted to pursue a relationship with Jesus more than anything else.
