My Journey Back

I am laid low in the dust; preserve my life according to your word.

—Psalm 119:25

The journey back toward faith came in flashes and moments, and entirely through pain. I wanted to build my life on my own terms. I felt like having faith was like having training wheels on your bike, and I wanted to ride without those training wheels even if I fell. For a while, I loved it. I felt creative and smart and courageous.

And then everything fell apart, over the course of a year. I was heartbroken and confused and very much alone, and I started doing the craziest things. If you’re a really sensible, stable person, and somebody breaks your heart, you might do something wild, like go out dancing and drinking all night, but that’s what I did on normal days. So I dug out my Bible. I have no idea why, really. I sat alone on my bed on a Saturday afternoon with the light slanting through my window. I was a literature major, so my room was crammed with books, and underneath a tall stack of books on the windowsill, I found my Bible. I just held it. I don’t think I even read it that day. I just held it on my lap with both hands, like it was a cat.