Status Updates From Dangerous Territory: My Mis...

“I was not the one chosen to bring justice to nations. I was not the one for whom the coastlands waited. I was the faintly burning wick.”

“I too felt words had been stripped from me that summer. I had thought that I spoke faith ad my first language, but as I encountered my first spiritual crisis, i found that I had no words at all. Instead of prayer, or even tears or keening cries, my first language seemed to be silence.”

“It occurs to me now that obsessing over my own failures and what-might-have-beens is a way of creating my own altar, a high place where I worship myself as the ultimate sovereign, responsible for whatever happens, good or bad.”