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The following is excerpted from LDS Living. To read the full article, CLICK HERE.
I must have walked past the bishop’s office at least 10 times that night. To my 15-year-old brain, it felt more like 100, but I kept walking by even though Mutual had been done for a while. Trying to look nonchalant, I walked toward the lobby one more time to see if the bishop’s door was open, just like I had the week before and the week before that. It hadn’t been open any of those other weeks, but tonight might be different. Palms sweating, stomach aching, and head hanging low, I slinked one more time through the church building.
The door was open.
“James? Is that you? Come on in.” The warmth of my bishop’s voice struck me, as did his smile.
I hesitated. I had tried so many things to fix the problem myself, but the pain of my poor choices was overwhelming. I just wanted the hurt to go away. I was so disappointed in myself, and I knew God was disappointed in me too. I should have been better, stronger, and wiser. I was a member of Christ’s church. I went to my meetings on Sunday. I was a Boy Scout. I had knowledge, and I knew that should make me better than the average sinner. But I wasn’t. And that hurt—a lot.
To read the full article, CLICK HERE.