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Jason
Jason had come to the church to pray, but now that he was there, there was no prayer—only panic.
He sat silently, staring at the large wooden cross hanging in the front of the sanctuary.
Finally, he breathed, “Oh God, you must be so mad at me.”
Predictably, God didn’t answer. That was probably a good thing because if God was angry, Jason didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He closed his eyes. There was no if God was angry. God was definitely angry.
He bowed his head. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered. Only a few months ago he’d promised to follow Jesus. And then he’d gone and made the biggest mistake of his life. What had he been thinking?
He certainly hadn’t been thinking about God.
“I don’t know what to ask for,” he whispered around the lump in his throat. “I really messed up, and I’m so, so sorry.” A quiet sob erupted out of him, and he wiped at his eyes, embarrassed to be crying like a little boy. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I need you to do. Just help me, God. Help me. I need you.”
