Threshold

I was given a writing prompt of just one word, “Threshold,” recently in a veteran writing class. Instead of writing about the obvious threshold I crossed to become a soldier, I chose to go another route. I crossed the threshold written about below almost fifteen years ago. It was the result of a providential pairing of an atheist and a Southern Baptist stuck together in a combat zone. I hope you enjoy it.

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The mountain grew taller as I ambled my way past house-sized boulders. This trail was leading me somewhere eternal. I wasn’t seeking a cliffside vista, although a respite from the valley’s humidity seemed nice. I was after something everlasting. Never missing a chance to commune with nature, I flipped flat rocks in pursuit of snakes and newts. I used any excuse I could to prolong the inevitable. The incline was steeper than steep; it was damn near vertical. I slogged on and on, I had to make good on a promise.

I wasn’t alone on my journey. My best friend was at my side. He picked the place because he knew it would be memorable. This was a moment of reverence. The journey up the trail had been rocky and unstable like most of my life before that point, but there were cool breezes and long panoramic views where I was heading. I needed that clarity of vision. The trail was more than a trail; it was a pilgrimage from one life to another.

I’d spent a lifetime arguing the semantics and fallacies of scripture to anyone who’d listen. Now, I stood at a threshold I was afraid to cross. I knew I could never go back once I crossed that line in the sand. I couldn’t feign ignorance, and there would be severe consequences from those I’d previously chastised if this thing didn’t stick.

Finally, I let the atmosphere surround me at the top of the mountain. My shirt was stuck to my body like a wetsuit. The tears streamed down my face as I confessed my inequity to a God I’d always believed in but never admitted out loud. Now, I admitted it. I asked to be forgiven of my trespasses, my arrogance, my doubt, and all matters of disbelief. I learned what awe was. The reverence humbled me. I couldn’t stop weeping. There was no going back now.