Kill The King

Many years ago, well before transition – and even before graduating high school – I wanted to become a pastor when I grew up.  I loved God and I wanted to spread his love to those around me.  At least that is is what I told myself.  Sure, being the center of attention behind the pulpit was intriguing as was holding the salvation of those in my flock.  If I could love God and exert my dominance at the same time, was that not good enough?

I would fall away from the faith before making a decision regarding my post-high school plans, however.  There were many reasons for this, but the most intriguing one was the unsettling paradox that I saw materializing before me.  You see, I knew that I was “sinful.”  I knew that I was “more” sinful than all of those around me.  And, I knew that God had created me to bear such sin.  How could I be true to a God that inflicted me with a state that made me inherently opposed to him?  Yes, “salvation through grace”, but it seemed that it was quite unfair that I would be created only to have to fight my sin and proclivities much harder than the vast majority of God’s other creations.  It did not make sense.

No, I quickly learned that God was of no importance to me.  If he wanted to play games with my soul, then I was more than happy to let oblivion be my ultimate keeper.  He wanted subservience and unimportance.  My life deserves much more.  There are many other places to exert power that are not behind pulpits or that require the cloth.  I am my own god and I will choose my own destiny.  I need the grace of none to fulfill my desires.

Kill the king.  The king is dead.  I am the king.  God save the king…

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