The Crossroads

"What time is the meeting again? Not that it matters, I'm sure that I'm running late!", I mumbled to myself.

Time management and having the due diligence to accomplish my tasks have not always been in my repertoire. I was en route to meeting with the local missionary Baptist church youth fellowship group. After swinging my car door open, I clicked my seat belt and started my engine in a frantic. An opportunity to atone for my past life and transgressions, I’ve decided to join the youth fellowship group, although they may not take my efforts seriously, as I rush to meet with them 30 minutes tardy. As I head to meet with the youth group at a coffee shop, I began to ponder if this process of ‘spiritual cleansing’ and adapting to a ‘pure’ way of living was even worth the trouble.

“Would I be someone they’d look down upon, let alone accept me?”

Coming to a stop light, I buried my head towards the steering wheel; my eyes rolling down, taking my morale on a downwards spiral with it. As a continued to guilt trip and pout about my bad decisions in recent years, I immediately glance back up from the steering wheel to see that the light turn green. I hear a fellow driver blow his car horn in a rage as I noticed that I had the right-of-way. My first and detrimental instinct peaked its ugly head, as I blew my car horn to combat his. Yards before turning to reach my destination, the same furious driver sped past me to overtake my car, as he gave no lead way nor signal about his intent to pass me.

“Fuck off!”, I replied.

Vexed by the driver antics and rage, I turned I the parking lot of the coffee shop. Instead of immediately getting out of my car, I sat and contemplated my response to the driver.

“Another sin to avoid, defuse and jot down.”

I immediately extended my hand to open the glove compartment in my car to retrieve my little black book. In my small black book, I began tallying up the various immoral things I've done over my troublesome life. Adding to that list was giving the angry driver my attention, instead of turning the other cheek to his antics.

“How contradicting I can be, when I come here intending to make new brothers and sisters in Christ, yet I am angry with a mere driver cutting me off and over taking me on the road. How could I possibly change!? How could they possibly accept me?”

I felt my body teetering, shifting back and forth at the very thought of my mistakes and the criminals I once acquainted myself with. Perhaps we were all abysmal sycophantic-like criminals even, agreeing with our bad decisions without a second thought or remorse. I decided to exit my car, locking the doors (or so I thought) and jogged inside the coffee shop. Despite my tardiness, the faces of the youth group members illuminated as soon as they’ve acknowledged my presence. Expecting them to eschew me, they were very accepting and understanding, as I explained my journey here. Not judgement nor distaste from them. Somehow, a sportive, lighthearted wave of energy and enthusiasm came towards me in the form of 9 teens coming to greet me.

Suddenly, the teetering stopped, as my body reverts to a stasis-like state. I began to feel an uneasy chill while sitting in the coffee shop. It's as if my vitality began to be drained. It was as if some soporific force was depleting my energy. I drifted into a deep slumber.

Initially, I thought myself to be dead, waking up in a pitch-black void of darkness. My flesh felt ice cold, without vestige of warmth nor heat. This was all so strange and new to me; I can't be dreaming. I felt very much alert and aware, though somewhat groggy and sore. I tried to at least find and feel my way around until I see a skull emerge, with the rest of its physical being wrapped in a dark blue drapery.

“What the hell?! A skeletor?”

I panicked and took a few steps back to create space, as I started to speculate at what I was looking at.

“Is this hell?” I asked the figure in front of me.

“I am no skeleton, and you’ve not succumbed to death, let alone hell just yet.” It replied.

“I am the angel of death. I am ironically here to spare you the dire, hopeless fate of hell for all of eternity. In exchange for...”

“In exchange for what?” I replied. “My life?!”

“In exchange for your services. In order to forever remove your name from this list.”

I thought to myself in that moment about what he said, as I realized that I didn’t provide any services. I recalled hearing about the angel of death and his esoteric reputation of collecting souls after one's death. Yet, I didn’t feel as though Ive died. This was until he unveiled a small black book like the one I used to write down my wrong doings, in hopes for atonement and forgiveness from the divine. I panicked, as I quickly saw that my name was written in one of the pages of the book. “Marcus Williams”, along with a plethora of names I saw, was written down in the book.

“Are you here to collect my soul?” I asked.

“I am here to send you a message from our lord. Not only are you to atone for you past life, but you are to carry out my will, somewhat.”

“I don’t understand; you are wanting me to take over as the angel of death?”

He replies, “No, I am wanting you to write down the names of the people you will encounter throughout the rest of your lifetime and save them from a life of vile, cruel nature. To become a catalyst of hope and being an example to others. You are to become an inverted version of me, to write down the names of people you save in your life, instead of your previous sins and transgressions. My duty is to write down the names of those whom have physically died, leading them through a process of purgatory or spiritual cleansing.

“How can I do that when I'm not even capable of saving myself? I asked.

“I will bestow a generous treasure upon you to share and spread. Even to individuals you aren't acquainted with, you are to be good stewards of your newfound wealth. Although it will not completely erase your name from this book, but it will be a start.”

“And how do I obtain this ‘treasure’?” I asked.

“In due time, you will see...” he said, as the angel of death slowly drifted back into the darkness.

“Wait!” I screamed.

In that instant, I woke to the ceiling of the missionary Baptist church, along with the concerned faces of the youth group members.

“Are you okay?!” one of them replied.

I wasn’t sure initially, but I began to feel vigor and a sense of prudence like never before. Hours past, as I began explaining my otherworldly experience to them. Upon me leaving the church, awaiting my next meet with the group, one of the members offered me a ride back to my parked car near the coffee shop. I rushed back to my car only to realize that it was unlocked! I checked in a frantic to see if anything was stolen, until I saw my little black book once again in the passenger’s seat. I was shocked to see a stack of dollar bills inside one of the pages; $20,000 worth! I immediately thought back to the angel of death and this ‘treasure’ he mentioned. I didn’t quite know what to do with this money, yet I felt a deep sense of responsibility and resolve to not only help myself, but to cater to others.

From that moment onwards, my life began anew. My life was essentially ‘bought’ back. At what expense?

And my new quest to remove myself from the angel of death’s book began.