Chapter 11: Margins

I didn't set out to write a story. I just wanted to survive.

I lived it. I survived it. I lost almost everything to it. But by grace, I'm still here. And God is still speaking.

This isn't a tale of triumph tied in a bow. It's a testimony. A slow emergence from years of entrapment, shame, and silence.

I am a man changed—not just by meetings or jail or consequences—but by the relentless, pursuing love of God.

For decades, I lived in the margins. The margins of society. The margins of church. The margins of my own mind. Addiction made sure of that. Guilt made it worse, and isolation cemented the lie that God had moved on.

But He hadn't.

I met Him in jail. I met Him in scripture. I met Him in silence. I met Him in the flicker of hope that said, "Write this down. Someone needs it."

So I did.

And I will keep writing.

I will keep walking.

Because every breath I take now echoes the mercy of a God who refused to leave me behind.

Margins aren't where the story ends.

Margins are where resurrection begins.

Jesus in the Margins

Luke 7, John 4, Mark 5

He touched lepers. He dined with sinners. He spoke to Samaritans. He healed the bleeding woman. He forgave the adulteress.

Jesus didn't build His ministry in the temple. He built it in the margins.

He didn't wait for the clean. He went to the unclean.

He didn't wait for the worthy. He went to the discarded.

He didn't wait for the strong. He went to the broken.

And He still does.

The Margins Are Holy Ground

We think holiness lives in sanctuaries. But it often lives in silence. In jail cells. In hospital rooms. In broken homes. In addiction recovery meetings.

God builds altars in the places no one else wants to go. And if you're there—if you're in the margins—know this: You are not forgotten. You are not forsaken. You are not beyond grace.

You are exactly where God wants you. Where He does His best work.