Cody, there is something else I must ask you.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Do you know what thin line defines the difference between a hero and a murderer?”
Cody looked up. “Thin line? I always thought there was a huge difference.”
“Not as big a difference as you think. You see, a hero doesn’t want to hurt anyone but sometimes has to, while a murderer doesn’t have to hurt anybody but wants to. In every man there is a hero, and in every man there is a murderer. It only requires crossing that line. Mind that your heart doesn’t cross that line, son.”
Pastor Williams turned and headed toward the door. He paused to look back. “I have suffering people I must go to, Cody. Several of our church family are dead and many injured, including a pregnant teenager who is fighting for her life. Come back and see us, and bring your family next time.”
“Family?” Cody looked to his left and saw Brandi approaching.
She stopped a few steps away, a shoe in each hand, and opened her arms. With no hesitation, he walked right in. It was the first time they had held each other and wept together. It was not for shame, not for sorrow, but for the peace and the undoing of shackles. For the revelation that there is an empty place in the human heart that cries out to be occupied by the Ancient of Days — a union where only love hides in the shadows and where there is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still.
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