We were taught to live in the footsteps of Jesus, yet we ended up walking down the road taken by lesser men.
We came of age, and came into sin. The host became bread, the prayer an excuse for rest and sleep. Rosaries passed through my hand once; now, I hold cigarettes between my fingers. I used to kneel and reflect at the chapel longer than I did eating breakfast. Somehow, I strayed from the path I was raised to follow. Sin, perhaps, was my best excuse to live.
The Church was nothing more than shelter as I entered it again, until I saw the dying figure of Christ again. Judas brought Him there, I remembered; for 30 silver pieces, the King of the Jews was scourged at the pillar and made to carry a heavy cross to Calvary, where He was crucified like a common criminal.
We were taught to follow the path of Jesus. Like many of us, I ended up following the path of Judas.