Chess

He sat there then, in the way that he does, with his eyes half closed, shaking or nodding his head now and then so you know he's listening.  We sat far enough away from the fireplace that I warmed my hands on a half-full mug of coffee.  I spoke quietly and confidently, not so full of trepidation when sharing my journey as I used to be. 
"I don't know when it happened.  I can't put my finger on a particular incident or time.  One day I just realized that I believed.  Didn't really have anymore understanding or clarity.  Just faith. In that place that courses through the very depths of you, that holds more weight than your mind or your feelings about everything that surrounds you, I had been persuaded. I didn't know why or how, and it didn't matter.  My soul rested in the belief of God.  I stopped wondering, vacillating, needing evidence, needing to prove myself.  I gave up needing to be believed.  I even gave up needing the promises to come true.  They were God's.  He could do with them as He saw fit.  I trusted Him."
"And you don't understand how huge that was for me," I continued, "For so long I felt like I was a pawn in some divine chess game."
He looked at me then, in the way that he does, his eyes piercing out over his glasses and beneath his graying brows. 
"I don't think you were a pawn," he said definitively.  "You were a bishop."
I looked at him fondly, like I sometimes do, and quietly and gratefully took in the honor of what he had said.
Somehow then, I didn't mind the game so much.