Mom and Dad left today on a cruise for their anniversary and left us at home. If we were normal teenagers, we would be hosting a party right now. Instead, Phillip is in his room reading his Bible class material and listening to music. And I am lying on my bed watching the ceiling fan turn.
The blades spin so fast. It’s amazing how you can no longer see them separated yet you can feel the output so you know each blade is of importance. It’s kind of like teamwork. When each individual is working together in the same direction, you no longer see the people but the improved result. My dad could preach off that.
I closed my eyes. The air blew over my face splitting by my nose and running down the sides of my face until it tickled my ears. It is so refreshing.
Questions… I have so many questions about life and living. God, what is my purpose? What would you have me do? I know I don’t understand all there is about you, but I’m lost. I need you to show me the way. What am I doing? Why would you help me? You don’t even know me at least not personally. It’s kind of like a “plus one”. My parents come to you invited and add me like a guest at a party.
In reality, I don’t want you to show me the way because I may not want to go there. All my life, I have been shown the way. I want to find my own way. The truth is I watched you control everything. Even on vacations, we could never really enjoy ourselves because we had to be back to serve you. I had to participate in everything whether I wanted to or not to glorify you. You say we have a choice, but I sure don’t remember ever having one. Yes, I see your blessings. I know you are here, but sometimes I wish you weren’t.
I don’t want to be the “holy” outcast at school. I want to be popular and have friends. I want to be pretty and confident. I want guys to notice me as more than just an answer sheet. I want to be a normal kid. I don’t want the pressure. I just can’t see how it is all so worth it. I’m sorry, but I can’t. And I don’t want to try.
I have been preparing for a battle and the “last days” my whole life. Tell me where is this battle? How long are the last days exactly? It seems like we have been in “the last days” longer than the first ones. Is it even real? Why did you choose me? You could have had anyone, why me?
Listen to me, I am full of doubt and resentment. I am not worthy of anything. Tears filled my eyes. All the things I have never said and the thoughts I thought I had hid. It’s like the bucket busted open. I had to let it go. I am so lost. Forgive me. I closed my eyes and pinched away the remaining tears. I curled up into a ball and clutched my body pillow.
People all around me yelling and screaming, “Yeah! Kill him! Kill him! He’s not my King! Kill him!” What is going on? I started pushing through a crowd that seems more and more like an angry mob. Why are they so angry? Who do they want to kill?
I looked down at the long brown dress-like attire I am wearing. I don’t have any shoes on my feet. There is no grass only dirt, dusty dirt. My face is covered with a veil. The dress material is so thin I can feel the wind so intensively like it’s touching my bare skin tickling it all over.
“What is happening” I asked. Everyone ignored me. No one can hear me. While running to the front of the mob, I asked the people along the way to tell me where I am and what is going on.
I must have gone back in time somehow because the clothes are so prehistoric. Everyone is draped with fabric; there aren’t any defined hems. It kind of looks like enlarged pillow cases with holes cut in for the head and arms. Is this a weird biblical costume party? Where am I?
Finally, I made it to the front of the crowd. There is a woman crying on her knees. I cannot see her face because the fabric drapes around her head and just under her eyes. But she has the same eyes my mother had when she got the call that my dad was in the hospital.
He was hurt really badly on a Mission trip with Benton. He almost died from the injuries to his body. He never did tell us the whole story. The doctor said his memory loss may be partially due to the head injury.
My mom had those eyes. Eyes in which you could see the torture of watching the one you love grasping to life with one hand. Eyes that are reaching for them, as you desperately wish you could help them. Yet, these eyes show a glimpse of the reality that you can’t.
There is nothing you can do, but watch and wait. Not even knowing what you are waiting for because you don’t know God’s plan. And you don’t want to doubt or undermine his authority. So your heart is at a standstill as it struggles between hope and grief. Faith or trust. Belief or disbelief. You let out a silent cry for the confusion, but the real tears are for the hurt, the desire, the hopeless faith.
I could see it all in her eyes, even with the rest of her face covered. I followed her eyes to see who was causing her such pain. There was a man.
He had a crown of thorns on his head. The blood dripped down his face and into his eyes. He had open wounds upon his back where they had stuck him several times. Jesus! It is Jesus!
They are about to nail him to the cross.
His face doesn’t show an ounce of fight. He is accepting his fate. Yet, I can see his pain. It is a pain he shouldn’t have to endure. He did nothing wrong.
“NO!” I ran to him.
I cannot watch this happen. He is our Lord and Savior you can’t do this to him.
One of the men lost in chanting for his destruction had a knife on his side. I grabbed it and he didn’t even notice. I continued towards the men. I know I may not kill one man, but I will die trying. I will not let this happen. The man nailing his hands had his back to me. I stabbed him in the back of his neck. As the blood squirted everywhere, it hit me what I had just done. The other men drew their swords. Some of Jesus’s disciples came to my aid. As the men began to fight, I grabbed Jesus and tried to help him get away.
“Jesus. Are you okay?”
His body was too heavy for me to carry. I looked down at his feet. He wasn’t even trying to walk. I laid his body down.
“Why won’t you try? I’m trying to save you.”
His face still looked stung with pain.
He lifted his heavy, tired eyes to mine. “No my child, it is I who came to save you. It is as it has to be. Without my sacrifice…”
What? He stopped talking. His eyes looked up to the sky.
“What? Jesus, without your sacrifice, what?” I asked him desperately.
What have I done? I followed his eyes to the sky. It had turned black. What is happening?
“Jesus, what is happening?” All of a sudden, the Earth shook violently.
“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do?” He continued.
It’s too late! It’s too late! Big balls of fire began to fall like meteors in a meteor shower; except the meteors were driven with a purpose; to destroy all mankind.
“Jesus, we have to run. Jesus!”
I looked down and his body was gone.
I started running with no direction only to get away. Then, the Earth shook again and a huge crack appeared in front of me. I had to slide to a stop. I looked down at what could have been my fate. The crack went all the way to the core. I could see the orange of the outer core as it slushed back and forth.
I saw something emerging. I couldn’t make out what it was. I started to back away. Then I saw the head of a giant snake. I turned to run, but the fire balls were falling in that direction. There was no way around the crack. I was stuck. I looked up at the snake. It flicked its tongue at me. I closed my eyes. The snake swallowed me whole. I started screaming and fighting. I was kicking and hitting.
I opened my eyes. The clock read 3:25am. I sat up in my bed. I looked at my hands. A dream. It was all a dream. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I walked back to my room. What a realistic dream?
I wonder what it means, if anything. I’ll have to ask my dad when they come back later t
oday. I grabbed my Bible. I’m sure it won’t do anything seeing, as though I can’t take it in the dream with me. Yet, I do feel a degree of comfort with it in my arms. I curled up under the covers, said a quick prayer, and went back to sleep.