Friday, December 07, 2007

• "Father's Son"
  

  
       Every day I try to act like my Father's Son, and every day I fail miserably. Like a dog returning to lick up its vomit, so am I returning to my sin.
       My head is filled with questions, and I find no answers: Why is the flesh so weak, the eye so lustful, the tongue so sharp, and the mind so dull?
       I can feel the filth cover my skin, and I scratch, trying to rid myself of this disease. If only I could peel back the humanly flesh, grasp the evil inside, and rid myself of this cancer that is eating away at my soul. I just want to be free of this torture from within, but the blood on my hands does not easily wash off. I once again dig at my flesh, trying to scratch away the sin, but it only leaves me more broken and bruised. How can this earthly carcass be so filled with evil that it hates the very thought of itself? To hate oneself is the greatest torture, for you cannot escape from the one you flee.
       And through all this, I separate myself from the One I love the most. I say "love," but would true love allow for such trivial things to bring separation? God, I wish You would control me, never again allowing me to bring You distress. But You have given me this free will, and I feel it shall be my downfall.
       I beg, draw me close and tuck me under Your wing. Hold my arms so I cannot push away. Break my legs so I cannot run. I must rid myself of the things that bring You pain, and if doing so brings harm to myself, then what little cost would that be in the end?
       I know what I must do, and my body trembles. Please, hold my fingers steady as I pluck my eye from its socket. Help me master Matthew 6:3 as I slice the flesh of my arm; impede the blood as I cut through sinew and bone alike to separate hand from wrist. I will be blind and maimed, but if it keeps me from sinning against You, it is a small price to pay.
       I have sinned against God. I am covered with filth and disgrace, and my inward being is completely broken. I try to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart and soul, but the sharp edges do nothing but cut my fingers. The pieces slip through the blood on my hands, only to fall back to the ground. How can I place myself together when I cannot even hold on to what I need to survive?
       How broken must I be before I'm fixed?
       It was while in this state of mind that I found myself to be in a vast desert. Immediately to my right lay thin tracks, as if heavy objects had been pushed along in the sand. My eyes followed the trails until I saw shimmering black objects off in the distance. Waves of heat danced along the horizon, hindering my sight. Slowly, for I feared that I might frighten whatever had made the tracks, I started to walk toward the black dots that seemed to dance in and out of dark mirages.
       I felt the sand vibrate only a moment before I heard the sound that caused the ground's disruption. I continued to walk toward the objects, having no other option than to allow the vibration to numb my feet and work its way up my legs to rattle my whole being. A constant buzzing sound came from the objects, and as I got closer I could faintly hear the makings of intelligent words. It was as if the objects were singing, and the vibrations were nothing more than their sound waves.
       I stopped to listen, staring down at the tracks that they had left behind in the sand. I closed my eyes, straining my ears to their limits … and I could understand the words!
       "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!"
       Praises to God! My God! Joy swelled up within my breast, for I had not expected to hear such as this. Forgetting the fact that I might frighten the objects, I opened my eyes and ran toward them, hungry to hear more praises. Their singing sounded sweet to my ears, and it held a beautiful nature that I fear I cannot correctly describe.
       The sand continued to vibrate with each quickened step, sending numbness into my feet as if they were asleep. I skidded to a halt behind the objects, accidentally covering their tracks with flying sand. I stared down in shock, not sure if, by chance, I was somehow still seeing a mirage.
       The objects were stones! Their singing praise continued, the buzz of their voices almost deafening at this close distance. The stones themselves vibrated, moving across the desert, leaving trails behind in their wake.
       And then all stopped. Silence.
       "A human!" one of the stones whispered. A small buzz emitted from the rest of the stones, one of them turning to "look" in my direction. They murmured amongst themselves, and I was only able to make out a few of their frenzied whisperings. "... must be silent ... his job now ... praises to the Lord ..."
       And all fell quiet. A small wind picked up, playing with the sand around my feet and the now motionless stones.
       I stood for what seemed like hours, watching for any movement or noise, but nothing except the wind caught my attention. Skeptical, and slightly hurt in feelings, I moved on toward the far-off horizon. I often glanced back, hoping to catch the stones in movement again, but it was all for naught. Gradually they dipped in and out of the distant heat mirages, until at last they could be seen no longer.
       Greatly depressed now, I walked on with my head bowed, kicking the sand as I continued my trek. I altered my course only slightly, when needed, to avoid small sand drifts and to make my way around larger dunes. I'm not sure how long I walked, and it would be wrong of me to try and guess. Any judgment of time I had was lost, and I could have been walking for only minutes, maybe hours, but perhaps even for days. I don't know. I only know that I traveled a far distance, and unless my footprints had not been wiped away by the blowing wind (which I feared they had), there was no way I could find my way back to where I had started. Not that going back would help any, for where I started had been as bleak and hopeless as where I currently stood.
       I felt myself start to weaken, and my feet dragged, causing me to stumble every now and again. I was about to give up and sit down on the sand when I saw yet another dark object in a far-off mirage. I could see a vertical line waving in the heat. It was a long way off, and I made myself believe that I had just enough strength to reach it.
       And so I dragged my feet, continuing onward. Another unknown span of time passed before I could start to make out any details about the object. There seemed to be a smaller horizontal line that stretched atop the vertical line I had seen earlier. A single mass was positioned where the two lines crossed, and the image of it reminded me of a crucifix. The heat played tricks with my vision, and my eyes watered if I kept them raised toward the horizon for too long. I lowered my head once again, squinting against the bright heat of the desert, and trailed on.
       With each step, the object slowly came into focus. And with each moment's passing, the horror that I had been right--that it was, beyond any doubt, a crucifix--became more real. As I slowly got closer, a weight started to pull me to the ground. It took everything I had to keep my knees from buckling under this new burden.
       I stopped in front of the cross, my knees bent, arms down, and shoulders slumped under this new weight that was trying to drag me to the ground.
       There was a bloody mass of flesh hanging on the cross. It took me a moment before I realized it was the naked corpse of a human. And the only way I could tell it was, in fact, a human was due to the outstretched arms I saw pinned to the cross, and the overall shape of the body. Bones poked out from the torn flesh, though none appeared to be broken, and a spear hung from the dead Man's side. His feet and hands had been crudely nailed to the splintered wood of the cross. His body was torn asunder, and how His insides kept from spilling to the ground shall remain a mystery, for there seemed little to keep them in.
       Blood painted the cross and the body. For long moments, the blood seemed to be all I could see. I tore my gaze upward, staring upon what was left of the Man's face. A few small patches of beard remained on His chin and neck, but the hair from His cheeks had been ripped from His flesh, leaving behind swollen bruises and gore. Large thorn vines had been wrapped around and pushed onto the top of His head. They seemed to bore down into His very skull, leaving behind gaping wounds where the thorns had broken off from the tortuous crown.
       I saw no eyes, for His face was completely swollen shut.
       The burden that had been pulling me toward the ground became too great to ignore any longer. I looked down to see my sin hanging from my clothes in the form of rusted nails. I held a nine-tailed whip in my left hand, bits of broken pottery, rocks, and shards of metal tied to its leather tips. There was a large hammer grasped in my right fist, my knuckles white from the grip I held on its wooden handle. I stood, frightened and revolted by what I saw. I quickly released the whip and hammer, letting them fall heavily onto the sand, and frantically tried to remove the nails that clung to my clothing. Stricken, I looked up to the cross.
       "Did I--" I used my sleeve to wipe the tears from my cheek. "Did I do this to You?"
       There was no answer. There didn't need to be.
       For I knew what I had done.
       I dropped to my knees, bowing my face to the sand, and wept. I cried because it was I who beat and whipped the flesh from His bones. It was I who placed Him on the cross. It was I who drove the nails through His wrists. I cried because of the pain I had inflicted upon my Savior. I cried because I had killed the One I love the most.
       I cried because of my sin.
       Hours passed and my tears fell. Great sobs and wails did I send up to the heavens, and I saw no end to my misery and torment. My stomach churned, and I emptied its content onto the ground before me. I remained prostrate before the cross, and I continued to weep until there was nothing left in me to give.
       Immeasurable time later, I started to a sound from above. The cross was gone, and I was left alone in the desert once more. I sat up, surely looking almost as bad as I felt--swollen red eyes, vomit-covered, pale face sprinkled with sand. I felt empty, as if my skin had been drawn close to my bones, and I was nothing more than a hollow vessel. My stomach growled for food, but the mere thought of eating caused me to blench.
       I slowly found my feet and stood on trembling, weak legs. The noise that had made me jump earlier sounded again, and I looked to the heavens only to see a large sheet of red covering the sky. It was flat, and started to fall toward the earth on an even, level descent. I watched it fall, and when it struck the crown of my head it burst like liquid, drenching me and the entire surrounding desert. The red ran down my body, and it was only then that I realized what it was: Blood. I was being covered in blood from heaven. I closed my eyes as it slowly ran down my face, covering and staining my clothes, before falling to the sand below.
       When all had seemed to settle, I opened my eyes to see the desert pure and clean. The ground was perfectly level, without a drift or dune in sight, and seemed to stretch out forever. I felt the top of my head to find that my hair was much shorter, almost gone. My clothes had been bleached pure white, and my shoes were missing. I stood barefoot, for where I trod was now holy ground.
       Before I had much time to debate my new surrounding, I felt a severe tremor shake the earth. Large cracks rent the ground, forming a crater in front and to the right of where I stood. The sand started to fall inward, but then quickly burst out in a shower as the blade of a sword emerged from the hole. The weapon slammed to the ground, and I could see that a gauntleted hand gripped its handle. Out of the hole there came a great Knight covered in brilliant armor. He pulled Himself free from the ground with a great strength that somehow reminded me of a fierce Lion, prowling the lands of Judah. And there, on the front of His armor and shield, were carved the images of a great Lion, and twelve tribal names encircled the images. The Knight's hair and beard were white, thick like sheep's wool, and His eyes burned like star-fire.
       There was something oddly beautiful about this Knight. He seemed kingly, gentle, loving, kind. He was a Knight I could kneel before without shame, without fear. And yet, on the other hand, I knew that if an enemy were to take a single glance His way, they would be able to do nothing but stand petrified and helpless.
       I was about to speak when I felt a Great Presence hover throughout the air. The Knight looked up to the Invisible Force (unseen to my eyes, at least). There was a voice, but it was too terrible for me to hear or understand. I cowered in its wake, fearful that my life would be stripped from me.
       "Yes," the Knight laughed, and it was a beautiful sound. He reached into the breastplate of His armor and retrieved two keys. Holding them up to the Awesome Power, He announced, "I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades."
       There was an answering voice yet again too much for my human ears to conceive, and then the Knight turned toward me. And for a moment, as if I was seeing another mirage of the desert, I thought I saw the Knight take the shape of a blood-covered Lamb. But before my eyes could adjust to this new image, the Knight stood before me in full.
       And knowledge came to me. I knew this Knight. Tears sprang up to my eyes, and I fell to my knees before Him. This is the One I hung on the cross. This is the One my sin had killed ... and yet I knew He had died willingly. He took my place, erasing my sin forever. Through my tears of sadness and confusion, I was able to sob a single question. I wanted to ask so much, but I could only make out a single word. "Why?"
       The Knight laughed. But it was a beautiful sound, and it lifted my spirits, for it was not a laugh of humor, or taunting, or amusement … it was a sound that proclaimed more than words could ever say. "Why, my child?" He laughed again, and my heart rose within me, picking me up to my feet. "Love."
       I fell as if I were dead and began to worship. I sang praises, repeating the words I remembered the stones had sung. It was now my job to worship my Lord. And throughout my praises, the image of a slain Lamb flickered between reality and vision.
       I sang until my throat was hoarse. I did not want to ever stop, but my body was spent and my voice was gone. I slowly sat up, trying my best to soak in His radiance. And I was happy to just be in the presence of the One I love the most.
       Time passed yet again, unable to be measured. I started to ask a question, whispering it out with my spent throat. "What shall You have me do?"
       He pointed, and behind me on the sand was an open journal, the pages blank. A pen rested nearby, so I sat and started to write.
       "Every day I try to act like my Father's Son ... and even though I fail miserably, I'm covered in the blood of the Lamb."
  
  ---------
  
  Verses Quoted:
  Luke 19:38 (NIV)
  Revelation 1:17b-18 (NIV)
  
  
  

  • 12:06 AM
  • 109 views
  • 22 eprops
  • 11 comments