Precious Choice

-
On my knees, my head in my hands, crying out to God at the picture in my mind.
Three hands - two holding a hammer and a wickedly long spike, poised to pound it down into the flesh of the other hand, which is gracefully, meekly, unresistingly laying on a rough log, allowing itself to be destroyed.

"Why would You do that!?
You could have stopped them.
You could have moved Your hand.
You could have spoken; You could have said no."

I did this for you. 

"Oh God, no. I don't deserve it. You know what I've done, the person I've become, the evil in my heart. I don't deserve this."

No, I think you do. I think you deserve it.
 
The earnestness in His voice halts my protests.

This is the only way I can save you. And I WANT to save you. 
You are worth it to Me because of how precious you are. 
Please, let Me do this for you. 
It's the only way. 

I can't even speak, but my heart barely manages to whisper, "Ok."

And as I knew it would, my heart breaks. I see the nail cut into Him, hear the blows of metal on metal and bones crunching, and feel his pain searing my soul.


***

How could I let Him do that for me?

Because He said I was worth it.
Because this is Who He is, and He cannot deny Himself.
Because He asked me.

Yes, Jesus, You can do this for me.
Please,
Please,
Please. Help me not to do anything that brings back that pain to You.



For you are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, 
which 
are 
God's. 

1 Corinthians 6:19



Comments

  1. Sojourner SamMarch 19, 2018 at 6:50 AM

    How great the Savior's love for us! Hebrews 2:10-18; 12:1-3

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

From the Other Side of the Gap

-
 I don’t know you, but I saw the red-and-blue flashes. A bit of open street before a long line of traffic, emergency vehicles stopped at angles where they shouldn’t have been. A black car slammed nose-first into a cement pole, white airbags pushing outward against the windows. People in uniform stood in the gray dawn, directing traffic, their faces grim. I had just left home. I was on my way to work as the sun rose behind me, listening to my audiobook, thinking about my new job. And then, just past the black car, I saw the twisted, charcoal wreckage resting in the middle of a neighborhood entrance— both wheels still intact enough to recognize it as a vehicle. I noticed where two police cars were parked nose-to-bumper in the bike lane, and through the tiny gap between I saw what they were trying to shield: the lumpy yellow sheet spread on the sidewalk. And I knew. Maybe you had just left home too. Maybe you were on your way back after a long overnight shift. Like I said, I don’t kno...
Read more

Horror Short Story: A Letter to Isaiah

-
Image
     This is a short story I wrote for a horror workshop class in my English Master's program at UTC. It is based on my experience in my undergrad program at a cult-like Christian college near a tiny town in rural Arkansas. The horror elements include an unreliable narrator, an extremely restrictive atmosphere, confusion, untreated mental illness, spiritual gaslighting, religious abuse, sexual assault, and murder. When considering what to write about during the horror workshop, I decided to focus on my experience at Ouachita Hills College, because I really didn't have to change many details of my experience in order to write it as a horror story. As far as I know, no one has ever been murdered at the school, but due to the realism of other aspects of this story, it may be upsetting for some readers. If you went to OHC or have any unprocessed trauma about religious abuse, spiritual gaslighting or sexual assault, please take care of yourself. Depending on where you're ...
Read more