Kneeling down with my hands tied to my
back, I am a prisoner. I can see just too clearly, the moments before my time.
I guess a blindfold was too much to ask. Heavy snow falls with no one else in
sight, just my executioner. As the spiritless barrel touches the back of my
head, I am shivering from either the cold or the fear. As the piercing wind
calms down to whisper me its last words, all I hear is a click.
As a child of God, I expected the gun
to malfunction. Maybe I would be able to react in that split second and
overtake the enemy. Considering that I am rather a coward, an ally might come and
rescue me. With the glorious upset, celebration of God’s greatness would be
abounding. I would be back home safe and sound. The trials and tribulations
would be stories to be told to my grandkids. I would travel across the world to
share this story and inspire many of the younger generation to seek God out. I
would close my eyes in the comfort of my home with my family surrounding me. However,
the joys and relief were but imaginations of my head, as I am now laid unto the
ground, dead. More snow falls and gently covers me.
I had always expected to see what is
due for me from God within this life. I would hit bottom, but be raised with
His outstretched arm. Jesus never came for that. He came to die for the sins of
the world. He did not come to die partially, die figuratively, but to just die.
“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet
he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to slaughter, and as a sheep
before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.”
“Therefore I will give him a portion
among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he
poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he
bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.” Isaiah 53: 7,
12
How am I doing? How am I dying?
