A short reflective story I wrote after a particularly convicting, incredible, God filled conversation with a dear friend.
I am weak, frail, dirty. My hair is tangled and full of lice. I have no muscle, no fat, no sustenance on my body. My eyes are hollow and I am wearing dirty, blood, grim, filth covered rags. I have worms and bugs crawling all over me. I am kneeling, huddling, shivering in the dark, surrounded by the things I’m afraid of, the things that torture me, the things that seek to steal every ounce of life left in me. And yet, out of the darkness comes a light. Small at first, only a flicker that I think with my worn eyes must be something of my last, faint, wishful imagination.
But the light slowly, steadily gets bigger. The bigger it gets the more I start to see that this light isn’t a light, but a man. Clothed in pure white, radiant like the sun, a beautiful warrior marching towards me with a smile on His face. He kneels down before me and I pitifully look up to Him, so incredibly aware of how disgusting, how meager, how horrible I am. With sweet tears, eyes filled with more love than I can comprehend, He places His huge gentle hands on the sides of my cheeks and I watch in horror as my filth and dirt and debris all transfer from my weak sliver of a body to Him. This gentle, giant, strong man is now covered in my horrid existence leaving me naked and shamed.
I watch, shocked to stillness, and the things that terrify me and torment me and seek to destroy me, attack Him instead. I cry out, screaming at Him to give it back, weeping to allow me to retain it so as not to tarnish His beauty and power. But instead the dark seems to fly into Him, getting less and less and disappearing, as it gets closer to Him. Through the fray I see Him, letting them abuse Him, hurt Him, kill Him. All is silent dark and I fear the worst, hoping against hope for the impossible.
And then the impossible happens. The dark is obliviated as He rises again brighter, more radiant, more beautiful, more powerful. He lifts me up in His strong arms, clothing me in the same white He wears, filling me with strength and substance and life. My eyes brighten, my arms strengthen and He holds my hands and starts to lead me down a path I couldn’t see for all the darkness that had surrounded me. It’s a narrow path and the going is slow and every so often, a ghost of the terror that haunted me makes a weak attempt at returning. But my Savior is always there to protect me, to rescue me and to hold me close in His arms. I am safe in His embrace, knowing I will never again be tormented and terrorized. He is greater and stronger than anything I have ever known.
Eventually the path intersects with others He knows and has saved or is going to save and I watch as He takes on their dirt and grim the same way He did my own. We walk together, and travel this path basking in our Savior’s glory. He sends us out to work for Him and gladly we go, knowing we will return to our King and for all our lives will do His work. The path ends at a glorious kingdom, where we are welcomed by His Father, and given a spot of royalty by the King of Creation and live forever with the One who saved our lives. We are completely healed and restored. We were made new and washed clean. Clothed in white and living in purity, we stand with our Savior for all eternity.
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9