Through the desert,
she crawled on her belly. The coarse grains burrowed into the scrapes, scratches, cuts, whipped lashes, and rubbed raw
the bruises that covered her from head to toe. Broken, jagged nail beds at the
end of calloused and blistered fingers clawed the ground to try to find
leverage to pull her weak, aching, tired body just a little further. Her breath
came ragged through dry, cracked, and
scabbed lip. The blood dried in the brutal heat a long time ago. Her blurring
sight and heavy eyes fought to stay awake as she knew there had to be more to
this life. More than the pain, the struggle, the pulling of herself along to
survive another day.
“Just a little further, I have something to show you.” A
comforting voice encouraged her. It filled her with strength and curiosity.
Could this mysterious something be the answer to the beyond that had to be better
than this? Something to heal her or end her? She could either lie there and
everything would remain the same, or she could move that little bit more and
see what waited for her at the top.
The ground inclined, and the sand slipped under her bare
feet. It felt like glass shards slicing the cracked dry skin. She didn’t know
how much more she had, but she needed to find it. Something deep inside her
pushed to survive. Something at the top of the hill called to her to come.
She looked up and in the glare of the sunlight, a bronze-skinned hand reached out to her. It was
big enough to pick her up and carry her anywhere. It beckoned her to stretch
out and touch it. Even in the heat of the unmerciful desert, the warmth that
came from soft feel comforted and embraced her. She grasped it with all her
strength.
She stood at the top of the hill, her legs felt stronger,
but still threatened to buckle as though her bones were solid lead and her
muscles were noodles. She breathed a little easier as a cooling breeze brushed
her skin, removing the biting sand particles.
In front of her stood a cross with a man hanging on it. His
hands were pierced with large stakes. Shreds of skin from his back hung from
his ribs. Trails of dried blood streaked from wounds around his head from a
mocking crown of thorns. The swelling of his cracked lips made her fingers
trace her own. His feet were held together with another large stake. Only a
soiled cloth wrapped around his waist to give him any modesty.
Out of his mouth, his lungs fought for air to whisper out
the saddest words she heard, “It is finished.”
No matter how bad she felt, what she went through, how the
fatigue tried to drag her body down, she was nowhere
near the condition of this man.
“This is my one and only son,” the voice from the top of the
hill said, as though someone stood next to her, hovered above her, waited below
her. It was all around. “Whoever believes
in me, shall not die but have everlasting life.”
Voices of familiar words filled the air around, jumbled and
in short sayings from times long past as though they were the present. “The
Lord is my Rock and my Refuge.” “The harvest is plenty, but the workers are
few.” “I have run the race.” Here I am, Lord. Send me.” “There is only one
God.” “If it is your will, Abba, take
this cup from me.” “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” “By His
Stripes, we are healed.”
Lightning flashed the
sky, and split through the clouds, tearing them from the heavens to the earth.
The ground shook in anger, and a cleansing downpour released in a torrent of
sorrow around her. Curiosity pulled her closer to the hanging body as blood
dripped and pooled at the foundation of the splintering wood holding him there.
The rain mixed and expanded the puddle until it touched her feet. The next
thing she knew she was immersed, not in blood, but in the warm, invigorating
water. She wanted to fight in fear of drowning, but she knew she was not alone.
She was being washed, healed, strengthened. Her dry, cracked skin softened, the
pain lessened, the fatigue replaced with electrifying energy. She swam in the
healing waters, looking for any sign of land, up or down, not really wanting to
leave, but needing to find if it ended, if there were boundaries. Soon, her
feet laid flat on the soft floor. Each step created a small storm with a wet floor, and she once again knew the presence
around her called to explore what was next.
As her head emerged from the healing pool, her hair, no
longer caked and standing on end with the strain of knots and disarray, fell
around her face soft, tangible, and
straight. Her once dry and cracked skin felt new, moist, healed. As she feet
met the edge of the waters and touch soft cool grass, she looked back with a longing
to return and soak a little longer. She never felt so comforted, washed,
renewed, and she didn’t want to leave it, but she knew that there was more to
see and experience. With another step on to the expanding field in front of
her, a dove flew over, shadowing her from the bright, warming sun that no
longer baked her, but lovingly dried her. The dove descending on to her head, becoming a flowing soft gown embracing
and covering her.
“Come to me all that are weary and I will give you rest.”
A glint in the grass ahead
of her called to her to come to see what
lay in the tall swaying stems. A leather belt with a silver buckle spread out
its length. She touched and caressed the tanned skin then put it around her
waist. “I am the truth, the way, and the life.” The ominous voice that kept her
company whispered to her on the breeze.
In the distance, she
saw a group of men sitting around a fire.
Time was not linear between the mid-day light she stood in, and the glow of the
fire outlining their faces. “Peter, do you love me?” One man asked the next.
“Lord, you know I do.”
“Then feed my sheep.,”
said the other man.
He turned towards her holding a breastplate. Its intricate
design showed a lion in front of a giant
tree with a dove flying above. The dove that clothed her in pure white cloth.
The lion reared up on its haunches with its claws out ready to fight “Do you
love me?” he asked in the softest, most inviting voice.
This was the one that saved her, called to her to find his
body upon the cross. She saw the scars
peeking out of his hair along his brow line. His hands holding the armor, and
the feet standing in front of her still had the piercing holes. His robe
lingered off his shoulder just enough to see the whiplash scar that ran down his back. This is the one whose
presence kept her safe in the water, that healed her body after he gave his own
on the cross. His voice was the one asking for the cup to be taken from him. He
went to the cross, knowing what it would cost him, scared and alone, and yet he
did it. Now he stood before her with the permanent marks as a reminder of the
payment. He stood before her whole, healed body with a simple question. “Do you love me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” she replied in a whisper.
“Then feed my sheep,” he said and placed the breastplate
over her.
The warm breeze pushed her from behind, and she continued on
the way. Again she saw the man from the cross standing in the midst of a group
of people. “Go into all the world and make disciples,” he said before he
ascended into the clouds. His arms reached out and his robes were like the
wings of the dove that covered her. At her feet,
she felt the wrapping of the softest fabric. It was
as if the clouds themselves created protective wear. Peace filled with energy
and strength to say she could do
anything, go anywhere. “For I am with you until the end of time.”
With each new step forward in her new adventure, she felt
stronger, freer, and lighter than ever before. She ran with her arms stretched
out as far as they could reach, her face turned towards the sun and welcomed
with beautiful light. She had a new life, invigorating, free, with endless
space for her to run through.
She soon came to a tree. It stood tall and strong. As a
breeze waved its long branches, a rain of
tiny seeds filled her outstretched hand. In the trunk of the tree, a shield
with the same lion, tree, and dove as her
breastplate posed its strength as it stood and roared its might. The silver shine glinted in the sun. The same tree that
stood before her now protected her.
“With the faith of a mustard seed, you can move mountains.”
With shaking hands, she picked up the shield. Even though it
felt light, it was strong and well made. The leather braces on the back fit her
arm without having to adjust the straps. It was made for her.
A breastplate. A
shield. Protection for her girth and feet. She just survived life’s battle and
almost did not survive. Now that she was renewed and at peace, she felt that
this journey was telling her she would have to go back to that battle. One way
or another it would find her in this meadow.
Behind the tree stood another hill. Upon a stone table, a crown shone in the sun. Its jewels sparkled
and created a rainbow path for her to follow.
At first, she feared to take the steps, but she had to finish. She
had to know what all this was for. The purpose of
why she was saved, what she was called to, pulled towards a direction as though
it were the magnetic north on a compass.
A man at the top of the hill with a long staff stood there
as though expecting her. He picked up the crown and held it over her head.
“The Lord is my strength and my defense; he has become my
salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my Father’s God, and I will
exalt Him. The Lord is a warrior the Lord is his name.”
Next, he handed her a
long sword. Like the shield, it was light, yet well made. The hilt fit in the
grip of her hand, and her strength renewed as she gripped and held it in the
sunlight. The voice that followed her throughout this peaceful land again
spoke.
Take up the helmet of Salvation and the Sword of the Spirit
which is the word of God.
The man who crowned her stepped to the side and spread a
hand out to make way for her to go the edge of the hilltop. Below in the valley,
a great war waged on in a dried up wasteland. It reminded her of what she just
escaped from.
What you do for the least of these, you also do for me.
But I just found you, Lord. I just started to experience
your peace. Now, you want to throw me back into the war I barely survived?
Our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against the
rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
Will you go with me?
I am will never leave you or forsake you.
The battle raged on, and the sword hummed in her hand. Again
she raised it to watch it glint in the sun. The lion, the tree, and the dove
inscrolled throughout the blade and more whispers of encouragement echoed
through time to bring their truth to the present.
“Whom shall I send?”
Though she was scared and knew what was ahead of her, she was now clothed in armor
perfectly fit, made for her, given to her, to protect and defend. She did not
have to face the battle alone or unprepared.
Whom shall I send? He asked and stood next to me. His
presence so encompassing and embracing to hold true
to his promises.
Here I am, Lord. Send me.
She took a step forward to start to descend the cliff. Under
her feet on the barren ground, the new
life of green grass sprung up in front of her. The path was clear, though she
did not see it. Every step she took, she created it. Each move forward of peace
met the dead ground with new life. A meadow was left in her wake and it empowered
her. The closer to battle she came, she could see the severity of each blow,
the strength each thrust, and the spark of each block with shield or movement to
get out of the way with a narrow miss.
A horse’s neigh came from her right. She looked to see the
fiery chariot next to her. The horse, the reins, the angel at the wheel. To her
left, another steed flicked its head to
shake its long mane. The Lord kept his promise. She was not alone. She had the
army of the Lord beside her, and there was a battle to be won. She could face it now with His protection.
His truth embraced her and hugged her around the waist. His
righteousness his hands placed over her heart. His peace enveloped her feet to
ensure her steps. Her faith was in her hands, held up to block attacks. His
salvation crowned her, empowered her, and reminded her that He was always with
her. His word was held in her hand to protect her and to strike back. She was
saved, healed, set free, and chose to go back into the fight she was called to
battle. She knew the path, and she knew she had already won.
