This Is Who I Am

This Is Who I Am

Part One: Horror

I am afraid. I am all alone in the dark. I am hiding in the darkest corner of this filthy abandoned shack broken down and isolated in a wild and dangerous wood. I am so dirty. I am covered in filth; my hair is tangled in knots. I am in so much pain. I press my knees tighter against my chest and squeeze my hands together, my arms wrapped around my legs. I try to make myself smaller. I wish I could disappear then maybe this pain would stop. My heart is broken and bleeding. I am covered in scratches and bruises. I am dying, yet death is endlessly slow.

I am ashamed. I know I have failed. I am not good enough. I tried, I really did try, but it wasn’t enough. I am alone here, and there is no one to help me. I am so scared. I muffle the sobs and bite my tongue to stop myself from making noise. The tears are relentless; they leave streaks down my cheeks, over my chin and across my chest. The teardrops are my only company.

I wish things were different. I wish I was better. I wish this pain would stop. I wish death would end this game and just come for me. I wish for any escape. Escape from my pain, escape from my fear, escape from my shame. But I am imprisoned by these cruel masters: Fear, Shame, and Pain are merciless.

I can’t breathe. The pain is suffocating me. I gasp, desperately trying to pull in a ragged breath tinted with grime. There is no way out. I can’t walk, I can’t even stand. I look down and the bleeding is worse, the blood is making a pool around my feet. I put my forehead on my knees. Please, God, save me.

Part Two: Intervention

Creaking reverberates in the house as the door is opened. I cringe in horror. This must be the end finally come. Soft beams of light filter through the room like the first rays of dawn. A Man clothed in white enters, his bare feet not making a sound. The Man is the source of the light, a soft glowing, like a candle or a star. I sense he is brighter, but he has dimmed his brightness so as not to frighten me.

“Who are you?” My trembling voice is weak.

“I am Jesus.”

The Man holds out his hand to me. I look into his face. His eyes are gentle and calm. I feel his invitation, yet I am too afraid and too crippled to move, so I simply stare at him. He bends down so his face is level with mine, his hand still outstretched. He whispers my name; the torrential storm of tears increase. Again his voice speaks my name like a caress. “Come with me,” he is imploring, beckoning and commanding me all at once.

My arm slowly unwraps from its curled position. Fear, shame and pain stab me simultaneously and I fall over. He catches me. He is tender, gentle and kind. He reassures me. Tentatively I reach up towards him and he pulls me into his arms. He stands and carries me out of the dark lonely shack.

Light dapples the leaves. His steps are steady and sure as He walks along the forest path. His steady pace is outstripping the running fear that has fallen behind. He holds me close to his chest; my fists are curled around his collar. His warmth seeps into me. Some of the pain is alleviated. I feel shy, aware of my dirtiness and his bright cleanness. I look down at his shirt and am surprised to see that my filth has not made even one blemish on him. He is spotless, pure.

Sparkling water flows in a brook before us. I watch the light dance over the water. He takes me into the clear water and washes me clean. The water wipes away all the grime and shame. He places his hands over my heart and the wound is healed. He washes the blood stains from my skin. He gives me a pure white dress to wear. He brushes my hair. He doesn’t yank the tangles out, but patiently works out each knot until my hair is smooth. I feel my heart and face smiling up at him. “Thank you Jesus,” is all I can say.

Part Three: Sanctuary

Jesus holds out his hand to me and I take it. He leads me through the forest pointing out beauty and life all around me; a bird with eggs in her nest; the way the wind rustles the leaves through the trees; little flowers growing in the shady spots. Everything is new and alive. I am new. I am alive. I am healed. I am whole.

We walk and walk but I never feel tired. His hand in mine is strong and secure. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we are silent. Every moment with him fills me with a deeper peace. I am always in awe when I look at him how I see a new part of him I didn’t notice before. He wasn’t changing, but I was. As I walked with him I was changing, and as I changed I saw him more clearly than I had before. Being with him was glorious.

After awhile the trees cleared. I looked to the right and saw the ocean. The sea foam capped waves glimmering in the dazzling sunlight. As we stepped out of the forest we entered a field of flowers that stretched over and down hills that gently slopped down to the beach.

We turned left and there across a meadow of flowers was a white cottage. The cottage was surrounded on all sides by the most beautiful gardens. Jesus smiled down at me, “Welcome home.”

I jumped up and down and clapped my hands. I ran through the field of flowers dancing and twirling. “I’m home,” I sang. Jesus showed me the house, perfectly lovely in every way. We walked in the gardens admiring the many varieties of flowers. There were so many beautiful flowers, ones I was familiar with and ones I had no name for.

My favorites were the roses. All the roses were exquisite and none of them had thorns. As I ran and played my dress never got dirty and I never fell down. In my complete joy Jesus was there. He is my favorite part of this dream come true.

I am loved. I am free. I am joy. I am peace. I am Jesus’. This is who I am: I am His.

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