Oh father tell me we get what we deserve, oh we get what we deserve…
The rain pounded on the cement as the whispers of the others cascaded all around me. I could feel the presence of them as they got closer and closer. It was clear where they wanted to take me ….it was time.
The only decision I had to make at this point was to fight or admit defeat. It had been a long mission. My body was weak from the obstacles hurdled over and won. My mind was quick to assess the situation at hand. My spirit was in dire need of rest.
There was still a moment to choose. The sheet of rain surrounding me provided that window of opportunity to take out my sword and defend myself one more time. My dark eyes narrowed as my hand curved around the handle. There was a hush in the whispers as the others nervously waited for my next move.
They were smart enough to know who they were dealing with. I will give them that much. They couldn’t be rookies. If that were the case this would’ve ended before it began. Since we have a few seconds to reflect I should tell you this story is not for the faint of heart. If you have stuck by it this far you know I am telling you the truth. You know my words are honest, fair, and most importantly truthful.
If you have stuck by me this far perhaps you would be willing to go just a little further. I am not going to use my sword. In fact, my hand loosens its hold on the handle as I drop it to the ground. The whispers intensify and before long they are shouts. Before long I am surrounded by them as they grab at me and holler for me to remain calm and still.
Perhaps we get what we deserve …
You have plenty of time to reflect on things when your hands are cuffed behind your back, and you have them staring at you through a double plated glass. It is amazing what jumps into your mind when you are about to get sentenced. We aren’t talking about regular prison sentencing or a stretch in the county lockup. We are talking about being spiritually sentenced.
I know they have one or two of their best behind that glass watching my every move and deciding what to do with the rebel. The dark haired, dark eyed girl who dared to do what others could not or would not do. She had to be made an example of, because that is what we do in this world. We make an example of those who go against the grain.
If you have seen those films where the bad guy is in the dark room chained to a stainless-steel table, and being interrogated by some tough police officers, then you will have a general idea of my situation. A man with ice cold blue eyes walks into the room and slams a file on the table in front of me. He has purpose in his every movement. He will not take to my form of defense or reasoning. He has one goal and one goal only. That is to see me pay for all of my sins.
I glance from his ice-cold stare to the pile of papers before me with a heavy sigh. This only serves to irritate him even more. How dare I not react the way I am meant to in this situation. The way he has been trained and others have been trained to respond. How dare I be one outside of the realm.
In one swift motion he retrieves the paper he really wants me to see. The one that will twist and tangle in my soul. The one that will put thorns in my heart. The one that will get the response he craves. That paper is my sentencing.
To be honest with you I am not surprised by the sentence. It was exactly what I had come to expect from them. If you spend your entire life judging, sentencing, and executing others due to your own foundations of spirituality then this is what happens.
It is simple really that you will be like this man who has only known how to judge and put fear into others. You will spend your time rounding up rebels like me and making us pay for our sins as you ignore your own.
My sentence was spiritual surgery. I was going to be sent up to the spiritual emergency room and given the ultimate sentence. I was going to have my spirit renewed.
Some of you may think this is a pleasant sentence to have, and that the others who gave me this fate are kind. There is a reason they want to erase what I have and record a new message. The message I have to offer is a danger to the way they believe and feel. It is what I learned when I was on my journey. I have to get this message to others before it is too late.
The message of hope is a dangerous thing to those who love to judge and cause fear. They don’t want anyone to think that there is another way. That hope is the answer. That in hope we find what we need to keep going. We find what I found on my journey to the safe place.
When you met me you saw my fate. You saw that I was in The Waiting Room. You saw that I had come to terms with spiritual surgery. When I left you, I was in the midst of waiting for that surgery to be done.
Did you get my message?
Did I have time to share it with all of you?
Did the others win?
It is amazing what we reflect on when we face spiritual sentencing. I chose to take this time to reflect on what my journey was. What it meant to be part of something bigger and greater than myself. To be on a spiritual quest that goes beyond time or reason. To be part of a family legacy with hundreds of years in the making.
Sometimes we are given a test, quest, or moment to show what we are capable of accomplishing. We can push ourselves to achieve the unthinkable. We can climb that mountain. We can win that war. We can walk through that valley. We don’t have to let them win.
The doctor has decided my fate, as have the judges, nurses, and the man with the ice-cold blue eyes. They have all come together to decide that my spirit needs to be “fixed” since it is far too “damaged” to be accepted in this realm.
It is a sentence that is only given to the most extreme cases. The rebels like me who go outside of the realm and dare to push the boundaries of belief. We take what we are given by the one who created us, and we trust in His tests, quests, and moments that He bestows on us. We reach out and embrace our truth. When the others would rather go by the old ways, and rest in the understanding of the foundations.
If you try to embrace something the others don’t understand you will be hunted. They will come for you like they came for me. They can’t or won’t go as far as you. They will wait until you are back in their realm. Once you are, they will sentence you. You will be taken to the spiritual emergency room.
It is hard to say how many have been put through my sentence. I am thinking on this as they prepare me. My hands and legs are being strapped down to the surgery table. I am surrounded by medical personnel in white. A nurse with a clipboard is asking me a few questions that I give a lazy response too. I don’t want my last thoughts to be on this.
My mind drifts to the safe place…
I want to hang on to what I learned and saw on my personal quest.
I can hear the machines clicking on and the gentle hum of the oxygen tank as they are talking among themselves. My mind drifts to the safe place. It takes me back to what I felt and tasted.
I get glimpses of it as my breathing becomes shallow and I am about to fade away. The glorious feelings I once had when I was with my gentle white magnificent horse. I remember the path we took in the woods, the meadow of flowers, the night skies, the lonely church, the waterfalls and creeks that quenched our thirst, and the safe place.
The safe place was filled with a beacon of bright light. It was the one true light. It was Our Lord. The one who created us all. The one who loves us all. The one who will never forsake us or forget us. The one who opened His arms to embrace me once I reached my destination. He gave me a message to share with the world. He trusted that once I got to the realm that I would have time to share it before I was sentenced.
Did you get my message?
Did I have time to share it with all of you?
The moments are fading faster now. My glimpses of the safe place are harder to hold onto. I am starting to lose them. I am losing the memories of my personal quest. I can feel the new spirit taking over the old one. I can feel the new message recording over the old one.
Did I have time to give you my message?
Did the others win?
One…two…three…four…five…. I can hear the coutdown until I am about to be made new. I am going to be the court appointed version of what the others want me to be. I am the chosen one. I am the girl with the dark eyes who won a battle in the valley. I am the one who made it to the safe place. I am the chosen one…
Six….seven….eight…nine…ten… Did you get my message?
Well I finally got to read your story daughter. I’m impressed with the message hidden in the struggle. I can now identify where it was you were going. Our fight is not with God and Jesus’ message of forgiveness and hope, it’s with the ones that think they understand us and mean to carve out of us every thing they think is rot in our souls but really is our own scars we carry as we fight our way through the valleys to the foot of the Cross where like the thief we are pardoned and taken to paradise this day to be with our Lord and Savior. The fixers are those who see only the world view of us and have decided that we are not perfect and won’t fit without their knives and teaks to make us Holy enough to be with The King in his kingdom of Light. Well done Jasmine!