He spoke kindly to Her...

This is something I started writing the beginning of this semester. The woman in the story is the Church, the man is Jesus. The unborn baby represents the generations to come. Read it from that viewpoint...

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The young woman stared at him angrily, with blue eyes that could have scorched a cornfield. He was taken back by her hostility, distrust yes, but not this.

He took a step farther back, kneeling on one knee, as she curled into a tighter protective ball around her swollen belly.

"I promise I won't hurt you, or the baby," he told her softly.

She began crying again, obviously unable to believe his kindness or so overcome by it she couldn't speak. He waited patiently, until her eyes turned towards his again. They were still hostile, but not quite has distrustful as before.

"What happened?" he asked, continuing to be patient.

She slowly sat up, painfully, as if every bone in her body was aching. Bruises covered her cheekbones, and a huge cut marred the right side of her neck. With great effort she began to speak.

" I have no mother, I have no father. The child I bear is not even my husband's. I have no husband. I have no home. I have nothing to call my own. Everything I have has been given to me or taken away by others. Why do you even care to ask me? Can you not see what I am?"

The young man's heart was torn by the despair and absolute finality he felt in her voice. What was even worse was the belief he heard in her words.

Suddenly she doubled over, throwing up all over the ground between them. His first reaction would have been one of disgust, but immediately his vision blurred in a cloud of color. Handwritten words the color of blood on an ancient pages burst before his eyes.

He blinked, trying to see, but they would not leave until he read them.

You will love me.

You will love what I love. Hate what I hate. Speak what I speak. Sing what I sing.

You will love my bride.

As soon as he finished reading the last line, the words and colors vanished and he was staring at the young woman once more.

The young man felt his heart melt. He wanted to bury his head in the dust and beg this woman's forgiveness for all the injustice that had been done to her, for all the lies, bitterness and hatred that had been brought against her with the fierceness of a thousand vengeful dragons. If he could bleed, cry and scream for her, he would.

Instead he bent closer once more," I know you have no reason to trust me, but what if I was your only hope? I cannot be worse than what you have known. What if I have the answer? Can you be willing to risk that?"

She blinked, staring wide-eyed without expression, yet the mistrust had faded from her gaze.

"It may take a while, I know," he continued," but I must tell you that this is not who you are."

"Who are you to tell me such a thing?" she told him, voice sharp and cynical," You don't know me."

Now it was his turn to blink," I know more about you than you may think."

She did not seem to like this answer.

He continued talking ignoring her conflicting attitude.

"This baby your carrying for example. She is not a curse, but a blessing. Do not give birth with heart that only feels derision and frustration at her conception. She is life. In that you must find hope and destiny."

The woman stared at him like he had absolutely lost his mind.

"How do you know it's a girl?"

He shrugged, and held out his hand," Are you going to stand up or not?"

She very slowly reached and slipped her hand into his. He pulled her up, steadying her unstable legs and then slowly turning her towards the river.

"I think you need to drink from the water, before we go anywhere."

She began trembling, and turned her face, against him as if the river had eyes that haunted her.

"What's wrong?" he lifted her face, to see her eyes.

"I don't want to go there."

"Why not?"

"The more I drink, the more thirsty I get. I hate being thirsty."

He stared at her, bewildered.

"With that kind of attitude, you will always be thirsty. You must drink if you will ever find satisfaction."

She glared at him," You don't think I've tried. It's hopeless."

He let go of her hand," How far did you go?"

She blinked," What do you mean?"

He repeated the question.

She shook her head, beginning to cry," It hurt too much."

He gently pushed her ahead of him," I'll go with you. We'll drink together."

She didn't want to go. But with him pushing her, giving her no choice, the young woman slowly walked forward.

They reached the water's edge. She stared down at it like the water's held a nest of poisonous snakes.

He took her hand and knelt first, drawing her after him. He cupped on hand into the cool wetness and brought it to his lips.

"You try," he released her hand, letting it be her choice.

If a shark had just jumped out of the water at her, she could not have looked more frightened. Very slowly she stretched out shaky fingers towards the water. Her gaze shot to him, seeking courage.

" You can do it," he encouraged.

Trembling, she plunged her hand into the water and brought it dripping to her sunburned lips. She swallowed it with a groan, and dropped her hand into the water for more.

"Go as slow as you need to," he told her.

She only leaned closer to the water in response. In fact she began to drink greedily. He reached a hand out to steady her from falling into the river.

Then suddenly she sat back, face wet, glistening, but suddenly beautiful, calm and peaceful. Cuts and bruises had disappeared.

"Where does the water come from?" she asked in a whisper.

He chuckled, rocking back on his heels beside her.

"Do you want to find out?"

She nodded, he stood, giving her his hand. She awkwardly held her belly and rose, leaning against him.

"Then follow me..."

A journal entry...

So it's been a while since I've posted anything on here. Came across something I wrote in my journal last month and thought it would be something worth other peoples' time...maybe. Just a short little thing I wrote between me and Jesus...once again, a story.

I sat at the foot of the great oak. I knew my forehead was wrinkled in seriousness and that my mouth was turned down in a soft, but thoughtful frown. I could do nothing to stop it. Even when I heard his gentle footfalls on the path along the lake.

I didn't even look up when he crept down and sat beside me. I felt him tip his face to get a good look into mine.

"How's my girl?" he said in his dear familiar voice.Somehow, even this did not take away the edginess inside my gut.

"I don't know," I replied honestly, leaning my chin in my palm and turning to return his gaze. It was as beautiful as always, full of peace. I needed that solidarity.

I shook my head continuing to speak," It's all so wrong. I feel like nothing can truly be fixed in this world."

He didn't smile and his face grew solemn." I know," he paused letting those two words sink deep inside my soul. They gripped me like iron, and then he said," ...you feel like everyone, one way or another is always going to eventually make a wrong choice and we are all waiting on that moment when we do and once it comes nothing will ever fix it. This feels you with dread and despair, you feel doomed."

I stared at him, feeling that dark despair creeping into me even as he spoke. He had said it with such feeling. I knew he felt it too. That thought alone gripped me with terror. If he felt the same way then we all were truly doomed.

Reading my thoughts, as he always did, he then said," I feel every thought and emotion you have, don't think I don't, but I don't believe the lies they tell you. I never believe something cannot be restored. I don't believe in never or in endings."

I blinked, feeling the frustration build, like a dam about to burst. The words he spoke could not quiet me.

"People only see what they want to see, they play games and deceive. How do you know what truth is? Just when you believe, that belief is ripped away with gnawing little doubts. I wish I could save people, you know, I hate what I see. How do you watch it happen? Doesn't your heart break?"

I knew his answer, well, at least I thought I did. I knew also that all of this had nothing to do with me, especially when it came to saving people or making things right, but I was selfish and all I could do was question and rant like a spoiled child.

I took a deep breath, a tear sliding down my cheek. Full of kindness and grace as always, he wiped it away and slid closer, not speaking for an entire moment as he wrapped one arm around my waist, folding me into his chest.

"Every second I breath," he whispered into my ear," but then I sit here with you and I see the sunset and I remember one thing."

"What?" I whispered back, my heart pounding. That was not the answer I expected him to say.

"You are beautiful," he kissed my cheek," and what ever it takes to make you believe that I will sacrifice."

"You are crazy," I replied, closing my eyes even as the words strangely gave me comfort.

"My ways are not your ways," he said softly.

I suddenly felt much better.

My song of songs...

I sank to my knees in the center of the garden, exhausted and weak from my anguish and mourning. The devastation of the battle, the wounds, the terror, the pain clung to my thin and torn body dust on a wet skin. I was trembling with the intensity of such war and violence upon my soul.
A mangled and bloodied sword fell from my numb fingers as I sank with my head into the grass.

Perfume of the sweetest of aroma erupted through my senses. I smelled it to its fullest, yet could not enjoy or melt into its bliss. My body was so full of hurt and marred with bruises, both physically and within my spirit, I felt as far removed from beauty as a being could be.

I fell to bitter weeping, longing for comfort and completeness, yet feeling as though it was an impossibility that I could never have. Anything that was good would not be for me, not this war-ravaged warrior, who knew only the ache and tension of battle.

But then a voice suddenly whispered in my ear; whispered a name. It was a name I had never heard before, yet my ears opened up immediately in response. The name was my own. My eyes opened as I sucked in a breath from my tears.

Strong, gentle hands cradled my face and through the pain and blur of tears I saw the most beautiful face. It was the face of the man who had declared his love on the battlefield. His very voice had captured my heart. He had followed me into the garden...or had he led me here?

As my eyes locked into his, a calm washed over me. He wiped away the tears with rough calloused thumbs, and kissed my forehead.

" I will follow you to the ends of the earth to show you my love."

I wept softly again, dropping my head, feeling disbelief. How could he love this bleeding, violent and angry young woman. I was not the gentle, loving and kind princess that he deserved.

"Look me in the eyes, beloved," he lifted my chin. I did, once again overwhelmed by his beauty. Physical appearance had nothing to do with it, though he was a powerfully built fighter, whose golden-brown head shone with glory. His face was perfect and flawless.

No, the beauty came from his blue eyes. What I saw there was more love than could be contained within anything or anyone. I was afraid if I stared too long, the very intensity of it would kill me.

Slowly, his hand wrapped around mine and his eyes refused to release mine," This is how I see you," he said in a firm and powerful voice.

The force hit me with a solid gasp. I saw myself in his eyes, mirrored there, full of brilliant light. The scene shone with clear, astounding reality. I barely recognized the girl before me.

I was clothed in the most radiantly white dress. I was dancing in a field overflowing with red roses; roses without thorns. I was barefoot, skin glowing without wounds, blood or even scars. My hair, long, golden, abundant and free.

There was no weariness; pain, fear or sense of trying to be something I couldn't be. I was simply me, yet not me, completely His.

"I want you, you delight me more than a thousand brides," he kissed me gently on the lips. Softly, with his gentle touch, it loosened the tense, hard, toughness of my walls, those thick impenetrable, ugly walls I had placed around me for protection. Through my pain I could no longer keep them there, under the intensity of the longing in his eyes.

My hand slowly reached up to touch his face. This small gesture seemed to ignite an explosion within my lover's being. He jumped to his feet letting out a triumphant shout of joy. I sank back on my heels, staring at him breathlessly.

He threw back both arms wide, smiling with a power that shot like an electrical current through my body. Then he started laughing and threw himself into an insane, though beautiful dance around me.

I glanced down at my arms as warmth followed the electricity. I gasped, as my wounds and pain vanished. His laughter floated like music around me. His voice shattered every little remaining vestiges of pain and hardness within me.

"I love the way you move, every little glance and touch quickens my heart to reckless desire. Every word you speak I listen to with eager expectation. Every pain and hurt I feel as my own. I love you without expectation or rules, only abandonment to see you smile when I kiss your lips and heal your wounds."

I slowly stood, as his words carried into a song, fading from laughter into a melody more intoxicatingly attractive and full of longing than I had ever heard before.

I stopped rising when his dancing stilled and thought he continued to sing, his eyes turned to me and one hand stretched out towards me. I hesitated, listening to His voice, but afraid that if I truly ran to him it would all be a dream.

The garden's atmosphere suddenly quieted completely, except for his voice.

"I have been with you since the day you first were awakened to love. Only I can satisfy...come"

I threw back my head suddenly laughing as I realized it was all so real, just by His voice, it became life. I ran as fast as I could into his arms. I saw him smiling broadly as his arms reached up, swinging me into the air and then into his embrace. With infinite tenderness he kissed me until I could not breath. He cradled my head into his chest, strong arms holding me with tenacious comfort.

"You belong here, forever," he whispered.

I didn't know how he did it, but he had...and I cried once more for sheer joy, receiving a love I could not understand, but knew I was created for and could never live with out.

Jesus.

( I began writing something last summer that I remembered today. I decided to finish it, realizing how timely it was because of a song that God has brought into my life this week. I just wanted to imagine what is would be like if I put myself in the time, in that place, in Jerusalem, near Jesus. What would I do? I'm not sure this is a completely accurate portrayal of what I would be like...I might actually have run the other way instead of towards the cross. But know this spoke to me, even as I wrote it. I wanted to post the words to the song (that is the chorus of the song) too before what I actually wrote.)

May I never lose wonder, the wonder of Cross. May I see it like the first time, standing as a sinner lost. Under thy mercy I'm left speechless, watching wide-eyed at the cost. May I never lose the wonder, the wonder of the Cross. (vicky beeching)

Jesus

It was blood I found first. The streets were deserted, filthy with trash from the angry mob that had passed before me. The stones were smeared with a dark long stain. I knelt, one finger to the street, brushing the still-wet substance. My finger came away a deep red.

I closed my eyes, a terrible pressure tightening my chest, bearing down in a pain that threatened to explode. Full of dread, I rose, following the trail of blood; tears involuntarily dripping down my cheeks. Why were they doing this too him? Why?

I spotted a beggar on the street, hands outstretched. I rushed to him, grateful for someone, anyone to tell me the truth...truth I did not want to hear, but was desperate for none the less.

“What has happened? Where all the people, where is Jesus?”

I nearly shouted at him, the poor man. He cowered and pointed one claw-like hand towards his left. “To Golgotha, my lady. They mean to crucify him.”

I stepped back as if slammed into an iron wall.

No!“How long ago?” I managed to ask in a voice weak and lifeless.

“Only just. The crowd was here two minutes ago.”A small measure of hope pierced my mind.

Perhaps I could reach him in time. I thrust a gold shekel into the ragged man’s hands and took off in a sprint down the cluttered thoroughfare. His cries of gratitude fade amidst the pounding of my own heart.

I didn’t hear the crowd until two hundred yards later. My breath was ragged and lungs bursting, but I pressed on, beginning to pass scattered groups of people.They stared, no doubt surprised to a see a young woman running through the market streets. I ignored them, as the crowd’s roar began to heighten. I reached the first fringes, just as they neared the gates to the city.

“Let me through!” I screamed, weaving through the growing mob.Someone tried to shove me over, but I kept my feet and ducked through four porticoes and slipped through the gate.

Horrendous shouts, the foul stench of unwashed bodies and animal dung filled the air, mingled with dust and sweat.

“Please, I must get through!” I pleaded, pushing now in a frenzy.

I fell to my knees once, the stones scraped through the fine linen of my tunic. It stung violently, but I took no notice, nearly crawling. I found a way to the nearest building and pulled myself up. I pressed forward once more.

The crowd’s faces were full of hideous expectation, as though some spectacular play was about to flash before their eyes. My face no doubt was stricken with grief. I felt dizzy, my vision blurred. Was there anyone who cared?

I was nearly to the outer gate now, the momentum of the crowd was beginning to carry me along with it. The crack of the bullwhip was the first hint that I was drawing close. I knew he had already been beaten. I had seen crucifixions before. I knew what they were doing.My tears had calmed. I knew only one thing. I must see Jesus.

More pushing and pleading and almost near shoving got me fifty feet closer. I could see wooden beams being carried above the crowd’s heads. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp and rushed headlong into the remaining crowd, until the men carrying the beams came into sight.

Jesus was not there. Hope lashed out with its bitter gust as I suddenly clung to the thought that his sentence had been reversed. But then I saw him, struggling behind the first cross beam, which was being borne by another man.

Someone was carrying his cross!

I swallowed tears of gratitude at the youth, who’s face was pouring with blood. Apparently he had been struck across the forehead. Then I turned my eyes on Jesus.It was the most ghastly of sights. I began to cry once more as I pressed closer, trying to get in step beside him.

His skin was covered in blood, his clothes hung in tatters, sticking to the open gashes and wounds gaping across his back and arms. I covered my mouth in horror as I realized pieces of skin were hanging from his tunic.

His face was still turned away. I knew it must be a horrific sight as well. Floggings disfigured and crippled men for life.

“Jesus...” I whispered, now within ten feet of his labored journey.

His head, glistening with blood, and painfully crowned with a mocking wreath of jagged thorns, turned towards me.

I sobbed in intense anguish as his one good eye, amidst a mangled mass of bloodied flesh stared back at me. The other eye, I saw was swollen shut, a purple lump.

“Jesus.” I breathed, gazing into his eye.

His brutalized appearance vanished as that one eye fixated itself on me. He consumed all other thoughts.It was as if I was being transported back to that time when I first saw him on the temple steps. He’d consumed everything then as well. Every thought, every breath, every movement.

“Jesus...” my voice came out as a pitiful whimper.

I once again saw my life flash before my eyes. Every little detail with startling clarity, yet through it all overwhelming love consumed my being. Like that day on the lake it knocked me to my knees. I wanted to die. If they killed him, I knew my life was over. I could not live without him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. I saw the pain, the anguish, the weight of a thousands lives, but I saw something else...determination. He was going to see this through, til the end. His last words to me the morning before echoed in my grief ravaged mind.

...I must follow my Father’s will...

I didn’t like this Father he talked about. This powerful being who was making Jesus do such a horrifying thing. I wanted to scream at someone. Anyone. Only a stifled gasp poured from my lips.

“Get up,” said Jesus, in a garbled voice,” This is not the end.”

My eyes gazed at his mutilated face, unable to stand up.

“Get up,” he repeated, and then struggled past me as the soldiers shoved him on.Without knowing how I found myself rising and following, with less urgency than before, but with the same passionate force. In twenty minutes we were outside the city. Numbness had settled around me. I wanted to flee, to escape, yet I wanted to stay. I must stay.

The crosses were being raised on the hill by the time I reached Jesus once more. His screams were the only screams I heard as the nails went through hands and feet of the sentenced men. I was weeping now, beyond control.I stopped within twenty feet, near the edge of the hill, as the cross was raised. All I could see was the blood on his shaking body. I wondered how much more he had left. His eyes met mine once more, even as he shook in agony. I wanted to run again, but I had already fallen to my knees. I would not leave until he breathed his last.

“Why?” I moaned over and over again.Staring into his face, the answer slammed into my chest with a weight heavier than darkness.

...It is for you...

“No!” I screamed,” NO!”I tore my eyes away, unable to look at him any more and covered my face in shame.

Cold dread ripped into me, yet even as it did, warmth flooded my body.

...I love you this much...

The shame faded, receded like the tide going back to the sea.

...you are worth it...

And then I wept for joy. I wanted to stop myself, but couldn’t. Jesus wouldn’t let me