Have Faith, Young One

I'm exhausted out of my mind, but I can't sleep because the pain is so incredible. I try not to show it since I know he's hurting much worse than I am, but he refuses to show it. He's fascinatingly strong, mentally, emotionally, physically; his endurance is remarkable. Guess that's how he put up with me for so long before we embarked on this crazy mission.

"Hey," he whispers. I don't want to give away the fact that I haven't been sleeping, but I've been fidgeting too much to have played it off.

"How's the pain?" I ask.

He laughs, and I'm surprised at how natural it sounds; it almost makes me forget we're locked in this cell, chains around our ankles and wrists. "Nothing He didn't take. If they decide to crucify me, then I'll be afraid."

I chuckle. "Idiot." I reach for his hand in the dark, and his closes around mine. "How are you not in pain? Not terrified?"

"We knew we were getting into this; we knew when we were married when come here, rebuild my home, strengthen it, all to glorify the Kingdom. We prepared for rejection, hatred, betrayal, and torture. Besides, aren't you the girl who told me when we were dating that you have a strange fixation for battle scars?" I laugh while pressing my lips to one of his newest scars on his hand. "That's my girl." After coming together in an embrace, he asks, "Are you afraid?"

"I'm okay with dying," I say, "but I'm horrified that they'll kill you and let me go."

"Don't be concerned with that. We'll always be together, whether we're alive or in heaven. Death can't part us, not forever. Focus on our Savior, do His work, love our persecutors. Stop focusing on me, on our escape. If we live, we live. If I die, I die. If you die, I will mourn, but I will move on for the greatest good. I know you'll do the same."

"You're awfully confident in me."

"Not you, particularly. Spirit will support you, will hold you up, hold you together, explode your growth. You are the branch, forever connected to the Livegiver, the vessel filled with His power, bought by His blood, meant to serve."

A stitch in my side causes me to intake breath, and I feel his chest heave as he coughs up dried blood stuck in his throat. Although I'm in so much pain right now, and I hate this weird position the chains force me into, I don't let go. "Vessels," I murmur. "Okay then. Let's take the pain with everything we've got. They brought it down on Brother; guess we should be honored to receive half as much."

"That's the spirit."

A pause then I smirk. "I think you're secretly a masochist."

"Just ever dependent on Papa to bring me through, whether to complete a purpose here or live at His side. I'm ok wherever He wants me."

His voice drifts into a gentle whisper, and I'm relieved that he will sleep. I hold him close to me, waiting to protect, to hold, to support. "Mwen renmen ou." I feel him smile against my neck.

"I love you, too."

This I Solemnly Swear

The taste of copper shocks my body as I feel blood drip over my lips. Coughing, I force it out of my throat, red spraying the ground.

"Kote yo ye?"

I don't answer, not because it hurts to exhale the words or my throat is raw despite its recent coating of blood; I hold silence because I am defiant.

"Si ou pa di nou kote yo ye, nou pral touye ou."

I know you will, I almost say, but I remember my silence, my vow.

"Nou pral touye mari ou tou."

I know. My eyes mist over, and I try not to imagine the soldiers murdering him. Separating us was wise; they know of our love for each other; they know I am weaker without him. But I've promised. I have sworn I will never forsake my King and His kingdom, even if this defiance kills my husband--my heart, my flesh, my soul along with him.

I will survive though I wish upon wish, pray and pray, that I will die, and he will live. I fear my uselessness, my apathy, my bitterness will rise up again in me when my link to this world is shattered.

Suddenly my shackles rattle as the soldiers yank me to my feet. Knees shaking, I try to find support again the stone wall of my prison, but the soldiers swing a staff at my head, and my vision blurs. I pray that I black out, so I will not have to endure further torture for the night.

If only I were so blessed.


[English Translations]
"Where are they?"
"If you do not tell us where they are, we will kill you."
"We will kill your husband too."

Iron Sharpens Iron

After discussing religion versus relationship in devos tonight, I think I had an epiphany. Religion is trying to reach God on one's own; relationship is letting the Lord reach the person. We release control, stop trying to do everything ourselves, stop trying to rectify our brokenness. Because we broke the relationship back in Eden, we're trying to reconcile it ourselves. We broke it, so we want to correct it.

But we can't. When we broke it, we were conscious of our decision, perfect up until that instant. Now we're imperfect, unable to reach Papa ourselves because we constantly screw up, despite our actions and good intentions.

We can't do good just because we think it'll score us brownie points with the Creator. We do good because, well, because that's who we're meant to be, meant to glorify Christ because we have been saved, made perfect once again.

But our good deeds weren't what made Jesus say, "You know, they deserve to be saved. Ok, you're a good kid, so I will die for you." If we were so good, we wouldn't need retribution. We do good deeds because He did the ultimate good deed, the most pure, altruistic deed. After we betrayed Him, He shed His blood when we whipped him, took our insults, took our cackling and mockery as He died in sheer agony. He took the spear through the side, took the nails we drove into His hands and feet, sneering because we thought we were doing a good deed. We thought we were preserving peace, using social justice.

But we were wrong--again. Surprise, surprise. Luckily, we were wrong to think He'd just stay dead. Instead He forgave us, welcomed us home, and gave us His Spirit to do good deeds. But these deeds are immeasurable; they don't give us more grace, more mercy, more forgiveness, more "good karma" to store up so we can do something heinous and evil.

His Spirit inspires us to do good for good's sake--intrinsic motivation. Because He did good first, He loved first, He died first. We want to follow that example because He did those things to and for us first. Now we want to make everyone else feel this inexplicable joy, overwhelming love, and passion for the adventure.

Do it to it.

Division

I stand pressed against the glass wall dividing us. Our hands reach for each other's against the glass. My forehead is creased, pressed to the window, and my teeth grind. I hate that he's taking the blame for this, for me, the punishment is mine.

"Idiot," I bite at him. In Creole I ask, or rather mouth, "How am I supposed to save you?"

He smiles at me, his forehead matched against mine. His right eye is swollen, blood dried to his face. "You can't," he mouths. My face goes livid with rage, and I'm about to shout at him when he looks up then flicks his gaze back to me. "He will."

My countenance calms, and I pull back. He raises his fingers to his lips, presses his fingers against the glass, and I'd give anything to feel that warmth growing from his vitality, not the blood running cold on his flesh. I settle for kissing the glass before the guards yank him away to be tortured anew.


I'm in our study, head in my hands, frustrated out of my mind trying to figure out how to release him, when I hear Him. "You're trying to save him," He whispers.

"Obviously," I snarl. "And what are You doing? Nothing! Letting him fall apart in there!"

"He's not falling apart; you know that. He's relying completely on me. You're just trying to make me feel guilty, which is rather silly, don't you think?" I don't reply because I know He's right; He always is. He continues, "You should be relying on me too."

"I am!"

"Then why are you trying to save him?"

"What are you talking about? What else am I supposed to do?"

"Why are you trying to save him?"

"I just said-" the reality of the statement hits me, "Oh." He lets me stew on that one for a bit. Finally I say, "I'm sorry; You're right -obviously. I- I give this up to you. I want to help him, help You help him. Lord, if you take him away from me," I start to become hysterical.

"That's not up to you. I don't need your help, though I appreciate the sentiment; let Spirit move in you, and this process will go smoother. But my ways are not your ways; I will do as fit."

I try to hold back the attitude in my statement, "That's not fair. He's done everything for You. I should be in there; I haven't stayed nearly as true to You, done nearly as much as him in Your name." I've tried this argument before, and I've felt the same response. My time isn't up yet. I can only hope that means my husband's time isn't up either.

Happy Valentine's Day?

The following short story was based on the following "like" from Facebook:

14th February:
Girl: Happy Valentines Day!
Boy: Um... yeah :)
-Girl passes him a big box of chocolates-
-Boy passes her a tiny box, to which she looks disappointed-
Boy: Now, before you open this, I want you to know something... I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore...
Girl: (Shocked) -Opens box- *Gasp*
Boy: Because I want to be your husband.


~*~

"I hate Valentine's Day," I said, exhaling against the too-long-but-not-quite-long-enough hair that was ever present in my face despite the ponytail I was prone to wearing.

He smiled. "You're only in it for the chocolate I suppose?"

My face brightened. "Of course; as though there are any other reasons." We both knew I was being difficult on purpose; he'd grown used to it and usually played along until he caught me and exposed my tough-girl front.

"Because you and I both know you are desperately in love with me, as I with you, you got me something which was probably homemade, I got you something, and we will have some form of a sentimental moment where we shall admit these things to one another without pretense."

Yeah, exactly like that. I faked an irritated sigh, opened my bag, and handed him a bag of cake balls. "Here," I bit, though I know he saw the smile I was trying to hold back. After retrieving his gift, he pushed a box across the table to me without a word. My face fell flat. "Really? After all that chocolate talk, you bought me, what, four pieces? As long as they aren't weird flavors." I opened it.

I examined the contents carefully; I couldn't figure out what I was looking at. "Pretty sure this isn't chocolate," I muttered.

"Alexandrite."

The word snapped me out of my confusion, and my gaze shot up to his. "Wha-"

"Amethyst."

"Wait a sec-"

"Pearl. I almost wish they'd figure out which is your actual birthstone, but I admit I like the colors together. Good choice, bel."

My face was twisted into something mixed between confusion, dreamlike, and terror. Confused because I wasn't sure what was happening, barely dreamy because of what I thought it meant, and terror because I didn't want to be utterly wrong and humiliated. He smiled, somewhat knowingly but mostly gently.

"Marry me."

Not a question, not a demand - a statement of the obvious, now being when the time was right, when our proverbial ducks were in a supposedly straight row. Even though I was panicking, sweating, and shaking, I knew he knew my answer.

This Was RADICALLY Unexpected

To start, I totally failed today's task because I totally forgot to talk it over. Maybe it's because I was totally blindsided today, and I have to get this public.

I have finally welcomed my brother home.

Explanation? Let's backtrack first. This week's theme was peace. The first day? Forgive someone you've been bitter towards. The first person to pop into my head? The subject of an earlier post, the one where I mention I need to apologize. I never did apologize to him until yesterday. I got his email, wrote him a quick note, mentioning that I was a jerk for hating him even though he was a jerk to me.

A reply? Didn't want to open it. I was scared out of my mind. But I had to; the suspense was killing me. I was stunned. I'm still breathless. The reply specifically encouraged me and followed up with an apology for his actions as well.

I have a new brother in my Papa's family! I'm so excited it's ridiculous. I didn't believe anyone when they told me he changed, but this email reply is evidence. If there's a God, I know Him for certain now because He's changed his heart.

Wow. I'm...I'm just stunned. I almost cried because the response was nothing I expected, and I want to greet my brother in person. Hopefully I'll see him over the summer.

THANK YOU, LORD! Wow. Wow wow wow. Totally new perspective on this kid. Take him places, Lord. I want to see this kid explode. Wow. The bitterness is gone, and I can't stop blabbering about how COOL this experience was. UGH and I know my words are EPICALLY FAILING! shdiohfdkcnak;dgfahc. Ok, I need to sleep. (But I'm so ecstatic, I don't know if I'll be able too, hahaha.)