I run along the edge of the cliff, You call out of me, yet I just keep going. You call again, still I run. I run with abandon, but without direction...until I fall. I begin to tumble off the edge of the cliff.
But, You are there. You grab my hand and hold on. I tell you to let go. I kick and climb. I try to fight my way up the cliff on my own, but it doesn't work. I scream and cry and beg You to let me fall. Still, You hold on. I yell at You and tell You that I want to fall, that falling would be better than this. You look at me and tell me that You're not letting go. I become angry and bitter. And so, I pull the nail out of my pocket and start jamming it into You perfect hand, the hand that holds me. I had hoped this would make You give up on me and leave me. No, Your fingers clench even more tightly around mine. As I keep pounding at the nail, I realize there are hot tears streaming down my face.
Tears of anger. Tears of frustration, of confusion. Tears that speak of a fear of love.
As they pour down my face, You start pulling. The nail is still in Your hand, yet still You pull me up. Your flesh tears and rips; Your blood flows out. In silence, You keep pulling. You pull until I'm upon the ground, looking into Your face. We stare in silence. You tell me to stop running, that first I must learn to get up and walk with You. I stand. We begin our journey again. I am tempted to run full speed ahead, without knowing the way.
Then I look down and see Your hand, still bloodied from my nail. And on we walk, hand in hand.
Yesterday, a friend was playing the guitar and singing/praying. As she did, this scene played out in my head. Today, I wrote it down after reading part of Romans 5 with a couple friends. The weight of the cross is so real to me today. It seems the deeper my relationship with God goes, the more I learn about Him, the more I realize that I still have to discover.
