The air is so thick with heat, but I think I've stopped sweating. Must be the blood loss. The sun is so bright that the only thing I can see is the occasional shaft flying up then down, between me and the sky. How long have I been kneeling in the dirt and the dust with my life spilling out in red rivers upon the cracked, swollen desert?
I shut my eyes against the light, against the sight, the sight of who I am, of where I am... So I don't see the next one until it is too late... Maybe it's already too late. I couldn't move now if I tried.
The shock of the piercing is slow to fade. This last one hits me a little to the right of my heart and as my breath comes in ragged weary wet gasps I realize that it has punctured the lung.
Was there ever any other time than this? Is this eternity?
Was there ever a different place than this? Is this judgment?
And to think that I thought I could take them on myself... what a fool. All my pride-- all my selfish concern. what a stupid, selfish fool.
I try to smile at this absurd thought, that I was ever a match for him and his legion of fellow-fallen, but my lips are cracked and bleeding. My burned spirit and my broken body have finally yielded to some well-earned humility. If this is giving up then I do. If this is surrender then I must.
The twang of the string sounds closer than it probably is. Maybe this is the last one, the one marked for my heart. And I try to open my eyes and only succeed in squinting at the glare of yellow death in the sky against a backdrop of bright blue. There it is: a line of ebony with the sun glinting off the steel tip.
Just as well.
Send me back to Heaven, back to the beginning, so we can start all over. I’ll try to do better next time, try to remember what I learned…that the real meaning of life is not about finding someone nice, ending up someplace nice, it has always been about sacrifice. I get it now. I’m ready.
As the last arrow falls, gaining speed, I bow my head. One last prayer. One last “God help me,” sent up through the thick air.
THUNK!
I don’t feel it so maybe he missed. But I heard it hit so close…
And just like that the Sun is gone.
I am in the shade of something, something tall and strong. That same sound again, THUNK! THUD! The arrows are hitting something, just not me… through dry bruised eyes I can see the shape of a shield…The Shield. This can’t be right. I can smell dirt and sweat and… and sawdust? That’s when I see Him.
And just like that the Son is here.
Long dark hair frames the famous face, a prominent nose, the strong bearded jaw line, and the kindest eyes I think I have ever seen. He is sitting close enough for me to touch, but I don’t dare. Not like I could anyway, my arms stopped working a while ago. Looking down I finally see myself, once a proud post-modern renaissance man, now just a pin-cushion for the arrows that each represent a different lie of the enemy.
I know He’s sweating, because His robes are soaked. It is so hot here. But I would swear He was crying. I didn’t think that was possible, but then I remember the shortest verse in the Bible. Now I can see—He’s crying for me.
A whishing sound then a hiss as arrow after arrow drives into the sand mixes with the sounds of arrows striking the shield. His shoulder bounces slightly with each blow He absorbs. Then He’s reaching back with His free hand. Can’t figure out what He’s doing. Why would He want to touch a sinner like me?
When He touches the arrow sticking out of my left thigh I realize He’s not only here to keep me alive, but to heal my completely! The arrow vanishes when He touches it and my muscles and nerves, veins and arteries knit back together as if their circulation had never been interrupted. As quick as lightning He touches the other arrows and they vanish as well… each one a lie. An arrow through my dream catcher tattoo disappears; this was a lie of inadequacy. Not only is there no scar left behind but the skin comes back with the tattoo, vivid in color. One by one, they all evaporate like water in this dry land; this arrow is a lie of depression, that one a lie of addiction.
The last one He touches is the one closest to my heart; this arrow is a lie of doubt. I gasp with the restored ability to breath deep. Then fingers brush the side of my face as a calloused thumb pushes slightly below my eye, rubbing away my tears.
Just like that He is gone.
But I can feel Him in the beat of my heart, the healed body, the harmony in my spirit. I can’t help but smile at this reprieve, this peace, and I can’t seem to stop crying.
I can see so much better now. He left me The Shield. And as I look around I can see why… there must be dozens, hundreds of others in this desert. I thrust my left arm through the strap and lift it as another lie thumps into it. Not wasting any time, I move on to the second of the two great commands. Running to the nearest person I kneel next to him. I plant the shield as firmly as I can between him and the arrows still in flight while checking his wounds.
Maybe it’s not too late.
I shut my eyes against the light, against the sight, the sight of who I am, of where I am... So I don't see the next one until it is too late... Maybe it's already too late. I couldn't move now if I tried.
The shock of the piercing is slow to fade. This last one hits me a little to the right of my heart and as my breath comes in ragged weary wet gasps I realize that it has punctured the lung.
Was there ever any other time than this? Is this eternity?
Was there ever a different place than this? Is this judgment?
And to think that I thought I could take them on myself... what a fool. All my pride-- all my selfish concern. what a stupid, selfish fool.
I try to smile at this absurd thought, that I was ever a match for him and his legion of fellow-fallen, but my lips are cracked and bleeding. My burned spirit and my broken body have finally yielded to some well-earned humility. If this is giving up then I do. If this is surrender then I must.
The twang of the string sounds closer than it probably is. Maybe this is the last one, the one marked for my heart. And I try to open my eyes and only succeed in squinting at the glare of yellow death in the sky against a backdrop of bright blue. There it is: a line of ebony with the sun glinting off the steel tip.
Just as well.
Send me back to Heaven, back to the beginning, so we can start all over. I’ll try to do better next time, try to remember what I learned…that the real meaning of life is not about finding someone nice, ending up someplace nice, it has always been about sacrifice. I get it now. I’m ready.
As the last arrow falls, gaining speed, I bow my head. One last prayer. One last “God help me,” sent up through the thick air.
THUNK!
I don’t feel it so maybe he missed. But I heard it hit so close…
And just like that the Sun is gone.
I am in the shade of something, something tall and strong. That same sound again, THUNK! THUD! The arrows are hitting something, just not me… through dry bruised eyes I can see the shape of a shield…The Shield. This can’t be right. I can smell dirt and sweat and… and sawdust? That’s when I see Him.
And just like that the Son is here.
Long dark hair frames the famous face, a prominent nose, the strong bearded jaw line, and the kindest eyes I think I have ever seen. He is sitting close enough for me to touch, but I don’t dare. Not like I could anyway, my arms stopped working a while ago. Looking down I finally see myself, once a proud post-modern renaissance man, now just a pin-cushion for the arrows that each represent a different lie of the enemy.
I know He’s sweating, because His robes are soaked. It is so hot here. But I would swear He was crying. I didn’t think that was possible, but then I remember the shortest verse in the Bible. Now I can see—He’s crying for me.
A whishing sound then a hiss as arrow after arrow drives into the sand mixes with the sounds of arrows striking the shield. His shoulder bounces slightly with each blow He absorbs. Then He’s reaching back with His free hand. Can’t figure out what He’s doing. Why would He want to touch a sinner like me?
When He touches the arrow sticking out of my left thigh I realize He’s not only here to keep me alive, but to heal my completely! The arrow vanishes when He touches it and my muscles and nerves, veins and arteries knit back together as if their circulation had never been interrupted. As quick as lightning He touches the other arrows and they vanish as well… each one a lie. An arrow through my dream catcher tattoo disappears; this was a lie of inadequacy. Not only is there no scar left behind but the skin comes back with the tattoo, vivid in color. One by one, they all evaporate like water in this dry land; this arrow is a lie of depression, that one a lie of addiction.
The last one He touches is the one closest to my heart; this arrow is a lie of doubt. I gasp with the restored ability to breath deep. Then fingers brush the side of my face as a calloused thumb pushes slightly below my eye, rubbing away my tears.
Just like that He is gone.
But I can feel Him in the beat of my heart, the healed body, the harmony in my spirit. I can’t help but smile at this reprieve, this peace, and I can’t seem to stop crying.
I can see so much better now. He left me The Shield. And as I look around I can see why… there must be dozens, hundreds of others in this desert. I thrust my left arm through the strap and lift it as another lie thumps into it. Not wasting any time, I move on to the second of the two great commands. Running to the nearest person I kneel next to him. I plant the shield as firmly as I can between him and the arrows still in flight while checking his wounds.
Maybe it’s not too late.
