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September 27 A God-Driven "180"There was nothing she could do. Carrie stood helplessly by Brad’s hospital bed, listening to the beeps and whirring machines. The doctor had said it wouldn’t be long. Carrie’s tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse to make their marks that went unnoticed. Nothing mattered anymore. She was losing all she had. As the hours passed, so did Brad’s life. The confusion muddled Carrie’s thoughts as she pulled her black dress over her head. Her tears were gone now, replaced by a clenched jaw that showed her determination not to allow her emotions to take over. But grief had a hold on her heart and was not letting go. ****** Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The small apartment became a fortress of anger, the loud music and thick smoke trying to drown out the cries of a hurting soul. Alcohol and drugs became Carrie’s friends and her grief transitioned into periods of blissful forgetfulness as she drifted further away from life itself.****** “It’s Allison again, Carrie. This is the fourth time I’ve called. I know who can help you. Please call me back.”Carrie listened to her best friend’s voice, dully aware of the concern etched in the recorded phone message. What did Allison know? Allison had a wonderful life! She had a house in the country, a great husband, two kids and enough money that she didn’t have to work! How could she possibly know what Carrie needed? But she wouldn’t give up, and Carrie knew it. ****** Carrie stared into her coffee cup, her mind clouded with the noises of the street café.“Did you hear me?” Carrie finally looked up across the table at Allison. “Huh?” Allison sighed, but the care never left her eyes. “I said He loves you, and can make you feel better.” “I feel fine,” Carrie lied. “Besides, what’s he got to offer, other than a bunch of rules anyway?” Allison grinned. “Life, Carrie. A full, wonderful life that can last forever. All these things you’re using…the drugs, alcohol, smoke…they’re all masking your pain, but they’re killing you. He can make you whole again.” Allison scooted the thick book closer to Carrie’s elbow. “Please read this. For me?” Carrie rolled her eyes. She hadn’t touched a Bible since she’d been a kid. What good would it do her now? But if she didn’t read at least part of it, Allison would just keep pestering her. “Okay, fine. But I know this is all rubbish.” ****** The pages wouldn’t turn fast enough for Carrie’s hungry eyes. The more she read, the thirstier she grew for that peace…that life…this man, Jesus. Maybe there was something to Him after all. The words on the thin pages struck Carrie’s heart like nothing before. They pierced her soul, letting in light where none had been for what seemed an eternity.Carrie slowly opened her eyes, still kneeling on the floor, the Bible clutched tightly in her hand. She didn’t know how long she’d been there, but didn’t care. She’d felt the arms of forgiveness. She’d experienced the pure joy shooting through her very being as she’d been lifted from despair. Jesus was real. He was the ultimate Healer, and had cleansed her soul. She was free. Free at last. ****** “That’s how the Lord rescued me…and He’ll rescue you too if you’ll let Him.” Carrie picked up her notes and walked off the stage as several people clapped their appreciation. She took a deep breath and stared up at the poster that had been pinned to the church wall, announcing her arrival. “From Great Despair, to Great Joy.”Carrie grinned at her memories. God had given her a life story for a reason, and now it was up to her to spread it. The story of Jesus working in real lives in real ways wasn’t the Good News…it was the Great News. September 17 I Heard a WalkI sat in the back pew of the church, unable to distinguish my surroundings. I had been brought by a friend, but she had gone to speak with someone else, leaving me alone. Voices and laughter echoed through what I imagined to be a room with a high ceiling, and I sank back in my seat, automatically beginning to search for specific sounds. It had started out as a child’s game, to keep myself entertained at social functions. But it had become more of a retreat - somewhere I could go in my mind to ease the discomfort I felt when in crowds. Analyzing the cluttered sounds, I found the first one I wanted. The hardwood floor made it easy. My hearing pinpointed the footsteps walking quickly past my pew. They were heavy - a man, I thought. The sound was sharp, indicating dress shoes, and the walker strode with a purpose. Perhaps it was the minister. I found a lighter step of a woman close by. Her shoes made an uncomfortable tapping, and I knew they must be high heels. The footsteps paced back and forth in rhythm with a nasal voice, and I wondered if she was the church gossip. A quieter sound caught my attention, and I struggled to concentrate. A child was passing by. The clicking of tiny shoes was almost overpowered by a much stronger step close behind. I imagined a man holding the fingers of his child as the youngster awkwardly went forward, not yet having coordination to walk with confidence. The hurried footsteps of my friend approached, and I felt her sit down next to me. “They’re going to show a video clip,” she whispered as the room quieted. “Do you want me to tell you what’s going on?” I shrugged, not caring. I hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, knowing I would be bored. Now I didn’t even have footsteps to keep myself occupied. I was wrong. I could hear music playing, and suddenly, the sound of soldiers marching overtook the scene in my mind. I listened to them shout and hurl insults at someone. I tried to sort through the noise and understand. Someone was in pain. They were walking - no, trudging. Their agonized groans mixed in with the sounds of spitting and jeering. The labored footsteps were constantly interrupted by a stumble or fall. I pictured a man with a great weight on his shoulders, being forced uphill. The images created in my mind were gruesome. I wanted to close my ears, but a desire to understand won out. “What’s happening?” I whispered to my friend. “They’re showing a movie about Jesus,” she replied. Her voice was strained, etched with emotion. “Jesus?” was my hoarse response. Jesus has always been described to me in the same sentence as peace, love and happiness. This was not a happy scene at all! I was confused. “Why is he letting that man suffer?” I asked. It took a moment for my friend to answer. “No…that man is Jesus.” I was stunned. Suddenly I heard the sound of nails and I realized what was going on. The crowd chanted, “Crucify him!” I was too shocked to cry as the scene continued until a voice quietly, yet boldly proclaimed, “It is finished.” The room became deathly quiet, but I wanted to jump up and ask why Jesus had suffered so much. I had heard He was sinless. Why had He been nailed to a cross? My ears listened with new intrigue as finally the minister answered my questions. But all the sermon did was evoke a gut-wrenching feeling that I should have been the one to take that walk. It should have been me trudging up that dreaded hill. I finally realized the need for a Savior. I had listened to footsteps all my life. It had been a game for when I became bored, and my theories about the walkers were faded and lost. But today…today I had heard a walk that I would never forget. Jesus died for YOU. His suffering was real. His death was real. His resurrection, overcomming sin was real. The rest is up to you. |
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