RAMBLINGS OF A REBEL

                

              A young woman sat in a stone room with bare walls and damp air.  Chains leashed her wrists to the wall behind her.   Her eyes stared unseeingly at the floor in defeat, her black, matted hair covering her face.  Scars covered her body, some a light pink others dark and calloused.  Old and new marks blemished every limb, every finger, and any part of her that was revealed.  Her pain almost seemed to radiate off the cold walls, becoming part of the room itself.  It surrounded her, thickening the air and weighing down even her smallest movements.  Each day was spent trying to free herself from the irons and cover her wounds without success. Each day, she was reminded that she had not the strength to break her bonds.  Each day the fear returned, torturing every bit of her being, slowly fragmenting her sanity.  She was alone in this room, in this fight. No one could or would enter the darkest place of her soul. 

            She tore at the shackles once more with her fingers as she cried out in anguish. The panic began to tear at her thoughts. Her nails dug into her own flesh, drawing blood in her attempt to block out the terror.  Her arms dropped to her side, and she sobbed.  She shook her head as the yelling began again, echoing in her mind though the cell remained silent but for her own voice.  Her hands flew to her forehead, and her fingers wrapped around her skull.  She squeezed her eyes shut, the chains clanking as her whole body began to shake. She began to hyperventilate, her breaths growing high pitched. 

            “No.” she gasped over and over. 

            Her thoughts grew muddled as she fought.  She couldn’t think straight.  She collapsed to the ground, trying to salvage even one clear thought from the fear now blocking her consciousness.  Her sobs began to grow coherent. 

            “I can’t,” she sobbed out again and again, feeling the hopelessness overwhelm her. 

            Tears slipped down her cheeks.  She brought her knees to her chest, her hands still wrapped around her head.  She shook, fighting to maintain consciousness.  Her heart pulsed with fear. Her head throbbed with confusion and exhaustion.  She couldn’t sort out her muddled thoughts.  Something had to be done, but she couldn’t focus enough to even devise a plan. 

            “Please help me.” She sobbed, her voice choked with emotion.

            As if in response to her plight, a sudden, white light filled the room, blinding her for a moment.   She shielded her red eyes with her left arm.  When she lowered her hand, she found before her a man dressed in a pearl white robe.   She slid back in fear at his sudden appearance, her eyes wide.  He took a step towards her.

            She shouted out her voice full of senseless terror, “Don’t come near me!”

            The man halted his arms out, palms up in a peaceful gesture, and then he spoke, “Child, I only come as near as you allow me.”

            His voice was deep and rich; it seemed to sooth her with no clear explanation. Her heart began to slow.

            Confused, she tilted her head, eyes still wide with alarm and whispered, “Who are you?”

            “One who wishes to help you.”

            Her arms folded across her chest weakly as if she were holding herself.  The chains lightly clinked together with her movements.  

            “No one can help me.  You’re wasting your time.”

            He shook his head sadly, then looked into her eyes.  His eyes were so filled with love and empathy it pained her to return the glance, and she looked away.

            “No, my child. YOU are never a waste of time.”

            “Leave Me. I am nothing. You shouldn’t even be here.” A single wound reopened on her arm, too small to cause much discomfort but enough to sting.

            “Such suffering weighs on your heart. Let me help you, Leah.”

            “What could you possibly know of suffering? Of me? Of being chained and wounded, to have your own blood running over your skin and not be able to do anything about it?! You, standing there in your clean robes and unmarked skin.”

            “I know you are hurt, Leah. But have you been completely blinded to those around you by your own pain? Stop looking at the surface, Leah.  Look deeper.”

            She looked again and gasped in astonishment.  His robes were stained with blood. Deep scratches marked his forehead where thorns had penetrated his skin.  His wrists bore gaping holes, perfect circles through his flesh.  And his eyes…his eyes penetrated her very soul.  She saw pain and sorrow and empathy.  Yet, there was not a trace of anger, despite her foolish words. 

            “My daughter, I know your hurt. And it brings me pain to see you in such suffering and bound by chains of your own creation.  I long to break your bonds and heal your wounds, yet you continue to repel me.”

            She sobbed. She had done so much wrong, had committed so many evil deeds.  If she confided in this strange man, he would surely condemn her and shun her.  No one could heal her wounds; they were too deep.  She was beyond help.  He reached out as if to caress her face, but his hand was halted by an invisible barrier, bringing more sadness into his eyes.

            “My dear Leah, come to me.  What tales do your scars tell? Give me your pain. You don’t have to suffer alone any longer.”

            She sobbed harder. He was so convincing. The love in his eyes even seemed sincere.  She felt sorry for him; he was wasting his time on someone as worthless as herself. Another scar began to bleed on her leg, the blood trickling down her skin, a sensation she had grown accustomed to over the years.

            “Again, you’re wasting your time. I’m not worth your efforts. I’m too far gone.”

            As she spoke several more wounds reopened and began to bleed.  She cried out softly in pain.  She breathed deeply, as she had learned, in order to maintain her reason.  The years of turmoil and pain had taught her how to put on a brave face even in the midst of despair.  She shook inwardly, the effort of disguising the full force of her pain draining her body. 

            “Child,” he whispered again. “Come to me. Cast your cares unto me.  They no longer have to be yours alone to bear.”

            “Why?” she sobbed out. “Why would you bother opening this door? No one ever opens that door.” Her voice fell to a whisper, “They all know it’s there. They simply don’t bother to open it and see what’s inside.”           

            “I have opened the door, Leah. I have come to set you free. I am not. Like. Them.”

            As she lifted her eyes and gazed up into his, she realized that was true. This man stood with a passive confidence that filled the room with his presence.  Empathy, Love and Compassion emanated from every inch of his existence.  The stones in the walls around him seemed to shrink.  The faint glow that encompassed him lit up the grime beneath his feet before disappearing into the utter darkness beneath her fragile form.  A tear slid down her cheek as the vastness of the breech between herself and this glorious man processed within her mind.  As the despair returned to her once again, the yelling redoubled in her head.  She sat with her knees tucked under her and began to rock, trying to block out the meaningless panic. 

            To her astonishment, the man’s voice reached her through the terror as he implored her, “My daughter, come to me. Tell me your sorrows, lay down your burdens that you may be healed by one who loves you more than anything in the universe.”

            And there, kneeling on the hard ground, with her hands hooked behind her neck, she poured out her heart to this man who had the power to speak through the pain she had lived with for so long.  She faced the ground, tears pouring down her face as she spoke of her past, of her broken family relationships, of men who had used her and broken her heart into a thousand pieces.  She revealed her hurts, of people who had betrayed her, those whom she had considered friends.  She expressed sorrows and embarrassments, foolish decisions and mistakes.  As the words almost eagerly poured from her mouth, the scars and wounds throughout her body began to reopen and bleed, spilling her blood onto the stone floor.  The pain was almost unbearable.  Then she suddenly stopped talking and only sobbed as she thought of her shames, things she had done that no one else could ever know. 

            “There is more, Leah.” It was a statement not a question. “Tell me, my daughter. I am not here to condemn but to free.”

            The sincerity in his voice loosened her fear, giving her the freedom and courage to expel her darkest secrets from the core of her essence.  Before the feet of this man who loved her before she truly knew him, she poured out every bit of her being.  She had given herself wholly to him.

            She stared up at him, eyes red and pained and whispered, “Please, Help me. I can’t do this alone.  I can’t bear this pain. I’ve fought for so long, alone. The wounds reopen at the smallest word. I’m so weak.”

            He once again reached out to caress her face, his eyes filled with absolute empathy.  This time, he was not hindered, but placed his callused palm against her bleeding cheek. The scars on her face disappeared; the pain ceased. She gasped in wonderment.  The man placed the other hand on the opposite side of her face and closed his eyes.  The pain receded gradually from her entire body.  Scars faded away, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished.  The manacles clicked open and fell to the ground before dissolving back into the earth.  The man pulled away wearily but smiling.  As she got a good look at him, she gasped in horror.  His body was covered in HER scars, scratch for scratch, scar for scar. She wanted to yell out in confusion, but the man knelt and folded his hands before himself in prayer.  As the man whispered words of love and endearment to some unseen deity, the scars and wounds disappeared from his skin. All, that is, except for the ones he originally bore.  He stood and lifted her fragile form from the ground.  A smile danced on her face, an expression she thought she had forgotten. Tears of relief poured down her face.  He held her close and lifted her into his arms. He raised a large hand to wipe the tears from her eyes.  His smile lit up the entire chamber, chasing away any lingering trace of darkness.

            “My daughter, you are safe now. As long as you remain in my arms, you will ALWAYS be safe.”

            The joy radiating from this man astounded her. A man this powerful thought her worthy, considered her his beloved daughter.  He made her feel utterly safe and protected.

            “I don’t even know your name,” she suddenly gasped.

            “My name is Jesus.” As he carried her from her own dungeon he added, “And there are some others very close to me I would like you to meet.”

            “Jesus,” she repeated. 

            And He led her from the hole she had remained trapped in for so long and into a world of love and forgiveness.