And there I sit. In a circle of the Great Counsel. There are twelve chairs, separated evenly around the left and the right of me. Twelve men with their tattered, fish smelling, dirt filled robes. Some are older than the rest and others a tad skinnier. I see Peter, he is the only one dead on focused as if he was going to be responsible for the rest. He is near the front of the circle, particularly to the left front. He sits right next to the Son. Oh yes, the Holy Trinity sits there as well. It is not a tense-filled atmosphere. There is chitter-chatter, some coughing and some waiting. The Great I AM sits directly in front of me, His majesty too grand to evoke. But still we sit. Well, at least I sit. I am at least the only normal one. Jesus is talking it up with some and some are pondering his words, the rest laughing with their deep chests. They are frail men too, we are one in this company. I am more dead on focused on the Spirit, however. I glance up at him only for a smidge till my eyes dart back down. He knows what I've done, hears my inward thoughts-my belligerent ways. Father, He is the head of it all. He is holding what appears to be a chart in His hands, reading intently or at least I think He is. The atmosphere has chilled and the time has come to begin. Jesus smiles at me and my heart is reminded of what it has done to him. I remember why I'm here. It's not a time to sit and watch, it's not a learning seminar. No, this is my judgement. I am confident I can't leave, although my brain is tracking why not? Everyone turns ever so passionately to those three leading chairs. But I don't. I don't move at all, don't know if I'm even breathing anymore. They begin and the most beautiful words are spoken, the ever more my heart is broken. I don't look up, but instead stair at my brothers' feet. They're dirty, blood-stained and blistered. Except one. His feet are polished as if just soaked in oil. He sits right next to me. In fact, he is looking at mine as well. What does he see? And then it strikes me, we are quite similar. These so called great men of victor, courage and faith. But here I and this other sit without a scratch. I had gathered from the earlier conversations that his name is Judas. Judas. "Samantha." I look up. All eyes are on me now and I realize the contentedness for finding another like me was only an illusion due from me profusely sweating. My heart melts and my body aches. What will they say about these accusations made against me? Obviously, they are true. My guts are poured out on the table for all to see. Yes, there they should point out where it is I went wrong. But they don't. They don't say what I think. Instead, I hear one called James pipe up, "I've done that." Then a another called Mark say, "yes, most certainly. I have done that." Again and again I hear them admitting what they have done. As if no matter what differences were given on the outside, our guts were made the same. Our shame. Our guilt. We were more alike than I could ever imagine. The only one that didn't speak was Judas, but rather he sat there with eyes wide open and pale faced. And Jesus now leaning over his chair with his enclosed hands resting on his knees smiled upon me. As if saying, "Look. Look, you are not alone." And the Spirit seemed to fill me with warmth. " But...but I knew what was right and...I purposely went against it..." I pathetically mumble in their humbling presence's . "I've done that" said Thomas. "Oh yes, me too." said Bartholomew. I looked again at the one they loved, His eyes locked oh soo comfortably upon mine saying "Look my daughter. Look, how much you are loved."
No comments:
Post a Comment