 I awoke in a startle. My clothes and bed sheets were clinging to me as I had broken out in a cold sweat. The darkness of the night settled on my heart as the fear and thoughts plagued my mind. My eight-year old heart was beating wildy, out of control. Trying to calm myself I sat up looking around to see if I was safe to leave the haven of my bed.
"Another nightmare," My body whimpered, eyes darting to and fro checking the lurking of the shadows. Fearfully I climbed out of bed afraid of what may jump out at me. Thoughts were teling me I was insane, to turn back, go back to bed, close your eyes and hide! You don't know what's out there! Go back! GO BACK! But a boldness was rising in my heart and I knew that I had to go to the other room, I had to find that book... that precious book... It held the answers. It will help me. There was something about that book. Yellow stained pages and white leather bound cover, golden crisp edges. Dirty, as if the previous owner had handled it everyday, taking it with them whereever they went. The book that I knew held the answers but I didn't know what had once belonged to a distant relative of mine.
At last, I reached the book and I quickly grasped it and hid in the corner of the lounge room. Afraid of who may find me, or what may find me. Hiding in the shadows I gripped the book as if holding on for dear life, I held it close to my heart and not wanting to let it go. Tears freely rolled down my face. The KJV was too difficult for my mind to understand, I fumbled through the pages, trying to find out about this "Jesus" man. But I couldn't find it, instead I continued to hide in the darkness hugging the prized possession hoping that one day I will understand.  Years later I remember arriving home late one night. My heart and head full of questions, thoughts and wonder. Hiding in my closet, afraid of being caught, I grabbed my torch and opened this book I was given that night ready to read the first page. From the first word I was taken to another place, another time. In amazement and adoration I was finally reading about this Jesus. He raised people from the dead? Wow. He healed a blind man? Who was this guy? He was amazing. Woah, he loved that woman, the one who was unfaithful? Unbelievable. My heart fell in love with Jesus and I continued to pour over the words. Suddenly, I felt as if my heart had died. Time had stopped. What was this I was reading? He was being betrayed? PETER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? Why are those soldiers taking him? Why are these people ACCUSSING him? Do they realise what He did!? Do they realise how much He LOVED them. He was INNOCENT. Anger gripped me as I continued to read. As quickly as the anger rose up in my heart, a deep sadness set in. I fell on my face and began to cry. They hanged Him on the cross. They killed him. He was dead. My Jesus, the one I was only starting to know about, was dead. I'm not sure how long I sat there crying, unwilling to pick up the book again, but it felt like an eternity.
As the tears subsided I heard a faint voice "Keep on reading....". Wiping my eyes with my sleeve I picked the torch and book up again and continued to read. Hope began to rise. Joy leapt in my throat.
Are you serious?
He... He... r-r-..ro-rose again?
Tears once again poured down my face, not out of pain but out of victory. This Jesus guy, wow, the Son of God. Alive. It was simply amazing.
I love the Word of God. The Word of God is my life source. My food. I devour it. I need it. As you do too. The Word of God is like a Melways to my life. It gives me direction. Answers. We need to know what the Word says, we need to have a love for the Word, we need to stand on the Word.
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great post. you are a gifted writer and thinker. thank you.