My Story

I wrote this quite a while ago, I suppose, but I thought I'd post it. It is the story of all of us who have been rescued. 'Does anyone who rejects Jesus' offer of forgiveness and salvation truly deserve Hell', I used to wonder?
Yes.
And this is why:
"...When we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son." ~Romans 5:10
~~~~~
Suddenly, from somewhere beyond the misty shoreline of the lake, I heard a bloodcurdling scream. The sound, echoing off the canyon walls, fell almost silent before another, similarly chilling scream pierced the air and this time propelled me to my feet in search of its source. I strained my eyes and ears to catch the faintest hint of where the scream had come from, and as I did so, the mist began to dissipate. There…! There, about 30 ft. from the shoreline, small ripples frantically drifted from a center agitation in the water. I could see that just below the surface was something, or someone, struggling to reach the air above. My heart pounded; my throat constricted with the agony of helplessness. I couldn’t swim. The water was deep and dark. I could do nothing but watch.
As if in slow motion, I saw a woman’s head break through the surface of the water. Her neck strained, her body taunt, her arms flailing wildly, she screamed again. This time the sound was choked by the icy water pouring into her throat. The desperate cry turned guttural and was cut short as her head sank back below the surface; “Help m….”! I, too, opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. I knew there was nobody within ear shot. There wasn’t a soul within miles. I was left alone on this desolate shore, watching every horrible detail in this drama of death. I could not help. I could not scream. I could not move. I could only watch.
Distractedly, I wondered how she had come to be in the middle of this forsaken lake. I glanced around for something, anything, to throw to her rescue… and she surfaced again. This time it was only her hands. They reached desperately for air as if willing to pull the sky into the water with her. Sinking to my knees, I found my voice. I screamed in a fever of despair… my voice broke as I shouted for someone to do something; to intervene, some how. Seeing her fingers sink below the waterline, I scrambled on all fours to the edge of the lake; determined to at least try to swim. I thrust myself into the water screaming, as if she could hear me, for the woman to hold on. The water quickly grew deeper as the bottom sharply dropped off into oblivion. This lake was rumored to be bottomless. I did not doubt that it was. The water which had seemed so friendly and peaceful only moments ago was trying to grasp me, too, in its death grip. I realized this, and as my feet searched for a foothold on the murky bottom, I felt my own dead weight pulling me down. I quickly thrust myself back towards the shore; back towards safety. As I turned my back in defeat, the woman somehow surfaced again. I did not see her this time; but I could hear her. She gasped hoarsely and tried to scream again. “Pleeease!”
I was back in safe territory now. The water was only knee deep as I stumbled and fell, landing on all fours, gasping and sobbing a prayer. “Oh, God….” I whispered. “No.” I heard another splash and whirled around. What I saw propelled me once again to my feet. She was on the surface. She was swimming with strong, smooth strokes…. But no. It wasn’t her. This was a man. He swam towards the place she had last disappeared and dove quickly below the surface. In disbelief I gazed around the lake, wondering where in the world He had come from. Before I could process it, though, He had resurfaced. And He held her in one arm. Her face was small and white against the tanned muscle of his taunt arm. Her eyes were closed and, even from this distance, I could see that her lips were blue. I stared, willing them to shore and the safety of shallow water. Though the thought was a strange one considering the circumstance, I could not help but vaguely feel as if I knew this woman. Intimately. But… how? Why did I feel so closely connected with the mortal struggle taking place before me? I was an onlooker… wasn’t I?
As if in a dream, as I saw the pair struggle towards shore, I saw her open her eyes and, sputtering, look into the strong, kind, straining face above her. Somehow I felt like I was right beside them now. In crystal-clear detail I saw the look in her eyes turn from beautiful relief and surrender to heinous hatred. They were not yet near shallow water, but she began to struggle again. This wasn’t a struggle for her life though… it was a struggle against His. “NO!” She spat venom into the face so close to hers. Without a word, He continued to swim…or try to…towards the shore. “NO!!!” She repeated, and this time she wrenched herself from His hold and, beneath the water, thrust her knee forcefully into His groin. He jerked in the water, involuntarily swallowing a mouthful, coughed, and grunted in pain. Then He turned his eyes with beseeching clarity on hers. He was treading water with one arm, trying to keep her dead, struggling weight above the surface in the other. “Let…let me help you,” He gasped. “Never!” She hissed, and with a jerk she ripped herself from His grasp and immediately began to sink again.
Stroking frantically with one hand, doubled over in pain, He reached out the other hand to her. As her head began to sink again beneath the surface, she grabbed the outstretched hand and clamped her teeth onto it. His low moan of pain pierced my heart and I began to cry afresh, not understanding what was happening. And yet, somehow knowing what was going to happen. How did I know this, though?
A small ring of blood began to appear around the Man’s now struggling form, and I realized in horror that even as the woman sunk to her fate she was pummeling and tearing at Him with her fingernails below the surface. I did not understand how I knew this, but I did. And I began to weep even more as I saw Him sink haltingly below the water once more and reappear with her in His arms. This time her eyes weren’t shut. They were wide and staring. They were pools of dark hatred, and as soon as the Man had succeeded in lifting her above the water, she violently head butted Him full in the face, sending blood spurting from both His mouth and His nose. Again and again she beat Him until, even with His amazing strength, He could no longer hold her up. Even as she sank once again her only driving, intense, burning desire was to destroy her compassionate Rescuer. Again I knew this… and again I did not know how I knew. As if in slow motion I saw the Man’s head sink beneath the water. Beneath the surface, the woman was not thinking about air or life. She was only longing to attack her hero; to make Him die if she, too must die.
The last time she surfaced, her face, contorted in rage, was turned towards me. It was only for a moment, but in that moment I knew who she was. And I cried out in shock and disbelief. She was me. It was my face I was looking at; it was my hands that were even then seeking to tear the Rescuer’s face apart; it was my feet that were kicking and pummeling and bruising the One who was trying to save me. I watched myself with horror to deep to tell. My heart felt as if it had been torn from my chest, so great was the pain of that realization.
When it was all over, the horrible drama of death, I mourned with an agony too great for tears or words. Beneath the now calm waters of the lake two had perished… not just the woman, (me,) who had been so filled with despicable hate and wickedness, but her Rescuer. The strong, compassionate Man who had reached out to her knowing that she would kill Him. For He did know; I felt sure of that. His face floated before my eyes as I shut them to ease the rivulet of tears flowing beneath my trembling eyelids. I loved Him. Oh, how I loved this Man. I Loved Him so dearly that my throat ached and my chest heaved with sobs. But I had killed Him. I had beaten Him. I had despised Him. I was His willful murderer.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, half in the water and half out. It must have been a while, but my numbed mind did not process time or comprehend what I did or what I thought. I only knew that the ache of remorse would never dissipate. I would carry the guilt of His death forever, and even into eternity.
For that woman full of ugly hatred I felt no sadness. I knew that I deserved my fate. I deserved to perish and decay there beneath the icy waters. But for the Man…. For the Man I would never cease to grieve.
Finally I moved as if to get up. My knees had sunken deeply into the mire of the shoreline. My hair had dried into a stringy mass of tangles before my face, which had been bowed in an agony of despair. What had I seen? How could I have seen myself die and pull another to His death when here I knelt, alive and filled with sorrow and pain? I did not know… but my heart told me that I WAS that woman and that the death of that pure Man was something that would never be erased from my mind or my guilt. Slowly I crawled to shore, only to collapse on the grass in weariness. Again the sobs rose to my throat, but the tears were gone. I wanted to cry… but there were no more.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I recoiled, in shame, as a cockroach flees from light. I wanted to escape this place. I wanted to leave; to wake up and realize that it was a dream that I had only to forget. But I knew it was no dream. And I knew that the blood of that Man would be on my hands for as long as I lived. The hand still pressed onto my shoulder, gently but firmly, and I relinquished. Slowly, painfully, I rolled onto my side, into a fetal position, and opened my eyes, squinting pitifully into the sunlight. The first thing I saw was that hand… that arm… that strong arm that I remembered from the lake. The Rescuer’s arm. In disbelief I scrambled to my knees and looked up at the tall form bent above me. It was Him. It was the Man from the Lake; only He was alive and… and real. He wasn’t lifeless any longer; His body wasn’t bloody or bruised from the blows I had inflicted on it, though the scars remained and forever would. His eyes shone with forgiveness and hopeful love. His arms opened to invite me into an everlasting embrace. His heart,… His beautiful, Rescuing heart…. Reached out again. And this time I understood the beckoning with a greater clarity than I ever had before. I fell into His embrace, as a child sinks into her daddy’s tender, strong embrace, and the tears came again.