Fiction

I imagine myself as a frail, old woman. It is dusk, and I'm walking outside among strangers along the street. I have nothing left of value. My money has been passed along to my kids and God's service. My youth and beauty died long ago. My body is broken; my senses have faded. My mind is forgetful, and I can't keep a schedule. I can barely muster the energy to complete the daily tasks of living. I live each day longing for my Love's return.

I hear a scream, and see people running away in fear. I look to the heavens just in time to see the star sprinkled night sky rip in half. The black drape ripples like a blanket and falls on either side of the earth. All around me is the absence of darkness. I've never comprehended such light.

I feel the earth flatten and draw together; all the peoples of the earth now have a front row seat to the final show. From the sky's center stage, a man appears riding a winged horse. An expanse of angels stretch for miles to His left and right. The man wears many crowns, and on his thigh is written, "KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS." His face is blazing fire, and His strength vibrates the earth.

I stare at the majesty of my Love. "Beautiful," I whisper. "More beautiful than I could ever imagine."

I offer my last confession: "Forgive me, Father. I did not describe Your beauty adequately with my words. I fell short of emulating Your glory with my life."

Around me a few people linger. They are the children of the Most High, and the Spirit of God in them affirms the time. They fall to their knees in despair. A man next to me pulls money out of his pockets, sacrificing it willingly. A woman in front of me eagerly offers up her beauty. Prestige, careers, children, fame, schedules, pleasures and worry are laid out on the footstool of the King, but it is too late. God had asked for their sacrifices, but they ignored His requests.

Thunderous praise steals my gaze back to the horizon, and my Love eases His horse on the earth. He has returned, and my heart is overwhelmed with joy. Yet...I have nothing left to offer Him. During my life, I gave Him everything He asked of me. He requested each thing I held dear -- my mind, my husband, my children, my career, my dreams, my time, my money -- and piece by piece, I handed my life over to His will.

I look to my Love. Would He remember that I gave Him all I had? Did I hear the Spirit's leading correctly? Have I lived the life that He desired for me? Does He know how much I love Him? The King walks toward me; His confidence causes the air around Him to shake. I open my aged arms wide. They are empty. I am empty. There is nothing left.

"Jesus, I am unworthy," I whisper. "But I love You. I love You. I love You." I can say no more.

Jesus gets on His knee before me, and He strokes the side of my wrinkled face. His smile radiates light, and His tears shimmer down His cheek.

He looks into my eyes and says, "I loved you first." He fills my empty arms with His glory, and my crumpled, old skin falls to the ground.