Unknown

A crisp hard wind is blowing in the air. This wind is biting, invading and destroying the heat that is being emitted from my body. I shiver. This icy precipice that I have found myself upon is slippery, and I can feel myself slowly slipping. I look at my surroundings and realize that I am alone. There is nothing to stop the fall that I am about to take. There is no foliage, nothing that can stop my plunge down into oblivion.

I don’t know how long I have been standing here, it seems like a lifetime. The waiting has been overwhelming. I have been waiting for a saviour, and I still don’t know where he is. While I have been waiting, I have been imagining something better than this bone deep cold. Somewhere warm, and inviting, somewhere full, and not empty like this snowy wasteland.

            Another hour, day, or week passes by. I can no longer tell. The sun never moves from its position low on the horizon. The precipice is getting smaller and smaller, and I am running out of room to back away from the edge. I don’t know where I’ll go when the rest of my precipice has fallen away. There is no way to get down.

            A still small voice is on the air. The voice whispers of a promise. A promise of eternity, of a life spent in warmth, away from the freezing abyss of this place. My human nature demands that I don’t trust this voice, that it can only be a figment of my imagination.

            Persistent. The voice is so persistent. Calling and calling my name. Insisting that I open my eyes. They are already open, aren’t they?

            Another voice. I don’t know if I can handle two. This voice is harsh, hard and cruel. It tells me that I should keep my eyes shut. But my eyes are open aren’t they?

            The wind is back with a vengeance, harder and colder. Taking more and more. Time is still escaping me. It gets harder and harder to stand here. My heart is in turmoil. Silent tears that start to run down my cheeks freeze and form crystal-like sparkles on my face. My heart is in turmoil.

            Never-ending, the voices are never-ending. One telling me to open my eyes, one telling me to keep them shut. I can see the snow, the endless white stretching out in front of me. My eyes are open, aren’t they?

            My heart is in turmoil. The voices are so relentless, pounding inside my head. How can I open my eyes when they are already open, how can I keep my eyes closed when my eyes are already open? I scream at the voices, asking my questions. The wind is my only answer.

            More time has gone by; I keep my steady vigil on my shrinking precipice. The sun is never setting, unchanging, constant and true. The wind has died. In its place is a bitter, brittle silence. Only the voices, telling me what I’ve heard a thousand times. One telling me to open my eyes, the other telling me to keep them shut.

           

            Frustration, anger and pain, my constant companions in this barren wasteland. The silence is overwhelming, even the voices have disappeared, leaving me alone. The cold is breaking me, wearing me down slowly. The tears have returned, sliding down as far as they can before the cold steals their warmth and their wetness.

            The wind has returned with catastrophic wrath. The wind is restless, moving with a purpose, striking out and taking what it desires. The heat is again leaving my body, and I shiver. The shiver travels all over my body, causing tremors that shake me to my very core.

            The voice is back. Just the one this time. There is a new message in the whisper. A message of love, of saving grace, peace and joy. The key is to open my eyes.

            I ask again how I am to open my eyes when they are already open. I wait for what seems like an eternity, and the answer comes. The voice says the key to opening my eyes is to open my heart.

            I become restless, moving my mind around the concept. It is too cold to open my heart, I am afraid. To open my heart would be to expose myself in the most raw way. The voice tells me to trust. The word rings in my mind over and over, and I grow still.

            More time has passed by, I am trying to open my heart, but I don’t know how. I shout to the voice. Asking it how I am to open my heart. There is no answer.

            The other voice has returned. The battle in my mind has begun again, I can hear the voices fighting, arguing over something, I am still unsure as to what that something is. I want to know, and I feel a hunger start to grow inside.

            I am stretching myself to my limits, battling with the wind. The precipice is getting smaller, I feel like I am running out of time.

            I call out to the voice, demanding that it give me an answer to how to open my heart. The hunger has grown into need so strong that it overwhelms every rational thought, and I desire to know the voice.

            I am crying again. The voice has answered. It said that all I need to do is to ask him in. The tears are streaming down my face with reckless abandon, freezing and unfreezing as fresh new tears spill out from my eyes. I ask the voice, how I am to ask him in. He answers, “I am Jesus, I am your Father, and I am your saviour”.

            The tears continue, not bothering to take the time to freeze, for hot steaming ones are now pouring down my face. Steam from my tears is rising into the air, yet I cannot stop them. They have a mind of their own as they drop slowly from my face onto the snow below, sending sizzling noises into the silence as they fall.

            I cry out, I am ready, I want to know my father and my saviour. I want them to be my life, to be my joy, to be my saving grace. I lift my head, and I close my eyes. I open my mouth, and emit these words, “Jesus, enter my heart, be my Lord, my Father and my saviour. Warm my heart O God, and let me know you”.

            When I open my eyes, I see a whole new world. It is no longer cold, and I am instead standing on a rock high in the air, looking down onto what appears to be a battlefield. The smells that are being emitted from the pit are not human, and they fill my nostrils and make me want to throw up. I turn, and there is a man behind me. I start to turn around, but my heart gives a leap.

            I know this man. He puts his hand on my shoulder, helps me regain my balance. He looks deep into my eyes, and I feel he is looking at my soul. He smiles.

I look into his eyes, and I start to cry again. Tears of joy, for this is my saviour. The man who saved me from my freezing abyss. It is Jesus.

           

He moves to the edge of the rock and looks down into the battlefield. He turns to me and says “It was a long battle, but we won”. I ask him what he means, and he turns to me and smiles. “After nineteen years, you came home”.