I didn’t like looking at things like that. I like the way they’re explained, but not the presentation. Not the actual, tangible presentation that you can see.

Maybe that man was saved. Maybe he looked up thinking, Lord, I commend my soul into your hands. Maybe all those unjust scoundrels were lost just thinking that they were doing right when they were wrong. Utterly contemptible. Damnable.

It’s nice to think thoughts like that for slight comfort, though it wasn’t really comfort. Nothing can take away the pain and anguish of the actuality. That’s the way things are, but I don’t want to think about them.

I like the softness and the plainness of the Bible, though the Bible isn’t soft or plain. It speaks the truth in a simple verse. A simple warning without pictures or presentation. Everything else is left up to the wretchedness of the reader’s imagination, and my imagination isn’t wretched. At least…it wasn’t.

I wanted the wrongdoers to suffer. I guess that’s what makes it all so hard. There’s no vengeance. No justice. I can do nothing. And didn’t God die for the wrongdoers, too?

Sin is awful. It’s just awful. I hate this wretched, wicked world.

Death is cruel and harsh. Evil. Utterly evil. Isn’t that the repayment of sins after all? Evil? Death. God gave mankind death as punishment. As an escape…

I hope that man was saved. I’m praying for him right now. God is no respecter of Time. He lives outside time. I hope that man was saved, that he looked up in escape. No more injustice. No more evil. God lifted him up in comfort in His arms. I hope those wrongdoers felt guilt…then got saved. Isn’t it horrible? Not wishing evil for evil? But I’ve learned differently. Grace. No use in everyone going to hell. I don’t care about their souls. I really don’t. But God died for them, and it’s only His death that I respect.

That’s how God is with everyone though, isn’t he? He doesn’t respect us. He respect’s His Son. His own method of saving us.

Life is hard. Caring is so hard. I wish I didn’t feel this awful aching and anger and sadness and compassion all at once for both the victim and the persecutor. For the evil people as well as the bad. But I was called out from being normal. God’s children are never normal.




In response to “Going to Meet the Man.”

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