I Choose Love

Shadows dance behind hooded eyelids. The grave is cold. but its familiarity feels like home so I think I’ll stay. For now.
Death has wrapped me up and made me numb. Shallow pleasure comes and goes with its precipitous highs and abysmal lows. When I’m high it’s as though I’m soaring, but when I’m low, I realize I’m dying.
And I’m so very not okay with that.
Then the grave that felt like home suddenly constricts when fear balloons within a lifeless bowel, and my silent cries turn desperate when I realize no breath ever reaches my shriveled-up lungs, long dead at the hands of the darkness of my grave.
I’m a dead man walking, hooded eyes, deaf ears, wrapped up in fear. I’d choose to die if I weren’t already dead.
Thump.
A distant sound reaches my ears, fuzzy through the layers of calcified lies.
Thump. Thump.
The sound is the stuff of legends and tales of a world long dead.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound grows louder and with it, bright light piercing the scales over my eyes with pinpricks of scalding brilliance.
With a scream from my own dead soul and a shattering of darkness, light rushes into my grave, a tidal wave of beauty I’ve forgotten just as fear ‘s claws close around my throat, unwilling to let go.
Light hovers over me, dances around me, waiting. Death’s hold on me grows stronger and fear wraps me up in false comfort, cold arms more like a prison than an embrace.
Any struggle is futile, so I prepare to relinquish my soul back to darkness when the light begins to sing.
The song is faint but pure, and each note echoes in the grave, refrains that tell stories of birth, life, beauty, love-this I remember or this is what my soul was made for all along.
I lift my arm-I didn’t know I could-and reach for the light. Fear’s cocoon holds fast, and so I strain against the grip of death, desperate to fight for life.
Then, at that moment, the light rushes towards me, and my lungs flood with life. The shackles of death fall off, weak tendrils of thread in the face of pure light.
I am free. I am free.
I open my mouth and I breathe.
And then I sing.
I sing Love’s song and hear my heart pound out the rhythm.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
In tune with another heartbeat, strong and warm, approaching. I turn to face eyes filled with pure love as wounded hands grab my own and pull me close.
He tells me He went to the grave so that I would be free from mine. And death couldn’t stand the power of such Love. His wounded hands, feet, and side tell this story, and His eyes speak only of the Love that would send Him there.
A foreign feeling bubbles up in me, and He says it’s called joy.
My eyes fill with light, and He tells me that it is hope.
My heart decides to choose Life. Life with my Savior.
And He smiles and tells me that’s love.
His death and resurrection made it so that my death is a resurrection.
And so what can I do but follow Him and choose Love?

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