So, I have two pretty awesome friends. Who write pretty cool music. Who decided to take Song of Solomon and put it to music. Then I joined in.
This is what happened:
Arise My Love by katelynalexander
Friday, June 24, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The Trial
The prisoner’s shackles clanked to the floor, echoing in the courtroom. Buzzing of conversation ceased and all eyes turned to examine the prisoner. There I sat, in a room filled with scoffing faces. All watching. I turned and looked at all of the eyes around the room. Eyes that belonged to friends, coworkers, and schoolmates. Eyes that now looked on with pity and scoffing. Hundreds and hundreds of eyes. Probing. Questioning. Jeering—all here to behold the fate of one unlucky individual. Or perhaps lucky, should the judge determine their innocence.
I had been to this very room many times before. I had watched as dozens had been tried and sentenced. I had seen thieves and murderers and liars and cheats. And had felt little to no pity as they had received their dues. Neither had the rest of the crowds and a trial such as this always turns up a crowd. Always. Maybe it’s kind of morbid, but I think it’s human nature. Who doesn’t get curious when someone’s life is on the line? And let’s not forget the scoffers. Amongst a crowd this size, they were sure to be here, and cause the most intimidation possible to whatever poor soul’s life hung in the balance. Let’s be honest, I’d done it. Many times.
But not today.
Today was different.
Today it was my life.
A fly buzzed around my head in the sweltering heat, taunting. My hands were immobilized or I would have tried to swat it away. I shook my head, to no avail. Oh, what was the use? It would all be over soon anyways.
I turned my eyes away from the crowd and sunk down into my chair. There I was, in the middle of the room—vulnerable and scrutinized. I knew that all around me, people were placing bets on the outcome of today’s trial. I had a feeling there weren’t a lot of bets in my favor.
Then, the sound that I had been dreading: the two large oak doors at the front of the room opened and the judge entered. His grandeur was overwhelming; one glance and I was terrified, convinced that he knew EVERYTHING. My body was awash in hot and cold flashes, and I started to sweat.
The worst part about this whole ordeal? I wasn’t being tried for petty crimes. No, all my crimes were heavy. Not only that, they were committed directly against the judge. Let me restate—against the judge’s son. I gulped, taking the majesty of the judge. There was no way I was making it out of here alive.
Then, the prosecutor entered. He was handsome man, stunning really. Tall and well-muscled, with striking eyes, it was almost impossible not to look at him when he spoke. I was always amazed at the eloquence and passion in his voice; and his persuasive powers were overwhelming. When he spoke, the whole world stopped to listen. It was apparent to all who bothered noticing that he took his job very, very seriously and would do everything in his ability to make certain that lawbreakers received their just reward.
Lawbreakers like me. It was at that moment that I wished with everything in me that he wasn’t quite so good at his job.
As he began to list my crimes one by one, I found all shreds of hope shrinking, before disappearing altogether. Slowly, methodically, spitefully, he toyed with me, reeling me (and everyone else) into his tale of deception and trickery. The story he wove was stunning. It was impossible not to hate the criminal. If only that criminal wasn't me. He knew I didn’t have a chance, as the evidence against me was overwhelming. And every accusation was accurate. Painfully accurate. Besides, how could the judge—against whom I had done so much wrong—not sentence me heavily?
As I felt myself succumbing to the depths of despair, I heard the sound of another voice—one that I hadn’t expected. At his voice, a sob caught in my throat. Why was he here? I could have handled anyone—and I mean anyone—seeing me before him. I was certain that he had left, given up on me, forsaken me…after what I’d done. You see, he was the one against whom I’d committed so much wrong. All of my spiteful anger had been taken out on him. All of my hate and hurt and disgust had spewed fiery coals onto him. This man infuriated me and yet, more than anything, I wanted to please him. I don't know why I cared, I just didn't want him to see my shame.
I guess I should back up. This man had once been my closest friend. More than that, even—my husband. But when I made my vows, I never expected to fall for a handsome, doting coworker whose voice dripped flattery and empty promises. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was in way too deep. My insecurities, fears, and guilt all came out on my husband. It became my life goal to spite him. Why? Because he kept loving me. After all that I had done to him, he never stopped loving me, which created such passionate fury inside of me, I could hardly contain myself. And, well, didn’t. Sometimes, I just wished he’d retaliate. I had broken him, and I knew it. God, how I knew it. I guess it goes without saying that that was the start of all my other crimes.
And now, as I was being tried for these crimes, I realized why he was here. He was here to retaliate. What more perfect moment to spite me than in front of everyone?
Oh, God, why did he have to be here?
When he spoke, his was soft, yet passionate—not exactly what I expected. Then again, he never did what I expected.
“The evidence against her is overwhelming. Your Honor would be a fool not to condemn her for such horrific crimes."
Yep. He still loves me. Knew it.
"Your Honor is no such fool. According to the law, there is only one payment for crimes such as these.”
Say it. Just say it.
“Death.”
I clenched my teeth, waiting for him to gloat, to tower over me, to rub it in that I would finally get my just reward.
“Your Honor, the law states that judgment must be executed. It also states that another can take the punishment of one condemned. There is one who has offered to take her punishment.”
My head jerked up at this statement.
“Therefore, I plead for mercy. My life for hers. Let me take her place.”
At this, my whole body started shaking. I was quavering all over. He couldn’t be doing this. Surely he couldn’t. Not for me. Not after what I’d done. My head spun, and I struggled futilely to grasp onto a reasonable thought.
The crowds began to stir. This wasn’t what they had expected and they were quick to voice their protestations.
My poor forsaken husband caught my gaze and looked at me with the most powerful gaze of love I had ever seen. In his eyes were forgiveness and mercy and sorrow. No hate. No anger. No rejection. Just...love. I didn't understand, and knew that I couldn't. And perhaps never would. I shook my head, "no," but his face was set.
His voice cut through the crowds, murmuring, pleading—ever so quiet: “Please. Pardon her.”
Deafening silence filled the room.
"You would do this? For her?" The judge voiced the question that was on everyone's mind.
The man nodded, soberly.
The judge perused the face of my once-husband, searching, as if to see if he genuinely meant what he had said. His eyes scanned the room and the crowds and then fell on me. Up and down, he looked me over. He looked at his son and back at me. A mixture of sorrow and pride filled his face. He nodded, slowly. Once more he looked at me, with eyes of intensity and seriousness.
"You've been offered a second chance at life. Don't waste it."
And then the judge looked out over the crowds and spoke one word—one simple word that changed everything: “Pardoned.”
I had been to this very room many times before. I had watched as dozens had been tried and sentenced. I had seen thieves and murderers and liars and cheats. And had felt little to no pity as they had received their dues. Neither had the rest of the crowds and a trial such as this always turns up a crowd. Always. Maybe it’s kind of morbid, but I think it’s human nature. Who doesn’t get curious when someone’s life is on the line? And let’s not forget the scoffers. Amongst a crowd this size, they were sure to be here, and cause the most intimidation possible to whatever poor soul’s life hung in the balance. Let’s be honest, I’d done it. Many times.
But not today.
Today was different.
Today it was my life.
A fly buzzed around my head in the sweltering heat, taunting. My hands were immobilized or I would have tried to swat it away. I shook my head, to no avail. Oh, what was the use? It would all be over soon anyways.
I turned my eyes away from the crowd and sunk down into my chair. There I was, in the middle of the room—vulnerable and scrutinized. I knew that all around me, people were placing bets on the outcome of today’s trial. I had a feeling there weren’t a lot of bets in my favor.
Then, the sound that I had been dreading: the two large oak doors at the front of the room opened and the judge entered. His grandeur was overwhelming; one glance and I was terrified, convinced that he knew EVERYTHING. My body was awash in hot and cold flashes, and I started to sweat.
The worst part about this whole ordeal? I wasn’t being tried for petty crimes. No, all my crimes were heavy. Not only that, they were committed directly against the judge. Let me restate—against the judge’s son. I gulped, taking the majesty of the judge. There was no way I was making it out of here alive.
Then, the prosecutor entered. He was handsome man, stunning really. Tall and well-muscled, with striking eyes, it was almost impossible not to look at him when he spoke. I was always amazed at the eloquence and passion in his voice; and his persuasive powers were overwhelming. When he spoke, the whole world stopped to listen. It was apparent to all who bothered noticing that he took his job very, very seriously and would do everything in his ability to make certain that lawbreakers received their just reward.
Lawbreakers like me. It was at that moment that I wished with everything in me that he wasn’t quite so good at his job.
As he began to list my crimes one by one, I found all shreds of hope shrinking, before disappearing altogether. Slowly, methodically, spitefully, he toyed with me, reeling me (and everyone else) into his tale of deception and trickery. The story he wove was stunning. It was impossible not to hate the criminal. If only that criminal wasn't me. He knew I didn’t have a chance, as the evidence against me was overwhelming. And every accusation was accurate. Painfully accurate. Besides, how could the judge—against whom I had done so much wrong—not sentence me heavily?
As I felt myself succumbing to the depths of despair, I heard the sound of another voice—one that I hadn’t expected. At his voice, a sob caught in my throat. Why was he here? I could have handled anyone—and I mean anyone—seeing me before him. I was certain that he had left, given up on me, forsaken me…after what I’d done. You see, he was the one against whom I’d committed so much wrong. All of my spiteful anger had been taken out on him. All of my hate and hurt and disgust had spewed fiery coals onto him. This man infuriated me and yet, more than anything, I wanted to please him. I don't know why I cared, I just didn't want him to see my shame.
I guess I should back up. This man had once been my closest friend. More than that, even—my husband. But when I made my vows, I never expected to fall for a handsome, doting coworker whose voice dripped flattery and empty promises. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was in way too deep. My insecurities, fears, and guilt all came out on my husband. It became my life goal to spite him. Why? Because he kept loving me. After all that I had done to him, he never stopped loving me, which created such passionate fury inside of me, I could hardly contain myself. And, well, didn’t. Sometimes, I just wished he’d retaliate. I had broken him, and I knew it. God, how I knew it. I guess it goes without saying that that was the start of all my other crimes.
And now, as I was being tried for these crimes, I realized why he was here. He was here to retaliate. What more perfect moment to spite me than in front of everyone?
Oh, God, why did he have to be here?
When he spoke, his was soft, yet passionate—not exactly what I expected. Then again, he never did what I expected.
“The evidence against her is overwhelming. Your Honor would be a fool not to condemn her for such horrific crimes."
Yep. He still loves me. Knew it.
"Your Honor is no such fool. According to the law, there is only one payment for crimes such as these.”
Say it. Just say it.
“Death.”
I clenched my teeth, waiting for him to gloat, to tower over me, to rub it in that I would finally get my just reward.
“Your Honor, the law states that judgment must be executed. It also states that another can take the punishment of one condemned. There is one who has offered to take her punishment.”
My head jerked up at this statement.
“Therefore, I plead for mercy. My life for hers. Let me take her place.”
At this, my whole body started shaking. I was quavering all over. He couldn’t be doing this. Surely he couldn’t. Not for me. Not after what I’d done. My head spun, and I struggled futilely to grasp onto a reasonable thought.
The crowds began to stir. This wasn’t what they had expected and they were quick to voice their protestations.
My poor forsaken husband caught my gaze and looked at me with the most powerful gaze of love I had ever seen. In his eyes were forgiveness and mercy and sorrow. No hate. No anger. No rejection. Just...love. I didn't understand, and knew that I couldn't. And perhaps never would. I shook my head, "no," but his face was set.
His voice cut through the crowds, murmuring, pleading—ever so quiet: “Please. Pardon her.”
Deafening silence filled the room.
"You would do this? For her?" The judge voiced the question that was on everyone's mind.
The man nodded, soberly.
The judge perused the face of my once-husband, searching, as if to see if he genuinely meant what he had said. His eyes scanned the room and the crowds and then fell on me. Up and down, he looked me over. He looked at his son and back at me. A mixture of sorrow and pride filled his face. He nodded, slowly. Once more he looked at me, with eyes of intensity and seriousness.
"You've been offered a second chance at life. Don't waste it."
And then the judge looked out over the crowds and spoke one word—one simple word that changed everything: “Pardoned.”
It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.
Romans 8:33-34
Thursday, June 9, 2011
How's YOUR love life?
So, I was asked this question yesterday, "How is your love life?" I responded with a flippant, "What love life?" then jokingly, "Oh, ya know, there's always Jesus!" Their response? "Oh please! Tell me you're not one of THOSE people?"
Now, I said it as a joke. And I admit I think it's a little silly when girls say that their boyfriend is Jesus.
That said, I don't think being one of THOSE people is such a bad idea. MEANING: one of those people who is so totally and completely wrapped up in Jesus that the fact they have nonexistent love life is okay. And that they believe it when the Bible says, "Your maker is your husband, the Lord Almighty is His name." (Isaiah 54:5) and "I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, love and compassion; and you shall know the Lord."
So, even though it's kind of silly, when asked questions like, "How's your love life?" I can think I'm going to answer, "It's amazing."
Now, I said it as a joke. And I admit I think it's a little silly when girls say that their boyfriend is Jesus.
That said, I don't think being one of THOSE people is such a bad idea. MEANING: one of those people who is so totally and completely wrapped up in Jesus that the fact they have nonexistent love life is okay. And that they believe it when the Bible says, "Your maker is your husband, the Lord Almighty is His name." (Isaiah 54:5) and "I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, love and compassion; and you shall know the Lord."
So, even though it's kind of silly, when asked questions like, "How's your love life?" I can think I'm going to answer, "It's amazing."
Monday, June 6, 2011
Come Back Home
Once again, I'm procrastinating homework with this post. But I'm going to post it anyways. This next song is my Hosea inspiration song. I love, love, love this song. And I'm quite jealous that this amazing band wrote the song and not me, as it fits Hosea perfectly. Alas, I shall remain green with envy and simply enjoy this song. I hope you fall in love with the Icarus Account as much as I have.
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