Love, Jimmie

Before time was, before I was, He whispered into the void.

I am coming for you.  I will save you. 

There was no Earth.  There was no light.  There was no form, no sun, no moon. 

I am coming for you.  I will save you.

The rumblings started in the midst of nothing, deep and powerful, groaning and surging.  Angels gathered, seraphim and cherubim, warriors readying for the fight.  Spirits culminating, swirling, twisting, fighting, spreading, a tornado, growing, growing, growing, overlapping one on top of another.   The beauty was blinding, terrible, glorious. 

And it was good.

I am coming for you, He echoed through the darkness.  I will save you.

And then there was light.  And it was good. 

Time began.  A nation was birthed.  A world was destroyed.  A world was reborn.  The Father wept, His heart broken over the sheep that strayed, that stayed away.  Still, He loved.  He spoke.  And then . . .

A Baby was born.  There was straw and a manger, a mother and a father. A  Father. 

I am coming for you, He cried.  I will save you.

The Baby grew.  He learned and prayed and loved.  Behind Him, warriors readied for a battle, and in readying for the battle, they fought, spirits culminating, swirling, twisting, a hurricane, overwhelming, growing.  It was glorious; it was terrible.

I am coming for you.  I will save you.

The sheep went astray.  The sheep, which He loved above all else, turned away from Him.    

The Hero rode in on a donkey.  Regal, bearing the weight of the world, He rode the donkey and was celebrated by the few.  He was majestic, yet humble.

I am coming for you, He called from his seat on the burro.  I will save you.

They beat Him.  Lashes across the back, one, two, three.  Four.  Five.  Six.   Seven.     Eight.        Nine.          Ten.            Eleven.              Twelve . . . . .

Thirty-seven. 

Thirty-eight. 

Thirty-nine. 

The crown of thorns dug into His skull, blood running down His face.  Wrist to the wood, WHAM went the hammer, once, twice, three times.  Wrist to the wood, WHAM went the hammer, once, twice, three times.  Feet to the wood, WHAM went the hammer, once, twice, three and four times.  Hoist the wood, slam into the ground, pierce The Side.  He died.  The Hero died. The temple was torn in two, from Heaven to Earth.  God cried out. The Earth shook.  The Hero delivered Himself to God’s mercy, and He died.

I am coming for you, He shouted from the grave.  I will save you.

I turn my back on Him.  I walk away from Love.  I embrace pretty things and I am empty.  I take my life and break it, shards scattered all around me, but the shards glitter and shine.  Pretty.  Empty. 

I gather the shards and offer them to The Hero who accepts them.  He puts them back together.  It is glorious; it is terrible. 

I am coming for you.  I will save you. He handed me the life. 

The enemy is coming.  He has been coming all along.  He pursues me with a relentless passion.  He knows no love, can accept no love, brings no love, but he brings the appearance of love.  He brings the appearance of beauty.  He brings the appearance of wisdom.  I follow it.  Pretty. Empty.

I am coming for you.  I will save you.  The Voice is louder.

I hear Him.  Save me from what?  From you. 

I am coming for you.  I will save you.  He thunders. 

I hear Him.  Save me from what?  From His wrath. 

How?  How will You save me?

Love.

The enemy is destroyed by a Breath.  The enemy is destroyed by a Light, glorious, terrible.  He is destroyed by the Word.   In a moment, the blink of an eye, in the whip of a hummingbird’s wing, the enemy is defeated.  Like that, it is over, that quickly.  I have been retrieved from the maw of death, plucked from its very edge.  He came for me.  He saved me.

He is my Hero.  He stands tall, His power so great, so terrible, so glorious, and it resonates throughout the Earth and none can withstand it.  There is no discrimination, only Love.  He came to save us all, each person, each heart, each soul.    

It all began before it ever began.  My Hero.  Happy Birthday.