AN: Hey, something I've been meaning to tell you guys: You can follow/add me on Twitter and Google+. Why you would want to is beyond me. Oh, I know. You can see what I do instead of updating stories.

Twitter: metalshadow1909 (what else?)

Google+: Just search Metalshadow1909. You can find my real name there.

And now for the important stuff.


The end is where we begin

It's crawling back when

We run away, run away

Because the end is where we begin

Where broken hearts mend

And start to beat again

The end is where we begin

- "The End is Where We Begin", Thousand Foot Krutch


Finished

The lock to his cell buzzed. The heavy metal door was pushed open by a guard, and the prison's live-in minister walked in stereotypical from the trimmed salt-and-pepper beard to the spectacles. "Good morning, Peter. I suppose you have another one of your difficult philosophical questions for me." He sat down on the small cot next to Peter.

"Not really, Irvin. Well…maybe. I was thinking about how when I first got here, you told me that Jesus could pay for all my sins. I believed you then, but now…" Peter shook his head. "I just don't see it."

"Really? And what brought you to this conclusion?"

"It's like this. I'm serving four life sentences on a guilty plea. My wife divorced me and took my daughter. All of my friends have deserted me. If this is the wrath of man, how much worse is the wrath of God? How can one man pay for all the wrong I've done?"

"I believe you are forgetting that that man was also the Son of God. Peter, if I told you that I needed you to do something of Herculean proportions, you would say it was not feasible, because only Hercules, son of a god, could accomplish it. Why, then, do you put limitations on the Son of God that you actually believe in?"

"I don't know…It just seems so…"

"Impossible?" suggested the minister. "Frankly, Peter, God spends his life doing the impossible. He created matter and energy where there was none, life from dust. Nature itself is God's reminder that he will not be put in a box."

"But I've done so much-"

"Peter, if you and I were to walk in to a restaurant and I prepaid for both our meals, could I then rescind the payment if you rack up a considerable bill. Hardly. My information would already be in their computer. In fact, do you know what day it is?"

"No, I'm sorta trapped in a box here" he said, spreading his arms out towards the walls.

"It's Easter, the day when Christians celebrate Jesus' rise from the grave. Now, you think there is no way that Jesus could have possibly paid for all of your sins? Well, He put the order in a long time ago, and, in my experience, God's not one to go back on his promises."

"I never thought of it that way. I guess it makes sense. Plus, being dead three days when you're God must be a big deal."

Irvin smiled and nodded. "Indeed. More was done during those three days than any workaholic could hope to do." He stood to leave, knocking on the small window in the door. "If ever you're feeling hopeless, just remember: 'It is finished.'"

"Thanks." Irvin stepped out, and the door clanged shut on what Peter thought would be the rest of his life.