To Psalm 57: Thank you so much for your review! :-) Yes, I hate cliffies, too, and I apologize that I have made you wait for awhile for the second chapter. Hope you like it! :-)
Chapter Two: Dreams and Visions
Lord, please send me a man. I know You said that You would bless me. But so far I haven't seen any blessings other than that I'm going to heaven—
Thunder boomed in the distance and she heard howling of wind against the small house. Rain fell down in relentless torrents upon the roof. She shivered, not being one to like storms.
Lord, please—
A flash of lightning crackled and for a split-second the room was lit up.
She stopped praying, having said a quick, Amen, which served as the off switch for some invisible comm-unit.
But prayer is not an invisible and convenient comm-unit, to be switched on whenever Amy so pleased. The wind howled, and lightining flashed, the thunder boomed, and she could hear the ping of large rain droplets pouring onto the rooftop. And the world blew away, thundered away, and floated away…
At first, she thought God's wrath was upon her and maybe she ought to have been a little bit more servanthearted. But that would mean she would have to wait forever for a man, and she didn't feel like waiting that long.
She took in her dark surroundings and noticed that she was standing in the middle of a riot. In the middle of a desert city. The people she saw wore Biblical clothes and the only mode of transportation were mules or camels. Sometimes, though rarely, she saw a horse.
She saw a man carrying the crossbeam for his cross over his shoulders down the dirt street. A plaited crown of thorns was pressed into his head and skull; red blood trickled down in rivulets. He looked barely human, having been beaten by Roman soldiers and flogged to a bloody pulp. She recognized this as Jesus, and he didn't look like he always did in old Rennassiance paintings. They had left out the blood, and being reverent, they had kept the loincloth.
Two men carrying crossbeams came behind her Savior. But they weren't nearly as beaten as Him whom she had selfishly pushed aside for her selfish dreams. They were thieves and robbers. If anyone here deserved to be beaten until they were near inhuman in shape, it was them. But Jesus Christ had taken the beating, the flogging, the jeers, the mocking—He had taken it in her place.
Her vision became blurry and tears pooled her eyes as the fool weight of His great love fell on her.
She watched as He was cruelly nailed to a cross. The cross, as it turned out, wasn't made out of smooth wood. The cross which the Romans prepared for prisoners was made of the roughest type wood, the type where splinters could get into bleeding wounds and infect the body.
But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. The verse in Romans leaped to her heart at that moment, and she understood what it meant. He loved her so deeply, so intensely, that He would lay down His life for her, even when she was unlovable. And though she knew that she had been saved before, a special bond she felt to her Savior than she had ever felt before.
To her dismay she was pulled back into her own world and she opened her eyes. Cheerful sunlight greeted her from the familiar windows of her bedroom. It was morning, and she was laying curled up on her bed.
A horrible tast was in her mouth and her eyes were crusty, and she felt immensely tired. Had she dreamed the whole thing, or had she experienced a vision? Perhaps it was but a dream…
A/N: I cried a little myself when I wrote that. I think I need to be writing more of these type stories and less of the LotR/SW stuff. Because that stuff won't matter a hill of beans when I meet Jesus Christ, my personal Savior.