Fight the Tide

The tide creeps up the beach.  The sound of the ocean is deafening as I slowly lose focus on the rest of the world.  The sun is setting; day three is drawing to a close.  Why remember that? Japan is my home.  This village is my home. I was raised here.  This is my little side of the world, my favorite spot on the beach.  At least, it used to be.  It was until the soldiers came, with their decrees and edicts.  How many times have I seen a Brother or Sister tied to one of these poles as the tide rolls slowly in until their life passes into Paradise?  I always tried to avoid thinking about it.  The heat, the water, exposure slowly taking the very energy that enables one to live.  What exhaustion must come over them?  The lucky ones were cut down by the sword before it came to this.  I am terrified to even think of what lies ahead.  The past two days have been consumed by such thoughts.  The exhaustion more rapidly begins to take its toll.

The ropes are snug; I can barely feel my hands and feet.  The water creeps up to my chin day in and day out.  The water climbs across the sand and then recedes.  I do have comfort in this: the world works the way God has designed it.  This pole, which has been elected to suffer the same fate as me, is comparatively comfortable when soaked in water.  The salt and sun, this battle to keep my chin above water have drained almost all of my energy.  It won’t be much longer now.  

I still wonder what I did to deserve this punishment.  Why me?  I do my work in the fields; I take care of my family.  My calloused hands should be testimony of this, but the soldiers never listen.  I have merely been called to love.  They just don’t realize what they are doing.  I only pray that my Teacher will forgive them and that my wife and my boy will not be harmed for my unwillingness to deny the Truth.  My wife, with her brown eyes, sparkling like amber: captivating. My desire for her haunts me even now, but I will remain steadfast.  And my son, he is growing so quickly now: like a well-fed flower in the garden.  His attitude is one of never ending hope and joy. His eyes are always toward the Son.  For some reason all I remember are the final whispered words of encouragement as the soldiers took me away.  And all the while our house seemed to burn so silently in the background.

“Daddy, you are my hero.”

What did I do to deserve having my life, my family snatched away from me like this?  I am absolutely unable to deny the Truth. The Love of the Truth has captured me. Even though I am as good as dead, I am free.  So, here I stand, tied to a solitary wooden pole with the most beautiful view in the world.  The tide comes in, and rolls back out.  All the while, I am here--destined for eternity.  Destined for death.

My Teacher has told me that I will be despised the same way people despised Him.  He is a great teacher.  He always tells the truth.

I suppose the view is a consolation if I’m going to remain here, stuck in this life.  My Teacher has taught me to be content in suffering.  My life is fading quickly, much like the day.  I guess it is about seven in the evening at this point.  In this season it won’t be much longer until the sun drops into the ocean beyond our view.  

I have talked extensively with my Father.  I have shared my heart with Him.  He knows that I am ready to come Home.  It will be a most glorious event.  I can imagine it now quite vividly, running into His wide-open arms.  I hope that my wife and son will have many years before they will meet my Father and me in Paradise.  Perhaps the screams I heard were of someone else? I don’t know how I will be able to tolerate the last moments of life knowing this.  Knowing that I was unable to save them.

“Daddy, you are my hero.”

The words haunt me.  My own son in awe of me.  Am I a fool for going through with this?  Is it all for nothing?  Deep down--deep down, I know that this is right.  

I find myself repeating the words to my Father.  I want Him to know how I feel.  Surely He already does.

“Daddy, You are my hero!”

I was taught as a boy there are no tears in His house.  As the last rays of the sun disappear, I am having trouble keeping them back as His face comes into view.  The joy that is bursting inside gives me such warmth.

I feel so weak.  My body is slowly falling from under me.  This is the best sunset I have ever witnessed from this, my favorite spot.  It is like looking into the face of my Father.

I think the ropes must have finally given way from being soaked in the ocean’s murk.  I am running.  His arms are open wide, and His gaze is so comforting.  

The last rays have slipped under the horizon, and so into eternity.