***WARNING: READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. This story deals with rape. If you have experience with rape, I would advise that you not read beyond this point. This story has a discussion about rape, a retelling of a rape event, and can be a trigger for any reader, let alone someone with personal experience. Please, do not read this story. This is not the time to be curious, brave, or strong. If you read beyond this disclaimer, you are declaring that you are mature enough to take the story for what it is. May the Lord reveal the intent behind the pages. ***
He shivered, but didn’t know how, seeing how he wasn’t cold. He began to fidget. He fiddled with his fingers as he waited. He wondered how Peace could leave him in such a calming environment. After all he had seen so far, his nervousness was a surprise. He couldn’t believe he had to see her again.
He knew she would be as beautiful as the day they met. Her innocence would radiate like the Son. Her luminescence would be so bright, he’d almost ignore the overwhelming shame spewing from within. He observed his surroundings. Everything was white.
The brightness of the windowless, square room was unlike anything he had seen. There was no artificial light, yet the white walls seemed like starlight at night. It felt more like a void than a room. If you stopped paying attention to shadows or the sensation of touch, your brain would tell you that you were falling into a white sun.
It was hard to tell where the wall ended and the floor began. It was a beautiful phenomenon knowing that no artificial light existed here, yet light existed. It was strange. Everything was beautifully strange here. God, when she saw it. She must’ve felt the same way he did when she first arrived to such a splendid place… when she first arrived…
He fidgeted again. He looked across a white coffee table towards a double set of white doors with golden handles. He turned and looked behind him to another double set of white doors with golden handles, where he entered through. He couldn’t guess the material make up of anything. They all looked like something he had seen before, but the something they looked like didn’t exist here. Attempting to guess wasn’t going to stop what was coming. How much time did he have left before he was confronted?
He knew he was brought in here for that very reason. He was left with the simple sentence, “You know what needs to happen.” His thoughts led him to the answer of that statement, a sense he hadn’t fully mastered. The mind seemed more intuitive in this place. It pieced together answers he wouldn’t have known for years on Earth. He didn’t like it. He heard himself breathing. He needed to relax. How would she react when she saw him?
He twisted and bumped his knee against the table. He thought to verbally express pain, but there was none. Saying “ow” would’ve been out of habit rather than truth. The truth was that he wasn’t some old man who had passed peacefully in his old age after a hard-lived life. He just wasn’t accustomed to such a low table. He grew up in a different era where the tables were built to store chairs underneath them. This table felt rather foreign, like in the Chinese films about their past dynasties. He felt so out of place, but since his legs weren’t hurting, he stayed seated with his legs folded.
The right door, opposite of him, creaked open. God peeked inside and saw him. Looking at God caused his heart to skip a few beats. He was still unable to gaze at Him without internal panic. God’s essence shined greater than light itself, with more intensity than heat. It intimidated him the first time, and it intimidated him here still. Even the walls glowed brighter like withering flowers taken from the shadows and returned to the sunlight. He still didn’t know why God hadn’t struck him down. Salvation was a powerful judgment.
With the arrival of God came the moment he had been dreading since he first arrived. It was time, and he felt he was not ready. It was apparent to God, who stepped into the room and closed the door behind Him. He stood at the door, waiting for the poor man to compose himself.
“Are you ready?” He asked.
God had this way of authoritatively asking questions that didn’t seem like questions at all. His questions weren’t speculation, they were the answers He already knew you needed to say. There was no point in lying. He’d call you out on it very quickly and very harshly. You simply accepted the truth provided to you with peace. He was ready, and there was no longer any reason to cling to childish, human things like doubt. God knew that. He had to trust that God knew what He was asking.
God walked further inside to the table and sat to the man’s left. Little things, like knowing the table was rectangular and perhaps made of marble, kept the man centered. The walls were white, the table was white, the seat cushions were white, and even God’s cloak was white. It was as if the colors were purposefully unison so that your mind could race without hindrance. In fact, the only things that weren’t white were his dark brown hands and God’s overwhelming flaming eyes. She was here. He knew it. She was on the other side of the door.
God grabbed his hand and pulled it towards Himself. He looked the man straight in the eyes and said, “If I have forgiven you, who is any other judge to refuse you?”
It was true. Despite what he had done, the Lord forgave him. He didn’t understand why he was forgiven, but he trusted in the One who did know why. Still, perfection calling you worthy didn’t stop imperfection from opening her mouth and discrediting your dwelling. Who was she, really? Why did she have such a hold on him, to say he didn’t know her very well?
She was little, but mighty. He knew that by the way she grasped his arms at times. Had her hands been bigger, she might have reached his face. Had she been a little older than a third his age, or possibly half his age, she might have handled him better. Had she been stronger, she might have been able to get free…
The door opened again. He held his breath as her leg stretched through the door. It was much bigger than before. It was much more toned than he remembered. She had grown up. It would make sense, seeing how long it’s been.
Her arm curled around the door and flung it open. She was wearing white. She was beautiful. She was in her glory, and there was nothing more beautiful than that. He sighed with relief as he watched her walk boldly into the room. He knew she had become something far greater than what he tried to make her. The angels closed the door behind her, and suddenly, the trial had begun.
He wanted to glance at her face, but couldn’t look her straight in the eyes. She was powerful. Her aura was conjuring anguish in his mind. God reached for her hand, and she came forward. She was hesitant, but at the sight of God, the Father, the sight of the man no longer mattered. She sat opposite of the man with her focus entirely on God to her right.
God grasped her hand. They stared at each other for a moment. There was much said in the exchange. That’s all anyone else needed to know. They would have this conversation. There was no way around it. They were all here to talk about what happened.
Seeing their unhindered connection made the man clutch his garment near his chest. They had been together so long, they had a bond he only wished he could have with God. They were more alike than he ever thought he was worthy of. It was breathtaking. He felt guilt and regret swelling as he remembered his life, but then the gaze of God came across his head.
God was like that. He brightened rooms when He walked into them. Nature, spirit, element, emotion, thought, and all other forms of existence stopped what they were doing to pay attention to Him. Streams reflected His emotion, fire danced in His presence, light shined on His magnificence, and a mind always cleared whenever He focused on it.
His gaze was like the difference between the shade and the sun on a hot summer day. Once the cloud passed by, the intense heat returned. His intensity weighed so heavy on the human spirit that the body perspired at the thought of God gazing at it. The man hadn’t had a drop of sweat since he arrived, but, for some reason, it felt as if pores opened under God’s gaze.
God released their hands and sat back from the two of them. He glanced at both the woman and the man, ready to consult them. He closed His eyes and breathed deeply. He breathed several long breaths. The air somehow managed to hush even more. There weren’t any vents. There were only walls. The spirit of the atmosphere shifted at His will. The man knew this as he began to speak out, but God lifted a hand, and silence struck the man’s mouth shut.
“Look at her,” God commanded.
When He spoke this way, it seemed like a subtle thunder swept the atmosphere. After all these days, the man still hadn’t adjusted to it. Carefully, he did as God told him. His eyes circled the room before connecting with her stare.
She was still beautiful. Her brown eyes, thick, coarse afro, her voluptuous frame, and even her smile brought about those same feelings of before. She made him nervous. Now, she had all the makings of a woman. She was no longer on her way to womanhood. She resided there. She had the beauty that would make any man say the Lord’s name in vain, even in front of the Lord. You would forget yourself as you gazed at the beauty of God’s creation.
He thought his heartbeat would race, but there was no attraction. There was no temptation. It was simply admiration. There was no other intent behind it. The feelings left him flabbergasted. Who had he become since he arrived? He knew he was better, but to be this much better. It terrified him.
She turned back to God. He looked to God as well. God waited. He faced the table just between the two of them and sat silently. Though His eyes were closed, you knew He saw the very thoughts of their minds moving through the room like gases. They remained still. He tried to wait on the Lord, but the desire in his heart raged like an active volcano.
Suddenly, the man erupted from his pillow, launching the cushion into the wall. He slammed both his hands upon the table and knelt. Then, he slammed his head against the table, sending shockwaves to her fingertips. Before he could say a word, tears glazed his eyes and formed droplets at the very corners.
He inhaled all he could and shouted, “Forgive me!” He broke… He inhaled again, all that he could, and cried, “Forgive me!” There was only silence to answer him, as she focused on God’s reactions, who remained quiet with His eyes closed. Still, the man shouted, “Forgive me!”
He did this, over and over, feeling great sorrow. There were already enough tears on the table to dampen the sleeve of his cloak. Still, he kept shouting. Despite his passionate display, he was left without a response. He could only weep as his shame swallowed him again. He had almost begun to forget what it felt like. Seeing her again brought it back to remembrance.
God turned to him, with eyes opened, and responded, “Forgive you for what?”
His response baffled him for a moment, but then the intent behind the question struck him. God wanted him to confess his sins aloud and be done with them. It was still strange to have understanding without much conversation, but he knew this was the path set before him. He hoped that God would say the words he hated to admit, but the truth needed to be said for the healing of the emotional state. That was just how things needed to play out so reconciliation could begin.
“Take a seat,” God demanded. The man calmed down. He sat back and felt a cushion beneath him. He looked down in shock. He searched the room for the pillow he had kicked away, but it was nowhere to be seen. He went to wipe his face, but the Lord said, “Stop.”
God leaned forward and reached over to the man’s face. He took His hands and cleaned the water from the man’s eyes. He took His cloak and wiped the desk clean. Then, He held the man’s face in His hands. Gently, He caressed the man’s cheeks as He stared into His eyes. He searched for something, but the man didn’t know what. Then, the Lord sat back onto His cushion.
“Let it be known between the two of you that I call you both My children,” The Father said. The Son looked at God, the Father, in awe. The Daughter knew the statement to be fact. The Father continued, again with subtle rumbles of thunder bouncing off of the walls, “So from this point forward, you will refer to each other as ‘brother’, and ‘sister’. You are not obligated to know each other beyond that fact, but My Spirit tells you what I expect of you in this kingdom I have built. Both of you are here because I want you here, and both of you are family, because I want you to be family. With that in mind, Son, you need to confess to what you did.”
“Yes, Father,” the Son managed to get out.
Somehow, God’s flaming eyes still managed to reflect His emotion. They were like tiny stars reflected in the calm waters of the ocean. He hid none of His emotions in them. Instead, He embraced and expressed His emotions without fear. Though He donned the image of a man, He was far beyond what men taught themselves to be. He truly was the embodiment of light, and His body chose to have that light as His flesh. The white cloak was far more symbolic than the Son realized.
It wasn’t until he heard his breath that he realized they were waiting on him to begin. How should a brother tell a sister what he did was wrong? Does he come straight out and admit it? Does he overcompensate or downplay? Does he worry about her feelings, his feelings, or should he just speak from the heart? The Holy Spirit led him to his answer.
The Son spoke, “I...” and his voice faded. Again, his pores opened up. He knew the Father was staring at him, but he closed his eyes. He couldn’t escape it. The intensity was heating his skin. He had to say it. “I r-…” He composed himself. “I ra-…” his breath left him. He clutched his forearm and squeezed as if rooting himself in soil.
He opened his eyes and looked at the both of them. The Father and Daughter were waiting on him to confess. He squeezed his forearm harder and said, “I r-. I ra-…” He sighed. He felt his nails ready to pierce his new body, but he felt no pain from his grip. “I… raped…” He looked her straight in the eyes, fighting every instinct to run. He grunted, “You… I raped… and mur…dered… you.”
She looked down and turned away. The Son shrank back and began to weep. The Father looked at the both of them with sadness in His heart. He let the two of them grieve at the hearing of the truth. It was already known, but the Sister hearing it from the Brother was altogether taxing. The Father let them sit with it before He intervened.
Here was another sin between men and women – men acting like beasts and chewing on the ribs given to them. Now His children sat weeping, because he saw a woman who looked like him, and couldn’t control himself. The Father knew He would have to wipe his eyes again, but for some reason, the daughter merely reflected.
“You were right,” the Daughter said. The Father looked to her. “It really didn’t do anything for me.” The Father smiled. The Son looked up in shock. Thinking aloud, she spoke, “The ways of men are… lesser. I’ve spent so much time here, I’ve forgotten the impact sin had on us. You must be really grieving.”
The Brother slumped back onto his cushion and breathed, “Huh?”
“I watched your life play out,” she explained. “I saw where Father punished you, where you punished yourself, and where sin continued to darken your life. I almost thought you were going to reject salvation. But then, at the depth of your darkness, in that prison cell at that state jail, you saw the light and reached out to it. You chose heaven over hell, and most decisions after you were set free reflected that. I know, without a doubt, you aren’t who you were that day. Talking to you about what happened now is completely different than talking with you back then. You’re not even the same man.”
“I’m not?” the Brother asked surprised. “Well… I guess I’m not.”
“Surely, you aren’t,” The Father confirmed. “The man you were that day died in baptism.”
“Makes… sense,” the Son agreed, albeit confused.
“Don’t believe us?”
“I did commit those sins.”
“Rape and murder. Why?”
“Why’d you do it?” the Father asked.
It was the kind of question that demanded an answer. Your spirit would automatically respond to His invitations. There was no flesh standing between Father’s connections to your spirit. As the Son explained, he knew this to be true.
“At that time in my life, I was… lost? No… I have the words now.” He huffed and braced himself for the truth of his response. “I raped you because you were everything I wanted to be. You were innocent, beautiful, full of life, and hopeful. You had loving parents and a bright future. You didn’t have a past sexual abuse and physical violence haunting your every waking moment like I did. I was jealous of you.
I wanted you to be scarred to live just like I was. My uncle gave me that false rite of passage when he raped me. I thought I would give you that same curse. After all, we were Black in America. We weren’t given the opportunity to be carefree. If the nation wasn’t against us, our families were. I thought I would show you how meager the world we inhabited was. How bleak and pointless it was to hope for better or expect better… Hurt people, hurt people.”
“And the murder?” the Father asked.
“When raping you didn’t remove that sparkle in your eye… that beauty… I-… I was furious. I kept thinking, ‘how can this little girl half my age, or more likely a third my age, still cling to hope and beauty when I’ve just soiled her and taken her virginity?’” He numbed himself. “I stalked you… for hours. I watched you as you explored the mall with your friends. I… I knew one of you would slip up. You were kids. You never paid attention to everyone around you. You had this carelessness in your freedom that used to aggravate me.” He chuckled to himself. “Kids made a grown man jealous… I didn’t even know you…”
“That’s not all they made you, is it?” the Father asked.
The Son nodded, knowing he had to tell it all. “I was jealous, envious, petty, and bitter. Watching them always have a grand outlook on life while my optimism was snatched from me at their age by perverts, murderers, and drug addicts. It took me a while to deal with the trauma I experienced as a child. My uncle sexually abused me for months while my friends and I were involved in gangs. I just thought that what life was. I didn’t deal with it until I knew Jesus, which was fifteen years after I had murdered you and gone to prison.”
The Son looked at Father for some hint of appeasement, but God was only concerned with the truth. Even here, there was room for nothing else. His glare removed everything that hindered truth. You couldn’t stay quiet, you couldn’t run, nor could you even think about lying. There was no point. When truth stares at you for an answer, you cannot fool it. It only wishes for you confess what it already knows for you own benefit. God, the Father, was the truth. The truth was selfless.
“Their happiness attracted me as much as it angered me, oddly enough,” the Son explained. “Sister…” He paused as he pointed. It almost felt accusatory, so he retracted his hand, and placed them both in his lap, only to fiddle with them some more as he continued with, “Sister… my sister… She…” He composed himself.
“She was attractive. She was at that age where your body starts becoming the woman rather than the girl. It’s the perfect time. I’m guessing preteen to early teen? You have a woman in shape, but a child in the heart. They haven’t been sullied like most grown women. They still believe. They still hope. They still have the innocence. Most of them anyway…”
He looked up at her. She was unmoved by his explanation. He was unmoved by it himself. What was the purpose? Why would he try to evoke an emotion at a time like this? What benefit is there to confessing this?
“Anyway…,” he resumed, rushed. “As much as you made me jealous and angry, I was attracted for similar reasons. I didn’t even think about how you felt in that moment. I just wanted to ruin you and enjoy you at the same time. I hadn’t learned that pornography was truly acting. There wasn’t pleasure in most of the videos they put out. It was two or more miserable adults having sex in front of a group of other miserable adults. I thought witnessing your demise was going to give us joy. I thought the sex would eventually be accepted like it was in pornography… and by me with my uncle… It only increased our pain.”
“What did you do?” the Father asked.
He slumped down and confessed, “As I said, I waited for her carelessness to show. As they shopped in the mall, I waited until she wandered off just far enough to isolate her… Then, I approached her, pretending to be a nice father, as if I wasn’t there to kidnap her.”
“I asked her if she knew about the mall because I had a daughter that I wanted to show a good time when she came into town. I was thirty-two, but the saying then was ‘Black don’t crack’, so I knew she wouldn’t get the creeper vibes from me. I spent all my twenties abusing women and disguising it as ‘game’. I knew how to get a woman to let her guard down. So, I got her to lower her guard by impersonating kindness and lying. Then I showed her my gun, and led her away, threatening to shoot and kill her friends if she screamed or ran... and I would’ve…”
He grabbed his forearm, breathing heavily. He squeezed. “I led her out to my car… in the parking lot… I tied her up and drugged her… Then, I took her far away… to a park in the outskirts of downtown. When she woke, I tried to calm her down, because I knew she’d be freaking out…”
“I kept promising things I had no intention of fulfilling... Like, I’d take her back, that she’d be fine, or that I wouldn’t hurt her… I tried to get her to let her guard down, but she wouldn’t relax, so I went ahead and did it anyway… I dragged her from the car, kicking and screaming. I knocked her out and carried her into the woods. I raped her… She was docile when she first woke. I thought she’d come around to enjoying it, but she started scratching and hitting me, trying to move me. That’s when I…” He paused as he looked up at his victim. “Stabbed her…”
His eyes filled with water again. He looked at the table and hurried to the finish. “I always carried a knife because I was in a gang and you never knew when you’d have to stab someone instead of shooting and causing panic. It was for kills you didn’t want the neighbors to know about. She had to be in immense pain… She just went limp… I was so angry that she fought against me when so many women simply just took it, I stabbed her again so she would understand that I’m in control, not her, and that she needed to relax… but she wasn’t relaxing… she was in shock, and dying… After I finished, I… I was overwhelmed with guilt, and left her there to die… I was not justified… I wasn’t right. I was wicked. I was evil… I was demonic.”
With a hand raised towards him, the Father said, “Easy.”
The Father looked at the Son’s forearm. The Son released his forearm from his grasp. He placed his hands back in his lap and fiddled with them again. He lowered his head and looked into his lap. He didn’t know how to continue. He left it to God.
“How should I respond?” the Daughter asked. “He hates himself for what He has done to me. I have every right to hate him, but I have no desire to hate. I am not tempted by recollections of the past. There is no temptation. That body is gone. We are in our new bodies. You foresaw this, which is why You’ve given each of Your daughters and sons a new body…”
“…You foresaw that we would taint each other with rape, fornication, adultery, witchcraft, gluttony, idolatry, tattoos, piercings, and brandings. We would each share in the destruction of the bodies You freely gave us. Even before my brother, I was already getting accustomed to hating the very gift You gave me. I was already starting to cover my beauty with products and low self-esteem. I was conforming to the ways of the world. I am by no means justifying what he did. I remember what he did very clearly, and it was evil…”
“… I felt so helpless. I kept thinking of my parents, my friends. I kept praying that You would save me, that anyone would save me. I wanted to get free, but I was not strong enough. I remember the humiliation, the pain, the helpless, the terror. I remembered hating my body for its weakness as I lied there bleeding, unable to move. I remember wishing I had a knife or gun to defend myself. I kept thinking, not me too. Not my body too. Why couldn’t I be spared of men and their evil? I hated the world… but then the heavens opened. Your glory shined down on me, and I knew my suffering had ended where it began… That body is long gone. That pain is long gone. I will not cling to an experience I have not felt in decades. I am a queen. I am a god. I am as You have always desired me to be… So why do you cling to guilt, brother?”
“Why do I clean to-?” the Brother asked. “Why would worry about me when I killed you!?”
“Because you can’t enjoy the fullness of God clinging onto sins already forgiven!” She explained. “You are attempting to bring relevance to a deed you have already been forgiven of. Who tries to go back to trial after being declared not guilty? You are free. He whom the Son sets free is free indeed. The Son, the Father, and the Spirit sit before you, declaring your freedom.”
“Why not accept it, and show gratitude by walking in that freedom? Those who would say you don’t deserve it have perished in the flames of the Lake of Fire. Their voices have been silenced long before you got here, so why do you attempt to revive the dead? Only God resurrects the dead, and whom He chooses are eternally written on the palm of His hand, in the Book of Life. Should you even be worried about you, at this point?”
Here he was again, with all eyes staring at him. The Father seemed satisfied with her response. But why? Why was anyone okay with a rapist and murderer sharing the same heaven as the victim? Was he being taught about what heaven truly is? Should heaven be a place where oppressors and the oppressed share eternity?
How many other confrontations had there been? What of the Israelite children and the pharaoh of Egypt who ordered them thrown to the alligators? What of King David and Uriah? What of Hilter and every Jew? What of Saul, who became Paul, and every Christian he persecuted? What of Stephen and those who stoned him to death? What of Jephthah and his daughter? What of Abel and Cain? How many more victims and villains had to come to this table to listen to confessions? Did slave owners and slaves? Did pedophiles and children? How many?
He smiled. He felt the answer, and smiled. His brain intuitively came to the conclusion. Anyone, and everyone, regardless of past sins, whose names were written in the Book of Life, were allowed entry into Heaven. The least of people and the best of people shared in God’s love. They have always been allowed into the presence of God, the Father. The Lord does not show partiality because your sin directly impacted someone versus another’s sins indirectly impacting others. The Lord does not show partiality in blessing or discipline. Where you spend eternity is based on the forgiveness expressed through Christ and faith in the heart.
The Son lowered his head and smiled, “I see.”
“You are right in saying that you do,” the Lord said.
The Father turned away from the Son and reached for His daughter’s hands. She embraced His hands, feeling the intent behind the glowing face. Without any words, the compassion, pain, sorrow, hope, love, and peace poured out of Him to her. Her lips quivered with each memory coming back with the emotions evoked in them.
“My baby girl…” the Father started. He caressed her palms with His thumbs. “It did me no pleasure in seeing you suffer. You know I cried with you for many days after that wickedness attempted to destroy you…” He shook His head slowly. “The vilest things, My children do to each other… The pain never being one-sided. We all suffer. Even I wept.”
“I know,” she replied, tearing up. “I know the desires You had for us. I know what You intended to do for us, even in the path we had chosen-.”
“You never chose to be raped. You never asked for it. You never encouraged it-.”
“I didn’t deserve it. It is not who I am. It is not what was meant for me. It does not make me damaged. I am the Lord’s child, and no sin will keep me from the Kingdom.”
“My girl,” the Father said with faint smile.
The Son looked up at them. Seeing the Father comforting the Daughter warmed his heart. It was here that he knew the sin he committed truly did not define her. He could tell when she walked through the door. She wasn’t the rape victim. She wasn’t the murder victim. She wasn’t the body left lying in the woods. She wasn’t the evidence of his wickedness, conviction, or sin. She was truly the strong Daughter of the Most High God.
The Father and Daughter looked at the Son. He tucked his head and the Father grunted.
The Father said, “Lift your head.” The Son lifted his head. “You are not a criminal here. You are forgiven. You are not the only man who committed the acts you did, and believe it or not, there are plenty who did worse than you, and I have forgiven even them.”
God, the Father, reached for the Son’s hand. He held both the Daughter’s hand and the Son’s hand as He looked at the both of them. His presence shined intensely. It was the atmosphere’s way of declaring His truth in unison.
“Know My heart and see to it that you obey,” the Father declared. “I only ask that you reconcile, and get to know the persons I intended for you to be. Do not see each other for each other’s sins. But rather, see them for who I see them to be. Worthy of salvation, love, and My eternal presence.”
They both nodded. Though the gesture was intended to be sincere, there was disconcertion in the room. There was no clear indication to them how they should move forward. This was intentional, for the Lord still allowed free will. They could ignore each other, reconcile and never speak again, or they could remove all fear, doubt, and shame, and discover who they truly were in the Father’s eyes.
Feeling His intent, the Daughter rose from her cushion. The Son quickly rose as well. They bowed to each other. The Lord rose. He walked over to the Daughter, and embraced her completely. The warmth and comfort He emitted soothed her from a place she thought she couldn’t return to. He pulled her back and stared hopefully into her eyes. He reached up and wiped her face clean.
“Go… and be at peace…” He said.
She nodded, and hugged Him again, smiling cheerfully this time. She was different. This was certain. There was no doubt in the room. They were all different. The mind was slowly catching on to the differences of this place. What seemed like slight differences turned truly impactful. She turned to the door she came through.
The Brother said, “I look forward to introducing you to the new me.”
She stopped, and turned to him. “The new you began in your forties, all those many years ago. I know him very well, and I look forward to seeing what else Father will reveal through him. It would seem that we are already on that path.” She turns to the Father. “And that path is arguably what You wanted all this time, even back then.”
The Father faintly smiled. “You understand.”
The Brother smiled. The Father walked over and opened the door for her. She waved goodbye to her brother and returned to where she came from. Then, God closed the door behind her. The Son sat back down and went over everything that was said in the confrontation. He remembered it all, word for word. He faintly smiled.
“You truly will wipe every tear from every eye,” the Son said.
“Every single one,” God answered. “Every single one.”