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I have seen a great deal of this life, this terrain these people, little or no respect that’s their trouble. I had always hoped I was destined for great things, immense things, for glory in fact. My neighbour’s back in my old ground had long since been selected for noble use, one even selected for a fine carving in the temple itself. Upon reflection dear reader, many a year ago I realised I was far too tall far too spindly and somewhat too dishevelled for such an honour. The wind once spoke to me and declared that
‘I would be hung in glory’
Sigh but apparently not! So here I am in this place, another long agonising day ahead. It’s the groaning I can’t stand. The offence of the nails into my majestic form passes quickly. Yes it is most certainly the groaning I can’t stand. And I do have a majestic form even if I say so myself. Here they come there is always the shouting first and the gathering you would think dear reader that people had better things to do with their time.
A shudder goes though me. How unusual! I don’t usually shake quite so much, perhaps I am weak from over use, and I expect my time will soon come for the fire, far too soon. I expect I will miss my moment how sad this morning as the sun kissed me I felt a sense of triumph. Conceivably I could be delusional; I am after all talking to myself again, maybe I should dear reader give up the idea that you are in fact my audience and that you are interested in me even in the slightest way. Goodness the shaking again almost a tremble that time, looking about me there doesn’t seem to be any explanation for that, There is quite a crowd today, the Pharisees don’t usually bother to attend, I wonder who this man is? I wonder who he killed. How exciting more interesting than yet another unclean thief, ah a sign that must have been why I shook of they don’t always put up a sign I wonder what it says reading’s never been my strong point, except if I just…oh it’s going dark that can’t be right I can’t see.
I have never witnessed the earth so quiet, I can only hear the weeping, and the rasping of this breath wait he heaves himself I feel strangely warmed. I feel strength flowing into me; I remember the life I once held what is this? Who is this man? My heart seeks to cry out, Hal Halle. .Hallelujah His voice, his voice who is this upon me cast over me fastened to me, Oh it’s Elijah the people are crying out, except I feel more than this. The earth rages before my feet it cracks it roars who is this. This is it! Here is my moment, my moment of glory I feel it and yet my Spirit yields to this Son who cries to His Father
"Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." Luke 23:46 (NIV)
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