The edge of a blade

Last night I dreamt. I dreamt I was in the position of so many of our brothers and sisters, surrounded by those I love, with a knife to my throat.

I have so many times said I’m willing to die for Jesus, but last night was the closest I’ve ever come to it. I know it was only a dream, but it felt so, so real.

I was faced with choices: do I run and try my luck getting past guards, showing my cowardice? Or do I simply wait in line, hoping something will happen to save us before it’s my turn to pass on? Or do I chose the most surely fatal choice, and volunteer to go first, to save someone else for now, to be a testimony? I have no idea what I would chose in real life, but in my dream I chose the latter.

They shoved eight of us into an area-type area, and pushed us to our knees. The cold steel was drawing blood, a man shouting at us, demanding we deny Christ. Not one gave in. He stopped, “All right then. Why don’t you tell us why you so love this ‘God’ that would let you die? Huh?”

So one by one we stood, telling all just what God had done for us. All who were nearby heard clearly the gospel eight times over. I’m surprised they didn’t stop us. It was surely the hand of God.

When I spoke, I found that I really was ready to die for my Lord. I was scared, yes, but I was willing. He after all did tell us it would happen. Overwhelming love overflowed from my heart and into my words, surely placed there by my Father Himself.

They had heard enough, and the knives sunk into our skin. One by one my brothers and sister fell before me, and soon I too joined them in the Heavenly Kingdom.


I have never been hurt. Well, never seriously, not that I can remember. So it’s hard for me to predict or even imagine how it felt for my Lord to be whipped, beaten and crucified, or how it will feel for me to die for Him as He died for me. But I pray with all my heart He will give me the strength to die for Him.

I pray with all my heart He will give me the strength to live for Him.

A T-junction in my life’s path

Hear Ye, hear Ye; Here follows the ramblings of an almost-15-year-old girl:
Gowns. Dances. Charming princes, Lords and Ladies. Evenings never to be forgotten, evenings spent in the company of mannered folk.
On the other side of life – Rags. Campfires. Friends and family, a loyal dog. Evenings never to be forgotten, evenings spent in the company of the sick and dying.
Which side to choose? There is nothing in this world that I want more than to be a real-life princess, to dress in gowns and host balls. To build my own castle, and to live the luxurious life. I argue that I want to use it to teach young girls about their inner princess, and about the Prince waiting for them, but a voice nudges the back of my mind, reminding me that I would choose this life out of selfish desires and dreams. Another part of me, a part buried deep and often forgotten and ignored, screams that I want to go out and minister to the lost, sick, weak and needy. My human desires fight back: can there not be a compromise? Can I not have the castle and tiaras and gowns, and at the same time minister to the least of these? Can I not bring the poor into the castle and spoil them for a while? Any simple logic tells this cannot be so. How could I live this hypocritical life; the life with two sides? But then, what is the answer? What is the answer? Can anyone answer me? Can anyone know what is right for my personal life. It is said that the rich and famous need Christ too, and their children especially. This creates my excuse for building my castle and ministering to them. But it would make it all the harder to fight the temptations of this world. I feel that working as a rural missionary might be easier in certain aspects. That thrusting myself so drastically and noticeably out of my comfort zone would force me to lean more upon my Savior. And it would. But could I be strong enough to do the same being surrounded by those whom have heard the gospel and turned a deaf ear? Both ways have equal benefits and equal struggles, the only problem is finding out which path my LORD would have me pursue. I feel more guilt in following my dream, although I fear I will not be satisfied in any direction I follow. I realize this falls somewhat because of my weakened relationship with my Creator. I tend to think and meditate on these things alone, when in all reality I know I cannot discover the answer without searching it out at God’s feet. This is merely the struggle between my stubbornness and my salvation.
If only everything were clear. If only the guide plan for our life was written out in simple steps with the consequences of the wrong choices in warning. But how can I find peace with myself while still “following my dream” as most people insist upon these days? Must I find a way to add my dream into God’s will for me? Must I pray that my dream IS God’s will for me? Must I discard my own dreams completely and simply accept the drastic and radical choice instead? If only there was a clear answer. If only thinking didn’t tear my heart in two so. If only I had no foolish dream of my own except to please Christ to the fullest. He did not chase fantasies, did He? His sole mission was for that of God. Ultimate love.
Alright, enough ramblings for now. If only the LORD replied in writing…