12-08-2013, 09:03 AM
Jensen truly was relieved that Jon would represent him.
But his relief quickly cooled somber. Jon hinted at the confounding argument of good people committing sinful acts, and how were they judged?
At first, Jensen listened and weighed everything Jon had to say in order to address his points with heartfelt sincerity. This would be the second time in one night he'd been given the chance to witness. After years of hiding, now that his heart was open to it, God was giving him a string of chances. Probably not so much to test his willingness to obey the great commandment, but because a heart unshielded by sin saw more chances to love his brethren where a man stooped by guilt closed his own doors before ever attempting to open them.
But Jon was a great speaker. He drew upon examples that his audience would understand. He was clearly familiar with the stories of the Bible,and Jensen considered their implications. His focus shifted from Jon to the place occupied by Omer, now unforgiving emptiness, but Jon's hammering was slowly denting the new armor Jensen thought shielded his soul.
He looked next to his hands in his lap, the pose of a fearful child rather than a soldier of the Lord, but there were weights on his shoulders that sent them drooping. As though John Smith were on one side, urging him to trust in the infinity of the Lord's will, and that what will be, will be, no matter mankind's actions. While on the other, Jon Little Bird argued that he take matters into his own hands, and never mind the consequences, so long as the greater good was achieved.
But that greater good was the reason Jensen was in Moscow at all. The reason two sons grieved over the loss of their father the last four years. The reason Jessika was too shamed to remain attached to her husband's name. He'd convinced himself he was sparing them, when in reality, he was too afraid to face consequence. Was he now in the same situation? How could he tell the difference?
The two men on his shoulders were not alone in their beckoning. The figure from The Dream whispered a reminder to hold fast. An angel of the Lord - one who had held himself with divine knowledge. The being had been kingly and bright, reflecting the love of the King of Kings. What would the angel advise? 'Hold to faith', he would say. He did say.
If Jensen agreed to Jon's efforts, he would walk an incredibly narrow path that differentiated sin from love. Knowing what he knew of himself, would Jensen be able to maintain the sacrifice in the name of greater good? Could he hold to sinful handholds once in a while without stumbling completely down the mountain?
Well. It looked like he was going to have to try. It's not like martyrs were hoping to die excruciating deaths. Being stoned to death was definitely not on his bucket list.
"Alright, Jon."
He looked up, accepting of his lawyer's advice. John Smith would probably agree. The angel? Well. Jensen hoped for approval as well.
The chance to witness slammed shockingly loud, like a patio door wrenched by the pressure of a coming storm blowing through the house. He felt weighed down by failure, but none ever said chain mail, armor, shield and sword were easy to wear.
Tight muscles fought him as he uncurled in the chair, sitting straight once more. He met Jon's piercing efforts eye to eye, shaking his head. An awkward smile broke the tension. "Only a few days ago I was convinced these talents were anything but gifts, but the Lord has seen fit to place me in the path of ... men ... able to convince me otherwise."
He shifted in his seat, still struggling with the idea of walking so treacherous wire needed to maintain balance. Just don't look down.
"I want to serve. I want to do the Lord's will, with all my heart. Light of heaven knows I shouldn't follow my own will."
The joke in his voice did a poor job at cutting through the tension.
Habit scrubbed his hair back from his eyes. "But I don't think the choice is so much an issue of either/or: lie or die."
At least in this very specific situation. If there was a gun to his head, he liked to think he'd hold to principle, but then again, nobody woke in the morning hoping to be stoned to death by dinner.
"I'd rather fight for the truth."
There wasn't a violent bone in Jensen's body, but his conviction was solid. Only problem was, he needed the right kind of armor or he wouldn't last long. He just hadn't found it yet. "But you're right. There's a war coming, and I shouldn't focus so much on skirmishes before the real battle begins."
That felt right. Just saying it out loud and he was.. well, not exactly more at ease .. but more steadfast at least.
And war is coming.
And apparently. So was the bailiff. Because there was a brief knock on the door shortly before an officer let himself in.
Edited by Jensen James, Dec 8 2013, 09:07 AM.
But his relief quickly cooled somber. Jon hinted at the confounding argument of good people committing sinful acts, and how were they judged?
At first, Jensen listened and weighed everything Jon had to say in order to address his points with heartfelt sincerity. This would be the second time in one night he'd been given the chance to witness. After years of hiding, now that his heart was open to it, God was giving him a string of chances. Probably not so much to test his willingness to obey the great commandment, but because a heart unshielded by sin saw more chances to love his brethren where a man stooped by guilt closed his own doors before ever attempting to open them.
But Jon was a great speaker. He drew upon examples that his audience would understand. He was clearly familiar with the stories of the Bible,and Jensen considered their implications. His focus shifted from Jon to the place occupied by Omer, now unforgiving emptiness, but Jon's hammering was slowly denting the new armor Jensen thought shielded his soul.
He looked next to his hands in his lap, the pose of a fearful child rather than a soldier of the Lord, but there were weights on his shoulders that sent them drooping. As though John Smith were on one side, urging him to trust in the infinity of the Lord's will, and that what will be, will be, no matter mankind's actions. While on the other, Jon Little Bird argued that he take matters into his own hands, and never mind the consequences, so long as the greater good was achieved.
But that greater good was the reason Jensen was in Moscow at all. The reason two sons grieved over the loss of their father the last four years. The reason Jessika was too shamed to remain attached to her husband's name. He'd convinced himself he was sparing them, when in reality, he was too afraid to face consequence. Was he now in the same situation? How could he tell the difference?
The two men on his shoulders were not alone in their beckoning. The figure from The Dream whispered a reminder to hold fast. An angel of the Lord - one who had held himself with divine knowledge. The being had been kingly and bright, reflecting the love of the King of Kings. What would the angel advise? 'Hold to faith', he would say. He did say.
If Jensen agreed to Jon's efforts, he would walk an incredibly narrow path that differentiated sin from love. Knowing what he knew of himself, would Jensen be able to maintain the sacrifice in the name of greater good? Could he hold to sinful handholds once in a while without stumbling completely down the mountain?
Well. It looked like he was going to have to try. It's not like martyrs were hoping to die excruciating deaths. Being stoned to death was definitely not on his bucket list.
"Alright, Jon."
He looked up, accepting of his lawyer's advice. John Smith would probably agree. The angel? Well. Jensen hoped for approval as well.
The chance to witness slammed shockingly loud, like a patio door wrenched by the pressure of a coming storm blowing through the house. He felt weighed down by failure, but none ever said chain mail, armor, shield and sword were easy to wear.
Tight muscles fought him as he uncurled in the chair, sitting straight once more. He met Jon's piercing efforts eye to eye, shaking his head. An awkward smile broke the tension. "Only a few days ago I was convinced these talents were anything but gifts, but the Lord has seen fit to place me in the path of ... men ... able to convince me otherwise."
He shifted in his seat, still struggling with the idea of walking so treacherous wire needed to maintain balance. Just don't look down.
"I want to serve. I want to do the Lord's will, with all my heart. Light of heaven knows I shouldn't follow my own will."
The joke in his voice did a poor job at cutting through the tension.
Habit scrubbed his hair back from his eyes. "But I don't think the choice is so much an issue of either/or: lie or die."
At least in this very specific situation. If there was a gun to his head, he liked to think he'd hold to principle, but then again, nobody woke in the morning hoping to be stoned to death by dinner.
"I'd rather fight for the truth."
There wasn't a violent bone in Jensen's body, but his conviction was solid. Only problem was, he needed the right kind of armor or he wouldn't last long. He just hadn't found it yet. "But you're right. There's a war coming, and I shouldn't focus so much on skirmishes before the real battle begins."
That felt right. Just saying it out loud and he was.. well, not exactly more at ease .. but more steadfast at least.
And war is coming.
And apparently. So was the bailiff. Because there was a brief knock on the door shortly before an officer let himself in.
Edited by Jensen James, Dec 8 2013, 09:07 AM.