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Martyr
The
cell door opened with a very loud creak, letting the new warden in.
He looked down at me, and I thought
I saw pity in his eyes, “It’s time, come with me.” I got up, slowly, and followed
him out of the cell and into the hall. As we walked, I wondered if he was like
the last warden. The one who beat me daily. But we were not walking in a
direction that I had gone before.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked,
timidly.
“Your trial,” was all that he said.
Then this was it. My life would come
to an end soon. Very soon. Unless, of course, God did something, or I did. He opened the door and let me go out first, which
I found quite surprising, considering that there was no fence out where he was
taking me. I stepped outside, glanced around, and, seeing nobody, sprinted into
the city. I had to escape; I had to be anywhere but here. Glancing back, I saw
the warden standing in the doorway, nodding. A thought flashed through my mind,
Is he letting me go? He might have
been, but there were two prison guards who weren’t. I dodged a fruit stand and
ducked around a corner. As I sat there, catching my breath, I began to think, what am I doing? How long can I run before I
am caught?
You may wonder why I was in prison
and, now, why I am on trial. I am a Christian. My country outlawed Christianity
many years ago, on pain of death. Because of this, we began to meet in secret;
but, as hard as we tried to hide, I was arrested, along with a group of my
friends, for distributing Bibles. We endured harsh tortures, long nights, and
food deprivation. By now, they have all been executed… all sixteen of them.
Suddenly, a verse came into my mind,
“To live is Christ, and to die is gain.” I didn’t remember where it was found,
but I did know what I had to do. The guards rushed by at that moment, shouting
for me. I took a deep breath and felt renewed courage. With this courage I found
it easy to step out, alerting them to my presence. Wicked smiles crossed their
faces as they slapped my wrists with cuffs and manacled my feet.
“No running now, kid,” one of them
snickered. With the restraints on, it took quite a while to reach the suburban
and when we got to it, they threw me in the back seat, roughly. My pride flared
and I decided that I would never recant… just to show that I was better than
them. I would not be a coward. But, almost instantly, I felt remorse. I should
rely on my faith to stay strong, not my pride.
The ride to the courthouse was long,
too long in fact; but, finally, we reached it. The guards dragged me up the
steps and into the courtroom. There were relatively few people there, and most
of them appeared to be government officials. I knew then that my fate is
sealed.
Bang!
Bang! Bang! The gavel sounded and
the room fell silent. It was the moment of reckoning.
"Are you Filip Aleksandr?" the nasal-toned, boring judge asked.
"I am."
"It is reported that, on November 20th of last year, you and a group of sixteen others were found distributing illegal literature, how do you plead?"
I took a deep breath before replying, “Guilty, sir.”
"I am."
"It is reported that, on November 20th of last year, you and a group of sixteen others were found distributing illegal literature, how do you plead?"
I took a deep breath before replying, “Guilty, sir.”
“It is also reported that you are of
the Christian religion, guilty or not guilty?”
“Guilty, sir.”
“The government would like to extend
pardon to you if you will recant your crimes and change your lifestyle, do you
accept?”
“No, sir, I decline.”
“Then I pronounce you guilty of said
crimes and sentence you to death, effective immediately.” Bang! The gavel fell with a finality that left the room silent. The
trial seemed so quick, too quick to be legal. But when my existence is
considered illegal, I couldn’t imagine getting treated legally. My guards rushed
me out a side door and into a back room. My heart began to beat quicker.
Shower faucets stuck out of the
grimy, grey, tile walls. Dark color stained the grey, but I could not make out
what it was. The door slammed shut and I was left to my thoughts yet again. Slumping
to the ground, I prayed that Christ would give me the strength to finish this
test.
The
door suddenly opened and the judge came in, followed by a guard carrying a
large, very powerful-looking gun.
“I
have come to offer you one last chance, choose life and serve the government,
or keep your pathetic religion,” he said, and it sounded earnest, but there was
a hint of guilt in his voice.
I
stood to face him, “Sir, I have no religion. Christianity is about a
relationship with Christ, not following a set of rules. I cannot give up a
relationship.”
“This
is your last chance!” He screamed in my face, and this time the guard pointed
the barrel of his shotgun at my chest. My courage failed for an instant and I
almost recanted. But then I saw the pride and hate in their eyes and realized
that I would rather be dead, loving God, then alive, serving the Devil.
“I
cannot, sir.”
“We
will kill you! Do not give up your life for a God who doesn’t exist!” He almost
sounded desperate, but I was not convinced.
“Sir,
I will never recant, you can take my
life, but you can never ever take my
faith.”
“Very
well,” he replied, his voice taking on an evil tone, “Have it your way.”
Stepping
back, he nodded to the guard. I closed my eyes, a heavenly peace washing over
me.
The
blast shook the room and sent me flying backwards, my blood splattering the
walls. I blinked, several times as the pain set in. I knew at once that I was dying.
“So
much potential. If only he would have learned what was important…” This alone
makes feel sorry for the judge, but it is what he said next that made me truly
sad “… like I did.” This man had once claimed to be a Christian, but had never really been saved.
I
found breath to speak, even though my ribs were smashed and they hurt like I
imagined hell would, “No… if only you would serve Him.” My voice was gurgled and distorted because of the blood in my
mouth, but he did hear me. I knew because he looked at me one last time.
“Finish him,” he hissed, and then left
rather quickly. I let my eyelids fall, knowing it was the last time I would
ever do it. The last thing I saw was the soldier pointing the gun at my head,
only inches away. A smile crept over my face; not a sadistic smile, but a
peaceful, happy smile. I felt at peace, knowing that I did not betray my
Savior. I only hoped that I passed the test. There was a brief second of pain
as my skull was shattered, but then light floods my vision. Not light like I
saw on earth, but a brilliant light, countless times brighter than anything I
could have witnessed back there, only, my eyes can handle it. I begin to make
out a shape and a voice, a wonderfully glorious voice.
The voice says, “Welcome home, my
son.” Tears of joy spill down my face, I am finally home. In my Father’s house.
But He isn’t done talking, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
copyright 2012
Thanks for reading,
Simeon
