Faith I

The abrupt coolness of the hardwood floor tingled down my back and I gasped, leaping to my feet. My scuffles echoed across the colossal space. I braced myself on a table nearby, blinking away the swirls in my vision.

The room that surrounded me was of a pristine, polished wood and the setup of seating resembled that of a courtroom. My palm rested on what would be the desk for the prosecution, and the defendant table sat symmetrically. Every detail of a courtroom was present, including the jury box, the benches for spectators, and the judge’s stand. The only strange feature was the emptiness. The lights shone dimly, casting eerie shadows around the abandoned place. My panic seemed out of place in the quiet surroundings, a phantom moving through a court of gravestones.

I crept toward the court reporter’s desk, grasping for the only paper clues in this mysterious room. Retrieving the top file folder in a stack, the labelling tab had been scratched away and the contents emptied. I descried the hook of a J in the scribbled out name. This folder once likely contained documents about me, considering that I was the only one here, and the file was next on the stack. The defacement of my folder plagued me. Dropped into a place of judgement with no one to look down upon me and no evidence of my crimes. The solitude could mean deliverance or punishment.

The door behind the judge’s bench slammed open with a deafening crack that reverberated against the unlimited, smooth surfaces in the space. I jumped back, wondering if I should hide or flee from the stranger since I myself seemed to be a trespasser. Instead I simply froze in guilt and trepidation.

The man stood across from me and, upon locking eyes, he showed no surprise at my presence. His stance was astonishingly poised and erect, the form beneath his three piece suit bulging with an inhuman might. His age was indiscernible by appearance, yet I knew his milometer well. I recognized his aura before fully observing his physical form. He was the most powerful being in the universe.

“Father,” I addressed, trembling before him like a cur awaiting the whip.

He proved unreadable, entirely blank and untouched by mortal idiosyncrasies. He effortlessly waved a hand and the seat for the defendant swiveled out of place, obedient to his will.

“Sit,” he ordered.

I shuffled forward with my head lowered and settled in, sensing his wrath despite his lack of showing it.

“Where are we?” I braved. “I’ve never been here before.”

“You’ve never had a reason to be. This is purgatory.”

My heart sank into my gut and true fear seized me. I understood the consequences of my actions, but never expected a face to face with my father in purgatory. The peculiarity of the situation grew more and more perplexing.

I cleared my throat of the tension. “What reason do I have for being here now?”

God approached with measured steps and I instinctively recoiled. Once within reach, he held out a hand, prompting me to do the same. I carried out his will despite my apprehension and he flipped my palm up to examine it. His fingers methodically brushed against the puncture scar in the center of my hand, the symbol of my devotion to him. Then his inspection crawled up my wrist. My breath ceased as he hesitated there. His expression nearly wilted into a scowl, or perhaps I projected this mask onto him, my own paranoia supplying the disappointment.

He wrenched my sleeve to my elbow, exposing the forearm beneath. Damning, gruesome slits extended down my skin, the fading stream of my blood matting against my skin. The evidence of the harm I had done glared back at me. My stomach lurched at the sight, but I swallowed against it. Instead I doubled my resolve, remembering my reasons for the rash action. As I straightened my spine in defiance, God's wrath became clear.

Keeping my courage while cowering beneath my father’s glare proved challenging, but possible. “I won’t apologize.”

“How are you supposed to repent your sins if you don’t apologize?”

“I’m not repenting. I accepted my fate. I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Your fate was to remain on Earth." He hurled my hand aside.

“Earth had nothing for me. You made me believe it did, but it was all a lie.”

He heightened to a more menacing stature. “I have never lied.”

“You made me believe that I could bring world peace. I returned to a world that didn’t want to be saved and you gave me no guidance."

“I tried to, you just didn’t listen.”

Losing control of myself, I sprang out of my seat to speak at eye-level with my heavenly father.

“Don’t blame me. I’m done taking blame. I’m done groveling at your feet begging for forgiveness. If that’s why you brought me here, we should end this now.”

Taking advantage of his omnipotence, he exuded a power that I had never witnessed, and one that I had no hope of opposing. From an outside eye, nothing changed, yet a pulse of energy boomed from his chest, stumbling me backward and returning me to my shrunken state. To show off the ease of his superiority, he folded his hands in front of himself and, with complete collectiveness, said, “Sit down.”

I sank back into the defendant seat as if a physical force dragged me into it.

“State your sin,” he commanded.

“If this is a trial, shouldn’t I have a judge and jury, or a defense attorney for that matter?”

“I sent them away. This isn’t within their jurisdiction. I decide where you go from here.”

I raised an eyebrow at the condemning gashes on my arms. “What is there to decide?”

An odd emotion crossed the face of the almighty. He dropped his gaze and his lips tightened. If I had to name the subtle, human behavior, the nearest comparison would be shame. This miniscule told all, however, and I lifted from my seat once more, ignoring his silent reprimands.

“I’m not supposed to be here. You made an exception. You broke the rules.” I shook my head. “I don’t want any special treatment. I knew what I was signing up for.”

He snatched my hands. “Yes, but you also did this.” He indicated to the scars of the crucifixion.

“I died for everyone else’s sins, not my own. I would never ask you to intervene.”

“You didn’t ask." With a huff, he strode away.

“Then what?” I barked after him. “Are you really considering letting me come home? Having me sit at your right hand as if nothing happened?”

He faltered over his next words, as much as God is capable of faltering. “The alternative is sending you off to burn in hell for eternity, so there are things to consider.”

“No, there's not. You can’t bend the rules for me.”

“It’s not up to you.” He snuck up behind me and pressed a hand down on my shoulder, returning me into the chair for a third time. He repeated, “State your sin.”

Gritting my teeth, I recited, “Over two thousand years after the ascension, you sent me back to Earth. And when I saw how irreparable the world had become, I took my own life. But I’m not sorry. And I fully accept my damnation.” I pursed my lips, maintaining an ounce of resistance. 

His ire peeked through the cracks of his composure. “Why are you so determined to go to hell?”

“I already prepared myself to face punishment.”

“But I’m offering you a way out."

“I don’t care.” I clawed my nails into the wood of my chair. “I’m done following you.”

He flung a hand at a side door, traditionally the entrance and exit for convicts on Earth, and it gave way underneath his godly strength. The courtroom façade ended outside this doorway and nothingness lay beyond. A blackness engulfed everything beyond that wall, but the dark seemed to possess a life of its own. The atoms of the abyss vibrated with a hunger, a devouring desire to consume every morsel of reality. The void chomped at the courtroom and I feared it would consume us, but the jaws of it hit a barrier within the doorway, an unseen force constraining it. I predicted that this force was not such a mystery, but most likely emanated from the deity beside me. He held back the darkness, all the while never needing to lift a finger to flex his power.

Cold and complacent, he waved to the daunting gateway. “Then go.”

To be continued in Faith II...

© 2020 by Kelsey Garber