10-30-2013, 07:30 AM
John laughed.
Jensen was speechless. Which was a rather impressive feat because he could talk for hours about pretty much anything.
It was clear John was uninterested in wiping Jensen off the face of the planet. Therefore, he pushed warily to stand. His shoulders dragged, and he rubbed tired eyes.
Movement caught his attention. John had pulled contacts from his eyes, and a further dumbfounded Jensen gaped at what was revealed. The man's irises glowed yellow life. There was nothing inherently evil about the color of a man's irises, but Jensen wanted to recoil nonetheless. He felt pinned by the snarling gaze of a predator. He'd never been more afraid of someone since himself, and thoughts of the heavenly host appearing in the skies above the shepherds announcing the birth of Christ flashed emotion through his memory, but somehow despite nerves fraying close to terror, he stood his ground and listened to what the man had to say.
He shook his head, prone to believe in John's inherent innocence more than his own. Jensen had killed a man in cold-blooded revenge. He deceived millions of viewers. He'd counseled how many young people exactly like himself to change their ways!? He betrayed his wife, abandoned his sons, and fled into the shadows like a coward. God would not bless such a vile son with heavenly power. The only comparison he could make was to Saul, a man that hunted Christians of the early church and saw them tortured and crucified, was chosen to be the Lord's on the Damascus Road, but surely after all Jensen had done, he was beyond similar redemption. He was no Apostle Paul.
Jensen followed John back to their seats, and sank onto his. He hid his face in his hands while the man issued his question. He knew then. Who and what he was. Yet he still offered the commission. Jensen looked up, eyes rimmed glistening and red. It had never really occurred to him that despite everything he'd done he could still serve. With all his heart it's what he wanted. With every fiber of his being he wanted the Lord's peace again.
His gaze cleared sure as if he'd been washed in the Blood anew.
"Yes,"
he answered breathlessly. Though he had no idea where to begin. In fact, the idea was enormously daunting, but before worry could overcome, he took solace in the cradling arms of the Holy Spirit he'd not sensed in years. Comfort would not be enough, though. He was going to need John's help to carry on. He licked his lips and uttered the phrase that was only hollow words the first time he'd said them, a blasphemous promise for a man that wanted to Pastor the church, but now, his soul sang them. "I am willing,"
and strands of joyous tears fell unabashed.
Jensen was speechless. Which was a rather impressive feat because he could talk for hours about pretty much anything.
It was clear John was uninterested in wiping Jensen off the face of the planet. Therefore, he pushed warily to stand. His shoulders dragged, and he rubbed tired eyes.
Movement caught his attention. John had pulled contacts from his eyes, and a further dumbfounded Jensen gaped at what was revealed. The man's irises glowed yellow life. There was nothing inherently evil about the color of a man's irises, but Jensen wanted to recoil nonetheless. He felt pinned by the snarling gaze of a predator. He'd never been more afraid of someone since himself, and thoughts of the heavenly host appearing in the skies above the shepherds announcing the birth of Christ flashed emotion through his memory, but somehow despite nerves fraying close to terror, he stood his ground and listened to what the man had to say.
He shook his head, prone to believe in John's inherent innocence more than his own. Jensen had killed a man in cold-blooded revenge. He deceived millions of viewers. He'd counseled how many young people exactly like himself to change their ways!? He betrayed his wife, abandoned his sons, and fled into the shadows like a coward. God would not bless such a vile son with heavenly power. The only comparison he could make was to Saul, a man that hunted Christians of the early church and saw them tortured and crucified, was chosen to be the Lord's on the Damascus Road, but surely after all Jensen had done, he was beyond similar redemption. He was no Apostle Paul.
Jensen followed John back to their seats, and sank onto his. He hid his face in his hands while the man issued his question. He knew then. Who and what he was. Yet he still offered the commission. Jensen looked up, eyes rimmed glistening and red. It had never really occurred to him that despite everything he'd done he could still serve. With all his heart it's what he wanted. With every fiber of his being he wanted the Lord's peace again.
His gaze cleared sure as if he'd been washed in the Blood anew.
"Yes,"
he answered breathlessly. Though he had no idea where to begin. In fact, the idea was enormously daunting, but before worry could overcome, he took solace in the cradling arms of the Holy Spirit he'd not sensed in years. Comfort would not be enough, though. He was going to need John's help to carry on. He licked his lips and uttered the phrase that was only hollow words the first time he'd said them, a blasphemous promise for a man that wanted to Pastor the church, but now, his soul sang them. "I am willing,"
and strands of joyous tears fell unabashed.