My knees contacted with rocky ground.
I fell to my face. Blood oozed from cuts on my arms.
The fall had been a long one. Every bone in my body told me so.
I vaguely remembered things I had passed during my fall.
Memories that hurt.
I tried to call for help, but my voice cracked and filled with dust.
I tried to lift myself to my feet, but no strength remained.
Why was I here? Could I get out?
Could it get worse?
A stench. My own body putting off an odor so bad I gagged.
A cry of anguish. My cry of anguish.
Somewhere from below a voice called my name.
A sickening voice.
A voice of darkness.
Could I possibly fall father towards that voice?
I tried to block out the voice, but how tempting it began to sound.
I wanted to resist.
But I had no strength.
A thought crossed my mind.
A silly thought.
Why would I ever look up?
I didn't even know if I had the strength to.
But somehow, I did.
Using every ounce of energy I had left, I lifted my head and looked up.
A hand was reaching out.
Where had that come from?
I reached out and took hold of the hand.
The voice of darkness shrieked in pain below me.
The hand held my own firmly.
A new strength filled my bones.
The hand began to pull me out.
And with every moment that passed, my strength grew.
Memories began to fade.
The only thing that mattered now was the one who's hand had helped me.
My feet touched soft grass.
I looked at my arms.
My wounds had turned to scars.
Scars I knew would heal if only I kept reaching for that hand.
Reaching for Christ.
How long had that hand been there?
Somehow I knew it had been there all along.
Patiently waiting for me to look up.
A hand that is there right now.
Reaching out towards you.
Will you look up?
Philippians 3:12-14, "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."