The Peak of Inspiration

An Easter Story

I will tell you a little about my life.  My life with the bars in front of me, and with me behind them. 

I was a prisoner, and with good reason.  I owed a huge debt.  A debt many years in the making.  Debt handed to me, in part, by my father, and by my father’s father.  Debt accumulated over untold generations.  And while I’d like to blame it all on them, I can’t.  I played a part too.  Many poor choices, a few unintentional, but many that were not.  Every one of them adding to the hopelessness of ever being free.

The creditors came calling.  They always do.  That is their right.  And, truthfully, I couldn’t hold it against them.  I was in debt to them, fair and square.  I always knew they would come, I just wasn’t sure when. 

Well, they came.  And they didn’t give me any choices, and soon I found myself looking through the bars instead of passing by them.  But that wasn’t all.  Creditors are relentless, and these were exceptionally so.  Prison wasn’t the only punishment, and it took a minute for another truth to penetrate my consciousness.  The truth was this: prison did not cancel the debt.  Their message was clear, “Find a way to pay, or else”.  What they said, without actually saying it, was “or else you will die”.

You should probably know something about this debt.  Something to give you an idea of the fix I was in.  Even on a good day, with all the tools and products known to man at my disposal, it would have been impossible to create the income needed to service the interest, let alone the principal, of this debt.  If I would have somehow possessed all the gift and talent in the world, if my services commanded top level fees, if I wasn’t physically limited in the amount I could produce, I still could not have paid the debt.  And remember, that was life before prison.  Prison changes everything.  It robs you of opportunities.  It takes your potential.  It closes the open doors.  It wicks away your energy and evaporates your motivation.  Prison is where everything stops. 

And so, while it might look to the casual eye like I had a choice, in reality, I didn’t.  I would die.  And you can be assured that it would not be a quiet, peaceful passing.  No, my masters would use me as an example.  I would learn a lesson, it would be the last one I ever learned.  Not only would I be the student, I would also be a teacher.  I would be used as an example to teach others what not to do.    

A deadline was set.  A date that, if it was passed and the debt was still owed, I would find out just exactly what the “or else” would include.  And in another cruel twist to the scheme, I was not privileged with knowing the date.  I would wait in suspense for my number to be called. 

I spent my days there, caught between freedom and death.  In that awful middle ground of hopelessness.  Caught in a trap.  Freedom on every side, but no way to reach it.

Here is a truth about bars that no one ever talks about.  Bars are not like walls.  You can’t see through walls, but you can through bars.  Walls stop sound, bars do not.  I could see freedom, I could smell it, I could hear the sound it makes.  But the bars held me there, on the opposite side of everything that was good.  That in itself is torment enough.  To be able to see, but not experience.  To smell, but not taste.  To imagine, but not realize.

I could talk at length about the things that the bars make you do, and about the things they keep you from doing.  Summarize everything, and you are left with a black and white contrast.  Lonesomeness vs. Friendship.  Tears vs. Smiles.  Defeat vs. Victory.  Death vs. Life

Well, I didn’t die.  I’m writing this on the other side of the bars, and you should know why. 

One day I heard about a man.  In truth, I had heard about him before, even caught glimpses of him at the prison.  Word had reached me of the benefits of believing in what he offered.  I just never really thought my debt qualified for his debt forgiveness offer.  My debt was so large, and it was, well, mine. 

He stopped by my cell one day.  Average looking man, intelligent eyes, strong heart.  Called me by name.  Said he had heard about my situation from his dad.  Apparently, they would discuss cases like mine now and then.  And he chose to drop by and see if he could make a difference in my situation before it was too late.   

I told him I would listen, hear him out at least.  I had no better option.  To his credit, he kept it simple and easy for my heart to comprehend.  “I’ll pay your debt.  You leave this place and all the bars, and come work for me”.  He did take a minute to explain that this was, in fact, my only hope.  That there was no other source that would, or even could, pay a debt like mine.  This was my chance, and this was my choice.

I was out of options.  My number could be called any moment.  So, I made him a promise.  Free me, and I will be yours. 

And you know what, that singing I heard drifting through the bars?  That’s me now.  I’m the one making those sounds.  I’m the one climbing the hills, I’m the one breathing the fresh air. 

When I look down, and back, I can still see the bars.  But I am on the other side now.  They do not hold me back.  They do not fracture the sunlight.  They are not gripped in my pale hands. 

I may never fully understand just how he did it.  Some of it remains a mystery to me.  But this I do know.  I had a debt and I was in prison.  He paid the debt and I am free. 

I live now, working for the Debt Payer.  I enjoy it, how could I not?  He bought my life, gave it back to me, and now I’m giving it to Him.  That, I think, is the circle of love.

I cannot leave you without passing this on.  If you see the bars, if they are in front of you, stopping your progress, if they hold you prisoner, if you find yourself with a debt that you are unable to pay, take this from me.  You can be free.  This same Jesus is looking for you.