[Guest Post] The Fort - A Retreat Reflection

(The following is a short story that was written by a Watermarker as a personal reflection based off of their experiences at the Watermark retreat.  It is definitely worth the read.  Would you consider sharing your own reflection?)

The Fort

It was quite strange that only in the serene wilderness of the park I was able to see my own fortress from a fresh position.  I was astonished by the majestic structure.  A series of towers mounted atop the concrete walls, with artillerymen guarding the batteries.  It was surrounded by a moat, and the drawbridge was raised.  So proudly it stood.

The trees rustled in the cool breeze.  It was night time, and the sky was particularly starry, yet I watched over the fortress with a great degree of clarity.  Eagerly I scrutinized its structure from the inside out in an attempt to find myself.  Naturally, I saw me pacing back and forth inside my commanding chamber.  Amused, I observed more closely my comical self. Something else caught my attention, however.  Something was happening, far away from the fort.

Jesus walked on undauntedly with a sense of mission, despite the whips of His persecutors and the derisions of the crowd.  A large cross was balancing on his shoulder.  His face was bloodied, for he was wearing a wreath of thorns, His clothing was scanty, for they had torn off his gowns, His knees were scraped, for he had collapsed under the burden of the cross, and his feet were blistered, for He had walked on the road of suffering.

The scene inside the fort could betray its seemingly impregnable exterior.  The soldiers’ barracks were littered with remnants of narcotic drugs, empty liquor barrels, or obscene matters.  The soldiers were constantly prone to materialistic lust.  Because of the lack of discipline, they were incompetent when defending against the siege of Satan the Tempter.  However, the soldiers were surprisingly capable of resisting any attacks from the call to change.  For this reason, I sat in my quarter with the illusion of peace.

Inside of my tiny commanding chamber, there was a copy of the holy bible, sealed by dust, placed on my desk.  Fixed on the wall of the room were a crucifix and a stone tablet on which engraved the words from the song Amazing Love, a song I deeply enjoyed.

 I’m forgiven, because you were forsaken

I’m accepted, you were condemned

I’m alive and well, your spirit is within me

Because you died and rose again.

Amazing love, how can it be?

That you my king would die for me

Amazing love, I know it’s true

It’s my joy to honor you.

In all I do I honor you.

A messenger knocked on my door frantically, calling in an urgent voice, “Commander, He’s here!  He’s here!”  I opened the door and inquired, “Who’s here?”  He replied, “Jesus Christ.”  My heart skipped a beat.  I rushed to a watch tower with the messenger tailed behind me and looked, and, sure enough, He was there, standing across the moat, a wreath on his head and a cross on his shoulder.  I panicked.  I yearned for Him, yet I did not want him here, for mine is a fort of sins and shame, a fort which had ignored His callings.  I swirled around and stormed back to my room, leaving the messenger in bewilderment.

Behind the securely locked door I sat and stared at the crucifix and the stone tablet on the wall.  I wondered.  Why are You here?  Why me?  Why did you suffer for us?  I understood that suffering does have a redemptive quality.  History and even psychoanalysis had proven that.  But you suffered not for Your own redemption, but for us, the whole of humanity.  You suffered to give us a gift.  I knew that You selflessly loved us, and bore that crushing burden of love, but what have we sinners done to deserve the gift of Your holy agape.  How could it be that you, my king, would suffer for me?

 

It amazed me and puzzled me to think that only through the road of suffering Jesus was able to reach our heart to give us the gift whether we wish to receive it or not.  If He knocked on the door and we refused to answer, He waited patiently outside until the hour when we are finally ready to open the door of our heart and receive the gift, and He, our Lord, would offer us the gift with no less sincerity.  How could it be?

 

I contemplated the words on the stone tablet, then I read it out, eventually singing it with my heart.  Am I ready to accept him, the King who died for us?  Maybe, maybe not.  But I knew what I had to do.  The option was so manifest that other options virtually ceased to exist.  I gave what I truly hope would be my final commands: disable the defenses, drop the weapons, lower the draw bridge, withdraw the flag, and for those who are without discipline, evacuate the fort at once.

 

With wild anticipation I proceeded.  Was Jesus going to condemn me for the much belated command?  Was he going to first denounce me as a hypocrite?  Or was he simply going to bestow the blessings of his gift on me?  Do I deserve the gift?

 

This is the mystery.  Why does he love us?  Because He created us.  Why did he create us?  Because of his selfless love.  Why does he love us? 

 

Ah, that is the mystery.

 

I knelt down in front of Him, who, in spite of the wreath and the onerous cross, still stood with unwavering patience.  I held His legs.  “My King, my Lord, don’t leave me,” I cried.