FALLEN

He opened his eyes. At least he thought he did. The darkness, though, proved an inescapable flood. 

The sound of nearby footsteps on dry leaves was the last thing he heard before he passed out and surrendered to the black of instant nothingness. 

Later, he had no idea how much later, he opened his eyes again and a brightness burned into his mind. He tried to lift his arm to block it, but nothing happened. After a few moments of near blindness, his vision softened at the edges where he saw long, thin, dark fingers as if they were reaching down for him. He seemed to be lying down. But where? 

He could not remember.

Breathing in from his nose, it felt as if a man were stepping on his chest. He smelled dirt and maybe cedar. He tried to turn his head, but instead, the darkness once again began to close in around his limited vision. Fear engulfed him. It was a fear like nothing he had ever experienced. It was deep and overpowering, yet lacked any sense of physical symptoms. 

Then the blackness returned. This time it lasted and it did not deprive him of thought. Confusion and terror dominated the images in his head. A squirrel with fangs standing in a pool of dark crimson blood. A red-hot iron rod searing the base of his spine. Children he did not recognize, but who seemed familiar, weeping at the edge of a muddy pond. 

The intensity of it jolted him awake. This time, he could see clearly. This time, he could remember. 

He stared at a tree. Seventeen feet straight up, he saw the hang-on hunting stand attached to it. He had sat in that stand dozens of times and remembered thanking God over and over for His creation every time a deer crossed below or a short-eared owl perched in the nearby oak. 

When he realized what had happened, he panicked. He tried to roll over. He tried to push himself up. He tried to turn his head. A dull pain seemed to probe from the back of his neck to his brain, but he could not move. 

He screamed, but he did not believe any sound came out. Even if it had there would be no one around to hear it. Something scampered through the leaves from nearby. 

That morning, he had walked to his stand in the dark and climbed the hang-on steps excited for what promised to be a cool autumn day with a gentle north breeze during the peak of the rut. The deer would be moving and he had been looking forward to being present with his bow when they did.  He had been full of hope that morning. 

Then he remembered his jacket catching on one of the steps. He remembered his foot slipping and then his head slamming into the top step as he tried to catch himself. He did not remember letting go. He did not remember falling. He did not remember hitting the ground.

His phone. He had to reach his phone to call for help. To call his wife and let her know what happened. His hand did not move. 

After realizing he could not move any of his muscles, he began to sob. It did not make sense. He was a husband. A father. A colleague. He told himself it was not real. He was just stunned. Maybe even still passed out—dreaming. He could not be paralyzed. This fate—if it were his fate—might be worse than death. For him and for his family. He would never hunt again. He would never feel the touch of his wife’s hand in his. He would never give another piggy back ride. He told himself had mostly been a good man. Sure, he made some mistakes, but he did not deserve this. Nobody did. 

His family would have to feed him, bathe him, do everything for him. What kind of life would that be for them? They did not deserve this. How could God allow this to happen? Why not just let him die.

A pain shot through is back as if he was being run through by a sword and he passed from consciousness. 

This time his dreams were vivid and almost coherent. The squirrel scrambled through the leaves, found an acorn and popped it into its cheek. The children were laughing. The pond was clear. His back was pain free. It was bright as if a thin layer of snow covered everything, yet the warmth was too soothing for winter. He was standing and seemed to be waiting for someone. Then he felt a presence and turned around but saw nothing—everything was gone. The squirrel, the kids, the pond, even the squirrel was gone. 

“Hear my words.” It was as if it had been whispered directly in his ear. At that moment, he awoke again. 

He still could not feel his arms or legs. Even the shooting pain had disappeared. Then he heard the voice again. This time it seemed to come from within him and from outside of him. It was more than a whisper. It was clear and penetrating. “I Am with you.” Then, after a pause, “I Am in you.”

For a moment, he felt at peace. He felt loved.

Then the fear returned. This time, the intensity of it seemed subdued. This time it seemed endurable as if there was an underlying reassurance that his fall was not meaningless or maybe it was more meaningless than he realized. 

His fall.  

Why?

Flashes of his life jumped through thoughts. Pride, lust, anger, sloth, envy. These were the sins that consumed most of his life and he hardly even realized it until now. His pride blinded his ability to see his failing. It was there, lying helpless on the ground, where he realized how far he had actually fallen. 

“Hear my Words.” 

Give to the man who begs from you…as we forgive those…love your enemies…

Familiar words he had heard or read so many times had never had so much meaning.

Give. Forgive. Love.

As he saw his life, he saw self-absorption. He was not the man he had convinced himself he was. And now lying helpless on the cold, hard ground, he finally realized how little he understood and how much he needed. He silently begged for forgiveness. 

The vibrating cell phone in his pocket pushed him from a peacefulness he had transcended into. A new kind of hope strengthened his focus. With little effort, he reached to answer the call and his muscles did not reject his intentions. He was grateful for another chance--no mater what that chance looked like.

So he was found. He was rescued. Then with help and lots of prayer and a great deal of pain, he eventually recovered from his fall. 

His life would never the same. And in time, he became thankful for that.