Extreme Love (cont'd from May 6 post)

Soon, I saw the familiar labyrinth of air supply channels and chambers again.  But this time I noticed a kind of meter in the pathway that was measuring the rate of air flow that I was receiving.  I sensed that I was no longer getting an adequate amount to breathe normally.  As I recall, it was now at about 3.5 (whatever that meant) and I did not know what it had been.

Somehow, I did know that the flow was going to continue being gradually reduced and made up my mind to be as relaxed as possible to conserve energy.  I realized that ultimately there would not be enough air to survive and that this was probably the final stage to insure that I was really dead.  But why was I even being supplied air at all, if they did not know that I was still alive, unless it was all part of a devilish plot to extend and exacerbate my torment?

As the meter reading dropped, I once again heard what was purported to be Sherril’s voice softly telling me, “Breathe deeply,” and, “Take long slooo….breaths.”  Right!  What else was I supposed do with my air supply being cut? 

As if to add further insult, I heard her voice again later, this time reading the Bible and starting to cry.  “There’s no limit to the extent they will go to add to suffering in this evil place,” I thought.

As my struggle to breathe wore on, my thoughts and my prayers began to focus on Jesus.  I visualized Him, suffering on the cross for me, and thanked Him repeatedly for loving me so much.  He had chosen to pour out His own blood, paying the price for all my sins, and had overcome death for me.  I saw images of Him in his ultimate humiliation and extreme suffering actually winning the battle of the ages over our adversary and accuser, the devil. 

I thought how minor my little affliction was in comparison to what Jesus had endured.  Even so, in my waning endurance, I felt the need more than once to reaffirm my commitment to Him to go through this if it would bring Him honor.  Strangely, in doing so I received strength and assurance. 

I hesitate to draw any comparison between my suffering and His, yet in a very small way I was able to identify with one of the many ways in which He suffered.  Crucifixion was such a heinous and brutal means of torture and execution.  Among its many-pronged forms of inflicting pain was the slow and agonizing loss of strength to breathe.  It was customary for the Romans to break the legs of their victims to hasten their death.  Being unable to raise their bodies enough to relieve the tension on their chests, they would soon suffocate. 

Even in His dying moments, Jesus was still in charge.  He had told His disciples that he had power to lay His life down and to take it up again.  When He had completed the mission of bearing the condemnation that was due all of mankind, He yielded His spirit to the Father and died when He chose, much to the surprise of the Roman soldiers.  For that reason His legs were not broken, fulfilling an ancient prophecy about Messiah.

The meter was now down to about 1.5.  I wished that I could just push a button and simply die.  But the end was not yet.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8 (NASB)

(to be continued…)