The echoes of the shouting crowd finally fade as dusk begins to settle between the iron bars blocking the light of the solid cinder room. The day is finally coming to an end. The throbbing pain aches as it creeps slowly down his back, shoulders and throughout his body. Quietly in the corner, his friend carefully weighs each breath of life while wiping away a random tear weakly providing little relief.
Examining the shades of blue, purple and crimson on his arms and legs, he acknowledges to himself it has been a horrendous day. His head pounds with each movement of his chest. He will not forget today. His thoughts linger and his heart kneels in prayer.
Slowly the memory of a song that has brought comfort in the past comes to mind. “We fall down, we lay our crowns . . . at the feet of Jesus”. Whispers of the tune invade his lips, and in soft tones of desperation, he starts to embrace the words to console his anxiety. As he reaches the interval, a warm baritone voice joins him from the corner, “We cry holy, holy, holy”. This is a familiar song. His mind wanders to many times in worship with his friends, raising his hands in adoration and being lost in the presence of the Spirit. The chords bring freedom and release from their pain and suffering.
Viciously threatened by his superiors, the man outside the room with the keys cautiously observes the two men within his care. He listens to their foreign words of praise and contemplates their meaning.
The songs of adoration continue and the prayers fill the alcoves of their confinement. Darkness occupies the room, it is midnight. Suddenly the cell begins to shiver and quake. Nothing is in focus, violent trembling moves and shatters the wooden blocks that constrict their feet. The ceiling caves as the foundation shifts, the doors of the jail fling open.
The loud crashes wake the man across the room. Hysterical he cries, “Bring me a flashlight! They’re gone! I can’t afford to be fired!” Another voice cries, “Don’t hurt yourself! We’re all here!” Shaking with fear, the man enters the room, and sees the wounded men standing before him. In recognizing their integrity and veracity in spite of knowing their likely outcome of torture, he pleads “What must I do to be saved?”
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