Is God my savior? Should I beg repentance? On Judgment Day, shall I have admittance? I don't have to live my life by the Bible or do I?

I stand in the midst of a dying world, and the questions burn inside me like an unquenchable fire. Is God truly my Savior? The weight of that question presses down on my soul with an urgency I can no longer avoid.

The world tells me to live freely, untethered to ancient texts, to abandon the idea of sin as though it were a relic of a distant past. But my heart-my heart trembles. Should I beg repentance? Should I fall to my knees and confess the darkness that clings to me like a second skin?

Oh, Judgment Day!

The mere thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. Will I be welcome inside those pearly gates, or will the sinister darkness that I so often toy with pull me into eternal despair?

I have danced with sin, I confess it. I have turned my back on the Word, on the teachings of Christ, as though they were mere stories. Yet, in the stillness of night, his words return to me like a whisper on the wind.Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."

I imagine myself standing among the crowd as Jesus uttered those words. The woman, broken and shamed, kneels before Him, her fate sealed by the laws of men. But Jesus, with that piercing gaze, strips away their pride, their self-righteousness.

I see myself holding a stone, ready to cast it, ready to judge-and yet I, too, am not without sin. My hands tremble, the stone falls to the ground. Should someone have cast her abone? Should someone have shown her mercy, lifted her up instead of condemning her?

Many are confused, lost in a fog of indecision, unsure whether to live and die with or without Jesus. I, too, have stood at that crossroads. Should I accept the love of Christ into my heart, let it flood my being like a raging river?

Or should I turn away, embracing the cold comfort of this world? I have seen the destruction in people's eyes, the hatred that simmers beneath their smiles, the insidious discrimination that divides us. Their hearts are empty, hollowed out by pride, and yet there is no repentance.

John 14:12-18
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do"

The words of Jesus echo through my mind, and I wonder-was He telling us that we, too, could perform miracles if only we had enough of His Christ light within us?

Is that the secret, the truth He was trying to reveal to His twelve disciples? That the power to heal, to transform, lies not in our hands but in our hearts, in the depth of our faith?

I look at the world around me-so full of sin, so eager to cast off the yoke of God as though it were some burden to be shed. People live in fornication, in deceit, pretending that they will never answer for their deeds.

They cling to their positions, their power, their status as though those things will save them. But one of the greatest gifts God gave us is the gift of free will-the conscience, the ability to choose good or evil, moment by moment.

But I ask myself-am I consciously choosing shadows over my entrance to heaven's gate? Every sin, every lie, every moment of weakness feels like another brick in the wall that separates me from my Creator. And yet, I have free will. I can choose. I can turn away from the shadows and step into the light, but the battle rages on within me.

The world mocks the idea of sin, of judgment, but deep down, we all know the truth. We all feel it. That gnawing doubt, that fear that maybe, just maybe, there is more to life than what we see. That there is a reckoning, a day when we will stand before God and answer for the choices we've made.

And so I stand, trembling, torn between the world and the Word, between sin and salvation. Should I beg for repentance? Should I fall to my knees and cry out to God for forgiveness, for mercy?

I feel the weight of my sins pressing down on me, and yet, even in the darkest moments, there is a flicker of hope. That maybe, just maybe, I am not beyond saving. That Christ, in His infinite love, is waiting for me to turn to Him.

Will I?

© Charles Kemp