The Hole In The Ground

I was dumbfounded.

Bamboozled, stunned, bewildered. Whatever you call it, I was it all, and it was all because he told me to look in.

It was a bright and sunny day when he appeared and he showed me the hole. “Go over there,” he said, “and look in.”

“Why?” I argued. “There is nothing to see.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

Of course, I didn’t know, but for some reason I didn’t feel good about it. After all, the view was fine as it was and the place he pointed at seemed dark and even ominous. I had no interest in seeing what he wanted to show me.

“Look at the trees over there,” I argued back. “The fields have a delightful scent and are covered in blossoms. Perhaps we’ll spot a deer or an eagle if we remain perfectly still.”

“I know the trees and the fields are beautiful,” he said, “After all, I made them.” But as he spoke, I detected a hint of tender sadness. “But today is not the day for such things. Today, I want you to look in.” He pointed again to that dark hole in the ground.

I sighed. Why did he insist? Although he’d always been kind, I was sure I wouldn’t appreciate his revelation. In a final effort to convince him, I proposed that a later time might be preferable. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

He shook his head and his eyes were moist. “Today is the day of salvation. Tomorrow doesn’t exist.”

I swallowed hard and my mind raced in circles. He probably knew better and I hated to disappoint him. To see sadness in his eyes was almost more than I could bear.

At last, I nodded. “I go,” I said and made a hesitant first step forward.

“Everything will be alright,” he reassured me. “I’ll be right there beside you.”

And so I moved forward to the gaping hole in the ground. A foul smell hit me as I approached. I knew it; this was going to be bad. I looked up, praying he’d say I had gone far enough and had done what he asked. He didn’t say that. Instead, he encouraged me with a smile to walk on.

Now I stood at the edge.

“Come on,” he said. “Look in.”

I pressed my lips together, blinked my eyes and peered over the edge and I wanted to scream.

I may have, but the sight was so overwhelming that it’s all a bit of a blur now. It was as if I were staring into a mirror and I faced … myself. Yes, I saw myself, but the image I saw was not the image I knew I had.

As far as I remembered, I was strong, good looking, and smart. I took pride in my perfectly combed hair; it was a key part of my charm and always impressed the girls I wanted to attract. I exuded a politically correct scent, while my eyes revealed a wealth of wisdom. Or so I thought.

For that was not what I saw in the mirror.

What a horror it was. In the mirror, I looked pale and sick. My hair was matted and greasy and would never impress anyone, except for maybe the witch of Endor. And there was no wisdom in my eyes, but they radiated selfishness and egotism. And… I stank.

While the ground around me began to turn I became dizzy. “God,” I remember shouting, “Help me. I am falling in.”

He grabbed me and as a tender warmth spread through my body, the hole in the ground disappeared. Just like that.

But I wept. Dumbfounded by what I had seen. Bitter tears streamed down my cheeks and as my shoulders shook, he tightened his grip around me. Oh, how good it felt.

I didn’t dare to look up into his face, but he understood. “I just had to show you,” he whispered barely audible above my sobs. “You just had to see what sin looks like to the Father, and why I came to die on the cross.”

Now I looked up, tears and all. Deep gratitude welled up and I whispered, “Lord, I never understood, but now I know. I am a sinner. Be merciful unto me.”

I am sure I heard an angel choir when his answer came and he said, “Enter thou into the joy of the Lord. You are now washed clean by the blood of the Lamb.”