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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I was not sitting at a table in a police interrogation room. * Nor was I seated in front of a judge in a courtroom. It most resembled a hall of inquisition to eradicate every trace of Biblical Christianity from the face of the earth. Through the ages, there have been multiple tactics and tools utilized to accomplish such a task. Herein is simply the encounter that I personally experienced. There I sat, surprisingly fearless I might add, eager to give witness to 'the what and who of me' to a couple of inquisitors assigned to ascertain my answers to their questions. The Session: He inquired about the reasons I believed it, and I told him. He asked me what I believed, and I told him. She asked how long I had believed it, and I told her. She asked when it was that I first believed it, and I told her. He asked where I was when I first believed it, and I told him. She questioned why I continued to believe it, and I told her. The session, being finished to their satisfaction, they said, "You may go now". I was relieved that the session was over. But in a flash, a strong sense of uneasiness swept over me, whereupon I quickly requested their further attention. There was something deep inside of me that I needed to say. With questioning stares upon their faces, in unison they replied, "You may proceed". I said, "Sir, Mam. You inquired of the what of me but never the who of me". Again, with a questioning stare, they looked at me and then at each other. They then said in unison, "The who?" "Sir, Mam", I said. The what, the how, the where, the when, and the why. All of these answers to your questions are like vapors in the wind if I never gave to you and the world, the who of me. If the name of my who was never mentioned, this entire session would surely be in vain". With high-pitched voices, in unison they shouted, "By all means, do tell"! Like the slow formation of clouds, tears began to form in my eyes as I so humbly replied, "He was born of a virgin, put to death by crucifixion, resurrected on the third day, and ascended into heaven 40 days later. He is The Christ; I call Him Lord; He is the who of me, and His name is Jesus". My two inquisitors were speechless and in unison, pointed me to the door. 111022PS *Fiction. On this early November morning between 2 and 3 AM, this poem was born.
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