Discussion in 'Spirituality/Worship' started by ValleyGirl89, Aug 28, 2003.

  1. ValleyGirl89

    ValleyGirl89 New Member

    You gotta let me know what to call ya, which ever name you prefer, I just can't seem to get used to calling you anything but Takesha!! I know what with everyones busy schedule and all the many posts and prayer requests, that it is hard to respond and keep up with everything.. so, I am in no hurry for you to get back to me, just take your time, but Mamafrey mentioned to me in one of her posts that I should read your post "Splinter from the Cross" and I would very much like to read it but I can't seem to find it. Like I said, take your time in getting back to me, no hurry, no pressure, just really interested in reading it!
  2. Takesha

    Takesha New Member

    Good Morning Sis,
    You may call me Takesha or Rachele whatever is more comfortable for you. I just wanted to let everyone know my real name, so if I write from my personal email they will know who is writing. I also thought it would be easier for those who already knew, to have me "come clean" it gets a little complincated to address someone by one name and then another. I get confused myself. The name "Takesha" was given to me by an couple who I met thru my last job. They got stranded here in NM, and she became sick. I scheduled an appointment for her, and we all became acquainted. I am half Sioux myself, but never knew my birthfather, or the traditions. After hearing my story, they gave me an Indian name which is suppose to mean "woman who walks the earth with pride" they said the name suits me because after all that I have been threw in my life, I still hold my head up and reach out to those who have injured me, and to others in general. Don't know how true that is...but I like it and use it often on line.
    I have cut and pasted the Splinter from the cross for you. It was posted on 8/12 so it was a few pages back. If you ever want to read posts that have been made by someone, you can click on their name in the left hand column and it will bring up all their posts, you may have to click a few times on the link that says "read previous posts" but it will keep bringing up anything they have ever posted. That's how I found this one again, I think I had to go back about three pages or so.
    I hope you have a great day. Hugs to you.
    Takesha ( I am so use to using this, I do it automatically!)

    There I sat once again, trying to sort out the truth. That nagging feeling had been chewing away at me, little by little, piece by piece, until nothing was left but raw, irritated nerves.

    As always, I cried out to my Savior, my Lord, my God, tired, with desperation in my voice: "Jesus, I can't take this lonely road again. I've walked it so many times before yet it leads me nowhere . . . . "I swallowed the words but the thoughts numbed my brain as they drudged on unharnessed . . . . . nowhere but to the end of my emotions -- to the void; that immense gulf of painfully cold blackness.

    "My child," He called softly. "Yes, Lord . . . ?"
    "How is it that you still don't trust Me?"
    His voice was warm and deep.
    "Lift your eyes to Mine."
    And with that He gently placed His hand beneath my chin and brought my face opposite His. Looking into His eyes I saw something I'd never seen before. There, a single tear swelled and spilled over His dark lashes and down His smooth olive skin. First one, then another. His heart was breaking for me. I lifted my hand to wipe the tears from His cheek, pausing to caress the precious face of my Jesus. Then He took my hand gently into His own. I winced as my fingers touched the scar. He cupped His other hand over mine and with a pat of reassurance, in that same soothing voice, said,

    "Follow Me. There is nothing to fear."

    With that He let go of my hand and turned and walked away.

    There before Him I saw that road -- just as I'd always seen it before. But this time, Jesus walked ahead of me. I knew I had to follow. The road was long and winding. It was narrow and rocky. The incline sharp and steady. My feet were heavy and each step became harder to take. I slowed to a crawl, but Jesus kept His pace and soon was far ahead of me, out of sight. It seemed as though hours had passed as I neared the end of the road. But my heart was full of anticipation. I knew my Lord would be waiting for me, arms opened wide, just around the next corner. I wouldn't have to face the void alone this time. Filthy, exhausted and out of breath I finally reached the end. As I rounded the last corner I couldn't believe my eyes. Shocked and horrified a cry of agony filled my lungs as I fell to my knees ....


    There before me hung my precious Jesus, once again nailed upon the tree. His skin hung in ribbons. Blood flowed freely down that smooth olive face as the thorns dug deep into His skull. There at the foot of the cross I wept, and once again I looked into His face.

    "Why?" I asked Him pleadingly. "Why did You do this for me?"
    He pushed Himself up on the
    nail in His feet and gasped a reply I didn't expect.

    "The question, -- My child, -- is not why?, -- But what now? What -- will you -- do with -- Me now?"

    "I don't know what You mean,"

    I sobbed.

    "What choices do I have?"

    Then there appeared next to me a large bucket, filled with a lifetime of atrocities. The stench was sickening, more hideous than anything I'd ever experienced before. It was all I could do not to wretch at the sight of it.
    I looked again to the mutilated figure on the cross and, shaking my head, I pleaded.

    "I just don't understand."

    Again He put all His weight on His feet and spoke in painful gasps.

    "Throw -- it -- on -- Me."


    I screamed.

    "I can't!

    I don't understand, my Lord . . . please help me understand!"
    I continued frantically.

    "You've already taken my sins, why must You do it again?"

    "These aren't -- your sins --, My child, -- but -- the sins -- of the -- ones you seek."

    "You mean, the ones who hurt me . . . ," I said quietly. It was more of a statement than a question.

    "But You've already taken their sins too; why must You do this again?"

    "My precious -- child,"

    He spoke lovingly.

    "Each time -- you seek them out -- you drive the nails -- into Me -- all over again. Until you -- let go -- of the past, -- until you -- forgive them,
    -- I will hang here -- suspended in agony."

    With that I grabbed the bucket and flung it as hard as I could away from my Savior into the void beyond the cross. Then I threw myself at the foot of that tree. There I clung with all my might, sobbing uncontrollably.

    "I forgive them," I cried. "I forgive them!"

    An angel came at that moment and released my sweet Jesus and the two of them soon disappeared from view. I released my painful grip of the cross and pulled myself to my feet. I looked at my own hands and forearms, and again I gazed in astonishment.

    There, deeply embedded in my hands and arms, were splinters from the cross. As I pulled each of the shards from my own soft white flesh, the wounds immediately began to heal. Then, in a moment, the blackness of the void was overtaken by the glorious light of the Son of God.

    I Was Free.

    Author Unknown

  3. ValleyGirl89

    ValleyGirl89 New Member

    Thanks for your quick reply... I will continue to call you Takesha if that is ok with you. It is a beautiful name and I love it's meaning. I don't know if you have read my profile, but I just love anything to do with Native American heritage. Anyways, I just loved the post that you "dug" up for me and hope it wasn't too much trouble. I have never thought of myself to be the emotional type, but let me tell you that when I read this story, the flood gates to my emotions burst open! It was so touching! I'm glad Mama mentioned it because I probably never would have gotten to read it. Thanks again Takesha