By Max Polson
Your reign is like a yoke around my neck, you lay it upon me. But I let you; willingly I stand there and let you bind me. I cannot break from it; its grasp is too strong for me to break. The weight I can no longer bear, you won’t help me, and you just sit there and mock me as I fall in the dirt. I fall time and time again; I ask for help but receive none.
As I walk along the beaten path, I run from you. In hopes of freedom I run as fast and far as I can, only to look back and see that you follow me ever so close, you see to it that I get what I deserved; you punish me with guilt and shame for running, for seeking hope of a life of freedom.
You stand there before me staring at me with big, looming eyes, looking down upon me with hate. I am frightened by you at times; your face has stopped the strongest and most fearless men dead in their tracks, you break them down to a mere pulp of what they used to be. You destroy them. You destroy everything.
I am bound under your yoke. You tear me down and then bring me back up, you take all I have and still it is never enough. I fight for my life, only to fail miserably. I need hope, but I look around and find none. On this broken and tattered road I walk, I look at them, but they do not care for me, or my soul. I walk like a prisoner, a prisoner of war is what I am; I am deprived of rest, food, water and love. I seek his face in the midst of it all, but he has turned away from me. Where has he gone?
I walk ever further, I ask him who gave me this yoke “Where am I walking to? Where are you taking me?” He looks at me with much rage; he grabs me by my face and says, “To my Kingdom where you will bear this yoke for all eternity, and you shall be my slave.” As these words pass his lips I hear a chorus of serpents behind it. His words sting and pierce my soul like a thousand arrows. I feel them dig into me and burn, like acid on my skin, they burn deep and hot. I beg for mercy, he just laughs at me and kicks me in my side, and continues to walk along. He picks me up to my feet. I look to where my hope stands, and I see tears streaming from his face; Tears that grieve for me.
I walk further and further, I scream from pain, I can no longer take it, it is worse today. He will not even let me stop for a short breath, I find no rest with him; he has deceived again, he said that it would be a good day, a day that I can finally eat and drink. But I have not yet been fed, and I still suffer from my thirst. I walk along ever further, my yoke seeming heavier as it has ever been. I can no longer bear it; I fall and cannot stand to my feet. I lay the ground, tired and miserable. “Please help me!” I beg to him, he just kicks the dust in my face and tells me to do it myself. I can’t, I can’t.
As we start again on the next day, my Captor looks frightened, anxious. As if he knows that robbers wait for us on the road ahead. We walk, and walk, and walk. I am so very weary. I can no longer travel, my shoulders break under the weight of the yoke. It has grown heavier each day I go on. But as I walk along the road, so many others have traveled. I see him, so glorious and majestic. He walks down the road in haste; he is the one I had heard about.
He has come to save me. My father and mother had told me about him, he has come to save me. He has come to free me! I run to him, the closer I get to him, I distance myself from my capture. But He will not have it. My capture will not have me freed, he runs after me, teeth bearing, and sword drawn. He strikes at my Savior, but my Savior is fast and dodges his blade. He quickly strikes back at my Captor and sends him to the ground with a “thud.” He is dead.
My Savior looks to me with much mercy and passion. His eyes fill with tears of much joy as he takes off my yoke. But what astounds me is how he picked it up like it was nothing, and then tosses it to the side of the road like nothing. After that he grabs me and hugs me, I am forever glad that he found me on that road, and saved me. He saved me from death. He pulled my yoke off of me, and he did it all like it was nothing. After that he took me to his Kingdom, and there I was treated with much love, there I was fed very well, and drank very good as well; and I found much rest there.
He saved me.
Max is 17 years old and lives in Waterville, Washington. He loves to write Christian short stories and poetry, and loves loves LOVES music, especially Skillet. He is a Junior in High school but is currently doing Running Start at Wenatchee Valley College. In the future he intends on majoring in Biblical Studies and being a pastor in Men’s Ministry.