Monday, March 26, 2007

D.O.C.; Disciple of Christ


I suppose the older you get, the sooner death will be knocking at your door. It's like playing a lottery, eventually your number comes up.
What would people say upon my death? Would they recall all the dirt I've done or will the Son shine through? It is the latter that I hope will stick. I do believe upon entering heaven, God will say, "Barbara, yes I know her, let her in." He will then hold me close, tell me He loves me, always did but I certainly was a brat. Thinking in this context, I can also recall a time, in my life that I never thought of death, not really. I could not envision it happening to me. I can also remember thinking that I had plenty of time to repent. Really, I thought like this and I did not see myself wanting to act all "holy" as those Christians did. I felt that becoming a Christian meant that I had to become perfect. I ran from this and felt I could not have any more fun and my life would be so dull. I now know, that it was Satan on my back, filling me with these lies. Becoming a Christian or "Spiritual" as I prefer to call it, is in no way a halt on living. The other thing that bothered me was Satan told me that I had done too much dirt, too many bad things and God had no place for me. I thank, all that is good, that that small still voice of the Spirit, told me that it was all a lie. Lies, Lies, Lies! Satan did his darnedest to destroy me. He charred my soul with drugs, drinking and a heathenistic lifestyle. He would have taken pleasure in me shooting up a bad bag of heroin or overdosing. I know this as fact. I am grateful that, towards the end of my old life, God heard my cries and delivered me from that.
It was within the confines of Prison that I realized I could be me with all my quirks and downtrodden behavior, I just needed to repent and He would begin to heal my blackened heart. Satan still taps my shoulder every day, after all I was a soldier in his army. I was darn good at being bad. I'd rode with the Pagans M.C. and was married to the Chapter President of the Heathens M.C. and in my old life, I'd amassed 7 felonies and 11 misdemeanors. He wants me but the difference is that I can tell when he walks in the room and I know who he is. He can't have me.

When I put on the prison uniform of the convict that had written in big black letters, across my back "D.O.C." which to the guards and the world, stood for Department of Corrections, my new life began. That is not what those letters, meant to me. No, I was safe and forgiven and those letters now stood for, "Disciple of Christ." It's still on my back, in my mind and engraved upon my heart.
When I die, I sure hope people do not mourn but are happy for me and my "Graduation Ceremony." I hope that the Son shines through.

What will people say of you, when you die and will Jesus know you? Will He know your name? Will He deny you, as you may have denied Him? You will not live forever. Don't wait till the 11th hour to repent. You just might die at 10:30!

4 comments:

brotherray said...

Shit - I needed that. Thanks. Your Chronicles are like my life jacket. They keep me lifted!

Ask Aunt B said...

brotherray, I needed to hear that. It encourages me. But at the same time, I write here because I can come back and remind myself and uplift myself when Satan does tug at me. I hope you are well, my old friend. Keep your spirits up, I know it's not easy but know that I care and got big love for you!

Woogie said...

Ahh yeah...I needed this. Ty...

~Babsbitchin~ said...

Woogie, I guess life is all about perception, isn't it? We can choose to become bitter or blessed. I choose the latter. Thanks for stopping by, don't be a stranger, eh!