Christian Short Stories

Adam writes: "I am a Christian and I like to write non-fiction.  I go to Liberty Four Square Church in Warren, MI." 

My alarm echoes annoying ceremony music. It was a ten hour work day, then an immediate nap, and now off to Wednesday night church service. It is 5:00 pm. 

I use my arms to lift myself off the bed. I have practiced my Push and Swing method for years and have turned into a professional. Might get it patented. I push and am erect...ish. I lose my balance and fall down. The sting runs from the middle of my foot to the back of my knee. I can feel every inch. Pain reminds me that I have weak flesh. 

I sit here wondering if I am truly supposed to live. I may have been made to stay here, in the dark, with only glimmers of light shining through the sides of my blinds. A life built to live in a cave. No one would blame me if I only ate the rats and drank the river water. But the little light that shines thru the sides. 

It is God peering in; wondering why His child is choosing to live in utter darkness. The lights are bigger than the window, but still the light finds a way thru. If I leave the cave my mind may be so overwhelmed with peace that I may not feel pain. But it so hard to trust when there is always pain. 

I limp out. My shoulders, involuntarily, throw themselves up in the air with each step. I assume my body is trying to keep its’ balance, but I am not sure why it is doing what it is doing. My body, many times, does things I never asked it to. Things I never wanted it to. Things I pray will stop. 

My shirt is in the dresser and it is about fifteen feet away. Socks are in the living room, easily thirty feet away. Then another thirty feet walk to the car. Perhaps, before that, I will take a fifteen foot trip to the bathroom, but I may be better off holding it. It is already 5:12 pm. 

I grab my shirt and continue to the living room. I forgot my socks. I plan ahead to make sure things go right, but the littlest failure can alter whether or not I wear socks. I can search for them in the couch, but they may not be there. I do not know if I can take the pain of them not being there. My steadfastness is waning. 

It has been twenty-one years since I first thought about quitting. How long is 'a little while' is to God? It takes me forever to do things, but I also have no time. It is now of never.  

So, now I can either sit behind the blinds knowing only the glimmer of God’s light or stand up for God into the sunshine. I must remember that I live in a mere temple, but I can never die. But I must stand in the light.

I look down and see that the light red swelling has become a dark red mixed with purple. It is a creepy rainbow. I cannot let things of this earth stop me. Nothing that dies is allowed to matter. They cannot. Or I will never be able to stand up. 

I get back to the couch and the socks are not too difficult to put on. One of them is backwards, but I do not want to go through the effort of turning it the right way. I put on my first shoe like a pro, but stare at the second shoe. Something I have dreading the last few hours. I stretch the top as much as possible, but my foot does not fit into the shoe. This is taking longer than I expected.  

I am running out of time. I scream, push, and the shoe goes on. Three deep breathes while clutching the couch helps calm my mind. I stand with both my ankles curled in, just enough to look normal. Also, a large portion of my weight is on my right leg. If I do not stand up straight than people will not be blinded by my reflection of God. 

The shades open and the light shines onto me. It blinds me at first, but then I feel comfort. I open the front door and feel the light. It absorbs into my flesh and the wind into my soul. I take a step over the door, fall a little, and have to grab onto the railing. But I stay up. I will not fall down. I will always stand for God. 

(© 2015 Adam Sharp – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)