You stand at the foot of a hill, among a crowd of people. You look around at them, both young and old. Some are cursing and uttering all types of slurs at ones of different races. Some are passing drinks around, swaying and dancing to the beat of music you just barely hear. You look around you even further and you see ones of the same sex, kissing and embracing in a way that is much more than a friendly hug. In the distance you see yet more people ... women in different stages of undress, leaning into cars, smiling as they offer themselves for sale. You look to the right as you see a man on the phone, lying to his wife as his mistress opens the door and takes him into her embrace. Over to the left you hear a muffled pop. Looking you see someone fall to the ground clutching their chest, as people turn a blind eye, as they rush by the scene. What looks like just a boy, his pants sagging, a colored bandana hanging out of his pocket, grabs the wounded mans billfold, then jumps inot a car that speeds off. You nose wrinkles as you begin to smell the harsh smoke of someones blunt as they light up. Your stomach begins to roll a bit as next the chemical smell of the smoke from a crack pipe finds it way to you. What grips your heart the most about this scene laid before you is the people holding their bibles. They walk around all of this going on, over their eyes a thick veil.They remind you of yourself and the way you have also ignored those in need of Jesus and you never said a word.
Your heart feels heavy as you watch all this going on around you. You turn back to the foot of the hill where you stand and look upwards. A tear rolls slowly down your cheek as you see the lone figure there at the top. His arms outstretched wide, tears falling from his own eyes as he too looks out among the crowd. No one sees him. Sadness grips you as you watch the tears dry and the arms begin to close. You look around you. You begin to yell, to try and tell them to stop this madness and believe the truth. With utter dispaire, you realize it's too late, backs have been turned one time too many. You look back to the top of the hill. The figure steps off the wooden cross and stands tall in front of it. His arms raise, then suddenly they fall to his sides. Lightening bolts streak the sky as the deafening sound of thunder rolls. A quietness settles over the crowd as he once more looks out among them all.
With a quietness he says just before he disappears ...
"You do it."
