Forever Late. Ep 1

The rain is pelting down hard on the pavement outside. The colour of the sky matches my mood today as I seat on my bed staring out my bedroom window.

The wind and rain bend the branches of the palm trees outside and it reminds me of why I'm here in the first place; why I'm not studying or scrolling through my phone, or at a sleepover in Kike's house. 

Yesterday, a particular news knocked the life out of me and changed my mood from the colourful, rain-bowed sky it was, to one with different shades of gray. 

The fruit woman down the street had died. Diabetes, they said.

She was just a fruit seller to me, so I shouldn't be here grieving so hard. Not if I had obeyed the voice of God few weeks earlier.

Maybe it was because she was so young, friendly and full of life, that I had delayed telling her about the burden in my heart.

Five times, I had heard the Holy Spirit urge me to tell her about God and His Beloved Son, Jesus who died so that eternity in Heaven could be secured. But every one of those five times, I had shunned His voice.

Tears are streaming down my eyes and there's this sick feeling in my stomach. I want to cry and throw up at the same time, but guilt has strapped me to my chair with it's strong arms.

I had always thought there would be more time. "I'll tell her tomorrow, when I want to buy banana." I used to tell myself. But tomorrow had never come.

Where is the fruit woman now? 

The question resounds in my ears with every beat of my heart. Guilt tightens it's grip around me, threatening to choke life out of me. 

I had known the Truth. I knew about Heaven and Hell. But I had not told her. I had passed by her shop every single day, believing that one day, I would have gathered enough confidence to tell her about Jesus. If only I had known that her clock was ticking it's last hours...

Suddenly, a passage from Ezekiel begins to float in my mind: "If I warn the wicked, saying, ‘You are under the penalty of death,’ but you fail to deliver the warning, they will die in their sins. And I will hold you responsible for their deaths." (Ezekiel 3:18)

The passage shoots daggers into my conscience, tearing me apart. 

It feels like someone punched me in the stomach. .

"God I'm sorry!" I scream. "I'm so so sorryyyyyyyy!" 

But words are inadequate. 

How do you tell God you're sorry for allowing a soul that He died for go to Hell for eternity, just because you disobeyed Him?

How do you tell God you're sorry that another precious soul of His has slipped from His grasp for all eternity, simply because you refused to share the Truth?

The guilt is too much for me to bear. And before I know it, my heartbeat accelerates, the noise in my head increases and the guilt in my stomach bursts open in full strength. 

I fall from my bed and collapse on the floor. Then black is all I see.