tears

He took his life.
One fell swoop, one pull of a violent trigger, and he took his life.
He left everyone around him confused, wondering what had been the last straw.
Who was responsible, what was to blame?
All the good meomories, or the memories that people felt guilty for, came to the forefront of minds and conversation.
What happens when someone does that?
Today I was talking to one of my friends. Her ex boyfriend shot himself.
How do you handle that?
God had been trying to get his attention for so long... maybe it was Satan's biggest plan.
The sad part is that he succeeded.
There is no time for repentance between the pulling of a trigger and the bullet that sears through a brain.
That split second decision condemned him.
It seems so surreal to me. The guts, and yet the lack of guts that it would take for someone to hold a gun to thier head... and then pull the trigger.
It makes me mad at Satan.
It makes me mad at the world.
It makes me pray harder.
It makes me think.
Most of all, it makes me cry. For him, for everyone he left behind, and for Jesus... because that must have broken his heart.
He Died. Jesus died.
One suicide that ended death's rule over us.
Yet we turn away from him, we resent his gift, we refuse to accept it.
Life lays in the dust where he dropped it, while he ran headlong towards Satan's outstretched arms, and his great facade.
What an amazing God we have, that he would still have compassion on a world that has trampled his priceless gift to us so many times over.