His words fell slowly but retained a definite feel and appearance of weight and force.It was as if the tension in the room created a thicker than water atmosphere for his words to sink through. The tension magnified and gave clarity to his words; the reduced speed at which they fell from his lips made me anxious. I was nervous for what he would say. I wouldn’t actually know what he said until his words fell completely and were caught in the net of my ears, traversing the paths of my mind and ultimately resounding in the depths of my soul.
“I feel heavy.”
Based on the environment from which such words were uttered, I knew my friend was not simply commenting on the heaviness of his own person or the weight of his own greatness. His feeling heavy was more in regards to a feeling of oppression. Something outside of himself had placed itself on top of him and had begun to bear down hard on him. I immediately thought of a woman wrongly accused of witchcraft in darker days. Her friends would take the door off of her own home, laying it flat on her. Rock by rock they would crush the life out of her. Something like suffocation. I imagined the thoughts that must have drifted in and out of her mind. The feelings that stung her heart over and over in the sight of her appalled friends and frightened neighbors. She knew she wasn’t a witch. She was merely a victim of the circumstances.
My friend assuredly felt the same way. Crushed by the weight of unsung judgment, imagined or otherwise. It was too much; he wasn’t sure what to do. It was the type of heaviness that didn’t immediately destroy a human being. It was a slow force that pressed the life out of a heart little by little.
I thought for a moment. What would I say to my friend?
I looked at him. Is it possible the answer isn’t a removal of the weight but the replacement of one weight with a greater one? I told my friend to step into the highway and get hit by a Mack truck. I told him to inch his way out of safety and get hit not by a real truck but by a weight - the weight of immense glory. That sort of weight hits so hard and so swiftly the target rarely knows what hits it. It’s not the sort of weight that he was feeling, the kind that slowly presses the life out of the heart. Rather, this weight strikes with such force that it becomes one with the heart; it revitalizes the heart and makes it new.
The result is a new thing. The result is one that’s been crushed to beauty.