Did I! I wanted nothing more in life than for Him to stop. The tears of hell seemed preferable. I opened my mouth to say yes. Then I saw His face. His lips trembled, and tears of anxiety stood in His eyes. "Please don't make Me stop," He whispered.
"No," I gasped. "Don't stop."
"Then sing."
"About what?" I demanded. "I don't have anything to sing about!"
He sighed.
I wept, He worked, and at long last, He lifted that ugly, stony, useless heart from my chest. Then He bared His own chest and cut a long line down its center.
I screamed again, in shock. "What are You doing?"
Through His own pain, Jesus gasped, "I'm going to give you My heart."
"But, Lord! What will happen to You? Will your own heart grow back?"
Jesus looked into my eyes and hesitated. "I believe it will," He said at last. "But if not, I am willing to die forever, if it means that you can live."
And I watched in horrified silence as He cut out His own heart, and fell to the floor, dead.
To be continued
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire
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