[ TT ] You have been given a morbid gift . Your life at any time can be payment to save another . One day , you hear of a terrible accident that just occurred , and remember that gift from years ago ...

“ They…said he was crucified. They ’ re saying that he died…for our sake. How could they have done this? ” 
 
 Though my body was still young, the things I had witnessed since birth had made my heart old. And with these words, my heart grew older still. 
 
 At age three, I had already perished. The onset of the fever was sudden, the happenings of the four days afterward a blur in my mind. During those days, every healer in town walked in to my family ’ s humble abode with the intent to save me, and every healer walked out. The prognosis they gave my mother and father was the same every time. On the last day, my parents were beside me, speaking inaudible words and stroking my face with hands that felt like a million miles away. Soon, it all faded away. 
 
 But then I woke up. 
 
 My parents were no longer beside me. Instead, there was a man whom I did not recognize, with tanned skin and dark curly hair. He appeared young, wearing an unadorned cloak and the kindest expression I had ever seen. The force of this man ’ s presence was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, his very being so overwhelming that with every breath it seemed as if I was inhaling the essence of life. Somehow, despite the impossibility of it, I knew that he had brought me back from the dead. 
 
 Before I could utter a single word, he bent down over me. His palm cupped my face, and his mouth drew close to my ear. He spoke only above a whisper, but I never forgot what he said. 
 
 “ Though you do not understand now, I know that you alone will in time. My gift of life to you is not without sacrifice. When the time comes, you may ask God to sacrifice your life to spare another. ” 
 
 That was the first and the last I saw or heard of Jesus of Nazareth. Until today. 
 
 As my father stood in the doorway of the house, fists clenched and brows knotted together in anguish, only one word bubbled up out of my throat. 
 
 “ When? ” 
 
 “ Three days ago…the news was just delivered by a messenger…there has to be some mistake… ” 
 
 I found myself unable to handle it anymore, the pain of the situation and my understanding unbearable. I needed to be left alone with my thoughts. I turned my back on my father and made my way over to my room. Before I opened the door, I paused. 
 
 “ Father…I ’ m sorry. ” 
 
 With the door closed behind me, I was able to acknowledge what I had to do. 
 
 *If I allow the person who saved me to die, I will never be able to live with myself. * 
 
 And with that, I began a conversation with God.
