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Have We Finally Come to the End?

Have We Finally Come to the End?

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Published by Thom Hunter
“Do exactly what we tell you to do . . . or he will shoot you.”

Maybe it is true -- and who really knows for sure? -- that your whole life flashes before your eyes just before death, preceding the darkness with the bursting brilliance of life, slowing that final moment, expanding the time to wash the brain and heart in memory.
“Do exactly what we tell you to do . . . or he will shoot you.”

Maybe it is true -- and who really knows for sure? -- that your whole life flashes before your eyes just before death, preceding the darkness with the bursting brilliance of life, slowing that final moment, expanding the time to wash the brain and heart in memory.

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Published by: Thom Hunter on Aug 12, 2010
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09/02/2010

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Have We Finally Come to the End?
The Weight of Who I amChapter OneHave We Finally Come to the End?
“Do exactly what we tell you to do . . . or he
will
shootyou.”Maybe it is true -- and who really knows for sure? -- thatyour whole life flashes before your eyes just before death,preceding the darkness with the bursting brilliance of life,slowing that final moment, expanding the time to wash the
 
brain and heart in memory. Falling of a cliff, sliding beneaththe waves, crashing into the barrier wall, or just seeing thefaces of the medical team around you slowly fade away as youlay on a table, may bring comforting visions of the beautifulmoments of a re-hashed life, filtering out the times of unloveliness, the grey days of loneliness, the harshness of sandpapered relationships that wore you away. I don't know.I do know that death is not the only occasion for thepanoramic view of the mixed-up-mess of past, present, future. Try being arrested, knowing that in that brief moment -with few words spoken -- life is changing.
You're
not dying, butit is.“Do exactly what we tell you to do . . . or he
will
shootyou.”When I replay those words from my past, it as if I canhear them all again. They are embedded in my memory.Perhaps in time they will fade, as God allows. Or perhaps theywill remain in place as a reminder of where I have been . . .where I am now . . . and where I am going because of HimWhen I heard the words that past April day, I sat very stilland processed them, my heart beating faster with theabsorption of each syllable . . . my brain freezing time,searching through each cell for a way out of reality . . . I
 
analyzed them. Where was the emphasis in the phrasing?Was it on "exactly?" Was it on "you?" Or was it really on"will?""He
will
shoot you."Really?As my life spreadeagled before me, as my brain siftedthrough all the possibilities -- even the remote one thatperhaps I was asleep and dreaming -- I froze, afraid to move,and had the briefest separate thought -- rooted in reality --that
if 
I refused to do what I was told, I
could 
-- no,
would 
-- beshot and I might die. I would go to glory in a gory blaze of glory. Pay out the life insurance and put a "finished" stamp: onthis ragged race. I could just give it all up. Make a run for itand be done.Until the moment the undercover police officer openedthe passenger side door of my car and spoke those words,looking into my eyes while tilting his head toward the officer onthe other side of my car to make it clear where the shot wouldcome from, I thought I might escape. My mind was racing,working up the words to talk myself free, searching for aconvincing explanation, a plausible way to defuse theaccusations I knew were coming. But as my head turned in hisdirection and I saw the seriousness with which the officerlooked straight into my eyes, his convincing tone struck down

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