, 2013

WRITTEN BY
Willow Giesbrecht

THE LAST CHANCE

Will he choose eternity?

With every breath he breathed came a slower beat to his heart. John
Isaacman was slowly fading, slowly but surely he was heading to his deathbed. On
this particular evening he lay in his hospital bed the same bed that he had laid in
for the past month and looked intently out of the old tattered window into the
rainy, foggy streets as he wasted away. All he wanted was his life to be done with.
He was tired of the hospital nurses and doctors and the food, he was tired of having
his blood-work taken for testing; the bruises on his arms from the IVs now covered
the surface of his skin. He had been a sickly old man, even before he was sent to
the hospital. His children had come to his nursing home to spend time with him,
even after the way he had treated them growing up. He had hated his life. His view
on the world was dark and grim. But here he was, his heart slowing down, his life
soon to be over.
Hello Pa, came a steady grown voice. He looked to the foot of his bed. It
was his son and his wife and two kids. They looked at him, tears welling up. They
too knew he was slowing down. He knew that his son still hated him for the way he
treated him as a kid. John had never been home much to take care of him, and
when he was, it seemed he was always yelling at him. After his wife died, of a
sudden stroke, John was all the kids had. But they still never forgave him.
We came to say goodbye said his son. One by one his family leaned down
to kiss him. Johns heart filled with sadness. As they were leaving, his son leaned
down and whispered in his ear, Dad, I forgive you. That was all he needed. John
looked away. His sons forgiveness was too much for him. Tears dripped down his
face while he lay in the quiet dim room. Time passed. The ticking from the clock
above his bed sounded as if it were slowing down. All of his life was a failure. He
finally began to give up; he closed his eyes preparing for his last breath.
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Suddenly, it was as if the sun started shining again, and there was hope. The
whole room lit up with bright shining light. The sound of singing and laughing
children filled the room and the blood in John Isaacmans body started flowing
again. He felt warm, and his spirit soared. He knew that his life was good. The
memories of his past slowly turned to color and things were clearer to him. He had
never been so content with himself before. But he knew that there was something
missing. The foggy rain outside his window turned into a bright sunny day, and the
light in his bedside lamp turned brighter. A beautiful man, whose face glowed with
light, appeared at the foot of his bed. John looked at the man with his eyes wide and
mouth gaping in amazement, he was beautiful.
Come on John! Hurry up! Time is almost lost, and yet you still have a
chance said the man, golden hair flowing in the warm breeze that filled the room.
You have spent your whole life in fear and anger. You felt like there was nothing to
live for. You have a chance now, come with me and take my hand. Together we will
live for all eternity.
What do you mean eternity asked John, there is no hope for me! I am
doomed! I have wasted a lifetime of what even a wise man could have called lame. I
am a failure and there is nothing better for me than death.
Dont believe the lies that you have lived by all of your life. God has a plan
for you. Come with me, the door is still open. The bus to heaven is leaving!
Suddenly John Isaacman, a man who spent a lifetime living in fear and anger,
was filled with the Holy Spirit. Yes he exclaimed, I want what you speak of. I no
longer want to die. If your God wants me out of all people to come with you to

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heaven, then I will come. Jesus, I believe in you. I believe that you died for me, and
that my sins are washed away.
John Isaacman got out of bed, walked to the man in the white and hand in
hand they left the room, the door closing behind them. The light in the room
vanished. The room turned cold again, the lights went back to normal, the sunny
sky turned grey and foggy. But one thing was for sure: John Isaacman was in the
hands of the Lord.

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