THE EXCHANGE

THE EXCHANGE

Dear Dad,

I’m sure you are surprised to hear from me. I can’t wrap my mind around what you did that night.

After Mom died, it was as if the leash of conscience over my neck broke loose. I hated God and everything, but you didn’t stop telling and showing me how much you loved me.

It was the guy that started it. He grappled with me over a hot babe I had set my eyes on in the bar. After harsh tongue-lashing, the guy punched my face.

In rage, I grabbed his neck and began to choke him as hard as I could. The guy flung me to the floor, pinned me down and began to pommel my body. In desperation, I reached out, picked an empty stout bottle on the floor and broke it on his head. He yelled and released me.

I didn’t give him a chance to recover. Something savage overtook my senses and, before I knew it, I plunged the ragged end of the broken bottle into his stomach.
A collective gasp rippled through the formerly-cheering spectators. It was when his warm blood dripped on to my shirt that I realised what I had done.

Dazed, I stumbled to my feet and ran. The mob chased me.

I burst into our house around the witching hour, trembling, a crazed look in my eyes.

You were still up, waiting for me. I knew you wanted to scold me for coming in late but then you saw my state.

‘Jason, what happened,’ you asked, perplexed.

Incoherently and on the verge of fearful tears, I began to babble. When angry fists banged the front door, I knew I was doomed.

You motioned for me to remove my shirt and hide. Without hesitating, I obeyed. I didn’t understand why you were wearing my shirt.
The angry chasers broke down the door and began to assault you. It was dark. They thought you were me.

They whisked you away, ready to deliver jungle justice. Someone must have alerted the police because they came, dispersed the mob and arrested you.

I didn’t feel exactly remorseful at first. At least, I had escaped death. This was my chance to get rid of you and start a new life.

That night, I packed my belongings and scoured the one-room apartment for cash and valuables. In your drawer, I saw your sticky notes of prayers for me.

Slightly broken, I wanted to see you one last time so I waited till the day scheduled for the final verdict of the court.
Your silence and smile at me when you were sentenced to life imprisonment were like a thousand arrows piercing me.

After that, I left our neighbourhood. Each day, I’d walk aimlessly until I got to a bar. I’d drink myself to stupor. I was trying to avoid the nightmares and guilt that began to assault me.

After several miserable weeks, I met a barman who spoke to me about Christ. In summary, Dad, God answered your prayers. I’m now a new creature.

Dad, believe me, your sacrifice was not in vain. It made me understand what Jesus did for me.

I’m coming to visit you soon. I have many questions.

I’m considering turning myself in to the authorities, but my discipler has restrained me and asked me to pray more about it.
He said something about God having a plan for me outside the jail bars. I don’t know why God will consider using a murderer like me.

Thank you, Dad. For everything. Especially love.

Your ex-prodigal son,
Jason.