Tusitala

Come Lord Jesus

In the Samoan language, 'tusitala' translates to storyteller. It's the name they gave to Robert Louis Stevenson, who lived in Samoa for the last few year of his life and who drew magnificent inspiration from the tropical beauty to write such tales as Treasure Island. Storytelling is revered and delighted in by Samoans, and storytellers, tusitala, in turn, are respected.

Well tonight during prayer, Jesus, the greatest tusitala of all, told me a story.

Kneeling in front of the tabernacle, my thoughts were (for the most part) fixed on our Lord. I begged Him to open my heart, to enlighten me with love and free my mind from doubt; to be near me and in me and close to my side.

Come Lord Jesus

My mind began to wander- but not to other things. No, I wandered to the foot of a hill, and called out to our Lord again.

Come Lord Jesus

"My child, my child," Jesus answered, "Look at me! I have come as far as I can- the rest is up to you."

I looked up to the top of the hill, where our Lord was crucified with open arms. He looked ragged and sore, and blood poured down his face. Dark storm clouds gathered around Him. He was alone.

I was hesitant. Again I called to Him

Come Lord Jesus

"Do not be afraid," He said, "Come to me."

I was scared. The pathway to the summit was steep, and covered with rocks and scorpions. My feet were bare, and I knew the long walk would be incredibly painful.

"Lord I'm scared," I called to Him.

Jesus smiled. I bowed my head, knowing that His will had to be done. As I looked down, I noticed a pair of sandals like He would have worn. My heart grew strong, for I knew my Lord would protect me.

I'm coming, Lord Jesus.

I began the gruelling walk up the hill. It was steeper than I had imagined, and I was soon short of breath. I tripped and fell many times, the rocks scraping my hands. Scorpions bit me too, and I felt myself grow weaker with every step.

Yet I continued, my eyes transfixed on the cross. Jesus was in so much more agony than I, yet He smiled unceasingly to encourage me.

After what felt like an eternity, I drew near to the summit. I looked again at our Lord and gasped.

His cross, once wooden and blood-stained, had been transformed into gold; the storm clouds had cleared and brilliant sunlight shone in a single beam from heaven to His smiling and unblemished face.

I stopped, my heart thudding. I looked back down the path I had traversed and wished I were at the foot of it once more. I wasn't worthy of being up here with HIM. I was filthy; I was covered in scrapes and bites; sweat poured down my face. I grimaced as I contemplated how horrible I must look to our Lord.

But He didn't frown; He didn't snigger. Our Lord smiled at me, even more radiant than before, and stretched out His hand.

Come, my child.

This was it. The reason for the journey. As I stepped forward to greet Him, the heavens opened and a river of rain poured over me, cleansing me of all iniquity and imperfection.

As I cleared the water out of my eyes, I noticed for the first time others. Each had come to our Lord's summit by their own path; each were tired and filthy from their arduous endeavours; each was made new in a spring of pure water.

In unison, we all stepped closer to the Lord and knelt at the foot of His cross.

I smiled at my God.

Come Lord Jesus.

AMDG