Kay Arthur writes: If only… if only he had known… If only I had known! He had been summoned. What could he do? There was no higher authority to appeal to, no one to mediate. He had been bidden to come – and go he must.
Most people looked on him with contempt because of his physical appearance. Some even derisively spat out the word “cripple” as he passed them by. He hated the stares of the people who watched his rocking body lumber and jerk as he approached the throne – the throne of a man who he was sure desired his death.
He sweated profusely. The fear churning within caused his hands to tremble. He clenched them together to hide the misery from the watchful eyes. But it was no use – both shook.
Bitterness had hardened his countenance, but inside he felt as spongy as mud and as worthless as dirt.
He felt cheated by life, ignored by God.
Robbed of a bright and seemingly certain future at the age of five, when his father and grandfather were killed suddenly in battle, he had spent his life in an out of the way village.
All his life he had successfully hidden from this man – a man who, he had heard from his grandfather, could never be trusted. Now this man had found him! “How much worse could it be?” he wondered in irony… and heard his angry heart respond with a refusal to weaken.
He didn’t know it, but in a matter of minutes he would discover how needless
...