All The Sides Of Me

The hands around my arms are hard and strong, gripping hard enough to bruise. They pull and push at the same time, closer and closer to the heat. It’s far enough still, but much too close, too hot, I can feel the sweat sliding down the middle of my back, trickling from the top of my neck and beading on my forehead. I don’t want to know what my face looks like, because I knew that I’d pretty much asked for this, basically said go right ahead, but I’m human. I’m just a kid, really, and I’ve got fear like anybody, and I believe, really I do, but I’m scared out of my wits. It’s hot, too hot, the fire ahead, the heat is like a throbbing heart, in waves and hotter every pulse. The hands dragging me are pressing, brutal. My feet are digging into the ground as much as I can, but the polished stone isn’t providing any grip, and still getting closer and closer to the pit, the blazing flames that I can see now, I can see the rippling in the air, and the sensation of myself rippling is intense, like my eyes are what’s rippling instead of everything else. Only yards away, maybe twenty feet now, and God, oh God, this is really happening. They’re going to shove me in. It’s happening.

My attention is ripped away from the inevitable in front of me for a second when I hear Az grunting next to me, and a swift sting of something guilty hits me, because I’d almost forgotten my friends are here too. They’re with me, and I look at Az, his face all stone and quiet, righteous fury. His eyes are blazing, more than a reflection of what we’re being forced toward, palpable indignation and a kind of strength I’d come to respect and admire in this friend, this friend who was like my brother. And I don’t say anything, and Az isn’t looking at me, his wide, fierce eyes focused on the flames that are closer, so much closer, but he knows somehow, he always does. “It’s alright, Mish, just breathe.” I don’t know how he knew, but I gasped then, took in a deep breath that I didn’t know I’d been avoiding, and the air tastes like smoke and ash and it’s hot enough that my throat feels almost singed. “Just breathe, Mish,” Az grits out, his muscles bulging against the hands shoving him, “You’re not alone. It’s gonna be ok.” He’s easily strong enough to win a fight against any of them, but he doesn’t fight, just struggles a bit involuntarily. I swing my head to my other side, where Han is striding almost a full two feet ahead of us, the guards fumbling behind him like they don’t know how to respond to the fact that he’s putting up no resistance at all, he’s practically racing to the finish. And that’s Han all over, because I can see the glitter streaking his cheeks that means he’s crying, and his right hand is doing that thing it does where it shakes and his index finger picks at the skin of his thumb, which means he’s nervous as anything. But he’s walking like he’s proud, like there’s nothing ahead but honor inside the heat, the gaping maw of a pit that is deep and roaring, crackles coming from it. I can hear Han’s muttered prayers, or maybe he’s reciting something, I don’t know. It’s in our home language though, and the sound of it is suddenly so comforting that I can feel my eyes water, more than just from the searing heat that is so close I can hear the guards whimpering, whimpering. Han is staggering, and his chest is heaving, like he might hyperventilate, but he’s heading forward still, as brave as I have ever seen him, and Az’s teeth are gritted and his eyes are wild, but he’s not cursing and he looks, God he looks like he’s ready, ready to die. I hear a voice shouting behind us, a command to the hesitating guards dragging us not to falter, but to to take us to the edge, the very edge, and toss us in.

I’m only human. I’m scared. But I asked for this. And I wouldn’t take back what I’d said. Never.

I made my choice. And as scary as this is, I think I’m ready too.

So I take one last look at the rippling image of my best friends against the brightness of the flames in front of us. Han, with his tears and his courage, and Az with his honor and his strength, and then I close my eyes as we get there, and the guards are crying out, because the heat is so intense, so real, so hot. But you know, I don’t really feel it all that much. I only feel my chapped lips pull into a wide, honest smile, and I suddenly feel such inexplicable joy and calm that I don’t even flinch when hands press against my back and thrust me face first into the blazing furnace below.

And there’s a simmer, and a weird kind of surprised shout that I know is Han’s voice, and then it’s not hot anymore. It’s barely warm. Like a breezy day, actually. The kind where you’d want to sit by the sea and eat grapes. I open my eyes, somewhat confused, and my mouth falls open, because I don’t even remember landing, but I think I’m standing at the bottom of the pit.

I’m standing at the feet of the fire that was meant to kill me.

 It’s glorious. Amazing. The flames are there, high, twenty feet high, forty feet high, and wider than an elephant maybe, like giant waves of light and color. It’s so bright it should hurt, but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, I reach out to touch, a reflex that makes no sense, but then again, none of this makes sense. I put my hand into a tongue of the liquid light, and it feels like clouds, maybe, or soft sand.

I blink against the brightness, not wanting to shut it out but overwhelmed by how big and how fervent it is. I move my feet for the first time, and whirling I can see, I can see in the flail of flame Az and Han, dumbfounded like I am. Han is jumping already, reaching to catch the pieces of fire that are blue and white, and coming away only with orange and yellows. He’s laughing, I can see his face and he’s laughing, eyes wide and reflecting the fire still, but bright with childish awe. Az is sitting, staring at his feet where fire is licking at him, wiggling his toes back and forth. His hair is crowned with flame but not burning, and he looks so ridiculous that I start laughing too, and Az looks at me even though I know he can’t hear me. I can’t hear anything but the roar of fire and the crackle of splitting stone and wood, but I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe, and Az is looking at me and he’s laughing too, now, he’s standing and running at me to embrace me.

We’re alive, or we’re dead. We can’t tell. Either way, it’s not at all painful or frightening. It’s actually kind of hilarious.

Han is there in the embrace as well, and we’re in the middle of poking and patting each other and still marveling at the color and the light, the light of the fire attached to us, when I see Him.

And at first, I’m confused. I stare, and Az turns to look at what I’ve seen, then Han; but Han is the first to fall to his knees and put his face to the floor.

My heart seems to still, and I can’t hear anything anymore but the blood rushing through my ears and my own rapid inhale. exhale.

Because the man walking toward us through the flame, brighter than any of the fire, can only be who we know it to be. I drop to my knees, and so does Az next to me, but before my forehead can reach the ground, a hand is under my chin, and the touch is better than anything I’ve ever known existed. Better than air, better than water, better than love or life or learning to sing or sleeping in or being able to see or laughing or tasting new fruit. It’s like…not like anything. Just a touch below my chin.

And I’m pulled to standing again, my friends with me, and He pulls us into an embrace, and I know at the moment that I’m alive. I’m alive, and I’m safe, and He saved us, and His hold is better than His touch, I just….I can’t…..it’s so….my God, but no, really, my God…

When we climb out, it turns out the king has seen Him too, and has been calling for us.

After apologies and prayers and frantic attempts to express it, King Nebuchadnezzar asks us in his own language what can he do for me, anything. I think of what I could possibly want now. Nothing comes to mind, and I say, “O king, live forever. If it’s alright with you, I’d settle for having my old name back. I’ve never really liked being called ‘Meshach’, your majesty. It sounds like a horse sneezing.”