I awake the next morning feeling like the peace of the previous night had faded. I was fearful again, and watching for an opportunity to run as I donned my armor and weapons. I had to talk to Him, to explain why I couldn’t return with Him. Surely He, of all people, would understand that I didn’t belong in His kingdom. I do not belong among diamonds, crystals, pearls, and beauty. I belong where I am–among the dirty, muddy, and scarred.
As we travel, I try to convince Him I don’t belong. I tell him things I’ve experienced, battles I have fought and continue to fight, things I’ve done, all of which make me ill-suited for His kingdom. I am surprised by His response.
“I know,” He replies calmly.
“You know?” I ask, a mixture of fear, disbelief, and surprise in my voice.
“Yes. I knew all of that when I came looking for you. What’s more: I knew all of that before you ran away. I know you.”
Those last three words frighten me. I. Know. You. Does He realize this? Can He see my fear over the realization that He knows me? That level of knowledge implies a power over me. If He knows me, all of me, what will He do with this knowledge? How will He use it? Is He a King to be trusted with this power? Is He a good King? Am I safe? Once again, the old fears come up; the dragon has not yet been slain.