In the Name of God

The night is cold but it’s not dark, it’s not silent. Explosions ripple, tearing the sky of the Holy Land. My broken and bloodied body sinking into the dirt. I hear a far cry from the manger tales of peace, before me mutilated bodies scattered, they were people just a minute ago.

It’s Christmas! I killed today. Again. To defend this land, so many call sacred. I don’t even remember the faces anymore, just the wide-eyed terror before I pulled the trigger. They had guns too. They had prayers. Different words. They were calling God. Different, maybe? 

I think of Rachel, back in Jerusalem. Her hands, once soft and warm, are probably trembling as she lights candles for me tonight. And little boy Aaron. He asked me why I had to go. I told him it was to keep him safe. To protect our faith. How do you explain to a child that you kill for God?

The stars are out now, and one of them reminds me of Bethlehem. A star that once heralded hope now shines over a battlefield.
I clutch the cross around my neck. Its sticky with dirt and sweat, its promise of salvation tarnished by what I’ve done.

“Father, forgive me,” I whisper, though I’m not sure if He’s listening. Does God even come to warzones?

The pain swells, dragging me under. My family’s faces flicker in my mind—a Christmas dinner without me. Laughter that’s gone quiet. I wonder if they remember me as the man who left to defend faith or the one who lost his soul doing it.

The world fades, and with it, the sound of war. But not before I hear it again: Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.