“… and whenever we humble ourselves before The Almighty, He’s always willing to draw us into himself with…”

The priest had just concluded his session with the death row inmates, and was about to stand up to take his leave when he heard a voice from the gathering. This was unusual, because these sessions were usually a mere formality and most inmates would sleep through the whole thing. 
“Is the Almighty aware that most of us here don’t deserve to die, or is He just obsessed with drawing us in?” Lincoln asked, with the frustration clearly evident in his eyes, and voice.

The priest is taken aback by the question. He stares intently at Lincoln and picks up an immediate interest in him. He sees something different in this man’s eyes, and realizes that he might have a much deeper role to play in his life, much deeper than the routine “sleep fests” that he’s involved in every week.

Exactly one week since Lincoln asked the question and the priest made that realization, the priest started having private sessions with him, in his solitary cell. The priest wanted to know his story, and the events that led up to this moment in his life. He didn’t see evil in Lincoln’s eyes, he didn’t see the soulless stare of a cold-blooded murderer in there. He saw someone that had resigned to a fate that wasn’t his. Lincoln had to be a victim of circumstance, that’s what it had to be. In the course of those private sessions, the priest confirmed his suspicions, and what he saw in those eyes. 

Lincoln grew up in a dysfunctional family. As a result, the responsibility of taking care of his younger brother fell on his young and fragile shoulders. There was only so much menial work he could do, but it was barely enough to eat, talk less of putting his brother through college. The pressure was mounting, and as a result, he fell back into old, shady habits. He took a few odd jobs here and there but they still weren’t enough to handle all the bills. That’s when “the job” was offered to him. It was supposed to be a one-time-job that would set him up comfortably for the foreseeable future. The reward was high, but the risk level was even higher. “The job” didn’t go as planned, and as a result, Lincoln ended up on death row. 

The priest helped him make peace with The Almighty and to reconcile with his reality. Two weeks of private sessions had passes and now, the priest was looking at Lincoln sitting in that electric chair. His head had been shaved. His broad shoulders had fallen in surrender, and his eyes that used to be broad and so full of life, had fallen in in endless contemplation. He looked up and saw the people that had come to witness his final minutes. He saw his brother and smiled; his sacrifice was not in vain. He saw the priest and mouthed a “thank you”.

The room went dark and Lincoln’s screams immediately replaced the heart-wrenching silence that had been brooding over the room for the few minutes that led up to the execution.