One More Chance Before It All Repeats

Written by Joey Raines

I didn’t see any light. But I wasn’t in the dark either. There was no pain. Still, I didn’t feel safe.

It felt like space. Heavy. Quiet. Full of something I couldn’t name.

The last thing I remembered was the crash. Metal. Rain. Regret. And then, nothing.

Now I was walking.

There were no walls. No floor. No ceiling. But I was moving forward. Like the air had decided which way I had to go.

I couldn’t hear my footsteps. I couldn’t hear anything at all. Not even my own thoughts. That was new. My mind was usually loud.

Then I heard it.

A voice. Calm. Close. Not behind me. Not in front of me. Just there.

“You think this was your first time?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. The moment I heard those words, something shifted.

I didn’t get memories. I got feelings. Repeats. Patterns.

The same choices, made in different years. The same excuses. The same fear when the truth got too close. The same way I always shut it down.

It wasn’t the same life. But it was the same me.

The voice didn’t accuse me. It revealed me.

“You’ve been here before.”

I stopped walking. I didn’t know if I could go back. I didn’t know if there was even a back to go to.

That’s when the weight hit me. Not a physical weight. More like knowing something I couldn’t unknow.

Every warning I’d ignored. Every moment I felt God trying to reach me. Every gut feeling I drowned out with noise or pride. They all came flooding in.

I’d had chances. Real ones. But I’d brushed them off. I said things like “not yet” or “maybe later.” But I didn’t change.

I kept moving through life like I had all the time in the world.

So I asked.

“Why am I here?”

The hallway didn’t speak. But the voice did.

“Because mercy repeats what judgment ends.”

That hit hard. I didn’t know if it was from Scripture. But it felt like the truth.

I thought about every story I had ever heard. Prophets. Warnings. Parables. All those strange moments in life that didn’t make sense at the time. Maybe they were never meant to make sense. Maybe they were just invitations. One after another.

And now, another one.

A door opened ahead of me. No knob. No push. Just light spilling out.

Not a burning light. More like quiet understanding.

I didn’t know what was on the other side. I didn’t know if I’d remember any of this.

I just knew the pattern could stop. But only if I stopped it.

There were no signs. No labels. No voice said what came next.

But I knew what would happen if I didn’t walk through that door.

I’d be back here again.

Walking this hallway.

Wondering how many chances mercy has left.

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