Writing

I was reading through some stuff I wrote a while ago when I stumbled on this. May it bless you.

“Your life is a mess. You are a mess. You are a hypocrite, a liar, a fake, and a cynic. Your heart is cold and you’ve come to depend on the transient world for comfort and peace. You lean now on an ever-spinning ball of chaos. It will never hold you. You love it, but it will never love you. The Word of God that you claim to walk by is dusty, buried under stacks of more important things. Each day you wander farther and farther into darkness, occasionally glancing behind you only to find that the light is growing dimmer with each haphazard step. As you slowly, gracefully spiral deeper into the abyss of numbness and self-gratification, the voices of demons call out to you, begging you to trudge deeper in.

It’s cold where you are. You shiver in silence, skillfully molding the mask of a perfect man. People stare at you sometimes. “Look at him,” they say, “He’s got everything under control.” It’s a lie, but you smile and string them along. At this point, you reason, vulnerability is not an option. They know you as something better than what you truly are and it would be a shame to let them down. With each step into oblivion the mask grows heavier. It’s becoming harder and harder to look yourself in the face. Your neck is stiff as you continue your death march. Slowly, step by step, you die a little more.

Then you stop. You remember how you used to love, how you used to live. In a small, weak voice you whisper a prayer. It is faint, barely audible, but you beg for your life back; you beg for your love back. Finally fully disgusted with what you have become, you beg to be rescued. Your knees hit wet gravel and mud, as tears blur the darkness. A voice behind you screams your name. It sounds familiar, but it’s been so long since you last spoke to its owner. You wait, something pulls you back, but you stand your ground. Jesus screams your name yet again, closer this time. Staring straight ahead into the blackness you scream back, “You left me! You said you’d never leave, but you left me.” A hand rests on your shoulder, “You left me,” He says calmly. You try to turn about to face the light, but you find that you can’t. You fall to your knees and in a flash of chaos are lifted by powerful arms. Exhausted, you lie helplessly in the arms of your Savior. You try to speak, but words won’t come. You see the flitting shadows of demons around. Finally words penetrate your tired lips, “They want me here,” you say. “But you are mine,” He smiles as He says the words, “And we’re going home.”  ”