Untitled
Be on Your Guard;
Stand FIRM in the Faith;
Be men of Courage;
Be strong.
I Cor. 16:13
I lay here beaten and bruised.
I did not expect it, but it came.
My shield was down, my helmet aside;
it was then that it came.
I saw not from where it came,
but it did, it came in a fury,
a blinding rage. I saw it not.
I was enjoying myself, relaxing,
not watching where I was going.
I was looking away, not paying
much attention to what was before me,
until it was too late, but then it was over.
When I knew it, it had been done.
And I was a mess, dizzy and
still not sure what had occurred.
But I knew, deep down, what I had done.
You see, it did not grab a hold of me.
I grabbed a hold of it. I was the
assailant, the assassin, and the thief.
It just waited for me, biding its time,
flaunting, awaiting my passing.
And then it was done, horrid and foul.
I laughed. I cried.
The devastation strewn about within me.
I lay dazed, still groping for my
sword, but I had left that too.
Defenseless, I had walked into the
trap set for me, triggered by me.
But it was done, as repulsive as it was,
it was done.
I arose, knowing what needed to be done.
Carefully, I collected the carelessly
scattered pieces of my protection.
Assembling these, I knew that I
had to prevent further mishap. And
finally, I fell to my knees, shuddering
at my grotesque reality. Trembling,
I drooped my head, defeated. Allowing
myself to acknowledge that my weakness
had again failed me. And then I cried,
wishing that bitter tears would come and
wash my guilt away. But none came.
I whispered words that were loose and
hollow, falling at my knees. My whole
being shuddered at the empty lostness
that seemed to fill me. Then I realized
that I was not alone. I sensed another,
a faint presence, calling my name
silently. Words flashed through my
mind, familiar, warm words of
reassurance and forgiveness. I began
confessing my deeds, actions, knowing that
their legacy was gone. I shouted words
of victory, loud and bold. But
they were not my words, nor my
victory. I was a defeated, pitiful
wretch, unclean and rebellious.
But, the other, the one who spoke
forgiveness, he was a conqueror.
He reminded me that I could never
be lost, because I was his, and
He could never lose nor be defeated.
He picked me up and set me
upon my feet. He dusted me off
and kissed me upon my forehead.
A blessing, a message, a warning.
I knew that I should not have
been defeated, but I had allowed it. But
I had another chance, as before,
to go forth boldly and live boldly,
with a style called foolish and
narrow. But it was and still is
my duty, my devotion, to tread this
world, dangerous and corrupt. I
am a witness to these events,
a representative of the conqueror
who forgives. I am carrying light
to warn others that danger looms,
and trouble lurks, in the dark places.
written by Ben Brick
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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