"Why, Dad? Why did he choose Her?! I chose Her first! She's mine!" The Son could hardly stand still. His eyes were wet with tears. He finally was able to talk to Her, but all She said was, "That isn't my name. My name is Harlot," every time He addressed Her. She wouldn't let Him speak. She wouldn't let Him explain. She was only caught up in the foul, loathsome thief. She called to him like he was Her lover. How could she not remember the love He had given Her first?
"Patience, My Son," His Father said calmly. "She will see your love for Her. She will know how much you care." The Son nodded at His Father and sighed deeply. He, then, walked away to try and find Her again. "Be careful, My Son. That beast is looking for a way to make you fall."
The Son knew this. In fact, the loathsome creature had already tried. The Son neared the water's edge and looked up, as He had every day before. He searched far and wide for Her, and, at last, He spotted Her. She sat near the water, only 100 yards away, and the foul beast was no where to be seen. The Son walked over to Her in order to talk, but as He neared, the beautiful Woman looked up with tears in Her eyes. "Go away!" She screamed at Him. "Look what talking to you gets Me!" She showed Him Her arms and legs. He saw bruises spotted over them, and, He too, began to cry. "Why are you crying?" She asked harshly. "These are not your burdens, nor are they from your hand. I disobeyed my lover, my Cad. This is my just reward!"
The Son listened in horror at Her warped and twisted words. "No. It isn't your just reward," He said quietly. "You deserve more, my--"
"DO NOT SAY THAT NAME!" She was yelling again. "My name is Harlot! I am not that foul name you say!" She stood up quickly, then, and ran off into the wood. Her sobs and cries of anguish came loud through the trees.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
"It is time, Father! He is hurting Her. That foul beast is beating Her! I cannot stand it! Let me go and claim My Bride!" The events of that afternoon hurt the Son deep in His chest. It brought out feelings of pain and anger so deep, that He wasn't sure that they were His feelings.
"Yes, Son. It is time. You are ready, but remember this: You cannot touch him. You may only touch the Woman. Go, now, and be strong, My Son. She will love you."
The Son, determined now, ran back out towards the water. His anger and desire and jealousy pushed Him to the breaking point, but He ran faster still. He was weakened when He found Her, yet, He knew He could do this. For Her. For His Father.
"Why have you come back?" The tears still had not stopped flowing down Her cheeks, and now, there was blood on cheek as well. "He will only beat Me again! Do you delight in my pain?"
The question startled the Son. "No! Far from it!" It was time to tell Her. "I hate Your pain, more than My own. I despise Your tears of sorrow. As to why I am back, I have come back for You." He let that statement sink in for Her. "I have come to take You home, away from the beast you call Cad. He does not love or deserve you, but I do. I love You more than My life. Your redemption has always been My purpose." A smile came across His face as He said those last words, for He had an idea. A pleasant idea, but it had to be done quickly. "You, Beloved, are My Prize! You are what I will gladly die for." The Woman said nothing. She stared at the Son in shock at His bold words. At that moment, He matched His bold words with a bold, unexpected action. He took Her in His arms and kissed Her lips. All the passion He had saved up came through in this moment.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Harlot couldn't believe her ears. He loved her? What she had always desired was true? She was in shock. She couldn't believe it. Was that how He truly saw her? As His Beloved? He couldn't, though! She was dirty. Unclean. A harlot. How could He love her? She looked into His deep eyes and found herself drowning in them. The desire was there. The fervor for her she could clearly see. He really would forgive anything and do anything for her. She knew she didn't deserve Him, but she wanted Him. The next thing she knew, He had her wrapped in His arms and His lips were pressed tightly against hers. The joy of that moment surpassed all of the pain she had ever felt. She felt at home in His arms.
The kiss was cut off too quickly. He smiled wildly at her. She smiled back at Him. She knew, now, her Lover. As soon as she thought the word concerning Him, her mind filled with images that she did not recognize. The one that lingered the longest was one of her in His arms again, but she was without clothes as when she first awoke. His smooth voice said quietly to her, "Wait for me, here. I will return for you." Realization hit her between her eyes. He was calling for her when she first awoke! He had always loved her and had searched and fought for her the whole time! Her mouth dropped open in surprise and understanding, but He just smiled wider.
A rough voice cut through the quiet. "What are you doing with HIM?!" She turned to see Cad walking towards them, visibly furious. "Leave Her alone, beast," the velvet voice said. "She is mine and She always has been." The color of Cad's face turned a deeper red to an almost black. A snarl ripped from Cad's chest and his eyes turned black. He pulled a knife out from behind his back at leapt at her. The knife was aiming right for her, but she soon only felt the grass on her back. She looked back to where she was standing to see Him, her Lover with the knife sticking out of His chest. Blood poured from His wound and covered the ground below Him. He looked at her and smiled. "I told you I would die for you. Wait for me, Beloved." Then He fell to the ground, dead.
A scream of pure agony ripped from her chest, but it was coupled by a scream much rougher and another so loud and painful that it shook the Earth. It was as though the earth was crying for justice. After her scream broke off, she looked and saw Cad as he truly is. Dead black skin with dead red eyes. All his beauty was stripped away leaving him exposed. She stared in horror at him and saw the pain in his dead eyes. He turned and ran away. He seemed afraid to be in this place any longer. After he entered the cover of the trees, she turned her eyes and attention back to her Lover. Tears, once more, fell from her eyes. Sobs broke loose from her chest. A calm, soothing voice reached her, "Do not weep, Daughter. For He will return for you. He died to free you so that you could live to love Him."
After these words were spoken, the wind blew and her pain eased. She raised her face into the breeze and welcomed it on her cheeks. After the breeze died away, she looked back down to her Lover's body, but it was not there. The pool of blood stayed and the knife had been removed, but the body was gone. Panic gripped her and she began to cry once more. She had only just remembered her Lover, but now, He was dead and she couldn't even bury the body.
"Don't cry," a softer, gentler voice said. "Everything is right, now." She turned to look at the voice. She felt her whole body lift off the ground. He was there! Her Lover HAD come back. "How," she asked suddenly. "You were dead! How are you here now?"
"I had to die. If I didn't, you would still not be free. My Father looked upon My sacrifice with favor. I did it correctly. I did it for My Beloved." He bent down and kissed her again softly. "Now, and I know this will seem cruel, but I must go. I must see to Our house. I want it to be perfect for you, My Beloved. My Bride. Wait for Me, here. Do not forget Me!" Then, He disappeared.
She didn't have time to agree or to protest, but she knew she would remember Him. How could she not? So, she waited, not always patiently, but she waited. Men came by, but she did not notice them. Her eyes were fixed on where her Lover said to wait. Time passed, but she hardly noticed. She was fixated upon her Lover. One morning, she awoke as the sun came rose across the water. She stretched her arms and stood to stretch her legs. Then, the voice she had waited for spoke, "Hello, My Beloved. It is time. Come, My Wife, let Us go home." She grabbed His outstretched hand, pulled Him close, kissed His lips, and said, "Yes, My Lover, My Husband. I am ready to go home."
They turned and walked towards the sun, across the water, and went home.
"Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for Her."
- Ephesians 5:25. Bottom line: The Church is the Bride of Christ and He died to set us free so that we could live to love Him.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Cad (Part 2 of 3)
He sat with his back resting against something. He couldn't tell what it was. A pervasive darkness covered his eyes. If it wasn't for the knowledge of his muscles working, he wouldn't even have known if his eyes were open or not. He turned his head in all directions possible, hoping for a light to break into the darkness. But there was nothing. He feared standing, for fear he would fall even further into nothingness. The events leading up to this were clear in his head and played in an endless cycle.
"Get out!" The Voice roared with such authority that Cad could barely whisper his response; a response that landed him here in this blackness. Say what you want about Him, but the Old Man could get angry. Cad closed his eyes in a deep depression and began to cry, again. He screamed out in rage, mostly directed to the Old Man, but also to the Brat and himself.
As his scream died, Cad opened his eyes again and saw a light growing. "Finally," he thought, "I'll be able to see something in this wretched place!" Just as he finished his thought, though, the light broke out over the ground and revealed the second most beautiful sight Cad had ever seen. She stood there, with the Brat. "Perfect! I still can't get away from Him!" Hate seethed out of every possible place. The two looked so happy; so in love it was disgusting.
Cad walked slowly toward the couple, trying to decide what he would do. He wasn't exactly sure of how he would do it, but he would steal the Girl from Him. As he neared, Cad caught the last of what the Brat was saying to Her, "Don't fear, my Love. I will come back to this place for you. Just remember Me and My love. It won't be long." With that, the Brat kissed Her and walked away. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. This place was for Her and She was for the Brat. The desire to have Her drove Cad insane. Her beauty was incomparable to anything in this place, and Cad vowed to destroy it. Her innocence was his for the taking. Cad smiled to himself and walked forward.
"Hello, lovely," Cad said, purring as if he was calling a cat. She smiled at him, but said nothing. "What," Cad asked, hurt. "Do you not have anything to say? You sure looked friendly with Him." Cad sneered the designation and refused to name the Brat. She looked down at her feet and said nothing. Cad, though, was determined. He continued coaxing Her and, after a while, began a conversation. Soon, they were walking and talking about everything.
"How is it that I do not know who you are," She asked after a few trips around the small lake.
"Because He doesn't want you to know me."
"Why not," she asked. "You don't seem bad and you are very nice."
"I do not know, love. Perhaps He doesn't trust you? Or, perhaps, He doesn't want you to know anything else?" That answer left Her thinking. Cad was sure he almost had Her. "Would you like to know me more? I can show so many things that He never would."
Her eyes lit up and turned the brightest blue with excitement. "Yes! I would love to!"
"Come, then. I will give you food and rest, and you will know me." Cad led Her into the forest and plucked an apple from a tree, whispered an incantation over it, and gave it to Her. She bit deeply into the apple and Cad watched Her eyes turn from the brightest blue to a dead, pale blue in a second. Cad smiled at his cleverness and said, "Come. You must rest now." He lay Her down behind a bush and let Her sleep.
While She slept, Cad whispered over Her. "You are now called Harlot. You are dirty. Used. Unwanted. He does not call for you. He calls for someone else. He doesn't want you." After he said these things, he let Her sleep.
A few hours later, Cad returned. He watched the Brat walk right past Harlot calling her by her other name. Cad chuckled inwardly and approached the woman crouching behind the bush and covered in leaves. "Harlot," he called softly. The woman turned to face him. The smile that was on her face fell into a disappointed grimace. Cad smiled, for he truly had her now.
"Get out!" The Voice roared with such authority that Cad could barely whisper his response; a response that landed him here in this blackness. Say what you want about Him, but the Old Man could get angry. Cad closed his eyes in a deep depression and began to cry, again. He screamed out in rage, mostly directed to the Old Man, but also to the Brat and himself.
As his scream died, Cad opened his eyes again and saw a light growing. "Finally," he thought, "I'll be able to see something in this wretched place!" Just as he finished his thought, though, the light broke out over the ground and revealed the second most beautiful sight Cad had ever seen. She stood there, with the Brat. "Perfect! I still can't get away from Him!" Hate seethed out of every possible place. The two looked so happy; so in love it was disgusting.
Cad walked slowly toward the couple, trying to decide what he would do. He wasn't exactly sure of how he would do it, but he would steal the Girl from Him. As he neared, Cad caught the last of what the Brat was saying to Her, "Don't fear, my Love. I will come back to this place for you. Just remember Me and My love. It won't be long." With that, the Brat kissed Her and walked away. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. This place was for Her and She was for the Brat. The desire to have Her drove Cad insane. Her beauty was incomparable to anything in this place, and Cad vowed to destroy it. Her innocence was his for the taking. Cad smiled to himself and walked forward.
"Hello, lovely," Cad said, purring as if he was calling a cat. She smiled at him, but said nothing. "What," Cad asked, hurt. "Do you not have anything to say? You sure looked friendly with Him." Cad sneered the designation and refused to name the Brat. She looked down at her feet and said nothing. Cad, though, was determined. He continued coaxing Her and, after a while, began a conversation. Soon, they were walking and talking about everything.
"How is it that I do not know who you are," She asked after a few trips around the small lake.
"Because He doesn't want you to know me."
"Why not," she asked. "You don't seem bad and you are very nice."
"I do not know, love. Perhaps He doesn't trust you? Or, perhaps, He doesn't want you to know anything else?" That answer left Her thinking. Cad was sure he almost had Her. "Would you like to know me more? I can show so many things that He never would."
Her eyes lit up and turned the brightest blue with excitement. "Yes! I would love to!"
"Come, then. I will give you food and rest, and you will know me." Cad led Her into the forest and plucked an apple from a tree, whispered an incantation over it, and gave it to Her. She bit deeply into the apple and Cad watched Her eyes turn from the brightest blue to a dead, pale blue in a second. Cad smiled at his cleverness and said, "Come. You must rest now." He lay Her down behind a bush and let Her sleep.
While She slept, Cad whispered over Her. "You are now called Harlot. You are dirty. Used. Unwanted. He does not call for you. He calls for someone else. He doesn't want you." After he said these things, he let Her sleep.
A few hours later, Cad returned. He watched the Brat walk right past Harlot calling her by her other name. Cad chuckled inwardly and approached the woman crouching behind the bush and covered in leaves. "Harlot," he called softly. The woman turned to face him. The smile that was on her face fell into a disappointed grimace. Cad smiled, for he truly had her now.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Harlot (Part 1 of a 3 part story)
Tears filled the woman’s eyes. She was different, changed, but she did not know why. Something felt different. She could not tell if it was her, or the atmosphere of where she was. Everything just felt weird, empty. She was in the same place as before she woke up, it felt oddly familiar, but different.
She got up to walk around, but even that was awkward. Everything felt heavy, like time had slowed down and gravity was thrust down upon her. She stumbled often, searching, always searching. She walked down the lake shore, eyes roving the tree line for her lost—something. Everything felt so foreign! She trudged on through the heavy sand while the tears finally found form and rolled down her cheeks. A sob tried to break through her mouth, but she kept it locked inside. She knew if she let one through, then another would escape, and then she would fall into a helpless, useless, worthless state of being.
To her left, in the tree line, she heard a branch snap. A cold shiver ran through her body as a slight breeze blew in from her right. She rubbed her arms to warm herself. Her skin felt icy and damp. She looked down at herself to see why she was so cold. The water from the lake lapped at her feet silently, her arms and legs had cold bumps all over them, and her stomach was—uncovered. Her whole body was uncovered! "That is why I am cold," she thought, "I’m—I’m naked."
Panic replaced the cold she felt. She was naked, and someone could see her. Her mind began to race and her heart began to pound in her chest. She ran towards the nearest covering and hid behind it. A few minutes later, a man walked near her hiding spot. He, too, was uncovered, but He saw no shame in it. He did not dive behind a bush. Perhaps He did not realize it yet. He called for someone, but it was not her. She had no memory of another woman, but was certain this man was calling for someone else. She was naked, dirty, shamed. Who would ever want someone like that? He continued calling a name, but it was not hers. “Harlot” never left His lips. She only knew herself as “Harlot,” that was her name, not this word the man called.
The man walked closer to Harlot’s spot, and she cringed and scooted farther and farther back into the brush. He kept calling that hideous name though, and jealousy flooded her heart at the sound of that name. Harlot wanted this man. She wanted to be the object of His desire, but He called for another. She would show Him, though. Once she covered herself, she would devote herself to winning His affection!
The man left her, finally. Harlot looked out from her spot and saw that He was, indeed, gone. She immediately started working on fashioning some sort of covering for herself. She gathered a large amount of long-veined leaves and smaller, but adequate sized leaves. She broke off a small twig and started punching holes in the smaller leaves near the top. After doing that, she took the long-veined leaves and began to tear them and rip them into thin enough strips so that it will be able to pass through the holes in the small leaves making long rows of leaves attached together making a rough attempt at coverings. She ran the rows of leaves around her torso, each side fully reaching around and overlapping. She made several more rows; enough to cover from her armpits to above her stomach and from her waist to her mid-thigh. She then tied the rows covering her chest together forming one piece and the rows covering her waist together forming a second. Harlot’s tension and shame fell when she finally settled into her coverings. Now, she could face Him, and deserve Him. Her heart began to get lighter, she felt a little less dirty. She stepped out into the sunlight and basked in the warm rays.
A voice broke the silence behind her. "Harlot." Finally, He called her. Harlot smiled as she turned to face Him, but, it was not Him. Now that she thought about it, the voice that called was completely different as well. His voice was smooth and sweet. This other voice was rough and harsh. This second man was decent looking, and, to Harlot's great pleasure, clothed as she was. "How is it you know my name, sir?" Harlot searched the man's eyes for any type of recognition.
"Come now, Harlot. Do you not know me? Have you not already lay with me?" Harlot's mind spun. Is this man...could this man really be the one she was to be with? She, tentatively and suspiciously continued the conversation. By the end, however, she was certain that this man, he called himself Cad, was her friend and, perhaps more than that.
She got up to walk around, but even that was awkward. Everything felt heavy, like time had slowed down and gravity was thrust down upon her. She stumbled often, searching, always searching. She walked down the lake shore, eyes roving the tree line for her lost—something. Everything felt so foreign! She trudged on through the heavy sand while the tears finally found form and rolled down her cheeks. A sob tried to break through her mouth, but she kept it locked inside. She knew if she let one through, then another would escape, and then she would fall into a helpless, useless, worthless state of being.
To her left, in the tree line, she heard a branch snap. A cold shiver ran through her body as a slight breeze blew in from her right. She rubbed her arms to warm herself. Her skin felt icy and damp. She looked down at herself to see why she was so cold. The water from the lake lapped at her feet silently, her arms and legs had cold bumps all over them, and her stomach was—uncovered. Her whole body was uncovered! "That is why I am cold," she thought, "I’m—I’m naked."
Panic replaced the cold she felt. She was naked, and someone could see her. Her mind began to race and her heart began to pound in her chest. She ran towards the nearest covering and hid behind it. A few minutes later, a man walked near her hiding spot. He, too, was uncovered, but He saw no shame in it. He did not dive behind a bush. Perhaps He did not realize it yet. He called for someone, but it was not her. She had no memory of another woman, but was certain this man was calling for someone else. She was naked, dirty, shamed. Who would ever want someone like that? He continued calling a name, but it was not hers. “Harlot” never left His lips. She only knew herself as “Harlot,” that was her name, not this word the man called.
The man walked closer to Harlot’s spot, and she cringed and scooted farther and farther back into the brush. He kept calling that hideous name though, and jealousy flooded her heart at the sound of that name. Harlot wanted this man. She wanted to be the object of His desire, but He called for another. She would show Him, though. Once she covered herself, she would devote herself to winning His affection!
The man left her, finally. Harlot looked out from her spot and saw that He was, indeed, gone. She immediately started working on fashioning some sort of covering for herself. She gathered a large amount of long-veined leaves and smaller, but adequate sized leaves. She broke off a small twig and started punching holes in the smaller leaves near the top. After doing that, she took the long-veined leaves and began to tear them and rip them into thin enough strips so that it will be able to pass through the holes in the small leaves making long rows of leaves attached together making a rough attempt at coverings. She ran the rows of leaves around her torso, each side fully reaching around and overlapping. She made several more rows; enough to cover from her armpits to above her stomach and from her waist to her mid-thigh. She then tied the rows covering her chest together forming one piece and the rows covering her waist together forming a second. Harlot’s tension and shame fell when she finally settled into her coverings. Now, she could face Him, and deserve Him. Her heart began to get lighter, she felt a little less dirty. She stepped out into the sunlight and basked in the warm rays.
A voice broke the silence behind her. "Harlot." Finally, He called her. Harlot smiled as she turned to face Him, but, it was not Him. Now that she thought about it, the voice that called was completely different as well. His voice was smooth and sweet. This other voice was rough and harsh. This second man was decent looking, and, to Harlot's great pleasure, clothed as she was. "How is it you know my name, sir?" Harlot searched the man's eyes for any type of recognition.
"Come now, Harlot. Do you not know me? Have you not already lay with me?" Harlot's mind spun. Is this man...could this man really be the one she was to be with? She, tentatively and suspiciously continued the conversation. By the end, however, she was certain that this man, he called himself Cad, was her friend and, perhaps more than that.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The Remembrance of the Places I've Been
This was written in February of this year. I don't remember much of the circumstance I was in, I just know that it wasn't fun. With whatever you are going through, I hope this helps.
The Mindless Ramblings of A College Nothing:
The lure of idols,
lures me in,
begging me stay.
The call of God,
calls me out,
begging me go.
The truth is this:
fear holds me
while time slips by.
How do I leave
When my mind
tells me to stay?
How do I stay
when my heart
bids me to go?
"Please, call to me"
is the cry
of peace and love.
"Please, run to me"
is the plea
of pain and hurt.
Pain and hurt are
the things I
know so very well,
But love and peace
are all that
I seem to need.
"Hope and trust!"
I can't...
"Taste and see!"
It doesn't help...
"Spirit and truth!"
That's the problem...
"You're redeemed!"
Really?
"I love you!"
How?
"I gave Him!"
Why?
"You're worth it!"
Doubt it...
"You suck!"
i know...
"I killed him!"
it's true...
"I hate you!"
yeah...
"You're dying!"
aren't we all?
Why do the lies
seem so right,
and not the truth?
Can I even trust
this small voice
crying in my mind?
Hope is a ploy.
Joy isn't truth.
Hurt, pain, that's truth.
"Enough!"
Of what?
"All of this!"
Why?
"My peace is greater!"
Nothing can be...
"Trust in Me!"
How?
"Believe!"
In what?
"Love."
With just one word,
I am dropped.
My tears race down.
The hurt fades out.
My pain leaves.
Love floods my core.
It heals old wounds,
soothes old scars.
It frees my soul.
Thank you!
"You're welcome..."
I love you!
"I know..."
Forgive me!
"I have..."
Hold me!
"Always..."
I start to sleep,
truly full.
No pain or hurt.
Love and peace lead,
ever, always,
to hope and joy.
Keep me close God,
close to you.
Never let me stray.
"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!" Ps. 34:8
The Mindless Ramblings of A College Nothing:
The lure of idols,
lures me in,
begging me stay.
The call of God,
calls me out,
begging me go.
The truth is this:
fear holds me
while time slips by.
How do I leave
When my mind
tells me to stay?
How do I stay
when my heart
bids me to go?
"Please, call to me"
is the cry
of peace and love.
"Please, run to me"
is the plea
of pain and hurt.
Pain and hurt are
the things I
know so very well,
But love and peace
are all that
I seem to need.
"Hope and trust!"
I can't...
"Taste and see!"
It doesn't help...
"Spirit and truth!"
That's the problem...
"You're redeemed!"
Really?
"I love you!"
How?
"I gave Him!"
Why?
"You're worth it!"
Doubt it...
"You suck!"
i know...
"I killed him!"
it's true...
"I hate you!"
yeah...
"You're dying!"
aren't we all?
Why do the lies
seem so right,
and not the truth?
Can I even trust
this small voice
crying in my mind?
Hope is a ploy.
Joy isn't truth.
Hurt, pain, that's truth.
"Enough!"
Of what?
"All of this!"
Why?
"My peace is greater!"
Nothing can be...
"Trust in Me!"
How?
"Believe!"
In what?
"Love."
With just one word,
I am dropped.
My tears race down.
The hurt fades out.
My pain leaves.
Love floods my core.
It heals old wounds,
soothes old scars.
It frees my soul.
Thank you!
"You're welcome..."
I love you!
"I know..."
Forgive me!
"I have..."
Hold me!
"Always..."
I start to sleep,
truly full.
No pain or hurt.
Love and peace lead,
ever, always,
to hope and joy.
Keep me close God,
close to you.
Never let me stray.
"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!" Ps. 34:8
Monday, December 14, 2009
The War Within
"Or do you not know, brothers--for I am speaking to those who know the Law--that the Law is binding on a person as long as he lives? Thus a woman is bound by law to her husband while he lives, but if her husband dies she is released from the law of marriage. Accordingly, she will be called an adulteress if she lives with another man while her husband is alive. But, if her husband dies, she is free from that law, and if she marries another man she is not an adulteress. Likewise, my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God. For while we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused (yes, aroused) by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit.
What then shall we say? That the law is sin? By no means! Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, 'You shall not covet.' But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. Apart from the law, sin lies dead. I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me. So the law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good.
Did that which is good, then, bring death to me? By no means! It was sin, producing death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to be sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure. For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin.
I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin." Romans 7
You know, there are times when I love Paul and what he has to say about the Christian life, but, there are those times when I really wish he would have just kept his mouth shut. This chapter tends to summarize those times for me.
Paul tells the Roman church(es) that they are free from the law because they are under grace (Romans 5). Then, he tells them that, even though they are under grace, it doesn't give them a free pass to do whatever they want (Romans 6). He tells them (and us) that they/we are no longer to be slaves to sin for we/they are free from it. Instead, we/they are to be slaves to righteousness.
That's all well and good, until we get to chapter 7. That is where Paul gets flat out confusing. He expounds on why we/they are free from the law: the law aroused sin in our bodies. And yes, when he says "aroused," he does mean in the same way that men and women are aroused by each other. Sin sees an opportunity and wants it really bad. In reality, our body has a desire and our reaction to fulfill that desire is sin. We know it is sin, but we still do it. So Paul, being Paul, gets even more confusing.
In anticipation of their question (and probably some of yours), he approaches the question of "Is the Law evil?" No, never. The Law was given by God to his people to show what he expected. We humans, however, see what God expects and we desire the opposite (before we accept Christ, that is). So, since it was given by God, and is what God expects of us, it cannot be evil and must be holy.
He anticipates another question and tells them/us that the Law did not kill us. We, in essence, killed ourselves because of sin. Sin did the killing, not the Law.
Now, we come to my favorite and least favorite part of this chapter. Paul jumps into this tirade about what he does. I can see him, pacing back and forth as he blurts out these words. The poor scribe is trying desperately to keep up and the emotion from Paul is flowing freely.
He says, "I want to do what is right, according to God. I see it and know that it is right, but I have a problem. Whenever I see what is right, I also see what is wrong. And I find this to be true about me (you probably do too, I sure do): when I want to do what is right, evil lies close at hand. I can't help it! My mind wants to serve God and follow him, but my body, man, my body wants to live for itself! I'm left with this doppleganger effect! There are two identities in me: Christ and my flesh. In my mind, I want Christ. But I have a hard time making my body do the same."
I know Paul's frustration well. I feel it daily. For I do things I don't want to do, and I don't do the things that I want and need to do! It drives me insane! But, Paul then gives us/them these words, "Who will deliver me from this body of death? Praise be to the Lord Jesus Christ!"
He asks a legitimate question. "If this body is killing me, and if I cannot always do what is right because of it, who will save me from it?" The answer is Jesus Christ. He will save me from this body that wants to do evil. Unfortunately, as Paul notes, it's not while we are still alive. "So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin."
As long as we live in this body, we will fight this war with it. We won't always win every battle, but, we will win the war...through Christ's saving grace.
Have hope, Christ has won the day. Persevere, we won't always be in this fight. Have faith, God knows what he is doing.
And don't forget what Romans 8:1-4 say: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit."
Thanks God. You rock.
What then shall we say? That the law is sin? By no means! Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, 'You shall not covet.' But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. Apart from the law, sin lies dead. I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me. So the law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good.
Did that which is good, then, bring death to me? By no means! It was sin, producing death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to be sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure. For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin.
I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin." Romans 7
You know, there are times when I love Paul and what he has to say about the Christian life, but, there are those times when I really wish he would have just kept his mouth shut. This chapter tends to summarize those times for me.
Paul tells the Roman church(es) that they are free from the law because they are under grace (Romans 5). Then, he tells them that, even though they are under grace, it doesn't give them a free pass to do whatever they want (Romans 6). He tells them (and us) that they/we are no longer to be slaves to sin for we/they are free from it. Instead, we/they are to be slaves to righteousness.
That's all well and good, until we get to chapter 7. That is where Paul gets flat out confusing. He expounds on why we/they are free from the law: the law aroused sin in our bodies. And yes, when he says "aroused," he does mean in the same way that men and women are aroused by each other. Sin sees an opportunity and wants it really bad. In reality, our body has a desire and our reaction to fulfill that desire is sin. We know it is sin, but we still do it. So Paul, being Paul, gets even more confusing.
In anticipation of their question (and probably some of yours), he approaches the question of "Is the Law evil?" No, never. The Law was given by God to his people to show what he expected. We humans, however, see what God expects and we desire the opposite (before we accept Christ, that is). So, since it was given by God, and is what God expects of us, it cannot be evil and must be holy.
He anticipates another question and tells them/us that the Law did not kill us. We, in essence, killed ourselves because of sin. Sin did the killing, not the Law.
Now, we come to my favorite and least favorite part of this chapter. Paul jumps into this tirade about what he does. I can see him, pacing back and forth as he blurts out these words. The poor scribe is trying desperately to keep up and the emotion from Paul is flowing freely.
He says, "I want to do what is right, according to God. I see it and know that it is right, but I have a problem. Whenever I see what is right, I also see what is wrong. And I find this to be true about me (you probably do too, I sure do): when I want to do what is right, evil lies close at hand. I can't help it! My mind wants to serve God and follow him, but my body, man, my body wants to live for itself! I'm left with this doppleganger effect! There are two identities in me: Christ and my flesh. In my mind, I want Christ. But I have a hard time making my body do the same."
I know Paul's frustration well. I feel it daily. For I do things I don't want to do, and I don't do the things that I want and need to do! It drives me insane! But, Paul then gives us/them these words, "Who will deliver me from this body of death? Praise be to the Lord Jesus Christ!"
He asks a legitimate question. "If this body is killing me, and if I cannot always do what is right because of it, who will save me from it?" The answer is Jesus Christ. He will save me from this body that wants to do evil. Unfortunately, as Paul notes, it's not while we are still alive. "So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin."
As long as we live in this body, we will fight this war with it. We won't always win every battle, but, we will win the war...through Christ's saving grace.
Have hope, Christ has won the day. Persevere, we won't always be in this fight. Have faith, God knows what he is doing.
And don't forget what Romans 8:1-4 say: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit."
Thanks God. You rock.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Unwrapped Presents
It sat under the tree with my name on it. I wanted so bad pick it up and shake the package to get a hint, but was afraid that it was breakable. I wanted even more to rip the gold and silver-starred paper off the box and find out what it was, but, if I did that, my parents would, probably, ground me. So, there I sat, day in and day out, waiting the two weeks before Christmas to see if I could, by some small chance, get a clue as to what lay under that festive decor.
As Christmas day drew near, the number of presents under the tree began to grow and grow. Several of them had my name written on the tag, but none of these interested me as much as this first box. Two days before Christmas, I could no longer stand it. I had to do something to get a hint. I pulled out a ruler from my room and sat down to take the measurements of the box. It wasn't large, just eight inches long. It was four inches across and about four inches deep. It felt as though it weighed a couple of pounds, but I couldn't be sure without putting it on a scale, and I was not going to attempt to take a present from under the tree and weigh it and try to put it back without my parents noticing. I considered the list I gave my parents earlier in the month and tried to match it with something on there, but I came up empty. This puzzle kept me awake most of that night. It bothered me that I did not know what it was, but, finally, after hours of thought and self-argument, I fell asleep.
I awoke the next day, Christmas Eve, excited and anxious for the evening to come. It is tradition in my family to open one gift on Christmas Eve as an appetizer to the entree of Christmas Morning. I semi-patiently waited through the day, enjoying the football games and other activities of the day. The time came for our Christmas service at church, and we all loaded up and went. My sister, though, said she would meet us there soon, so we went on ahead and she followed, not even a minute later.
I asked her when we got to the church why she waited one more minute, but she acted like she didn't hear me and ignored the question. My answer, though, came when we got home. She had pulled a large box out, from who knows where, and put it next to the tree. It was wrapped in shiny silver paper and had a large red bow on it. I went over and looked at the tag next to the bow. It had my name on it and I was immediately intrigued. The small gold and silver package was pushed from my mind at the intrigue of this large gift. In that second, I decided to open this large package from my sister. So, a few minutes after my whole family sat down, the unanimous decision was it was time to open our one present. When it came to my turn, I tore into the paper. What it revealed was a new flat screen TV, for the apartment I just rented, and a blu-ray player. Excitement rolled through me! I couldn't believe my luck. It was the one thing I wanted most that year. For the rest of the night, my family and I talked and laughed and fiddled with/read about our new gifts, but it soon came time for bed. That night passed much quicker and more peaceful than the previous now that the small, curious package was out of my head.
The next morning, I was woken by my dog. My sister let her in and she jumped onto my bed. This, obviously, was meant for me to get up because it was time for the rest of the presents. I had fewer presents that morning than the rest of my family (due to the cost of the single gift my whole family chipped in on), but I didn't mind. It was nice to have what I was given. Finally, I came to the small, curious, gold and silver package that perplexed me for the previous week or more. As I held it in my hands, all the feelings brought on by this package flooded me once again. In excited anticipation I ripped the paper off the box to reveal an ordinary brown box. I searched for the tape that sealed the opening. I quickly sliced through the tape with scissors and pulled the contents of the box out. To my surprise, and enjoyment, spilled several blu-ray movies.
Suddenly, I was very thankful I chose the large package over this one the previous night. If I would have insisted on opening this one first, the other present would have been ruined! I would have enjoyed the movies if I had opened them the previous night, but, since I didn't already have a blu-ray player, I would have known I was getting one. The real gift, the TV and blu-ray player, made this package of my borderline obsession so much greater!
So, at this Christmas season, I must ask the question: What is it that you want most? What in this life do you want most? Is it peace? Happiness? Love? And, how do you know that those are not part of a larger, more meaningful gift? Are those the "gift" you want, or are they simply accessories to the true gift to make it better?
"I have come so that you may have life, and life to the fullest."--Jesus
As Christmas day drew near, the number of presents under the tree began to grow and grow. Several of them had my name written on the tag, but none of these interested me as much as this first box. Two days before Christmas, I could no longer stand it. I had to do something to get a hint. I pulled out a ruler from my room and sat down to take the measurements of the box. It wasn't large, just eight inches long. It was four inches across and about four inches deep. It felt as though it weighed a couple of pounds, but I couldn't be sure without putting it on a scale, and I was not going to attempt to take a present from under the tree and weigh it and try to put it back without my parents noticing. I considered the list I gave my parents earlier in the month and tried to match it with something on there, but I came up empty. This puzzle kept me awake most of that night. It bothered me that I did not know what it was, but, finally, after hours of thought and self-argument, I fell asleep.
I awoke the next day, Christmas Eve, excited and anxious for the evening to come. It is tradition in my family to open one gift on Christmas Eve as an appetizer to the entree of Christmas Morning. I semi-patiently waited through the day, enjoying the football games and other activities of the day. The time came for our Christmas service at church, and we all loaded up and went. My sister, though, said she would meet us there soon, so we went on ahead and she followed, not even a minute later.
I asked her when we got to the church why she waited one more minute, but she acted like she didn't hear me and ignored the question. My answer, though, came when we got home. She had pulled a large box out, from who knows where, and put it next to the tree. It was wrapped in shiny silver paper and had a large red bow on it. I went over and looked at the tag next to the bow. It had my name on it and I was immediately intrigued. The small gold and silver package was pushed from my mind at the intrigue of this large gift. In that second, I decided to open this large package from my sister. So, a few minutes after my whole family sat down, the unanimous decision was it was time to open our one present. When it came to my turn, I tore into the paper. What it revealed was a new flat screen TV, for the apartment I just rented, and a blu-ray player. Excitement rolled through me! I couldn't believe my luck. It was the one thing I wanted most that year. For the rest of the night, my family and I talked and laughed and fiddled with/read about our new gifts, but it soon came time for bed. That night passed much quicker and more peaceful than the previous now that the small, curious package was out of my head.
The next morning, I was woken by my dog. My sister let her in and she jumped onto my bed. This, obviously, was meant for me to get up because it was time for the rest of the presents. I had fewer presents that morning than the rest of my family (due to the cost of the single gift my whole family chipped in on), but I didn't mind. It was nice to have what I was given. Finally, I came to the small, curious, gold and silver package that perplexed me for the previous week or more. As I held it in my hands, all the feelings brought on by this package flooded me once again. In excited anticipation I ripped the paper off the box to reveal an ordinary brown box. I searched for the tape that sealed the opening. I quickly sliced through the tape with scissors and pulled the contents of the box out. To my surprise, and enjoyment, spilled several blu-ray movies.
Suddenly, I was very thankful I chose the large package over this one the previous night. If I would have insisted on opening this one first, the other present would have been ruined! I would have enjoyed the movies if I had opened them the previous night, but, since I didn't already have a blu-ray player, I would have known I was getting one. The real gift, the TV and blu-ray player, made this package of my borderline obsession so much greater!
So, at this Christmas season, I must ask the question: What is it that you want most? What in this life do you want most? Is it peace? Happiness? Love? And, how do you know that those are not part of a larger, more meaningful gift? Are those the "gift" you want, or are they simply accessories to the true gift to make it better?
"I have come so that you may have life, and life to the fullest."--Jesus
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The Long Hill
My mom was overly cautious. She always yelled after me to be safe while riding my bike. "Watch out for that long hill, son!" That was always her final warning as I rode away. I always heard her, but I never really listened. On my bike, I was free. I knew she really didn't want me on the hill, but, it never failed, everyday I found myself standing at the top of the hill, straddling my Mongoose 21-speed. I went to it 6 or 7 times before my first attempt down. Each of those times, I chickened out before I could push myself over the edge. I remember the first time I went over the edge, though. I was nervous and scared. I pulled my hand off of the front brake, just in case I panicked. I didn't want to go over the handle bars because I pulled the front brake.
I didn't pedal. I just let gravity pull me down. I started going faster and faster. It scared me too much, so I pulled hard on the back brake and eased over to the grass so I could get off. I let the fear of what could happen stop me from going through with it and ended the ride too quickly. I walked my bike up the hill, got back on, looked behind me at the hill and then turned around and went home discouraged and ashamed of what I had done.
But, like before, I kept going back. It took me another two weeks before gathering the courage to try again. This time, I didn't ease into it, afraid that I would lose my resolve again like last time. But, in my haste, I forgot about the front brake. I started going down too fast, and went to hit the brake and tapped the front brake first. The front tire locked up and almost tipped the bike up in the air, but I let go quickly and hit the back brake. Again, I made it to the side before the end of the hill. Again, I walked my bike back up the hill. Again, I felt discouraged. Again, I went home unaccomplished.
However, day after day, I found myself staring down this long hill. This adversary of mine that I could not defeat, and, day after day, I went home without trying to ride the hill to the bottom. A month after my previous attempt, I found myself, unthinkingly, riding to the infamous hill. When I realized my destination, I gritted my teeth and vowed myself I wouldn't back out this time. I threw caution to the wind and went sailing over the edge and down the hill. The exhilaration of it thrilled me! The excitement that came along with this ride, fueled by adrenaline was incredible! It was like no other feeling I had known before. I finally realized what I had been missing out on! Suddenly, though, something on my left caught my attention. It flew past my eyes, so I turned my eyes back to the road down the hill. I saw the bottom of it! I was almost there! I was finally going to make it! Then, the turn at the end of the hill grabbed my attention. Panic overtook me. I had to slow down! I wasn't going to make that turn! I grabbed for the brakes, but I caught the front brake first. The front tire seized up and flipped me over the handle bars. I rolled down the hill, hearing the sickening crunches coming from my body as my bones broke. Finally I came to rest at the bottom of the hill with my bike laying on top of my broken body.
Luckily for me, my dad was driving past on his way home from work. He saw me laying on the ground, broken, and stopped. He ran over towards me from his truck. In my semi-conscious state, I knew that he would be upset with me. I knew he would be made that I tried to pull such a stupid stunt, but I heard nothing from him. Instead, he picked me up in his strong arms and sat me in his truck. He ran back and threw my bike in the bed and sped to the hospital. The doctors there were upset with him that he drove me himself instead of calling an ambulance, but he didn't care. He could hardly stand seeing me in that state for the 10 minute trip. There was no way he could handle just sitting with me until the ambulance got there unable to do anything.
The extent of my injuries were far deeper than physical. The broken leg, collar bone, wrist, fractured ribs, split head, and hundreds of bruises would all heal with rest. The true injuries wouldn't show up until later.
I took my time and healed. I had to get a new bike, too. My other was ruined. It was unable to be fixed and ridden again. I even waited several months after the doctors said it was physically okay for me to ride, to start riding again. After I did, I soon found myself returning to the cursed hill. It was the flame to my moth. I was drawn to it, to its allure and its frustration. My first trip back, was just to see it again. A scouting mission, if you will. It looked even more terrifying than before. I quickly turned around and went home.
The next time out there, I once again found myself on the edge. I took my foot off the pedal to steady myself, but as I did, my shoelace caught on the pedal and I fell over. My bike crashed down on top of my leg. I pushed the bike off of me and got up. My leg was bleeding and my bike was scratched up, but I got back on and rode home with pain shooting through my leg the whole time. At home, I examined my bike. The scratches had made it lose the gleam of a new bike. It was no longer perfect, but I decided a few scratches wasn't worth getting rid of a bike over. I could still ride it.
So, everyday for months I found myself staring down the hill. I had seen other people fly past me and go right down without any problems, but I couldn't seem to do that. I wanted to so bad. I wanted to make it down the hill and turn the corner. I had heard what it was like on the other side of the turn, but I wanted to know what it looked like myself. That, more than anything, kept drawing me back to that wretched hill.
After months of staring down the hill and watching people go past me, I decided I should try again. So, I did. I took off down the hill, determined to make it to the bottom and turn the corner. As I sped down the hill, I spotted a rock in the middle of the road. I swerved to the left to avoid it, but at the speed I was traveling, I couldn't control the bike. I went off the road and into the ditch. My bike hit the far wall of the ditch, bending the tire and pushing the front of the frame back. After it hit the wall, I fell off into the tall grass. I was unhurt, save a couple bruises that would heal quickly, but, once again, my bike was beyond repair. I carried it back up the hill and home.
Soon after, I got another new bike, and, soon after, I found myself staring down the hill. The emotional injuries of my two falls plague my mind. Every time I stand at the top of the hill, the memories of the falls replay in my mind and I back away and go home.
So, here I am, straddling my third bike as I watch my friends go over the edge without hesitation. Some make it to the bottom and some don't. Those that make it to the bottom turn the corner and those that don't make the bottom come back and try again. As I watch friend after friend fly down the long hill, I can't help but think back to the first attempt I made. I backed off, afraid of what could happen, even though that was probably the most ready I was to make the trip down the hill. I don't know if I would have made the corner and been okay, but I can't help but wonder about it. I want so bad to push myself over the edge and go down, but I'm so afraid of wrecking again that I freeze...
God forgives. God redeems. God loves. It doesn't matter if you've messed up before or not, God still loves. It doesn't matter if it's your first "bike" or your tenth. Don't let that be a hindrance. I'm trying not to...
I didn't pedal. I just let gravity pull me down. I started going faster and faster. It scared me too much, so I pulled hard on the back brake and eased over to the grass so I could get off. I let the fear of what could happen stop me from going through with it and ended the ride too quickly. I walked my bike up the hill, got back on, looked behind me at the hill and then turned around and went home discouraged and ashamed of what I had done.
But, like before, I kept going back. It took me another two weeks before gathering the courage to try again. This time, I didn't ease into it, afraid that I would lose my resolve again like last time. But, in my haste, I forgot about the front brake. I started going down too fast, and went to hit the brake and tapped the front brake first. The front tire locked up and almost tipped the bike up in the air, but I let go quickly and hit the back brake. Again, I made it to the side before the end of the hill. Again, I walked my bike back up the hill. Again, I felt discouraged. Again, I went home unaccomplished.
However, day after day, I found myself staring down this long hill. This adversary of mine that I could not defeat, and, day after day, I went home without trying to ride the hill to the bottom. A month after my previous attempt, I found myself, unthinkingly, riding to the infamous hill. When I realized my destination, I gritted my teeth and vowed myself I wouldn't back out this time. I threw caution to the wind and went sailing over the edge and down the hill. The exhilaration of it thrilled me! The excitement that came along with this ride, fueled by adrenaline was incredible! It was like no other feeling I had known before. I finally realized what I had been missing out on! Suddenly, though, something on my left caught my attention. It flew past my eyes, so I turned my eyes back to the road down the hill. I saw the bottom of it! I was almost there! I was finally going to make it! Then, the turn at the end of the hill grabbed my attention. Panic overtook me. I had to slow down! I wasn't going to make that turn! I grabbed for the brakes, but I caught the front brake first. The front tire seized up and flipped me over the handle bars. I rolled down the hill, hearing the sickening crunches coming from my body as my bones broke. Finally I came to rest at the bottom of the hill with my bike laying on top of my broken body.
Luckily for me, my dad was driving past on his way home from work. He saw me laying on the ground, broken, and stopped. He ran over towards me from his truck. In my semi-conscious state, I knew that he would be upset with me. I knew he would be made that I tried to pull such a stupid stunt, but I heard nothing from him. Instead, he picked me up in his strong arms and sat me in his truck. He ran back and threw my bike in the bed and sped to the hospital. The doctors there were upset with him that he drove me himself instead of calling an ambulance, but he didn't care. He could hardly stand seeing me in that state for the 10 minute trip. There was no way he could handle just sitting with me until the ambulance got there unable to do anything.
The extent of my injuries were far deeper than physical. The broken leg, collar bone, wrist, fractured ribs, split head, and hundreds of bruises would all heal with rest. The true injuries wouldn't show up until later.
I took my time and healed. I had to get a new bike, too. My other was ruined. It was unable to be fixed and ridden again. I even waited several months after the doctors said it was physically okay for me to ride, to start riding again. After I did, I soon found myself returning to the cursed hill. It was the flame to my moth. I was drawn to it, to its allure and its frustration. My first trip back, was just to see it again. A scouting mission, if you will. It looked even more terrifying than before. I quickly turned around and went home.
The next time out there, I once again found myself on the edge. I took my foot off the pedal to steady myself, but as I did, my shoelace caught on the pedal and I fell over. My bike crashed down on top of my leg. I pushed the bike off of me and got up. My leg was bleeding and my bike was scratched up, but I got back on and rode home with pain shooting through my leg the whole time. At home, I examined my bike. The scratches had made it lose the gleam of a new bike. It was no longer perfect, but I decided a few scratches wasn't worth getting rid of a bike over. I could still ride it.
So, everyday for months I found myself staring down the hill. I had seen other people fly past me and go right down without any problems, but I couldn't seem to do that. I wanted to so bad. I wanted to make it down the hill and turn the corner. I had heard what it was like on the other side of the turn, but I wanted to know what it looked like myself. That, more than anything, kept drawing me back to that wretched hill.
After months of staring down the hill and watching people go past me, I decided I should try again. So, I did. I took off down the hill, determined to make it to the bottom and turn the corner. As I sped down the hill, I spotted a rock in the middle of the road. I swerved to the left to avoid it, but at the speed I was traveling, I couldn't control the bike. I went off the road and into the ditch. My bike hit the far wall of the ditch, bending the tire and pushing the front of the frame back. After it hit the wall, I fell off into the tall grass. I was unhurt, save a couple bruises that would heal quickly, but, once again, my bike was beyond repair. I carried it back up the hill and home.
Soon after, I got another new bike, and, soon after, I found myself staring down the hill. The emotional injuries of my two falls plague my mind. Every time I stand at the top of the hill, the memories of the falls replay in my mind and I back away and go home.
So, here I am, straddling my third bike as I watch my friends go over the edge without hesitation. Some make it to the bottom and some don't. Those that make it to the bottom turn the corner and those that don't make the bottom come back and try again. As I watch friend after friend fly down the long hill, I can't help but think back to the first attempt I made. I backed off, afraid of what could happen, even though that was probably the most ready I was to make the trip down the hill. I don't know if I would have made the corner and been okay, but I can't help but wonder about it. I want so bad to push myself over the edge and go down, but I'm so afraid of wrecking again that I freeze...
God forgives. God redeems. God loves. It doesn't matter if you've messed up before or not, God still loves. It doesn't matter if it's your first "bike" or your tenth. Don't let that be a hindrance. I'm trying not to...
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