Tossing and turning in the sheets of my bed I wrestle with my thoughts.I seek the comfort of his warmth but am met with the cold of the night, I search for the light that he illuminates but recieve only the silent darkness around me. I pray to him in the silence of the dark and tremble inside from the fear of no reply.
I speak to him the the worry and fear I carry I express to him the chains of my sins. I fear of the shame I might see on his face were we to meet, I hesitate to speak for fret of his condemning words. But alas og Lord have you not said that you have cast my sins as a lightning bolt that streches from the east to west? Have you not in your love and your mercy dipped my cloth of being in the blood of the lamb? Amd I my precious father the sinner or the saint? Have I my kind fallen from your grace or elevated to your side?
I hurt in my soul and my spirit groans in shame and iniquity, my hands feel as if covered in filth and grime my eyes as if covered in mud and I weep in my curled up sheets from the excess of my stirring. But alas as a sudden flash I am in the spirit again in the place of hioliness I have traversed in the past.
Again I see my king before me yet I dare not move or look at him, I turn my face in shame and unworthy as I am I dare not even kneel before him. For how could one as filthy and unworthy as I taint his presence with my own? How could one such I shame him by gazing at his face? A single tear of shame and regret falls down my cheek as a hand begins to turn my head.
Slowly and gently, lovingly and with such care the king says to me look my child and see.
As I do only when my eyes meet his in only a sudden burst of light I am blind. My eyes cannot see my vision is black and I hear a voice say now listen.
A message I have for you and to give to my children for they like you see more than they hear. A message he speaks to me and as I listen a pen I feel in my hand. I laugh a bit as this method is once again his go to.
I listen and without seeing I write. To the church of seekers he speaks, I have treasured your hunger and your lust for me, I have delighted in your thirst and your sharing of your passion with my followers, but this I have to say to you, be wary of growing impatient and be cautious of trying to chase when you need to rest.
To the church of listeners he speaks, You have honored me in knowing and listening to my voice, your spirit has made my spirit spark with joy in your love of my words spoken to you but this I have to say to you, be wary of who you hear for my voice even well known can be mimicked, be cautious to what you allow in your heart for the devil appears as an angel of light.
To the church of the speakers, I am honored by your wise council and teaching of my church that I guard jealously, those who have known my truth and have spoken it have adorned for themselves treasures and honor, but this I say to you be wary of over teaching for a proper teacher must also be a student. Be cautious of pride for only God is all knowing.
To the church of encouragement I am delighted in your lifting of others, I hear the souls of the fallen sing in life and joy from your work. But this I have to say to you, be wary of in your lifting of others that you do not forget that you need this as well. For how can you give life to others if you have drained yourself of it?
To the church of the healers I relish in your passion for the sake of others, I am a constant in you and my hands have been directed to the wounded and broken because of your love for others, but this I have to say to you please do not think you can heal the world for some wounds are of my own desire to keep. Do not cause others to stumble because they do not walk in this gift as you do and be aware of the wounds you yourself carry for I hear the wounds crying.
To the church of my prayer warriors I have only this against you, in your prayers I have worked and have answered however you do not communicate with me enough. I treasure the time we share together in the still silent place and I love your willingness to pray for others but I wish you would not forget to speak with me as well.
And to my child whom I have given this message to speak be wary of self infliction for enemy knows your vital points, you fall and stumble yes but the filth you see and feel is but an illusion a lie.For I know your heart my child, I know and I hear your pain inside, I feel the bleeding you cause yourself by the eyes you see with. You have the love and care for others but neglect yourself, you are what I say you are and nothing you do will ever change that.
You pray so desperately for the healing of others hearts yet look at yours my child. See the scars look at the bruises, do you really think yourself unworthy of mending? Do you think I cannot hear your soul weeping?
How willing you are to speak my words I give you but you do not know how to listen to them, but I have heard your cries and I was there in the nights alone in your tears. For now all I ask is that you learn to listen and accept. Is it not you who always says the difference between hearing and listening?
And so my child I have blinded you so that you may hear me better without hinderence of sight.
As I feel the final stroke of the pen He hold me one last time and whispers in my ear, I know not what he had spoken only that at the proper moment they will be words of life to me and will reveal what I was blind in.