Breaking the Dam

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DyingDaily

Guest
#1
Murder. Rape. Torture. Pedophilia. Intentional mutilation. Suicide. Addiction. Hate.

These are the most terrible words that I can muster the will to bring to mind. Each involving pain, each with various explanations that do naught to ease their severity. Focusing on these words would turn any milk within my stomach to butter. Paying them attention stirs the embers of my heart and brings forth the memory of fear. If the last word muttered was a question and the question were "why?" it would belong to me. In this moment. Why must these words exist? Why must these manifestations of godlessness exist? Mental illness, PTSD, surviving victims that have only truly survived of the flesh and not of the soul and spirit. No reasoning suffices when first it begins. I may myself be unwell, but I do except all of these words and each of their relations into my heart, may it burn forever. With mine own two eyes I can not believe the reflection of my tongue that could speak such senseless wickedness. May I be bound, restrained and interpreted as I become the most terrible. My belief of and in God is unyielding. Knowledge is validating. My faith with truth, still young. My experience unfounded. If a plant, I am the seed that sprouted in the most common of clouds.
Please allow me to return to this eternal key of a question, once answered and understood opens both the gates of Heaven and the dark abyss. Not having studied even a small measurable amount of scripture and biblical teachings, it may be there are some I am meant to walk with in search of that which is hidden within. Not to lead, not to follow, but to join. Inside of my heart, where, it may not matter resides a hesitant acceptance that the answers are indeed within the Bible. Still there lingers a crippled ambition to set forth and absorb them from their biblical form.
Fear. The seemingly bi-polar essence that substitutes certainty. My fear that has stemmed from ignorant persecution has rooted itself much deeper within me. It has anchored itself as fear by justified reason. Now it has blossomed into a fear of power. The power of mine own words. Weariness of the choice to make them mine. As if out of a fantasy, good evil or indifferent, they can become precious, valuable, influential, inspirational, moving, stirring. Reality. I ask you who read to answer for yourself and I this question, the answer which we already hold. Why is it that which suffers greatest is that which displays no fear in times of import? The heart. There is no mind over matter if the heart does not. Salvation of function and potential rather than salvation of deed, as the will changes with the completion of a sentence. My Lord has given an eternal abundance of sin and I have not judged Him for it. Not in the confines of my memory. He has given it to me to waste. A constant light in the darkness of wonderful mystery. Like the wrapping on a gift. As a lantern of reality through turmoil and confusion. Underneath it all is this failure that the Lord can not possess with His perfection. I accept THIS present as the past, and will hold it forever as I let it go. With patience I watch the future grow. With trust I maneuver through sorrow and despair. With conviction, may I receive no more. I am reborn. I have died and have been raised again. I am cleansed. I am touched upon the brow by a point countless. I am sustained. May I walk unperturbed to the land and time where I may give myself, and nothing more, as Holy sustenance. I have not arrived. I am not delivered. I am here. Without you who sees, I am gone, but not lost. Together we are now. I encourage you to think beyond the plain simplicity that I offer until you are where it is safe to bare feeling. Are we not what I am without He? Look at what I have brought. For a price that no soul could purchase. Behold what I bring as offering. It is not special nor important. It is what I am and nothing more What is less will never come. Fulfillment is this constant open door. As the water flows.