As the music plays, I let the words wash over me like wet concrete strengthening these broken bones. I keep the playlist on because after replaying it somewhere near a hundred times (if not more) over the past four years, it’s become mindless, yet continues to say everything I can’t right now. Sometimes emotions and thoughts run so deep inside your bloodstream that vocalizing it is an impossibility, and yet their lyrics belt it out with such eloquence that I can through them gain the necessary relief. The sound of the synth helps me order my thoughts just enough to gather the week’s notes and write this post.
The mess means He’s rebuilding. In the midst of this war zone coated in blood and dust don’t let yourself become a shadow. The enemy seeks to break you through whichever method he can find. Yahweh has me in a place right now of simply watching Him fight for me from inside the hospital tent. Because of this pain of healing there are pieces of me considering the old apathy. Then, I could turn on emotion like a switch. All it took was a few drinks. They tasted like the poison they were, but they made me feel everything that was bottled up tight. But I was a shadow of a person then. After a while I began to feel the emptiness. And when He knew it was time, He restored me. Now I sit in the midst of a beauty so vibrant it’s overwhelming. This time I’m not giving up. If it takes forever, I’ll be screaming “hallelujah.”
But where will I be standing when He returns from fighting for me? Choosing apathy would be to kiss the enemy. Some things I’ll never know, and I had to let them go. But I know He’s working, and is at the door even now. Will He find me screaming “hallelujah” or with my tongue in the enemy’s mouth? His tent seems so clean, but the chaos is only hiding down below. I’d rather face the wreckage with the King holding on to me than be swallowed by it, and thus turn rancid myself. For such is the end result of all those little sins we acquiesce. I’d rather face the mess than become ataxic.