around the bend in the road

Fear is a spirit

Dark and heavy

It pummels me fast and hard

It pushes and pulls

I have a sense of urgency

I am pressed to make a decision

That will lead to Its invasion of my soul

My flesh, pressed out of measure

pushes me with wholly convincing words

Say the words of agreement

Let it in

My renewed mind wars with the fallen one

speaking wisdom...

Fear only seeks to work its will on you

The will of its father

The father of all lies

The waster who comes to destroy

The decision made out fear

Is doomed to failure from the start

But now Fear forcefully interrupts

He is most impolite

"Do it now! Do it now!

Do not think

Do not retreat to a seemingly safer mindset

There is no such thing

This is no trap

It is only natural

Look around you at what is happening

This is a disaster

You are a fool to stand there

doing nothing

Move

Move into the safe place I have prepared for you

Wild-eyed and fainting with panic

I give in in desperation

I do as I am bid

ignoring the person I know in my spirit is behind the voice

I feel momentary relief

Because I am 'doing something'...

And like a startling deer

is shot through the heart by the wily hunter

I am pierced through with vicious arrows 

And the low, menacing voice of my tormentor bends my ear again

Doubt me not, now I have you

In my scaly clutches

Because you have made an alliance with me

Just by heeding my voice

And your eyes that rolled in anxiety at my coming

will see where I have really lead you

at the last

And you will know of my deception

But as you rail against the thing you have agreed to

Beating against the bars of the prison

Of your own creation

You will know that you have set the sentence

Simply by obeying my voice

you have let me in

To do my worst"

And in that moment

I know once again that I will not be free

apart from faith

But I need a point on which to focus

I have walked too far away from my path

I have come so low that only darkness surrounds me

Thick as a smothering blanket

weighing me down

And I cannot get up

But lo...

I hear a soft sigh

A mere breath

But I know this voice

And I feel the jagged edges of my shattered mind

pull together once again

The Spirit is speaking...

whispering...

Now, you are in a position to listen

It is time to remember who you are

and what you are meant for

Faith is the victory

Look up

You will see that your prison

has no ceiling

And the angels will lift you out

if only you will say the words

Agree with ME now

It is not too late

Let me rescue you

You know I am not a man

that I should lie

Look up in faith

And fly away with the angels

What a great idea ...

The sky is the colour of dirty dishwater, and from my window I can see the wind teasing through the corn fields. Sam says we need the rain.  I would welcome it, too, if it were not for the fact that my oldest three are with Grandma at Indiana Beach. I do not know if the rainy weather extends that far away from home. 

I was reading this morning from Richard Wurmbrand's 'Sermons from Solitary Confinement'. Richard was an Underground Church pastor in Romania in the 1940's when his beloved country was still Communist. He was imprisoned for a total of 14 years for his faith--three of which were spent in solitary confinement. He endured starvation, torture, isolation, drugging, and endless interrogations. The Communists were afraid of God--still are.And they were afraid of this Jewish Christian and the Words he spoke to the people. He was a very brave man. 

There are four books of sermons that came to him. He preached in the spirit to his congregation while he was in prison. He did not have access to paper and pen, nor did he have a Bible or any other book, so he memorised by pnemonic  device what he had to say. When he was freed and got to the US he wrote down some 350 sermons from memory alone. They are eye opening. 

His sermons are written just as they occured to him while he was in prison. He did not change them. They show the mind of a man in love with God and enduring great trial for that love. I learn much from them.

The one I was reading today was one he addressed to his then nine-year-old son, Mihai. He wrote that he loved him and often held his pillow in his arms, caressing it, pretending it was him. He said he he could not go on, that the tortures were now too painful, and he was afraid he would betray his fellow brethren on the outside if he did not end his own life. "You know my secret," he said. "I have some 30 pills hidden in the mattress of my bed." He planned to take the pills, but wished to address his son one last time. 

His advice was simple. "Love God, Mihai." He did not know where his son was, whether his wife was imprisoned, too. He surmised that perhaps his little boy was eating out of a garbage can somewhere. He wondered what his son's future would be one day. Would  Mihai be embittered by the circumstances of his life? Would he turn from God--this little boy who had seen Jesus walking through his home when he was five. 

Richard apologised for not being able to hold out, for not being able to go on. He admonished Mihai to do better than his father. The humility of this sentiment struck me. I, for one, have never gone longer than 24 hours without food, except when I was ill. I have never been beaten, tortured, or locked away in a cold, grey, silent cell--away from all who I love, all I know. I have never had to hold a pillow and talk to it, pretending it is one of my little ones. I have suffered, but not like this.

Richard was slated to die in prison, but God made a miracle for him. Some Western Christians heard of his plight and put up $10,000 for his release. They wanted to bring him to America. The Communist stooges agreed, but they threatened Richard, "You will be released, but you are not to talk of your arrest and imprisonment, or we will find you and kill you." 

When he and his family got here he was not afraid, he knew what he must do. He went straight to Congress, stripped off his shirt to show his deep toture wounds, and testified to the brutal treatment he had endured, and his brethren with him.  Then, he started the Voice of the Martyrs, a ministry to the persecuted Church around the world. VOM is now in many oppressed countries providing physical and spiritual sustenance to those who must live underground for their faith. 

The impossibility of this story is staggering to me. It cannot be mere coincidence. Only God could have made Richard's release possible. Only He could have got him to the US to start a ministry. But, as Richard wrote once, "The supernatural was the natural in our house."

I take a lesson from the story. Nothing is impossible for God. He took a man on death's door and brought him out of the darkness of a Communist prison. He gave him back his family, restored his health, and gave him very useful work to do. Richard lived to be 92 years old. He taught and wrote and ministered all his life. 

Nothing is impossible for God.

I think everyone is facing something today. Something very fearful, painful, and/or 'impossible' in its scope. But, we all have a purpose. And there is no pit that is deep enough that the love of God is not deeper still. Love, who is God, wishes to overtake us, wrap around us, protect us, comfort us, strengthen us ... and send us out to do our life's work. Love knows we will not be joyful in our lives if we do not know and fulfill our purpose, so He helps us work through whatever obstacles the Enemy sends, no matter how big they seem, to that end. 

I have been very ill. These last two years have been very frightening/confusing at times. But, I have seen miracles, too. I have promises from my God that He will restore health to me and heal all my wounds. He was with me in the valley of the shadow, even when I was railing at Him, even when my weakness of mind and body was all I had to offer Him. On my worst days, a miracle would occur to remind me He was there with me. At the moments when I felt death around me, I had His promises to hold onto, and I said them out loud, making my tongue a weapon to push back the great darkness. 

"I will not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord."

"I do not fear, I only believe."

"I will not die..."

My body and mind were rebelling against the Words, but my heart was fully engaged. God is not a man that He should lie, and faith, his Gift to me, was on the rise inside me. I am thankful. 

I will go on to fulfill the purpose of my life. I am joyful. It is well with my soul. 

And one day, I will see Richard and his lovely family. I will tell him of how his work and writings encouraged me during some dark times of my own...

Be encouraged, friends ... whatever you are going through. There is a God, and He loves you. He wishes to lead you out of your dark valley.

E.

I primarily got a live journal account so I could write for the SS/HG Exchange, but people are now friending me and I am friending other, so ...

I am still not sure what to do with this account ... I guess I could post stories or write anecdotes. Hahahahahahahaha. I could post my thoughts from day to day, but most people would probably think my thought processes a bit strange. 

Well, the way I see it, you asked for it, friends. Ok ... you didn't really ask for it, but I assume you want to look at something other than a barren wasteland of a live journal. Correct? 

What to do???? What to do???

Pretend there is a suggestion box, will you? Let your posts be suggestions.

E.