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Armor On Time; My Name Is Infirmity

Helmet on, Chest gear which includes a new and very secure Harness, Tools of action including many cams, nuts, quick draws, everything he needs to help with victory. Weapon of choice, the pickax grappling hook dangling securely from his belt. Oh one last thing, the thing he needs most to Shield against certain defeat, good strong and safe rope.

Standing before the lone crest, is a solitary man looking up at the massive formation that looms ahead of him, so broad the arms of it’s mass, his wits breadth can not hope to hold, so tall in his mind staring down at him, taunting him, he is yet just beginning to fathom the power and scope of the task that rests before him.

Last chance, he could turn back now, nobody would be the wiser? Sure, he could find any number of excuses that could satisfy any who would inquire, rational excuses that would appease everyone but the one who resides in his own mind, for whatever excuse this time he uses to turn, he will himself always know the truth, that any and all excuses are just that; bail-outs designed to excuse the last remnant of rational thought before he takes on the impossible.

“Well I guess that’s it, I’m going!” he says with less of resound and more of hopeful anticipation. Up he goes!

Hours in, that seem like weeks, he presses face down against the hot stone, a clenching hold on to her like a long lost lover, and while he holds for his dear life, the adoration of her is only measured by the adrenaline produced with the ever present chance of certain death. If but one rock releases, one slip of foothold, a single clip falters, a death is most assured to follow, but this fear yet dims in comparison hopefully to the ecstasy of overcoming.

Conquering this giant of a mountain, pushing a lifetimes fear behind, is about as easy as facing the creatures that looms under the bed in our childhood dreams. As was in this man, and I would venture in any, before there is a unsettling desire to first conquer said giant, he has to come to the realization that there was such a one even out there.

Spotting the mountain in the recesses of our desires, those that may push us one way or that, and hold us back from going yet another, that looming presence that chains us back from accomplishing those mountaintop experiences that sit on the path of our destiny, finally reaching those cloud shrouded dominions that some only hope to find in the safety of dreams, has gotten to be one of the quintessential discoveries and subsequent victories God has designed in us from times birth.

He clears the fear from his mind and wills a covering to stop those thoughts from entering.

With each grueling lift of his torso, one ever aching step further, he nudges closer. Just pulling one step higher with burning arms, another inch pushing closer to the top, requesting yet again a thrust from legs that have already produced from the edge of spasm, he nudges just that much closer to freedom, dominion, and victory. How impossible the task seems when the giant looms out in front of us like an unconquerable barrier. He must shield his heart from this pull somehow?

There is tug trying to drag him down, it seems to draw from within almost a tingling pain, painted with layers of fearful glaze. It’s cruel fingers pulling hard down on him, whispering for him to give up before it’s to late. A dark creature’s biting tease, that eases into his mind from an initial burning ache, to an eventual stabbing pain, inflicting on every once of his body it’s cruel fangs, as they painful stab muscle after aching joint.

The grind of the rough giant’s face against his young cheek is as cold with the soulless callousness, as the evident lack of any care in it’s hot touch. Thank Jesus he can press on. He cuts all thoughts of pain from his mind and wills his arms and legs further.

What drive’s a man to risk heart, body, and soul, in what his very essence, his entire childhood history would tell him is certainly an endeavor destined for defeat? What pushes a man to attempt to conquer the unconquerable? Maybe a deep seated courage, a strength that can only be associated with life, love of life, love, a Light burning bright within, well I guess there you have it….God!

Defeat, that is always the risk, the possibility. Yes, and in it, resides the fear of what would remain; a fractured, broken body that lies only among the ruins of society that are left, that is of course if we might find the broken remnant of a man remaining, there is always a chance death could surely follow. Well at least that is what we have been told our entire life. So how stupid to try such a gallantry courageous, and foolishly unrewarding endeavor?

Such have the many words that have been spoken into his mind throughout his life, words of insufficiency, inadequacy, doubt, fear, all have been ingrained in the mind since he was a small boy. But somewhere in the barren burnt out battlefields that fill the hollows of his mind, our young mountain climber finds not only the courage to overcome a giant that may not have even been conceived in earlier days, as being something that can be, no must be overcome.

Suddenly his hand reaches over the edge of a last outcrop, and he feels the flat safe surface of victory. Fear no longer has any pull, and like the wisp of some unwanted heat, just like the first feeling as you quickly open an oven door so fast does the unwanted intruder flee.

He pulls himself to the top with simple ease, forgetting any and all pain the preceded, only to be replaced by the excitement of victory, the deserved pride of overcoming, the feeling of good. Our man drops to his knees and with a tear running down his cheek he feels he has vanquished every foe he has ever hidden from. King of the mountain.

Everyone has a mountain, some have two, or maybe even more, but I believe it might be safe to say everyone has one large mountain that conquering represents a significant milestone in our walk to fulfilling our destiny.

Before one would gander on to talk about the these milestones, maybe a pause is in order to talk about destiny. Plato among many other more modern well wishers popping out their own explanations to the fundamentals of this journey we call life, would have us belief that even though seemingly everyone has a destiny, or a driving force, to fulfill some kind of either self or esoteric discovery that makes this life purposeful, this destiny may or may not be from God.

Modern philosophies will also have us believe that this driving force even though specific in task and destination, is randomly fathomed, accidental, or genetically evolving. I don’t know about you, but I have rarely found anything accidental, random, or developing, with the awe struck turtle-like speed in which geneticists would have us belief the various species of the world evolve (another days writing), and any of this resembles even a remote quark of intelligence.

Most of these “philosopher’s” have for the most part at least included God as the originator, developer and planner for our destinies, probably due to the incalculable intricacies that the majority of these destinies seem to play out before people will finally admit being there.

So if you take not my word for it, but the majority of every philosopher, scientist, or die hard romantic, that has ever lived, and put them into a can, pop the lid, at least a common admittance sprays out in an effervescent gust to the sound of; yes there is a God, a higher intelligence, a master plan, that seems to be governing the inner drives of people to fulfill some deep routed cavity, that pushes us to paint that one picture, have that child, look for that love, that one!, build that building, fight that battle, push for that job, find that lost face, touch the hand of the creator, all to give some meaning to this life.

Some of us conquer them without realizing what the significance is or ever giving the glory to the One that not only gave us the ability, but the Armor to defeat the mountain.

She sits on her bed, half dressed for yet another date. A tear forms in her recently made up perfect eyes. “Why bother, the outcome is so predictable”, a soft voice whispers in her mind as she repeats with her own mouth the doubt that has such lashing effect across her heart.

A plate of steel forms across her chest as she already begins to develop defenses against a predictable outcome. “No happiness in store for me” she says to herself.

When you have been hurt by love so many times, the very thought of love brings it’s own shivers down your spine. “Can I make myself vulnerable one more time?” she says to herself, as she goes back the the mirror to fix the mascara stain that has now driven a tear plowed trail down her soft tender cheek. Again there is that whisper; “look at you who would want you?” this one darker, older, familiar, yet alien in nature.

Putting on the nicest shoes, prettiest dress, just exciting, no sexy enough to accent her beauty, but hopefully not giving the wrong idea, that is the task at hand. Enough attractiveness in case she wishes to continue the relationship after tonight, but not to much to give the wrong idea in case she doesn’t. All the right weapons for the right battle, a battle of survival.

She would love this time to be different, find that attraction, that desire without all the pain that seems to inevitably follow. So may of her friends are bitter, and why shouldn’t they be, you even kick the family dog enough and mean becomes inevitable. They don’t help although with their constant complaining, their defeatist ideals.

She has only memories of men taking, even back to her father that at first loved her so unconditionally, taking any and all the love she would so eagerly give, just to turn away when she needed him the most. When she started to feel confused by the so many looks, that no longer meant she was a perfect cute little child of God, but some object to be used for pleasure, there was nobody to talk to, no man.

A dark creature speaks a bit stronger in her ear this time; “Only your body, that’s all they want!”

Where was her father when that first boy took her, wasn’t her dad supposed to protect her, wasn’t it his job. Ya, in her mind she knew she ran away herself, she stole away to be free, but really all she wanted was that love. “Daddy, I needed you!”

And up in heaven this very moment was a Father weeping because he saw the pain that both the free will choices of a daughter and a earthly father caused.

She can not fight the deep seeded desire to be wanted, needed, but she also wants. Where has that gotten her? Every time she goes down that road and admits even to herself she can possibly want someone, need someone, they take her, and then discard her. Is that all she was created for?

Nice guys, they can’t possibly exist, a man that could actually honor, care about her more then himself, want to lift her up, rather then put her down, listen to her, need her, not just use her? More Armor On!

And by this time if a true gift does come by, a sweet man who cares for her with all of his heart, a man who would take a bullet for her, fight armies to protect her, will she again not see him though the shield, through the blinder that sits on her helmet. She has to admit to herself, she only sees the men that have always been strong enough to push through the armor, the tough guys, the bad guys, the ones that care only for themselves.

So up goes the armor, a Shield against the heart, a Breast plate barrier to the soul, so nobody gets in, a Helmet to protect her mind, her eyes, her ears, using any and all of her weapons not to demonstrate love or tenderness as designed by Him, but to wield in a frenzied attack to survive, control, and manipulate, lest they first wound her again. Bringing yet another river of tears.

Armor being used for the wrong reason, not to conquer the foe, but to defend again change. To fearful to change? Armor against God himself.

To many tears!

Have to stop the tears!

“No!” This time she says! “God, help me, I’m not doing it any more” she pleads.

For the first time she drops to her knees and asks to forgive. How does she know she has to forgive? She just knows. A quickening sense of power streams through her soul and suddenly forgiving doesn’t seem so hard. Wave upon wave of emotion rock’s her like stones being hurled at her from afar.

Her father for abandoning her when she needed him, huge tears erupt from her eyes, for rejecting her love, for not being there, suddenly she doesn’t see him as neglectful, but feels sorry for him that he was manipulated by that dreadful black creature as well, for the pain it caused him, for everything he missed. A sword slices in almost lightning speed, she can almost hear the demon screech as it flee’s in pain. Her mind suddenly realizes, what happened, something wonderful just happened, something powerful.

A warmth washes over her like the sweet scent of the warmest bath oil, and a freedom suddenly lifts from her heart. A heart that suddenly slows just a beat, and becomes more powerful in her chest.

Face after face of men that have used her, come into her recognition, just to be replaced with sweetest faces of little children who happen to have been used themselves. Each in his turn receives the gift of her forgiveness, and with each act her stature grows, shedding years of pressure pushing down on her delicate shoulders. Pain she have held in her neck, shoulders, her back, burdens she has carried release, and just as quickly the pains flee in also almost audible screams.

Finally only one remains, a most difficult one to forgive, one she had no idea even existed, fear presses down on her head, a throbbing headache waiting to explode, but she still calls to Jesus for strength, and immediately a soft hand gently lifts her chin.

She lifts up her head from the tear drenched carpet and locks eyes on the most difficult one to forgive, yet maybe in her entire life,….. herself!

“How could you do that to me?” she says through the flood of tears that now blur her vision from even seeing herself in the mirror. “How could you let, me do that to me?” More tears, blinding her vision as she looks in the mirror at herself, then suddenly something moves in the mirror just of to the side behind her.

The eye of her mind spots something, just behind, just in the peripheral outside the edge of the mirror, a brief chill goes up her spine, because she knows not only is this no good, it is also not of the world.

She also softly asks Jesus for strength, he delivers, and then some. With a speed and power she had no idea she ever possessed she springs to her feet and pivots to face her foe with a movement so sudden she can audibly hear a lightning crack.

In her minds eye as she spins with sword in hand, she is immediately aware that she is also armored and carrying a shield, and guess what; It feels good! Turning to face a large fanged beast dragon-like, angry, spewing all types of filth from its red gaping holes it has for a sorry excuse of a mouth and eyes, she immediately realizes this filthy creature has been tormenting her with rejection her whole life. She could almost recognize it through some kind of familiarity.

But it wasn’t going to be that easy, because in front of the larger beast was a smaller more seductive foul creature with an animal face and a naked woman’s body rushing towards her to engage in the conflict, as being instructed by the larger one hovering behind.

This creatures name resonated in her head immediately; lust!, and as she sliced through it with a parley of blows toppling the bloody mass to the ground, another one formed and jumped right into the attack.

This ones name was immorality, a few more slices and down it went, then nudity jumped in, self vanity, selfishness, on and on, she sliced through creatures with ever increasing power and ease, until with a deafening roar the dragon turned and vanished in an instant.

Our young beautiful woman slumped in exhaustion against the vanity, realizing she was still staring into the mirror. Slowly she got up on shaky legs and cautiously turned half expecting to see a mass of bloody carnage on the floor in front of her bed.

What was amazing, not only was the room completely clear of any sign, but her bedroom now looked brighter, cleaner, and more purely beautiful then she had ever remember it in her entire life. As a matter of fact there seemed to almost be a golden yellow and streaming white haze or glow that emanated from everything in the room. The room took on an almost purity of it’s own. She stood there only for a moment and looked, then turned.

Moments later our beautiful pure and sweet princess changed into the most lovely outfit that any man could have ever laid eyes on, not because of what it accented, but because of the radiant beauty that shined within. With a sweet and happy smile she gave herself an agreeing nod in the mirror, and turned to go out meet her friends, but more importantly to meet the gift God may have for her today.

Amor On Time!

Crisp clean shirt, smart bold tie, a jacket that sets the stage for the respect he seeks, tools in one hand computer among other things in his briefcase, all the essentials to help with this days tasks, and maybe a new item his left hand carrying a small Bible. For his mind is opening a door to a possibility that more security, more Shield is needed.

“Give me all I need today Lord to overcome” he softly says as he grabs the last of his personal items and heads for the door. Recently his prayer life has actually taken on more of his day time schedule then he had ever thought possible in the old days.

What used to be restricted to a few prayers, of very restricted effect both on himself and seemingly the environment he happen to pray for, usually finding itself place only on Sunday, at meal times, or for a hurried brief moment before the children went to bed, has now grown to an almost a daily even.

What is amazing is as he began to pray to be delivered from certain elements, desires, even borderline addictions in his life, the easier it has been to turn from these things. Yes, he does sometimes fail, fall, but all the quicker to get back on his feet, more prayer time and less is their effect on his life. Prayer is beginning to find a place in his daily regiment, almost like exercise or personal hygiene.

He reaches behind and puts the small Bible in his back pocket.

Off to the office a good man goes, wanting to just this one day make a difference. A few minutes earlier start then normal today, he set’s off with design, deciding to take a bit longer road, maybe just a course that will require more walking then normal. He has decided there are things that need to be done on the way.

Weighing hard on his mind is the days issues that seem inevitable coming. A boss that is just not satisfied with his performance lately, there is a feeling that no matter what he does success just always seems out of reach. He gets his tasks done to the best of ability sure, but there is a looming aggression in literally every turn, a feeling of just getting by, and that seems to translate to his clients as well as the staff around him.

The lack of success has not exactly gone unnoticed in the rewards department, he seems to be passed over on more then one occasion, and when he does contribute in a real and significant way, it seems others receive the credit. That has trickled into his home life and he is seeing the tell tale signs on the face of his wife. He has no idea what to do. Thus the prep for the walk today, a time of needed asking.

As he walks quietly in the recesses of his contemplation, he finds a peace that seems to dissolve any and all problems, the many worries waiting for him at the end of the road. He is suddenly enjoying the way his mind ponders a word he had received only days earlier form a Higher Source. Conquer your giants and the mountain callings that you have always known are yours, will fall into your dominion with a subtlety that great kings witnessed as legions bowed before them merely at the sight of His awesome grander.

What is remarkable is he has actually began to imagine these sins that he desired to overcome, strange creatures appeared in his mind, some in the form of darks formless beasts, others cliffs, mountains, or even dark caves to be overcome. But as he prayed for deliverance from each problem, each in their turn disappeared from his mind, and so did the problem in his life.

Speaking with God has never been his strong suit, and prayer even less, but desire and a softening heart has made the desire to face these seemingly, until recently unknown, hurdles more and more of a necessity then a casual once a week, one and a half hour church activity.

A casual conversation with his Lord is all he can muster, no lofty introductions, he wouldn’t know where to begin, but really wouldn’t an all knowing God see right through all that formality any way!

Our young man asks with a child’s soft eyes, if his Father might listen as he asks for wisdom. He almost talks to God the way a small boy would go and talk to his Father, what is strange, is it almost feels more natural and effective, then any of the lofty prayers he has heard his whole life.

Almost aloud and in a soft tender voice he says to God; “Show me those things, those dark forces that have held me back from not only discovering my mountain callings in my life, bring to my attention those demonic creatures, those black barriers that have held me back from fulfilling my destiny in You.”

There is a sudden quickening of his pulse, a warm sensation comes over him. It may be as a walking dream, or just how your mind drifts off to another place as one meanders in an activity that is safe and stable, especially when contemplation of Him is involved, when a son asks of the Father. Anyway something happens, something real, maybe more real then the all the information he is bringing in from his five senses.

He steps onto a barren plain, devoid of life, there has been battles here, it is dry, cracked and lacking anything that resembles growth. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he sees something, ominous, dark, bear like, yet like no bear he has ever seen, large ferocious claws thats resemble more like gripping fingers. A gaping mouth that has a hunger about it, that seems insatiable.

The creature is huge, but for some reason our young champion is not afraid. It is drooling a filth that he knows for some reason consumes flesh not out of need for food, but out of some deep desire of lust.

He takes a step closer, and at first the creature puffs up trying to use its great stature to intimidate, but just as quick it pulls back almost intuitively realizing the one before him has no fear, and thus being one to fear. This in itself seems impossible, for his whole life images of such things have been ingrained into his mind to be things not only to be feared, but respected as being indestructible.

“Who are you?” he not so much says as thinks? And immediately a few words take shape in his mind; “I am greed!” It clammers with a loud self righteous sense of self pride and entitlement.

Our hero again steps forward realizing just that quick a mighty sword rests in one hand and a shield in the other, immediately his own powerful legs begin to move below him as he charges forth. The look of fear crosses the beasts face as panic ripples through its body like the wave across a dark pond after a large bolder had just been tossed in.

The fight lasts only moments and with a few brief slashes, and an almost elementary circular overhead slash, he delivers a crippling blow to the throat, issuing forth black blood that doesn’t even reflect light as much as just is. The not so ominous creature lashes out in one final attempt at some kind of retribution, a last ditch effort, and the thrust topples it sending it slithering half decapitated body scrawling to the ground.

Our champion stands over his vanquished foe only for a moment then mouths a simple prayer; “I bind you in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth and banish you to the pit of hell!” Huge metal bindings instantly forms around the now helpless creature, it tries to squeal in fright, but gurgles black ooze, the bands constricting it to the point of complete immobility, and just as suddenly it vanishes.

With an almost bold confidence he adds; “Any more of your uncircumcised buddies want to come back and I will line them all up right along side of you!”

Immediately he finds himself back to himself, but with a completely changed outlook, success just doesn’t seem to be as important any longer. The anxiety about being scene as a winner by his boss, clients, or other staff members seems trivial compared to just showing them the peace he has seemed to find. Money has lost it’s pulling taste in his heart.

A calm confidence wraps it’s arms gently around him, and he sees his own reflection in the glass as he reaches for the door, he seems to have physically straightened up into a stronger, fitter, and more happily excited look of utter confidence.

He reaches into his back pocket, pulls his Bible out into his hand, grabs the handle of the door with other the briefcase hand, yanks it open, and strides in with excited anticipation the likes of which he has never felt. One thing was for sure; “This mountain is his!”

A child of the Living God, a man, a woman, a child, does it makes any difference?

He opens his eyes to yet another glorious gift given, another day only to be experienced, lived, and discovered, to the fullness that which would send honor to Him that gives the gift.

If Jesus Himself came down and said to our recently awaken young child; “This is your last day, use it any way and as best you can”, how do you think such a day would find itself? Well one would think, as you probably would agree, that same person might say right back to Jesus; “I will live it anyway You choose to allow me to, with any and all discoveries You bring across my plate.”

Every bite of food, every playful request of your child, every look and smile of a stranger, every living experience, every person that crosses your path, a lovers kiss, a friends hand, every gentle breeze on your forehead, every drop of water in your mouth, every puppy, the very sight’s, sound’s, taste’s, touches, your every breath would become so significant that a person would hardly want to miss anything, in the fear that he might miss something, anything, that one thing that made this life worth living!

Well today is truly such a gift that makes a life worth living, because it is a gift from God Himself to you, to me, and nobody knows if today is actually the first or last. Do any of us really have any control at all, over even a single breath, it is all in God’s hands?

Up from bed the man climbs, every touch feels almost alive in pleasure of discovery. Sweeter today is the feeling of the warm bed, the taste of the blessed water trickling down his face in the perfect morning shower wetting that mouth, touching his tongue, the same water that only a moments before in time past, touched the body and blood of Jesus himself. For a brief moment he remembers the Body and Blood of his Savior, and as he drinks a few precious drops, warmth fills his entire body.

The cool air of a days anticipation, on go the cloaks of the day, subtle reminders of our humanity, dressing for a day, for the business of the day. Blessings on all that cross our young child’s path. When he isn’t about his Fathers work, he is mending the tents in peoples live’s, earning a few denarii, just enough to meet the needs of his obligations.

What a bright beautiful day filled with such peace, so many beautiful vibrant colors. Even the very breath he breath’s seems to fill his lungs with scented bloom and light wisps of sweet flavored honey. Even the sparrows perched in angelic gaze, resting watchful eye on his every move, in their area of play. He sees the flowers, the leaves, clouds, only days before he hardly knew existed at the end of his drive.

A day of constant contemplation as he walks into the work place, people seem to just love to say hi to him with a more warming welcome come lately, his soft yet deeply compassionate voice has almost a healing effect on people itself, at least thats what they tell him recently.

Many a times has he delved into the face of any and all giants that have held him back throughout the years. This ongoing process seems to find itself in the meanderings of his recent wilderness walking, they pop out from around hidden rocks like the snakes that lie coiled not hardly making their presence known until you nearly step on their slithering heads.

Mountain strongholds of the enemy have fallen lately like dominoes, often revealing the hidden truths of their dark origins behind their not so permanent walls. The resulting discoveries, and subsequent delivery from the bondage, they had in place, has been nothing short of miraculous.

For the first time our young child is doing exactly what he is supposed to be, his mountain calling, his stronghold mountain designed for his purpose since the beginning of creation. People are reacting so positively, people are being touched, their tears of joy are so much more valuable then any gold. The ease of his victory is miraculous, because he knows it is all God.

But does it matter, even unsaid by others, he knows what he is doing is exactly what our glorious God would have him do at this very moment in his life.

“Thanks be to God for the such a peaceful joy and happiness in knowing You, and experiencing these gifts.”

A days blessings for our disciple, brother, apostle, elder, teacher, prophet, healer, father, fisher, servant, does it matter what people call him, yes it does, because if they say; “he has the face of Christ!” no earthly title could even come close to that majesty, the very one He would us all have.

What a pity to have only found this peace at this late stage of life. The sadness at all of the years of waisted time, the missed chances for discoveries, the so many fallen souls resting along the side of the road as he crossed to avoid, in even his recent past. The oh, so many times he turned his back on a good thing, a pure gift, a piece of wisdom from the Holy Father Himself. How many times has the young child went around the giant of a mountain instead of climbing it.

The guilt is overwhelming, maybe it is time to go back to the battle field; “What remains?”

“What cobwebs have I missed in the corners of this great mansion You have so graciously given me” he says out loud in his tearing eyes?

“Why do I continuously go back to the memories of my sins?” the pain of these memories, the feelings of inadequacy, whispers of being unworthy, pains of unresolved healing’s lying deep in the crick of his neck, buried there below even the pressure of a most skilled masseuse. There is unfinished business in the house.

Lunch time and off to the park for a climb up the mountain. If the Armor isn’t already on, he quickly commands; Armor On Time!

However odd it may seem, beating down the body with strenuous exercise always prompts a quick method to clear the air of earthly distractions, making it so much more fluid to hear the Voice of God ever so clearer and louder. No different this time!

About the time he gets three quarters of the way up the mountain, the Voice of God comes in loud and clear, an overwhelming feeling of love and acceptance plays through his soul like the penetrating warmth of a baby lying against his chest;

“My sweet son, how I love you so very much” the Fathers voice booms in recognized sweetness granting all the peace one could possibly hold.

“You have such a heart, let me tell you what has held you back almost from the very beginning of your young life.”

“Think back to almost your earliest memory, what do you see?”

He looks deep within his memories seeing various images out of young eyes. Images of playing, resting in bed, going to school, some images more of objects and places; a brother playing in a crib, a program playing in black and white on a television, voices talking in another room to an absent audience.

A gash on the forehead, and a mother rushing him quickly to the Doctor.

Other images of significant moments playing at a small stretch of beach, sitting in the mud looking the gentle waves made on the surface of the lake. Ever is the watchful eye towards the dark place that is just further from him, and while nothing seems to be there, he seems sure that if he takes his eye away something dark will emerge. His mother sits near, also watching.

Walking through yards, crawling into a dog house with the family dog. The neighbor’s barn, the skeleton of a new home being built. Memory after memory, but also blocks of blank space, memories and feelings that seem to flow into places and then suddenly end in shadowed dark.

There was moment, something happened, a young boy left alone after swimming lessons, darkness, a cold floor, where is everyone, why is he left alone at just an age of five or six. Only dreams of something, something fearful, something shameful.

“Who do you see in these pictures?” the Father says, not with guilt but with tender care, and even sorrow.

I see nobody mostly, sometimes I see my mother, my brother, friends, all sorts of objects, people I hardly remember, faces. But most of the time I am alone.

“Do you see your father?”

Once maybe?

“Do you see his face?”

No, he has his back to me. He is a good man, a kind man, he worked hard for us, we always had enough.

“But you don’t remember seeing him?”


“Now my sweet perfect son, listen; all those times you were alone, all those times you wanted so desperately your father to be there, the many times fear creeped up and pulled it’s dark claws against your beautiful skin, there was the enemy whispering in the ear of your father to turn away.”

“Forgive your Father, not the enemy.”

“And while you are at it, forgive yourself for allowing yourself to fall prey.”

Then I hear the powerful Voice of my Father, the God of all Creation boom out in Thunderous Authority;

“That creature that was assigned to destroy my young son, what is your name?”

From the hollows of my deepest memory I hear a faint voice, yet one I have heard so many times in my life, I recognize it’s dark pull, an almost whisper from depths deep past;

“I am Infirmity” it says.

Again the Fathers voice, this time with confidence for a child that He is so proud of, as He encourages him further to take those few steps towards obedience;

“Go find that mountain stronghold that has held you back, that hiding demon, that dark cliff face, not even the one that might hold you back from your own mountain calling, but one that is designed to hold you back from even seeking Me.”

“It is the one that commands the others that have tormented you, your entire life. It is the one that gives the others their commands, it strengthens them, it leads them, find him and the others will flee.”

In my deepest heart I just know, because I know, because I know, it’s name, and it is; Abandonment and Rejection.

What is amazing; when a spy is in the area, he can go about his dirty little secret tasks, causing problems, steeling gifts, mucking up the system, but once the spy know’s you are on to him, it goes into stealth mode, off hiding, trying desperately to get away with it’s skin, or in this case unchained for eternity.

The good news; when the spy is hiding trying to escape, it is no longer doing it’s dirty job, all the negative effects quickly dissipate.

A soldier with obvious rank and stature steps up to a brightly lit battle field, rays of light shine in golden beams in all directions, brilliant streaming lights cascade out of every glowing object; golds, yellows, very light but ruby bright crimsons, and royal purples all blinding to everything except the supernatural eye.

The many rainbows that dance among the blossoming trees, glisten as they sing sweet tunes of flowery scent mixed with a cool soft breeze. Sparkles across the land form as gemstones cover the ground like the glistening pebbles of cool Colorado stream.

All these brilliant colors reflect off the glimmering armor that adorns our strong knight. His hands blaze in almost translucent blue white shining through, shrouded in simple unadorned cloak, its gleam radiate with power underneath.

He glances down to see his strong translucent hands, brightly glowing white blue from within holding the largest white hot blazing sword in one hand, and a perfectly secure mirror polished white gold shield in the other.

Step upon thunderous step he confidently strides up the pure gold path that forms in front of him, each step replaced by a sea of perfect flower peddle’s that immediately form under his sandaled feet.

I then hear the Father say with almost a joyful pride; “Well done My good and faithful son”

“Happy hunting!”

By Peter Colla