Last night.
I was sitting at my computer when it began. At first it sounded as if a high school football player was narrating, to the naked masses, the encounter he had the night before...the one that never happened. I thought it would quickly end with the sound of pre-puberty giggles filling the air. It didn't. Graphic. Loud. The tear making factory, conveniently located within my eye, began to fire up its machines. Not tonight. Please not tonight.
Not on a night when you are screaming for purity. Not on a night when your ears are connected to your minds eye. Not this night. Please stop. It didn't. If demons could "make love" it would be a more pleasant soundtrack than this.
I'm an open person. Let me open up. It was open. I looked. I was 14. And I still fight the battle to this very day. I am a man. Sometimes I feel like a boy. Controlling my thoughts is the hardest of battles. Battles aren't supposed to be easy...that is why they compose the war!
You author a story, I illustrate in mind. You talk out a picture...I'm faster than any one hour photo. Not this night, please. The sounds continued. I closed the windows and looked out to see a group on the ground, clothed. Have you ever seen a rap video? High School dance? Bump-n-Grind? Clothes work better than condoms I guess. I began to quiver.
There are times when God lets you see the vilest of things in order to fully set free. There is often that pull from the flesh to indulge in the sin-the pull that gets you contemplating. I am thankful for last night. I am thankful that God allowed me to hear and see Satan at work. I am thankful that death was shown to me. It gives me some armor, and even a weapon, for the next battle. The devil often attacks in the midst of pure wonder...the picture was painted and I saw his destruction. So I will continue to wait and pray for the prize-my lover, my friend, my helper, my bride.
It hurts so bad.
A painfully accepted reminder.
Shall I take a swim?
I think I'll dive right in.
The night is interrupted by the sounds of "lovers"
Doing something with the sounds of sin.
Moans and fast talking
Cries of indulgence
Death moves in to take a closer look.
My tears paint the picture on my inner eye canvas.
Every motion, every cry, the soul tries to hide.
"Eye don't bring that false fulfillment in here tonight!"
You think you'd swim in pools of gratification
but then you are reminded in the nic of time
There is no pure blood flowing this night.
It is the blood of the slaughtered
The blood on which death came.
What a painful reminder of the blood that flows over me.
The blood of Grace not free.
(response to overwhelming sadness I experienced when students were outside making sexual dialogue & acting sexual intercourse out)
Thank you Jesus for your blood. Thank you for your payment.
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