Tag Archives: Hate

On being a victim and a weakling

My Prince is calling my name.  But, I cannot hear Him, the rumble in the Dragon’s throat is too loud.  Pain is my constant companion here in the Dragon’s mouth as I lay skewered on his teeth.  Death-stench overwhelms my senses.  Woe to me as the Dragon makes his plan for getting me out of his mouth and into his stomach.

My Prince keeps me caught between Heaven and Hell, preventing my destruction.  Light breaks through my blindness, catching my attention and distracting me from the pain and darkness.  I am too weak to get up on my own and leave the Dragon’s mouth.  I call to my Prince to help me, a damsel-in-distress. 

My Prince hears me calling and suddenly is closer than life itself.  He tells me that that I am the only one keeping me here, a victim of my own choices.  “But”, I protest, “the pain, the darkness, the stench overwhelm me and I have no strength.”    “Do you not know that I have come to defeat the Dragon?  And overcome death?” 

“Help me.”, I reply,with faintness of breath.

My Prince reaches into the pouch on his belt and pulls out a crystal vial filled with dark red fluid.  He begins to reach towards me and undoes the stopper.  I cringe back, unsure of what is next.  My Prince reassures me with depths of unspoken love in his eyes.  He places on drop of the dark fluid in my mouth. 

Unexpectedly, I choke and sputter.  My body is wracked with pain and uncontrolled spasming.  I fear that by accepting this fluid from my Prince, my death has come.  Perhaps that is my release from this slavery.  My body becomes still.  I wait for death to come. Instead of feeling my life fade away, I feel a rush of Life.  Warm gold begins to emanate from my body overwhelming my senses with sweetness and light. 

I am literally pushed up from the Dragon’s teeth and the wounds instantly heal.  And the healing pushes past the boundaries of this world, there are no scars, no traces that I was ever there in the Dragon’s mouth.  I turn with gratitude on my tongue and in my heart to my Prince, who has come to save me from myself.

He puts his finger to my lips and shushes me.  “You are welcome.”

Killing the pet cougar.

Sugar addiction has been like having a pet cougar.  Soft, fluffy and just waiting to be stroked.  One a bad day this cougar purrs and behaves like a kitten luring me in, then when I am contented and feeling drowsy, it attacks.  Boy does that hurt.  Yet, I keep coming back for that sleepy, dreamy feeling I get from petting the cougar.  There is no way out of this particular mess, except by the grace of God.

I have been contemplating the long-term effects of living with an addict.  I am sure that my mother didn’t intend for her life to turn out like it did.

My life has taken a sudden turn for the worse because I have Primary Hypertension.  Apparently my mother had Primary Hypertension too, amongst other things.  This has affected me in ways that transcend the “I don’t feel so good” physicality of my predicament.  Contemplating the train wreck of Primary Hypertension in my life has impacted me emotionally and spiritually and brought me to thinking about what has lead to this.  Not only did I inherit hypertension from my mother, I inherited addictive tendencies.  I am sure that the two train wrecks are on the same set of train tracks.  It is easy to tell myself that I am not as bad her, at least it isn’t painkillers that I am addicted to.  Just like sin is sin (at least I am not a murderer!), an addiction is an addiction.  The only difference between her and I is what we used to deal with pain.  I struggle everyday with sugar.  Every moment that I spend eating involves analyses of what is going into my mouth and why.  This process often leaves me wracked with guilt, or mired in self-pity, or self-loathing.  I often wonder, did my mother ever take a moment to evaluate herself before she popped another pill?  I wouldn’t know because after I left home, I didn’t talk to her much.  But, I mean, come on.  It must have occurred to her on some level that she was destroying her life because of her addiction.  Since she died from an overdose 5 years ago, I guess I’ll never know.

But, enough about my mother.  She can’t be redeemed from her sin, but I can.

That’s right, there is a way out of this mess.  God has made a habit of taking my ashes from me and giving me a crown of beauty.  I am talking about Isaiah 61:3.  The literal translation of this verse means that God will take from me the ashes of mourning, also figuratively “worthlessness”, that I have on my head and will replace them with a crown, or head-dress/ornament/turban.  How cool is that?  And only God can do that.  There is no one else on this planet that has that kind of power or authority over sin and death.  I could accept the addiction and the hypertension as my inheritance or I can reject them and accept God’s plan for me.  So what does this plan look like?

I’ll let you know how that works itself out.