Monday, June 27, 2011


Sin gets the best of me. Nothing I do seems to turn out right. I begin with the best of intentions, and end with the worst of results. The tears flow, I flee to my solitude. When will it end? Will I ever be free from the chains I have forged for myself? We all have chains. Chains of hate, chains of bitterness, chains of damaged pride, chains of scorn. They stretch on for miles, piled high, marring our view of reality. But, this is reality, I thought. Are you trying to tell me that what I’ve seen since the day I was born is a myth, a figment of my imagination? Ah, I didn’t think so. No, these chains are real, cutting, painful, but they keep us from seeing our lives as they could be, our lives as they should be.

We lash out with our chains; hurting and bruising those we love most, further distorting our world. We ought to give selflessly, standing by in love as the chains of those we love bruise us. But it hurts, and so we bruise back. We match them blow for blow, never realizing that if we would simply relent, then they too would cease their fire. Is it possible that one day my chains may cake with rust, and then crack and loosen as they disintegrate from lack of use? Oh that they would! Yet even as I dream of such bliss, my chains strike again, of their own accord. What I do I hate, abhor, disgust, and what I wish I could do, I do not.

Why? Oh Heavens, why? Why do I pity myself? Why do I nurse the bruises others have laid on me? How hard it would be to play the man, and take those bruises as correction, to allow them to make me strong, instead of weakening me? It would be difficult indeed, and so I choose the easier road. I who pride myself on enduring difficulty, on taking the road less traveled by, I take the easiest path! Again, my chains act of their own accord. When will control come? When will I master the steel that binds me? I will it to do my will, but it does it own.

My controller does not work… it never has. I hand it over. Take control, Master Controller. Will the chains to do what I cannot cause them to do. Will them to rust, to rot, to fall helpless. Will my will to die. Cause me to stand by and allow the bruises and blows I receive make me stronger, more able to pass You control. Someday freedom will come. Keep before me reality. I am in chains, chains that constantly need to be broken.

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