There are many ways in which fear grips me, dangles temporary objects of satisfaction on a hook that hides the long term agonizing stab in me, pulling me away from home to be gutted and killed. Dramatic. Maybe. Truth be told, fear is not a joke, and when it plays with your thoughts, hiding doors of opportunity, damaging relationships, impairing your health, and all of that, you have to think about it to place it. To know what it is, what it really is, and what it will lead to, but also what would happen if you didn't let it have it's way. It's almost like when you're so hungry and someone places a plate of enchiladas in front of you (or whatever favorite food you might have), but you have this stomach virus that your doctor says will be quickly cured by a 3 day diet of fruit juices because the virus feeds on solid salty food. But you're starving. There are no juices around. You won't die from a few hours or even a few days of not eating, but you're so hungry. If you abstain from the enchiladas you will quickly heal and be able to eat them again in no time without any detrimental effects on your health. However, if you give in to the temporary satisfaction of even just a few bites during the stages of your virus, it will keep you chained to your sickness. Was it worth it?
It wasn't for me.
I had been searching for alternatives to confession, because telling someone how weak I really am shows and exposes myself like a naked bum. It's embarrassing and infuriating to be seen in such a way by the people you are "equal" with. It wasn't until I actually said something that the words "the truth will set you free" set a new fire in my heart. An understanding, a deep comprehension for what freedom really is. I'm willing to bet that the percentage of those who seriously confess all is in the single digits, because after my experience (which by the way was actually sort of forced on me, was first met with anger, but then my desperation to be free was so strong that I let it happen and it led to my path of liberation) I could not have imagined myself ever confessing willingly, but I had been praying fervently about it...so God does answer prayers, just not the way I had wanted Him to. Case in point. Though I am sure there are those who can bring themselves to confess, and they are beautiful to me. We are all broken in ways that need others to help us, but if we keep those cracks hidden they will just get lengthier and multiply. I can say that now.
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"I need to be chained down until the perspiration of my disdain leaks through every pore, drenching me in its sticky odor until it keeps pushing out and onto the floor, where I can get up, after someone unchains me, and walk across the smoldering refuse and strip myself until I am like an apologetic child eager to be set right. To step under the stream of steaming clear water and wash away the remains that try to cling to me, sing to me, bade me to let them linger, but before I can entertain them, my choices, I let the water run shockingly, vigorously over my skin. And I am crying, but this time I don't try to stop myself, because no one is around and the raisin that is my voice box drops into the pit of my stomach, swallowed by the onslaught of sobs, so rhythmic and slightly melodic. It soothes me, going hand in hand with the currents of water sanding away those clingers, until I've exhausted my storage of tears and all that's left
is a seedling of hope."
JmeGrey
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