grundge

Showing posts with label darkness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label darkness. Show all posts

Friday, April 6, 2012

Judas' Kiss


It’s a dying world.  Rotting.  One could get lost forever in this darkness. 

The proof is in the media; whatever brand you choose.  The headlines alone cause me to question so much…

The week, the Officer has seen things, perpetrated against the most innocent, things that won’t make it to the front page; it makes me wonder how anyone can hope in a place so thick with evil. 

Yet, there was a time not so long ago that I kept company with this ever-present darkness.  Matched its step as a friend.  Breathed the same tempo, like a lover.  Synchronized my heart with this evil that has overcome the world.  Believed the lies, veiled my eyes to truth, and walked deep and long into the wilderness.    

It is always Good Friday that recalls this waywardness in me.  Its recollection brings sorrow.  The remembrance of what my place in the King’s house actually cost.  The price Christ paid, to wade into my desolation; and rescue me from my self-wrought destruction.      

But in meditating on the truth of the cross, hope is found.  There is nothing that the cross doesn’t cover.  Nothing too dark, too weighty, too horrible for Jesus to forgive. 

His blood is enough.  

For me.  For you.  For anyone who asks, who turns their face from the dark and asks to be let into the light.  The ransom has been paid.  You are free, if only you so desire. 

In order for the greatest act of creation to occur, the most grievous depths of despair and darkness had to be reached first.  Death.  Grief.  Separation.  Crucifixion. 

Then life.  Glorious, miraculous life.  For this is the hope and promise of the resurrection. 




Tuesday, August 25, 2009

HALO rescue operation

Some time ago (or perhaps not that long), my husband tested for the opportunity to become a member of one of the most elite combat rescue teams in today’s military ~ USAF Pararescue, or PJ’s as they are more commonly referred to. He passed of course (though some sources say the failure rate is upwards of 80%); but chose marriage over combat, much to the distress and fury of all his drill instructors. Since then, I have held a minute fascination with the mindset of these men, willing and capable of putting so much on the line. Daily. Without hesitation. In fact, they long for it.

(Now, I am personally unable of doing what they do; of enduring what their families are asked to endure. And in no way do I intend any disrespect to them with what I am about to say. Imitation is the truest form of flattery; I hold them in highest esteem, which is why I aspire thus.)

The motto of PJ’s is: “That others may live.” Their symbol, a parachute backing an angel holding the world, is called the “angel of mercy.” Their objective: not "seek and destroy" (Navy Seals), but "seek and save" ~ to rescue pilots downed behind enemy lines and safely return these servicemen to their home. They willingly hurl themselves out of planes, directly into the enemy’s territory, to find, give medical attention to, and lead to safety those who the enemy has crippled with hostile fire; at very immediate risk to their own lives.

Spiritually speaking, we as Christians are at war. Our enemy is prowling, devouring brothers and sisters from our very ranks, as well as those who have yet to receive salvation. He is bombarding us daily with hostile fire; sometimes with arrows, sometimes Howitzer rounds.

Effective and accurate though the enemy may be, we serve a God who hears the cries of His afflicted children. For one wound in particular, He has anointed a group of women, whom I am humbled beyond measure to count as my sisters in arms, to act as spiritual PJ’s for women captured by the enemy. This sisterhood is comprised of women leaders and prayers involved in the study, Surrendering the Secret: Healing the Heartbreak of Abortion. The captives, post-abortive women, have been downed behind the enemy’s lines, wounded and wandering, aching for hope, and yearning for rescue.

The Surrendering the Secret sisters (the STS, leaders and prayer warriors alike) take up the sword of the Spirit, don the full armor of God, and launch themselves directly behind enemy lines to lead wounded captives to freedom. During the course of this rescue mission, STS families are subject to spiritual warfare unparalleled in the common church. Marriages are attacked, children are targeted, emotions leveled with landmines, and the spirits of these women are accosted on all sides; they become battered and weary. Yet none would trade a day of this battle for hundreds of peace; the goal far too important; the task too worthy; the Commander too glorious to deny. These women fight for, tend to, cajole, and sometimes even carry their downed sisters through the enemy’s landscape (their pasts) to the vista of the cross. And when the cross is reached, the captive women exchange their shackles for the redemption of Christ. The rescued become fellow sisters, no longer behind enemy lines, but free.

That others may live ~ in the fullness of freedom in Christ!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

I have known the dark; I am now known by the light.

I am no stranger to the dark. Blackness, both metaphorical and physical, has been my casing for longer than I care to remember. It has been with me for over half my life now. However, there is a particular darkness with which I am intimately acquainted. It goes beyond a mere absence of light. It is a palpable entity. It lives, consumes, becomes you. It is as defining as belief itself.

I spent years strangling myself with my own hand; screaming into the vacuous blackness of silence I created. I built my dungeon, stone by stone until there was not air, not light, none but me and my misdeeds. The genius behind this prison was the location. It was my own soul.

On the inside, I was dying; a slow, suffocating suicide. On the outside, I was ~ me. Bouts with external darkness preceded and followed; the ebb and flow of a life plagued with the blackness. Each was but a shadow compared with what lurked deep within me. Loneliness incomprehensible; loathing unimaginable. And fear as close as breath.

Each of these: the years of separation, of reflective hatred, and of being afraid of the loss that would rend my heart from my shriveled soul. The inability to sleep next to the one I love, for so many different reasons. I could not find comfort without; and there was nothing but death within. Each of these I tried to weather on my own. Piteous attempts at self-reliance crumbled into addictions, attempts at piety, and finally the grand facade of, "everything is alright."

Until, quite unexpected, I was sought out by the Light. And this Light does not seep into the dark, gently shying it away. This Light shatters it. It eliminates the blackness; slays the reasons behind it. It burns away any remnants of the prison in which I bound myself. It encircles me so that I am untouchable by any of my former assailants. It transforms my very being so that I stand now, fully enveloped in this Light. It radiates new life; within me It is luminous!

So to say that I am "one of those" is quite right. I am. And so thankful to be! I am a child of Light; as much in that Light as It is in me. I strive to shine brightly amongst the blackness of a fallen world. Because I have more than seen the darkness; I was with the darkness. And having battled the dark on my own, having lost to it over and over again, I can only plead ~ turn around. Let the Light in. It is your only hope. It is my every hope. There is no situation, no internal blackness that is too much. This Light is the truth; and the only Way.

Let the Light in; let It guide you, strengthen you, comfort you. Shine among the stars, though you are brighter by far!