Men For Christ

The Beckoning
~~~

There is darkness so complete,
a despairing from which there seems no escape,
an abyss to the soul.

In the shadows is a friend of my flesh and enemy of my soul that knows me better than I, and this presence uses me against myself - beckons to me that I should compromise all that I hold as good and proper.

With each new rising of the sun comes a bludgeoning of my senses, an onslaught of evil upon my being from every direction. My flesh agrees with this presence that calls me to embrace a world that offers seemingly unlimited pleasures and release from ordained structure.

In the light is a friend of my soul and enemy of my flesh that knows me better than I, and this presence who was an offering that became a sacrifice – beckons to me that I might abandon all that is dark and selfish and destructive.

As I gaze into the depths of my being, I watch this conflict as though a spectator, as if I am in the distance watching Cruelty battle Compassion for the rights to my soul.

My flesh wants the Cruelty
My soul wants the Compassion.

Both beckon to me.

I fear that if I allow Cruelty to win, I will lose myself
I fear that if I allow Compassion to win, I must abandon myself

My flesh is desperate to retain control
My soul is desperate to relinquish control

Oh that this battle would cease but for a moment that I could rest! I grow weary of this struggle within me.
The Sacrifice offers me rest from my terrible burden, but how do I possess this rest? How can I enter into this rest that I am so desperate for? I know not the path.

A voice – faint –

“Let go”

I lay my burden at the feet of the Sacrifice, but as I turn to go, I find that - I have bound the burden to my being with chains of unbelief, for how can one such as I be worthy of any rest?
The Cruelty assaults me with memories of why I can never be worthy.
The Sacrifice gently offers that my worthiness is not of myself

“Let go”

I am afraid to let go! I have tried so many times but - the chains…
They have become such a familiar part of me
I look down to avert my gaze from this horrifying and exhausting battle and notice - the key
I am holding this key but I do not remember it, it looks not like any key I have ever seen. I look at it closely and see faint markings on it.
Although it seems that I may have been holding it all along, I am unsure what it may be for. I am unsure whether I have ever used it. I examine the chains closely but see not any place to put the key!
Upon closer examination I see that the markings are a single word -

“Trust”

Cruelty whispers from behind me - “it won’t work”
Compassion reaches out and says once more -

“Let go”

Can it be that I am unable to use this key?
My soul aches for the rest that seems just out of my grasp!
As I lift the key that can unlock my chains, I hesitate,
For one such as I, is there truly any hope?
I kneel before Compassion with my burden, holding my chains with uplifted arms and offer - my key.

"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

 

D.R. Nelson