I find myself in that place once more… The air is thick and reeks of the things I have done. The nauseating feeling begins again. That knot in my stomach begins to rise. Swallowing hard in a vain attempt to restore myself to the ignoring state I have become so used to. Why now? Why at this moment do I begin to realize where I am? It has been so long that I’ve been here. Days? Weeks? Months? It has been so long that I’ve trapped myself in this place. So long that I can’t remember when I came here. It didn’t seem so bad to me then. But now…
Now I sit in a cesspool of my own filth. The walls are covered in it. In one upper corner near the ceiling a smattering of rotting garbage is stuck to the peeling paint. The walls are stained and dripping by my own doing. “Why would I come to such a place? Why have I locked myself here? I don’t remember? Does anyone even know I’m here? If they did they would come for me!” Anger begins to rise. “Why would everyone I love turn away from me? Why would they leave me here to rot?!? Why?? WHY?!?!?!?..... “
The echo of my screaming subsides. I feel as though I have been punched in the gut. They don’t know I am here. I came here on my own. No one knows. No one… Except him. I am going to vomit. He is the only one that knows… I begin to rise to my feet. My head is spinning. I struggle to stand and bend over to support myself with my hands on my knees. The weight of the memories of what has happened in this place seems to be pulling me downward. Then I see it, far down at the other end of this room that now looks more like a garbage dump than a room. There it stands, covered by a layer of dirt and the remainders of what might have been years of cob webs. The door.
There is only one. I entered through it so long ago. I remember. When I first came through it I would sit near it. Knowing that I should go back through but wanting to stay here. I am a fool. A tear runs down my filthy cheek. It washes a trail down through the grime. I should have never come here. Can I ever leave? The guilt of my time of solitude rises in my throat. I find myself drawn to the door. I can’t seem to take that first step. I want to run to it but can’t put one foot forward. Anther tear drops. I stumble and fall forward, my face in the muck that covers the floor. I compel myself to rise to my feet. I shake off the trash that has wound around my foot. Trudging toward the door I trip and stagger barely maintaining my footing. And I am there. My heart is racing. Fearful thoughts begin to race through my mind. Do I dare try to leave? Can I simply open the door or has it been locked. I wouldn’t blame him for leaving me here forever. I reach up, hands shaking, and begin to pull at the dirt that is hanging across the doorway. I’ve gone through it before. But do I dare to go through it again. How can I, after all I’ve done.
The large wooden door is stained blood red. I reach for the doorknob and realize that there isn’t one. I can’t open it! Dread seizes my mind. I have to knock. I apprehensively extend my closed fist. Is he even on the other side? Will he here me? Will he open it? Why should he after what I’ve done. Anxiety overtakes me. I turn to run but stop short. I don’t want to. My nostrils burn with the stench of this place. I must leave. I can’t stay here any longer. I return my focus to the door. Reaching out I again am halted by my fear. Sobbing I fall to my knees, my chest heaving to draw in breath, my hand bracing itself against the door. I reach out with the other hand and knock. Softly, afraid that he will hear. The sound of my soiled knuckles gently rapping at the door seem to echo through the vast room. Startled by the sound I knock again this time a bit harder. Nothing…
I am lost. I am going to live out the rest of my days in this awful place. No one will hear me. No one will open the door. I am trapped. Trapped by my own hand. I came here because I chose to and now any hope of leaving is gone. No… it can’t be… I have to get out of here. “Please! Someone let me out!” Weeping now I bang my fists against the door. “Please!!!! I don’t want to be here anymore!! I have to get out of here!!!” I am screaming. “Help me!!! I’m Sorry!...” As those words escape my lips it seems that everything has gone quiet. I bury my face in my hands sobbing softly. It is true. I am sorry, sorry for everything.
I hear a creaking in front of me. I can’t bring myself to remove my hands from my face. The knob on the other side is being turned. Through my fingers I can see a blinding light pouring in through the crack in the door. It creeks and the heavy wooden door is opened. The light surrounds me and I feel warm for the first time in so long. I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I can’t move from my knees. He pulls me to my feet, my face still covered, tears flowing like rain down my face and over my hands.
He pulls me to him wrapping his powerful arms around me. I put my arms around him, my eyes still clenched tightly. I feel like a child in his embrace. I slowly open them. They begin to adjust to the bright light here. They focus on the hand that wraps around my shoulder. The hand that first touched me when the door opened. I see the familiar wound. It is where the blood came from that stained the door. Over my shoulder I can see back through the open door. The room where I have been for so long is clean. All of the rubbish and filth are gone. I sigh. Then I here him speak softly, with the voice that could command all creation, he whispers, “Welcome home my child. I’ve missed you. All the time you spent away I was right here waiting by the door for you. All you had to do was knock.”
Luke 11:10 - “For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds’ and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”
James 4:7-10 – “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, morn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.”
Now I sit in a cesspool of my own filth. The walls are covered in it. In one upper corner near the ceiling a smattering of rotting garbage is stuck to the peeling paint. The walls are stained and dripping by my own doing. “Why would I come to such a place? Why have I locked myself here? I don’t remember? Does anyone even know I’m here? If they did they would come for me!” Anger begins to rise. “Why would everyone I love turn away from me? Why would they leave me here to rot?!? Why?? WHY?!?!?!?..... “
The echo of my screaming subsides. I feel as though I have been punched in the gut. They don’t know I am here. I came here on my own. No one knows. No one… Except him. I am going to vomit. He is the only one that knows… I begin to rise to my feet. My head is spinning. I struggle to stand and bend over to support myself with my hands on my knees. The weight of the memories of what has happened in this place seems to be pulling me downward. Then I see it, far down at the other end of this room that now looks more like a garbage dump than a room. There it stands, covered by a layer of dirt and the remainders of what might have been years of cob webs. The door.
There is only one. I entered through it so long ago. I remember. When I first came through it I would sit near it. Knowing that I should go back through but wanting to stay here. I am a fool. A tear runs down my filthy cheek. It washes a trail down through the grime. I should have never come here. Can I ever leave? The guilt of my time of solitude rises in my throat. I find myself drawn to the door. I can’t seem to take that first step. I want to run to it but can’t put one foot forward. Anther tear drops. I stumble and fall forward, my face in the muck that covers the floor. I compel myself to rise to my feet. I shake off the trash that has wound around my foot. Trudging toward the door I trip and stagger barely maintaining my footing. And I am there. My heart is racing. Fearful thoughts begin to race through my mind. Do I dare try to leave? Can I simply open the door or has it been locked. I wouldn’t blame him for leaving me here forever. I reach up, hands shaking, and begin to pull at the dirt that is hanging across the doorway. I’ve gone through it before. But do I dare to go through it again. How can I, after all I’ve done.
The large wooden door is stained blood red. I reach for the doorknob and realize that there isn’t one. I can’t open it! Dread seizes my mind. I have to knock. I apprehensively extend my closed fist. Is he even on the other side? Will he here me? Will he open it? Why should he after what I’ve done. Anxiety overtakes me. I turn to run but stop short. I don’t want to. My nostrils burn with the stench of this place. I must leave. I can’t stay here any longer. I return my focus to the door. Reaching out I again am halted by my fear. Sobbing I fall to my knees, my chest heaving to draw in breath, my hand bracing itself against the door. I reach out with the other hand and knock. Softly, afraid that he will hear. The sound of my soiled knuckles gently rapping at the door seem to echo through the vast room. Startled by the sound I knock again this time a bit harder. Nothing…
I am lost. I am going to live out the rest of my days in this awful place. No one will hear me. No one will open the door. I am trapped. Trapped by my own hand. I came here because I chose to and now any hope of leaving is gone. No… it can’t be… I have to get out of here. “Please! Someone let me out!” Weeping now I bang my fists against the door. “Please!!!! I don’t want to be here anymore!! I have to get out of here!!!” I am screaming. “Help me!!! I’m Sorry!...” As those words escape my lips it seems that everything has gone quiet. I bury my face in my hands sobbing softly. It is true. I am sorry, sorry for everything.
I hear a creaking in front of me. I can’t bring myself to remove my hands from my face. The knob on the other side is being turned. Through my fingers I can see a blinding light pouring in through the crack in the door. It creeks and the heavy wooden door is opened. The light surrounds me and I feel warm for the first time in so long. I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I can’t move from my knees. He pulls me to my feet, my face still covered, tears flowing like rain down my face and over my hands.
He pulls me to him wrapping his powerful arms around me. I put my arms around him, my eyes still clenched tightly. I feel like a child in his embrace. I slowly open them. They begin to adjust to the bright light here. They focus on the hand that wraps around my shoulder. The hand that first touched me when the door opened. I see the familiar wound. It is where the blood came from that stained the door. Over my shoulder I can see back through the open door. The room where I have been for so long is clean. All of the rubbish and filth are gone. I sigh. Then I here him speak softly, with the voice that could command all creation, he whispers, “Welcome home my child. I’ve missed you. All the time you spent away I was right here waiting by the door for you. All you had to do was knock.”
Luke 11:10 - “For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds’ and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”
James 4:7-10 – “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, morn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.”
3 comments:
Beautiful, just beautiful.
Thank you for your encouraging post. What an amazing love our Creator God has for us. Blows me away.
Its been about 4 months, don't stop writing, its like legacy youth group all over again.
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