​Pardon the crassness; I’m frustrated so I’m going to do some of my version of preaching.

Lately I’ve seen a lot of pain out there, a lot of people I care about being wounded, suffering loss, feeling afraid, weighed down. It’s heartbreaking. It’s frustrating.

See, there is this thing I have talked about a lot here, this vision of the Kingdom that I see that bolsters me, that tells me there is Light in the world. Some have told me they enjoy reading it, some have expressed less enthusiasm, told me it’s self-righteousness or haughtiness, that I’m preachy or pious. In these days where I see so many I Love suffering I feel so wholly impotent to help, so completely unable to stop the chain of crap thrown at them. I can tell them I’m praying for them, but that doesn’t cheer a person up. I can say it’ll all be ok, but the truth is no one believes you when you say it, because it’s not always going to be ok. People are dying, people are hurting… the world is on fire. Our world rushes so fast and so impersonally that we fall behind and get crushed under the back wheels and no one even notices. There are so many calluses on our hearts from the brutality of our world. The message to you from the world if you’re broke? Get a job, loser. Sad? Suck it up buttercup. Scared? Toughen up cupcake. What you feel isn’t legitimate, isn’t real, and we’ll eat you alive for showing it.

And yet we offer you no tools to cope, no Light to walk by. The cruelest, most frustrating part? You wouldn’t accept it if offered. The world has jaded us so much that we cannot accept an offer of hope, because we are positive it’s poisoned. All this pain, all this darkness… Satan is showing us he won, that he can pick off anyone he wants any time he wants. He’s the prince of this world and he has orchestrated earth to look exactly like Hell. Everyone is out for themselves, those with good hearts are crushed by heartache until they break and join the ranks of the dead and the lost.

Avert your children’s eyes, but: F***. That. F*** that. It’s a complete load of crap. He hasn’t won a damned thing. He doesn’t own this world, he doesn’t get to dictate what happens. I don’t give two craps about how much darkness he says is in this world. F*** him. I know better. You know better.

The Lord returned to me today, with a booming clarity, something I wrote awhile back:

“But when He places something before us with which to ask ‘do you believe I Love you?’ we crumble into doubt.”

I know, I know, I know know, that in every one of these pains is that question from God: “do you believe I Love you?” But what do I do with that? Tell you there’s a hope, a joy, a beauty in that horrible thing you’re going through? Tell you I’ll pray for you to see it? That’s about the most horrible, insensitive thing you could say to a wounded heart ever. I might as well tell you to get over it, to voice the words Satan has trained us to say and beat you down with your own lack of perspective and positivity. But I can’t say nothing or I’m one of the callous jerks who doesn’t recognize there’s other people in the world. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

The only thing I can do in the ruleset of this nonsensical wonderland is tell you I empathize, I Love you, I’m here for you. But those are said so often they mean less than nothing. We want someone to tell us we’re entitled to our venting, our pain, our darkness, our death-worship, but when they give it there’s no value to it because we already believed that. It becomes a tool to weed out those who don’t support us: if you didn’t express sympathy properly I get to aim all the pain at you instead, which gives me an outlet to vent my rage at you. The cup fills, but the cup is empty. We feast on freedom, but we’re starving to death in captivity.

The story of Pandora’s box is wrong; hope didn’t get locked inside. Hope got out first. But because hope came first it was waved away, forgotten in the onslaught of every evil thing. The devil coerced into existence a world where you are constantly barraged by pain and yet can accept no hope of comfort. Rendered mute is every heart that would espouse Light because the message can’t extinguish the dark. Only the chant of death can play comfortably in our ears.

Lord, I can’t fight the demon. I see Your view, but I can’t convey it — that’s fighting the devil directly and he’s got ten thousand years more education in twisting words than I do. I lose every time I try. I finally realize what Jude meant when he wrote in 1:9:

“Yet Michael the archangel, when contending with the devil he disputed about the body of Moses, durst not bring against him a railing accusation, but said, The Lord rebuke thee.”

He was saying that I can’t argue the devil, can’t convince the devil, can’t fight him directly because I’m less versed in his ways of war. He’ll always win. What I can do, all I can do, is appeal to God to rebuke him. It doesn’t matter how much Light I see, how much confidence I have that Satan is a moron who doesn’t see he lost a hundred thousand years ago. I can’t give others the vision given me, so I ask You, my Father, to do it.

I pray with all that I am that this message be heard with the ferocity with which it is written. In the name of the God of the Impossible, the God of All Comfort, the God of Light, The Christ and the Creator, the Lord over all Creation, the Father of all beating hearts, the one who Loves beyond scope of measure I rebuke you, Satan. In the name of my Father I rebuke you. With the power of Elohim, the strength of Yahweh, and the support of the Living Christ I rebuke you back to your little cave. Not one of these sheep is yours. I will spend every ounce of breath from here to eternity depriving you of one single victim. This is my prayer, this is my sword, this is the crushing blow to your head you insolent little piglet. I don’t hate you, I pity you. All the power of Heaven declares your defeat at the hands of my Father, and with these hands that are His I will strike at you not in my name or my power, but His. He came to this world wrapped in flesh to show us all that even with a limited whimpering skin He could crush you with one word and I will shout that tale to Heaven for eternity.

You WILL let my friends go. You WILL release my Father’s sheep. By the Word of God I command it. The Glorious Light will not be silenced, will not be dimmed simply because you have some stupid grudge. Your knee will bow, your tongue will confess, and I give you this one chance. In all of history past and future He gives you this one chance to leave willingly. He will not offer a second time. Release His sheep or face the wrath of the One who made you. I won’t hear your vanity, I won’t watch your performance. Leave my family be. Slink back to your little cave and sulk for eternity if you wish, but you leave those I Love alone, and I Love them all. In the true name of God I cry out your rebuke. Lord, I ask as a child that You force this. I don’t have words as You have words. I have trust, though, in You. I have all faith, all purpose, all hope in You alone. Lift up the hearts that are low. Let them starve no more, but feast on Your hope and Love. Wash away all doubt that You Love them. I Love them and I Love You, and I ache for restoration between You and them. Bring their voices back to Your choir. In the name of Your Word  and my Brother, Jesus, I pray. Amen and amen and hallelujah!

One thought on “Starving

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