Essay on A Story ' Could It Be Yours?
A Story; could it be yours?
In the eerie time just before dawn, I left the prison of my bed; the words “this is the day the Lord has made,’” were ringing in my head; “I will rejoice, and be glad in it,” oh yeah? This is going to be a hard day, a day like “no other” in my history. I can only dream I will rejoice in it. When it’s over, perhaps I will, if I can feel anything, any emotion other than fear, confusion, and despair.
Answered prayer could be my stronghold, or the Master of answered prayer would fill that role if he was listening to my broken- hearted insensible mutterings. All through the night I had been fighting the sin of self-pity; it was still round one and I was not winning in this moment of time.
The winter’s daylight scratched on my windows, it seemed to have the sound of fingers strafing a chalk dusted blackboard. Remember that thing, remember those sounds? My nerves were straining to exit my body through my pores. I felt held together only by my very thin skin.
“I have a soul, I am a person, and I possess a physical body; am I of no worth?” These dark brown thoughts bombarded my mind and held me slave to devastation. How do I go on? Just as I breathe without being aware, possibly I will exist on auto-pilot passing through this world as a phantom being.
In John 6:17b-18 (CJ.B. Phillips) the disciple’s fears are expressed and I was in steadfast agreement: “…Darkness had already fallen and Jesus had not returned to them. A strong wind sprang up…