Long has it been on this weary road, a path I did not mean to traverse yet was set upon without my consent. Is it the enemy? Is it my own doing? or is it the king refining? I know not the answer why I must endure this the darkest night of my storm. For the storm I must face and walk through is that of my worst kind, the one I despise and fear the most yet seems to be the most common. I feel a kindred spirit with the prodigal son who lost his way from his home, yet unlike his my way home is not so simple. I cry from deep inside to be spared this treacherous journey that my feet have been placed upon, I call to the Lord to have mercy and let me finally break through the clouds of my misery yet hear not even the whispers of the wind, my soul weakens and mourns painfully as I stand in front of the gates. The gates of my beloved and my home whom in my storm I feel so far way from, so close yet so out of reach.
I cry for mercy and relief and beg to come home yet the gates do not budge, hold myself in in my tears and my anguish yet he seems to hear not and comfort does not wrap itself over me like a blanket enveloping. to the average eye I appear happy and fine like life continues to go on but inside in my true self and in my deepest core the image that is painted in these words are truth. For the inner wounds and bleeding's that I bear whether by the enemy, by my own doing or by the refining that the king might encourage me to endure are almost more than I can bear. Almost as if by clarity however I realize how many of his children go through these things, the pain, the hurt, the tears, the need to be held by his comfort and to be embraced by his arms just begging for a little relief and peace a sense of home in the heart.
Yet ever seeking and ever waiting as I stand in front of the gates even as my hope and strength seemingly about to blow out as that of flame on a candle I hold on to the hope and the truth that was burned into my very being by his hand. With the last beat of my heart and with the last breath that I may breath in the rough of this storm that overtakes me I look to the sky as if by instinct as if my body reacts to what my heart already knows and feels inside. My redemption draws near and he will come in the clouds, It is not by vision or dreams nor by a word of prophecy that my heart knows this but by the bond and the love that synchronizes between our two hearts. Though we are of two different worlds and separated by two separate planes of existence there exists a closeness and a bond that exceeds the limits of time and space, of flesh and spirit.
The tears that have been shed and continue to be shed even now and here, the pain and the bruises, the loss and heartache. All of this have I have I felt and experienced, all of this has many times almost overtaken me. As I in all of this sit in front of the gates awaiting for them-awaiting for him to hear my hearts cries and calls I hear the faintest of a voice speak my name and a vision proceeds it. The vision of what my heart has waited and cried for revealed the opening of the gates not simply opening but bursting open without warning or expectancy. The glory that would flood and pour from inside the gates was more than what words can hope to speak. I in fact would not even attempt to do so for such an attempt would be ridiculously pointless. as if in a split of a second the vision comes and goes and the gates are again closed and locked and I am beside myself in front of them waiting once again.
Do not by any means dear reader think that my pain and uncertainty and my hope for my return home is by any means lessened, for all of this is just as strong in my heart and soul as when I first started this writing, yet by the compelling his leading I write all of this as if a pen I hold in my hand and ink I write on a parchment yet having an invisible hand controlling and guiding my pen do I write this to all who would read and take in what is said. But for those who are as of a kindred spirit as I who long and await for him simply out of love and endearment and for those who would be weary and brought down, who would begin to doubt that he will keep his promise of his returning for his beloveds I pray that you would hold on to the flame of your candle with your every breath and let not the wind of life let it fade. the gates are eager to open and will do so with without expectancy and with a furious rush of his glory.
