LOWEST POINT

The shaft flew through the air from the point of the Javelin start line, through miles and rivers
It pierced the heat around me, and resurrected shivers
I didn't expect the untimely pain and I cried out
Lying of the floor, I felt the blood spill from my piercing, lots

The 0 degree season, elicited the white puffs out of its fume-filled wrath
It wrapped my fallen shape within its white blanket

I shivered until my body became as hard as ice
My brain was unable to comprehend the thaw for its berg
I fought to stay my vision, I fought to fire up my mind
Both threatened to stop and still in the endless seal of inactivity

I tried to rise from the torture, and my pained effort fell back into the wealth of wide snow
I was in the coldest place, on my back, with no hope in sight- It was my lowest point.

My heart beat slowed its roll, and my veins stopped the flow
I was the literal presence of "ice for blood"
The unbelievable description, which was merely an attempt to express the chagrin at someone's inability to do good, became a literal explanation for my situation

Like the good Samaritan of the Good Book, I was neglected by white coated boots hurrying to save themselves from the onslaught of what was to be 'a stormy blizzard'
And their freezing hands feared to stretch its uncertain charity to aid my frozen personality, from the cold mass of chills that it has become.

Unlike the good story from the Good book, the Samaritan never arrived, and my pained brain wondered if he'd lost his way on the way to rescue me from my distress...




When my heart began to call for last words, I remembered that in the midst of my suffering, I hadn't offered sacrifice...
The heat of the sacrifice is needed to thaw- melt my circumstance back to existence

I calmed my heart's desperate call, and instead grabbed its final beat and surrendered it to the Gentleman on the tree...

I was amazed at the phenomenon pouring from His pierced side. Aware the He also was hit by the shaft, I didn't know that He wasn't a victim like I was, He is the Saviour.

Bewildered, I beheld the blood and water mixture and longed to touch its intrigue.

I was lifted up from the frozen frills of mine, and I touched HIS side. He looked at me, Love was shining from Him like sunlight from the skies".
 I was lost in the maze of His beautiful gaze.

And I said the words that I didn't understand then, 'I do... believe'. He astounded my lips to smile back at His sugary sweet smile, and He tickled me with the softness of His beard.

Oh, how I love to be held close to His chest that my heart beats in resonance with His...
How I love it when His breath blows my hair and cools my head...
He's all that the doctor ordered...

I was at the lowest point, but now I'm seated in heavenly places with THE KING.

THE CLICK..

The click becomes the turn of a page.

The emoji becomes the smile on your face.

The pictures are now wishes that become frivolous aspirations, no more moments to appreciate.

The wait for the like graduates into The wait on your purpose.

The click becomes a distant memory when the light shuts off.

The escalation from playing with the App to depending on it, happened without a by your leave.

The consequences of the addiction brought a realization that shook.


The powerless button which functions only beneath the gentle press of clever fingers, has become the master.
It relishes the slavery wrought by them who should abort it.

Ignorance, the ever- present smart card used to withdraw the time and cash from well oiled machine of addiction.

This reality has become mine, and the realization makes me chill and think.
My body has been bought, My soul is sold, My spirit is owned... These are the terms of agreement I signed when I took on the Life of the cross, but recently I forgot a while and focused on my basic human wiles..

The click is now a replacement for His Word. I depend on its exotic world to fill my lonely bourgeois... 

Without even the blink of a beep, my restless wandering fingers scroll through the feed.
Hours fly by, and the dawn becomes dusk, yet I'm unaware of the changing seasons around my dust(me).

Engrossed, I neglect the plea of my watery eyeballs, and focused my mind on all the net presented, but Him.

I've forgotten when I prayed for the device and promised to use it for His service,

I swore He would be my Idol as I am His temple, but my actions are varied from my ardent oaths.

I have made my Master jealous of my interests, when He is naturally Jealous of my attention.

My hands lift as my voice sings, but my focus shifts as I can't help but envision 'The click'
"Lord, please forgive me" I pray sincerely, focusing intently with a strong determination.

I relaxed my guard and again, I was the favorite customer of whirling thoughts in my end, and my lips turned up in anticipation.

I have become a servant to a material of which I once had the power to destroy.

Lord, please help me. Your help might be drastic, and my dread of it kept me from crying out my helplessness.

 But now, 
I surrender!!!