Muck & Mire

   For some its food, sex or drugs. The things we use to fill this never ending vortex of sludge. The things that suck us in, that drown us in the muck.The muck of self and self-righteous puff. The things that we feel bring us higher while in reality your stuck in the middle of the mire. Searching with every ounce of your being for some thing sturdy on which to cling. You clasp to the friend next to you but all to soon you realize that their drowning too. And still you try to dig to swim to an isle of safety and although every once in a while you reach a spot of sweet solidity you soon regret the choice you have made because although on semi-solid ground you stand the mire is still what composes the surrounding land. So once again you make a leap fearing that if you stay where you are you may loose all that you hope to be. Its a battle fought with every fiber of your soul. The fight to stay and die alone or to try and swim with no harbor you can concretely call home. Many have applauded your brave stupidity. The ones that have settled on those patches of land called “Forsaken; The isles of the broken”. There is a rumor. Of one who has gone before. One who has made it to that heavenly like shore. It is these stories of old that give me resolution. That give me the strength to fight when the mud feels my lungs and the weight of my weary limbs  drags me down. To give hope to those who are nearly drowned. I have faith in a day that will come when settling will be the desire of none. It seems that with each day that I press on the sludge becomes clearer, a passage is made through. Although the path is still of strife the slime that once covered my tired bones is replaced with a crystal clear relief . Its a water that flows from the streams of life. Its source being the blood that flowed from my Lord Jesus Christ. Its the sweet nectar that fills me with joy instead of strife. As I try to focus on the light. The clouds part and I see the Sun. The promise of a life of love. Although the water still surrounds my tired soul I feel a surge power and am surrounded by a mighty glow. And then I see them one by one those beside me who have also embraced the promise of the coming One.Who have been overcome by His mighty zeal to save the lost sheep of Israel. And now I am one who gives hope to the weary. I am not free from this goop of sin but now I see the tribulations as suffering for Him. I see the glory behind the pain. The aches I feel, the wounds with which I am afflicted are all for the majesty of the One who has already been stricken. Daily I reach out to Him for the strength to endure. To press on until his presence to all is made known. Until the day when he will call me and my siblings home. My heart yearns for all to hear the masters call so sweetly in their ear. Are you listening? Have you heard the call? To be the guide for those who look like they are standing tall? To look behind the mask of what we perceive and see them struggling just to breath. Does your heart go out to those in need or do you stand content on your island of greed? I urge you to step back into the muck because even in the moments of your relief the mud is still part of your reality. Its only in embracing that you are lost and in need of a helping hand that you find a renewed hope to hold out for the True Promised Land.