Today I’m exhausted from a million days of fighting in a Meaningless War of Distraction meant for no one to ever win.
With sincere words of pleading I’ve been trudging through endless quicksand in combat that undoubtedly I was never intended to survive.
The hostile environment, threatening to suffocate, is like a demented play performance from hell that nobody is invited to attend but me and you.
I learned sometimes words are not enough.
Sometimes in spite of my best efforts to communicate, the lines are disconnected by forces beyond my control, as if we are stuck in a perpetual nightmare, asleep, and the Seductress of Division and Sin tramples us.
The languages we speak are not compatible with each other so we go around for days and years in the same circle and I’m dizzy from the not-so-merry-go-round that this relationship became before I was ever invited into it.
Just so you can hear it one more time,
I don’t want out.
I just want you.
But you’re so far away —
even when you’re sitting beside me.
You’re not here.
It seems you forgot to notice me — as if you really ever did.
I can’t anymore compete against your invisible castle fortress built with most impressive steel clay and icy mortar that can only be found in the Dungeon of Selfishness.
Trophies of Illusion line the walls as support because if they fell you believe it would crush your ability to breathe.
But we’re both suffering because of it.
Well done is your quest to lock down your heart as you proudly wear your carefully chosen armor crafted with the Finest Resentment and woven with impenetrable Threads of Defensiveness, though the foul odor of despair is seeping out of the seams.
I’m exhausted from trying to earn a place in your heart that you locked up when you were young never to let anyone in again.
The ONLY victory belongs to the enemy as he cleverly whispers an empty Promise of Entitlement as your reward while the arsenal laced with apathy repeatedly tears me apart to make sure that I bleed Silence.
You pull the strings of the bow as you launch the arrows tipped with poisonous contempt into my day shattering one more time the hope you waved in front of me as if this time you’d extravagantly pour love into me but as soon as hope was there, you snatched it away again.
Can’t you see the scoreboard reveals
Zero for us
16 against us ?
The devil profits and cheers, fascinated, because you arrogantly and foolishly wield your Weapon Of Contempt he designed for you to take down the very human you profess to love the most.
Fourteen seconds of attention and then —
once again your corroded barbed wire words cut to the deepest part of me although I try my best again and again to resist the isolation.
The jagged edges and mocking tone of your words sting deeper than any other physical weapon ever could.
It is as if you have been lured and lulled into a trance of constant combat, wearing badges void of honor, but at least you never have to be vulnerable to anybody.
You are safe —
or so you tell yourself.
It’s a celebration that doesn’t make any sense as it deprives you too.
But you get to rejoice and hold onto Control and maybe that’s the whole point.
Or maybe the whole point is that the enemy wants to keep you occupied so that you will not see me.
…I’m left to wonder what life would have been like
if you could have cared for my heart as viciously as you’ve protected yours…
I’m talking about more than occasional disagreements;
more than the every once-in-a-while kind of conflict;
You refuse to give me more than a couple words at a time out of self-preservation —
or so it would seem from your view of the world…
As if pouring your words over your lover would steal something you can never recover.
Only somehow you aren’t able to see
— the one you need to protect yourself from is you.
I think you forgot you can choose to choose what you actually need.
Make no mistake.
You do have a choice.
You do not have to pick up that familiar crusty old armor today — or tomorrow.
It’s affecting your walk anyway making it clumsy.
You’ve got to be SO tired of its weight.
That’s a heavy burden for anyone to carry.
You should know that living in the Stench of Bitterness is a place that incessantly demands your Everything
and drains the life out of you with no apology.
The enemy tricks you into renting to own the space that was already yours and keeps collecting your joy as payment until you’re completely exhausted and then tirelessly labors to strip you of emotion as you gladly refuse to share your words with your bride.
But since there is nobody to stand up and tell you that, in fact, I’m worth more than the leftover stale carefully weighed scraps you throw to me as affection,
I’m left with a deficient tank and I’m constantly starving for more.
I’m appreciative for any affection
but when I do finally ask for more
your Lust for Dominance over your own words
violently slashes the edge of my reserve tank open
and what little residue I still had
spills out into tears
and your controlling disdain for me reminds me again
why it’s safer
never to ask for more.
It’s how you choose to control your environment.
And you do have a choice.
And from years of studying you I believe it stems from the seed of misery the enemy quietly planted in you when you weren’t even looking.
There aren’t any prison bars around either of us that people can see
but they’re there all the same.
Please know I’m truly not angry —
I’m just hungry for
more affection and attention from you.
Usually when people are too hungry
they have been known to be grouchy.
You stole my smile with your secret obsession to hide parts of your life from me yet you insist you need to see genuine, counterfeit happiness displayed on my face so that you might give me another couple of words.
I just can’t.
I know God wants me to submit to Him and He wants me to submit to you whether or not I think you’re worthy to submit to.
That is my offering to Him as a wife.
And out of obedience to please Him I try to offer it again and again.
The only way “we” win is if you will also completely surrender to Him.
Lay down your arsenal of pride.
You constantly study The Word but refuse to let It levitate your vision beyond your current view.
And only the genuine integrity of forgiveness (for me and for yourself) can remove the blinders that have been attached to direct your sight away from me.
But regardless, the joke is on the enemy.
My broken heart is no longer fragile
He repairs breaks to be a tougher substance
than any man can dream to create as a reinforcement.
He uses the tears I’ve cried and combines them with His supernatural Comfort and somehow because of Him I still hope. I can still love you because of Him.
But probably to your surprise and despite the hand of the enemy’s depraved wishes against me using my own husband as a weapon, I am no longer lonely.
The hope I have is found only in Jesus Christ!
He hears me cry out to Him.
He lifts me, saves me, carries me, holds me, comforts me because He is my Comforter. He is my Counselor.
He knows my every fault and every thought that took momentary residence in my mind.
And He loves me even so.
He knows me most intimately
and YET He STILL loves me to the death —
and then some.
He loves me enough to take off the grave clothes that I ignorantly fashioned with my own deepest shame and sin.
He loves me enough that He climbed OUT of that grave and He LIVES for me.
He is my Deliverer and He gives me Peace in the middle of the storms of life that have choked the gentleman out of you.
The spoils of this war are my obedience to Him and my life laid down for Him.
His promises are real and true and He will never break them.
He breathes life into the most dead parts of my being.
He restores my soul in a way that nothing can explain.
As He throws open the doors with the sweetest sounds of Love, He calls to me.
And when I run to Him He wraps me in His arms filled with compassion in spite of my darkest betrayal against Him.
I’m surrounded by His safety. His blessings chase me and capture me as if I’m His most beautiful creature more precious than any flower petal created by the very same God Who redeems me.
He hears me and He knows my deep repentance cry and I am COMPLETELY ADORED by Him.
…All this even while in my own ignorance my sin extracted Jesus’ last breath.
He is mine