One more drop will ease your troubled soul,

Once more to fill that gaping hole,

You know you’re still in full control,


Each one more tolerated than the last,

How to numb your pain you ask?

What’s one more drop to forget the past?


Once more to feel the sun again,

Once more to soar above and then,

One final plunge into nothingness.


The dreaded night bears its teeth,

But don’t worry, you’re safe with me,

Only I can set you free.


Listen closely to the sound

Of tortured screams all around,

Unending pain and fear abounds,

You want to escape? I’ll show you how,


Now you feel nothing, but that’s okay,

Nothing else matters anyway,

With your will to live now stripped,

One more light is snuffed by the drip…drip…drip…

The Person at the End of the Road

This is the story of a man long tormented by a seemingly inescapable chorus of lies. They feel like daggers in his ears, piercing his thoughts with extreme prejudice. He attempts to cry out into the void in search of answers, though he’s convinced it remains a whisper on the wind. So, he chooses to suffer in silence, as he knows all too well by now. This silence is deafening, filling his head with noise he can’t escape.

Fear and hopelessness consume him, yet no tangible danger is present. On the contrary, He is quite safe in this regard. So what troubles him then? From whence does this terrible shade emerge, and what keeps drawing him to this particular soul? The way of escape seems simple, yet it is complicated by webs weaved from the mouth of the shade. They create a mystification, distorting the truths that our subject holds onto desperately.

Each passing moment moves him closer toward the inevitable end. Before this troubled man lies the narrow path that leads to true freedom. In the distance, a figure stands on the other side, motionless. Struggling to get a better look, the ensnared soul thinks to himself, “his eyes speak only of passion, and there burns a fire upon him that does not cause him any harm.”

He longs to see more, but he knows he is not ready for the full picture. With each step forward he makes, his understanding increases, but so does the strain of the webs clinging for dear life. What he lacks is the will to break free. For his bondage lies where they cannot be touched…his mind. “How do I break bonds I cannot see?” He asks himself.

Then, a voice was heard, rolling like thunder, saying, “Trust not in the strength of your own will, for I will hold you up, and carry you to the victorious end I have planned for you. You need only reach out and take my hand.”

Then, in an instant, the realization hit him, that his unbelief kept him in bondage; not his unbelief in the voice speaking to him, but rather that he could ever be anything other than what he is now. The heavenly voice knew his heart, and he said to him, “Surely I tell you, I have called you to carry my flame into the dark reaches of the earth. You are my workmanship, my love for you is unceasing. My plans are for you to prosper, not to fail. Should you stumble, do not lose heart, as I did not call you because of your perfection, but because of my perfect plans for you.”

These words fill the tortured soul with a strange yearning. It felt as if some invisible force had reached into his very essence, urging him onward.

Trapped between hope and despair, our conflicted hero’s thoughts returned to the source of his imprisonment. “These accursed webs feed off of my struggling,” he thought to himself, “it feels like I’ve tried everything to free myself of their dark influence.”

At this point, his body was too weak, even to stand. Unable to fight his growing weariness, he fell to his knees. The world around him began spinning and his vision was blurred by his intense sorrow.

With his remaining strength, he cried to the heavens, “I cannot free myself of these burdens. Your words course through me like lightning. They ring true in my ears. I submit to your Lordship, Father. Rescue me from the jaws of death.”

Just then, he noticed a shift in the air around him. Wiping his eyes, his attention was pulled to the person at the end of the road. For the first time, he was moving, ever closer towards him. He moved with purpose, piercing through the ominous night like a blade. The darkness could not touch him; not even a shadow followed his footsteps.

He stopped just before the struggling soul, still on his knees. He dare not look upon his face, for he felt unworthy of the man that stood before him.

The fiery figure lifted his hand and placed it upon his head. In an instant, the webs turned to ashes, drifting away in the wind. The shade let out a terrible shriek and fled in fear.

The hero began weeping once more, suddenly aware of the miracle that has taken place. The dark void that once filled him was now filled with a brilliant light. His desert heart was now a lush oasis of hope and love.

His eyes darted every which way, hoping to thank the mysterious figure that saved him, though to no avail. He was no longer a separate entity. He now burns from within the hero, filling him with newness of life.

As he turned towards home, there laid before him another person, suffering as he once did. The thunderous voice spoke once more; “Your pain has become your purpose. My creation still suffers greatly at the hand of the evil one. Now, go forth and prepare the people for my return.”

This story is still being written, and the forthcoming chapters are indeed filled with uncertainties. My prayer is that we all come to realize what burns within us, and walk in the purpose God has established for our lives.

A Prayer For Fire

Father God,

My heart is swirling with emotions, as a flurry on a cold winter’s night. Your profound love is like the hearth, burning with a passion that gives me safety and warmth, protecting me against winter’s embrace. As I draw closer to the flames, the familiar numbness begins to fade, and I am utterly overcome with your grace.

I can still hear the unforgiving winds outside, ever persistent in its pursuit of my life, or anyone foolish enough to face it alone. I know, O Mighty God, that your fiery presence will go with me, pushing back the cold shadows, lighting my way as my trust falls solely on you. No longer do I fear the evil one; it makes its presence known, howling through the trees with great fury, inciting fear in the hearts of unwary travelers; but you my Lord are my midsummer’s eve in the midst of the icy tempest.

My prayer to you this night, Father, is not for me, but for those still wandering through the cold, either because they lost sight of you somewhere along the way, or they have yet to find their way to you.

This fire you have gifted me Lord was never mine to keep; it was for me to give, to bring your warmth to those you meant for me to reach. So, as my heart dwells on those caught in the gale, I pray you would use my fire to draw them to your shelter. I can see them, God, they rely on their manmade constructs for peace of mind; but it is only a reprieve, a brief escape from the harsh reality that surrounds them, and numbs them to the pain that is meant to expose their need.

I pray that you would show them the folly of their ways, that only your relentless love can satisfy them, that they would never thirst again. Shine bright within me, lover of my soul, that the light I carry would bring the newness of Spring to those caught in the enemy’s deathly grip. Let them not succumb to the offerings of this world one more day; rather that they would recognize that it is all vanity, a chasing after the wind.

I trust you to complete the work that you began, Lord, in my life and all those you have called. Let your bride go as one body, and scatter the darkness to the corners of the earth, so that nothing can hide in the dead of night. Let the sun fall upon their skin, and your unfathomable love reform them after your heart and mind.

In your perfect name I pray, amen.