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I hate the things I do.
I hate the things I say.
I hate the things I don't say.
I hate my hypocrisy.
I hate how much I take advantage of Your grace.
I hate how I don't appreciate how you forget my sin.
I know you forget my sin.
But I still hate it.
I hate my flesh.
I hate this dirtclod-of-a-body that deigns to the world like clockwork.
I sin.
I sin so much.

I hate it.

Poetry stint? Perhaps.

The beauty's in the drudgery
The growth is His delight
The fight, the valiant fight
See, THAT's His delight
The clay of my unsteady heart
He molds and crafts
Or holds back?
Perhaps, but I can't understand

It's all in the timing!
Embrace the pain
For fire is refined the same way
New ventures await!
And while the earth quakes
I still feel hate
Vulnerable and naked
My bones ache
My ribcage starts
Unable to hold this unsteady heart
Believe it or not
Love will prove
It's good versus evil
And Love will prove!

Sin

The aftermath is now
Complete is the cancer's spreading
Undeniably complete
Slapped in the face
You recoil back
And ask if I want to take it back
Credibility destroyed
My head is hung
Vulnerability realized
As I hold the smoking gun

Existence and time and space are halted
As the Master of all inclines His ear
The air that fills my lungs is a luxury
Emerged from the water
Cut me off

Shame encompasses the greater side
As I extinguish my own light
Tears of sorrow you shed
As oblivious to the sacrifice I still remain

Entry #2

Curses! How could I be so blind?

A new, exciting route of destruction has been unveiled to my ignorant eyes. One of sure prosperity in the condemnation of my subject. As many mortals do, my subject often looks to the future; to a plateau of spiritual contentment with the Enemy. He thinks of the here and now as a dreadful storm before the calm. Some thought-infiltration later (a very handy method with this disgusting human), and he's delightfully discouraged again. "You're working towards nothing," I whisper meticulously. "It's all a rat race, it'll never get any easier."
Quickly, however, my success was foiled, as the subject immediately when into converse with the Enemy. My ears burning and anger flaring, I was cast away by The Almighty One. My seeds, however, still remain.
The paradox that concerns me is this: If my efforts to thwart the peace of my human's mind only results in his clinging to the Enemy, what good am I? Truly this will be a battle. Continued study of his weaknesses is required.

-Scourge

Dear friends

Greetings,

You don't know me. Or see me. That's ok, though. My name is Scourgewire. I'm writing an update on the damnation of my subject, Matthew Kenyon. I figured I'd use the internet (a tool paramount in the failure of other's souls) to advertise his temptations. I notice my subject bases many things on sheer emotion. Such disgusting fluctuation of the human "heart" detests me, but delights me to no end when I consider how it may be used to destroy him.
I've been recently capitalizing on my subject's sense of what mortals refer to as "guilt". Such a fool, this boy! Does he not know the Enemy, with strangely proud motives, wiped his guilt clean when Our Master hung Him on the tree? Of course he does! My job, however, is to keep that gut-wrenching truth in the back of his mind. His consistent prayer, however, is a nuisance that needs to be exploited in the near future. More soon.

-Scourgewire

A Message

So something pretty surreal has been happening lately. I pray a lot.
Like... a lot a lot.


And every time I've gone into prayer, I hear a phrase. A quiet whisper of a thought pounding in my brain. It's barely audible, but perfectly understandable. I believe Jesus is heavily laying something on my heart.

"Be alert. Things are happening that are bigger then what your eyes can see."

that's what I hear, over and over.

The Invisible War

Crouched down in the dirt and tall grass, your body shakes with the shock of battle. Your breathing is heavy... your eyes weak and sad. You grasp your weapon tightly in your hand. You check your six: all clear. Your vision is limited from the stifling helmet, but you can see an outcropping just beyond the dense trees. Illuminated by the setting sun, the sweat on your face glistens, mixed with dirt and grease and blood, an indescribable filth cakes your entire body. Before you give your mind a chance to consider the potential consequences, you leap into a sprint, running so hard your muscles begin to burn. Just a few more feet. You leap over a tree stump and duck your head as bullets rain from an unknown direction. You reach the earth once more with a thud, never slowing, never stopping. You spot a foxhole occupied by an unknown comrade. The weight of the world lightens a little. With a small dive, you eat a mouthful of safe, covered dirt, and peace of mind is achieved, at least for a while. You turn to your friend and sputter out a request to follow you. He doesn't move, staring at you with hesitant eyes. No. He won't go with you. The enemy is too great, he says. There's no point in resisting, he says. Your stomach drops to your feet. Not another one. And to think that you can't take him with you. No matter how hard you try, it has to be his choice. You tell him he's doomed to destruction, that he's on the losing side. You tell him not to give up hope, but to fight hard until the end, which will justify all the pain. He won't listen though. He's too distracted by what's around him. By the here and now. He's too blinded to see the reward that waits for him if he just

keeps

pressing

on.

I hope, as a Christian, you feel like this. No, it doesn't make me happy you feel like this. I don't feel happy you feel discouraged or pained. But you should. And if you do, you're on the right track. Truth be told, we're behind enemy lines. Satan has power. Let's face it. And we're on his turf. His battlefield. His pit of sin and lust and destruction. This is his big chocolate-covered bomb. His grand deception. His master plan. And I gotta hand it to him, finding pleasure in earthly things is easy nowadays.

But what if we didn't. What if we shoved his sinful offers right back in his ugly face. What if we rebelled against the customs of this world and ran. Ran until our muscles burned. Ran for the goal, grabbing as many of our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ as we could. What if, amidst the storm of bullets and arrows and pain, we pressed on, knowing that the end would justify it all. What if we put our faith in the unseen. In the truth. What if we ALL did that. What if we could somehow turn Satan's own field against him. What if we took this beautiful earth that our Lord created BACK.

Sounds like a remarkably effective battle strategy to me.

So let's do it.