Shipwrecked Refugees. (a spot in time)

So, I was just lying in bed, when all of the sudden I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of a vile presence. It was very unnerving at first, and i tried to shake it, seeing as I get similar feelings most nights. A little confession of mine is that I am semi-scared of the dark. I mean, I can handle darkness, in fact, often times I embrace it, but there are many nights that I fin myself a little anxious in that 3 steps between the light switch and the bed. (I blame my dad for showing my poltergeist when i was five). Anyways, tonight was different.

I could not shake it. I prayed, I recited scripture, I prayed, I texted my lifegroup, and I prayed. It didn't leave, and the nervousness started to turn to fear. Then I got to thinking, which is something I often do, and i found myself in a "spot of time," or an epiphany. I realized how much I did not want to be on this earth forever. Now, a lot of you might be thinking, well duh. We ALL want to go to heaven. But in actuality, this is something i wrestle with a lot. I always fight the desire to want to go to heaven by placing value in what this earth has to offer, like marriage, a career, kids, etc.

Lately, i feel like God has been doing a number on my heart, in tremendous ways. Things that held great value and importance to me no longer satisfy my obsessions. God has really been filling me up with himself. saturating my soul. I have been feeling a healthy apathy for things that I used to pour myself into, like school, money, and girls. God has very much surpassed these things lately, (i say this in all humility knowing that in time all that can change, and it is only by the grace of Jesus that I can say such things).

So, relevance? I honestly think that god allowed me to continue to feel that presence of evil tonight. He wanted me to have that revelation, he wanted me to finally understand that I truly do not belong here...and he wanted me to write about it. Because even after I had that little spot of time, I could not rest easy without writing about it. So i grabbed a notebook and a pen, and in a couple of minutes, I had a new poem scribbled up. You see, God knows our passions and our talents, and he wants us to use them for his good and for our own good. i have recently come to an understanding within myself, and with God, that I am supposed to write. Why? Because of moments like tonight. When i have a spot of time, I literally feel fear that I might not remember.

Lately, I have been lazy in my writing. I do not always write when I feel inspired. I make excuses that I am too tired, or that I will do it another time. NOPE! That is not how it works. It has to be a spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings as William Wordsworth put it.

So, You see how God can use ONE situation, ONE feeling for a multitude of lessons and good. As I write all of this, I KNOW it is truth, and not just a hunch. He wanted me to realize that this earth is evil. We are hunted and harvested by evil, as cheesy as it sounds, it is true. He wanted me to realize this, and he wanted me to write it out. I didn't even plan on writing this blog, I was just going to post the poem, but I feel this is very necessary, and honestly, i don't think these words are all mine, but rather, His.

So, here it is. Take it for all that it is worth... love it or hate, at least read it.

SHIPWRECKED REFUGEES

This world is a graveyard, a minefield of souls
that are prey to it's wrath, a wick left to kindle.
This land is not our land, it belongs to the flesh
and as we burn and decay, so all turns to death.
We shant want to remain here upon this war-feild
of fiery arrows, of loves cloven shield.
Hack away at the manacles lain down by our minds,
yes, remove us from darkness, restore sight to the blind.
If this ground's the foundation of fiery hate
that gives breed to our pride and defiles my slate,
then what shall I want from a world such as this-
thats imperfect as me? - Enveloped Darkness.

For like the mist it captures the minds
of the lonely, the weak, the scourged and the blind.
It feeds on the weak like a crow to dead flesh
and on the horseman's last ride it shall all turn to ash.
But alas, The War stands as we are forced to our knees
To stand firm as One, as Shipwrecked Refugees.