Real

There’s something we all fear:
that monster inside our soul
that hides under the bed
of our hearts
and scratches at our tear ducts.

It gives us a sense of desperation:
we’re caged in,
trapped in endless darkness
and fighting for purpose,
direction, and hope–
those things we grasp at,
always just out of reach,
unless we come to terms
with ourselves.

The world tells us to calm ourselves,
not to panic, rush into anxiety,
when help is at our doorstep.
But sometimes
it’s not that easy.
The monster remains,
tickling the corners of
repressed memories.

Don’t be afraid of the ordinary,
they say with a comfortable grin.
But they’ve never crossed
over that threshold.
They haven’t faced the monster
in the dark recesses
of worn out blankets
and flattened pillows.

And there’s another thing
we all secretly fear:
ourselves.
Our hands,
our eyes,
our minds,
and what they’re capable of.

But the story doesn’t end
with the end of you and me.
The future isn’t bottomless,
with only craggy mountains,
parachute failures,
and worlds spinning out of control.

You and I are the lanterns,
and lanterns don’t light themselves.
There must be Something bigger,
brighter, and calmer,
to fuel the pooling oil
of our desire to live,
to be, and to do.

He blows the flames,
and the embers come to life.

The monster runs and hides
from the brightness.
We’re not cold
anymore.
Death has no hold over us
anymore.
Life has a reason for us
at last.

We’re going to thrive, friend.
We’re going to thrive
because He has said so.
So I’ll take your hand
and you’ll take mine,
and we’ll jump
into this beautifully endless
ocean of grace
and hope.

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