Chapter (?)
Another chapter is taken from the life’s story of the modern day Pilgrim on his journey to the Celestial City. This chapter, yet un-numbered, comes after many years had passed from the time of his landing at home in the US, after his first pilgrimage. It came as he was passing through some acute uncertainties in his life that created perilous cross roads, which became critical points in his life. He had to pass through some zero hour catastrophes that some may call mid life crises. Yet by God’s grace, He made it through.
The Pilgrim woke out of a stupor. His mind roamed back to those years of climbing off that plane after his first pilgrimage and trying to figure out what he would do, where he would go, and what he would become. What would the transformation of his children into adult hood look like? He knew at this time they needed orderliness; symmetry and routine in what could have been a life of chaos for many. He found himself now at almost 50 years of age and seemingly nothing to show for his life’s work. He found he had awakened from the past 16 years, and very little if anything had changed. The only difference now was he was going through life in survival mode, and he began feeling that same numbness in his life that he felt at the death of his father many years before. His zeal for his mission had gone. He felt almost in despair, still he drudged on looking and longing to find that Celestial City. He knew He could never give up, but energy was waning. He past through a period of severe depression and many days and nights He fought through battles of spiritual warfare. He went through many torturous dreams of demons right out of the pits of hell. He had visions of little beings that came to visit him at night and plagued him with all sorts of flashing lights and pounding thunder in his head. And then all of sudden from nowhere, a voice came to him like the voice of an angel and shook him from the torturous treacherous web in which he was entangled. These words floated into his mind like a ship gliding full sail across the midnight mist of the ocean blue.
THE JOURNEY OF THE DESPONDENT
You walk across the stellar plane; cry out to man you have no name.
No name? No name? The great I AM did give you name.
Your feet tread over desert bare. You think there is no one to care.
No one to care? No one to care? My son, remember I placed you there.
You journey on through toil and strife, and then declare there is no life.
No life? No life? My friend I give abundant life.
You talk and talk and make the choice; to grieve and sigh you have no voice.
No voice? No voice? Not so my child, you do have voice.
I give you life, I give you breath;
I give you victory over death.
I give you joy resound your name,
Remove the heartache guilt and pain.
Always let your heart rejoice;
And never doubt I give you voice.
From that point on, he knew he would never give up. He would never permit those demonic trances to overcome him. He continued for a while to suffer through what seemed like hypnotic figures in front of him, until one night something happened that started a ground swell to turn his life around.
The date, 03/10/98. The time, 3:00 A.M. The setting, a dream.
An angel appears in a dream and says to him. Take heed, they are trying to take your voice. They are trying to destroy you. “Who?” queried the weary traveler? They are trying to take your honor and your sense of being. You cannot give up your voice; wake up, wake up.
Pilgrim recognized this voice and he knew that this was more than just a call to get up and go to work. This was a higher calling that he recognized from earlier travels and experiences when he had felt the power of a living God watching over him. He woke up and grabbed a pen and paper from a table at his bedside. His pen at first dropped a trickle of ink onto the parchment and then it started to swirl into a flowing stream across the paper.
You continue on your journey, confidence your gate and stride.
Then all at once the forked stick pricks you in the side.
You gasp for breath, you faint inside, as the voice tries to hold you dear.
But earth screams out, give it up, give it up, nothing you need to fear.
The voice is the spangled garland I intended that you wear.
To give it up and lose the crown is a bigger cross to bear.
AND WHAT IS THIS VOICE?
At first, just sheer anxiety, don’t worry just keep it in tact.
But if it’s used to great extreme will throw you off your track.
Later it is known as passion, the voice now has a name.
But not intended to be given up, nor lead to endless shame.
And now it it’s called intentness, not something to give away.
And if you try to push it back, just see what price you’ll pay.
Because it’s the voice, your Master’s gift, don’t let it leave your side
Just polish it up and use it, don’t give in to foolish pride.
MY VOICE-----MY VOICE, I CAN’T GIVE IT UP. IT IS MY HONOR, MY SECURITY, MY ONLY HOPE FOR SELF ESTEEM. I IF LOSE IT, I LOSE EVERYTHING. I HAVE NOTHING LEFT.
Pilgrim got out of bed, and feeling the anguish of an ancient nobleman who had just drifted in from a violent battle, he picked himself up, and put on the armor of a combative chevalier, and started another pointless day in the lifeless profession of a government virtuoso.
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