Piercing the darkness – Part One

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Yosef watched with mute keenness the entire scene. There were so many humans there, most of them would never realize the reality of their inner soul and it’s precarious position in the sight of the Lord. None of them would know that a similar fate would meet them if they did not repent of their inherent wickedness, spiritual rebellion and mindful sinfulness and accept the precious sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ done for the benefit of humanity.

No one would be able to see him, the Lord had tired of satan using the unseen realm to fool men into believing in stories that men’s imagination devised, during the days of Noah and Enoch, Lucifer had created grand displays of men’s imagination.. Giants had lived, and had invited men’s worship and awe… further deceiving themselves and falling deeper and deeper into the nature of their own minds, by claiming to be wise, they fell away and into the snares of the ancient dragon who led them all away from the one true God and into fables, myths and fantasies.. lucifer knew how to sense such imaginative and deep souls…, Most of them would be born either in the months of March, June, September or February.., he carefully read their imaginations because he had been granted access of the soul, when the Lord created man. Man’s soul stirred up strange imagery that murmured in the restless heart of a man deep in sleep, if only a man listened to his soul during his sleep..? But the Lord had purposefully concealed knowledge of their language from man’s wisdom, natural discernment and understanding… The Lord only wanted men to be saved from Hell, His End time Judgment and from His ferocious wrath in this age…The Lord had created man using mud, but the Lord in His tremendous all encompassing wisdom had generously granted men a bit of His spirit’s intoxicating eternal mystery.. this was what men called soul.., when men lost sight of earthly things and like a child believed in the Lord Jesus and His powerful resurrection and sacrifice.., their soul converted into a spirit…and in that spirit the Lord would reveal Himself in ways that the human mind with its limits could never fathom… The Lord did not intend for the father of lies to have access to man’s soul, but His truthful absolute made it possible for His absolute goodness as well…. The fall of man opened up the soul to the evil of the fallen one.., the ancient sinner… Yosef’s face grew grim as he thought of the horrendous evil that the Serpent had created all through the ages.. all because of the knowledge that he had stolen from Heaven.., Filthy robber.., his end was coming soon.., The Lord was just anxious to save as many souls as He could before the vile serpent would raise the final deception upon all of mankind… Even an evil would glorify the Lord ultimately, such is the Lord’s law.

His senses were used to the earthly pain by now, Yosef was deeply sad but he was an angel. He did not possess man’s flesh which created deep sorrow and suffering in the case of tragedy. Man’s pain was more acute because of the way in which the Lord had created an inner system of life.. Yosef meanwhile belonged to another realm, but his duties were always to watch, guard and protect against severe outbreaks of tragedy, pain and suffering…Yosef saw the different reactions in each soul that stood by the dead body, the medics were on their way, he could hear the sirens 5 kms away.., He knew the names of all the people in the crowd. There were 10 people besides Tim who had been viciously gunned down. The Lord enabled man to choose actions with his own free will.., and man always chooses evil, because apart from Christ all that man knows is the evil inside of him… but the Lord had in His great mercy granted men natural controls over the inner depravity so vast and unrealized in a man’s inmost being.. His heart without God’s presence was deeply wicked and sinful, Men’s hearts were always restless, wicked and without a thought of the actions that would be triggered by their indulgence in sin. Mankind did not realize that their indwelling sin was the reason for all the chaos, mess and vile ugliness in what had been God’s precious world… Yosef knew things beyond man’s wisdom, Yosef could only sadly smile at the proud and haughty thoughts of men who assumed themselves to be gods.., Yosef and his fellow brothers, the guardians of this world shivered and trembled as they thought of the truth that was hidden to all of mankind. Mankind were given too little information about Yahweh’s incredible Glory… Men on this planet tired of everything.., they would grow weary, restless and begin to search and scour for inner peace.., Never realizing that it is only in Jesus that the greatest love and solution of all that a man’s heart can feel is found in.. How tender was the Lord’s mercy towards these clueless rebels and condemned..?

Man did not have the power to realize the evil that was so piercingly pervasive in every inch, fiber and space of humanity and all her grandiose creations. Yosef wondered if he should separate the soul from Tim..? Tim’s father would be devastated.., his mother had left Tim’s father when he had been young.., She wanted to freely indulge in debauchery, she had listened to her heart and it had deceived her without her knowledge.., She had left to Las Vegas.., she had tried out every sinful indulgence over there, and was now trapped by the lusts for alcohol and immorality… Yosef knew intimate things about people, he could see the paths that they were choosing for themselves, he could see the deceiving spirits gleefully chaining people who lusted after the world and its pleasures and giving most people an illusion of control, freedom and independence… but the Lord had firmly closed her supply, her finances and her promiscuity by giving her health issues in her kidneys… Tim’s father was a Godly man.., crushed by his wife’s free spirited nature.. Steve struggled to stay afloat.., but that was when a local youth pastor, Joe had invited him to a Saturday evening concert and Service.. Steve’s life had turned radical, he found God’s power to forgive the grievous sorrow of losing his wife to the world.., he became a praying man.., and he spent many hours on his knees..Praying for his neighborhood.., he became a Prayerful Watchman for his neighborhood.. Zealously praying for the Lord’s will and Help to be available to the lost souls in his vicinity.., he even prayed zealously for his wife to find her way back to him.., he prayed for Tim endlessly, and the Lord had listened and had put in plan a sequence to save him.

Tim had wanted a coke and some hersheys, when Simon, the local gang-banger triggered to irritation by a spirit of aggression to strike fear in the drug infested neighborhood had opened fire at a local midnight store which had asian owners. Simon, had grown up poor.., he had slept on the sidewalks, his parents had divorced…his mother was a dope fiend and had neither the time nor the conscious recognition of him as her son, but a chance encounter with a drug dealer had altered his life forever.. Triggered deeply to never feel that shame, pain and sorrow.. Simon had struck fear in the heart of roswell neighborhood.. Driven by a maniacal pursuit of power.. Simon created a gang that spread drugs, violence and pain… Yosef remembered that the Lord had spoken many times to Simon’s conscience, but the local territorial spirit created calamities that struck a deeper fear into the heart of Simon, causing him to sink deeper into the mob life.

Caught by a barrage of bullets, Tim had fallen down, unconscious in a pool of his own blood. He had been dead for upto 10 mins by now.., passers by had shrieked in horror at the lifeless body, Stan the Asian who took care of the midnight store had forgotten the bullet sprayed windows.., he had rushed to Tim’s side and had called 911.., Yosef had seen Stan crying at the sheer injustice of it all, passersby had all been attacked by demonic hordes of terror, fear and indifference.. Many of them had run away.., Yosef could not believe their actions, but the devil’s hellions were working to create fierce divisions and factions within mankind.. even now he could see these demons so vicious, vile and violent spread lies into the hearts of the few people who stood there.. Yosef was a high ranking Angel, He had enough power to crush and send off these pathetic hellions scampering to the shady realm of the underworld… but the Lord had not spoken through the saints in Heaven…Yosef for now was to watch over and reduce in measure, the evil of this place… Why were mankind so foolish to not pray..? Did they not know that prayer opened up the floodgates of heaven..? Yosef could only observe what men’s freewill opened their unprotected lives upto.., Mankind rarely asked for the Lord’s help.., they were too caught up in some imaginary world of their own creation…He was sad.., Tim had just begun meeting Rosie.., Rosie was skeptical of her faith, but one of the reasons that their life paths crossed was to trigger Tim to deeper examine his faith as he saw Rosie’s excuses to not stand for Christ..,Only the Lord knew who He would save at all costs.., but the Lord treated everyone like the same, but once again there were deeper mysteries to the Lord’s plans that Yosef loved.., Yosef felt his heart swell as he thought about the Lord.., It was such an incredible honor to serve the true Master of the universe…Oh if only men could see the Lord, or even sense in their inner being His truths.. Yosef sighed.., happy that angels had been spared the fate of humans…but still determined to stand for the Lord’s cause for wicked, selfish humanity…Yosef knew that there had been a chance that the Lord would’ve sparked the lives of Tim and Rosie.. The Prayers of Tim’s father had protected Tim on many many occasions, but Tim had hardened his heart against the Lord since Tim felt that he could not believe in someone who had not done anything to unite his mother and father… Tim also lived in an unsafe neighborhood… murders, drugs and prostitution had hardened his heart and aroused anger at what he assumed was either a non existent fantasy or a detached God who hardly cared about His creation… Yosef could only think in awe of the Lord’s tender mercy as He saved billions and billions of ungrateful cowards, murderers, fornicators, sorcerers, selfish and godless mortals so dead in their sins… It was sad that Tim had never grasped Jesus strong enough in his life, despite the hundreds and thousands of chances that Yahweh had offered unto him.

(to be continued)

First hit… Memories of shame

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I am always trying to ponder inner realities that exist within me. Coming to terms with what they are conveying.., I perhaps to write to understand what I feel so powerfully within me.., I write to share my side of the fence.., I write to live.., I write because I am in love with words, stories, prose, beauty, literature and secrets and feel compelled to treasure this gift of gab. I believe that a writer is someone whose soul can see past the nature of make believe outer reality, and into the real heart of things.

I can’t understand what is happening in my heart.., but I feel a tremendous heaviness on it right now. My Father and I had had our usual Saturday night conversation.., the topics varied from England dropping out of the EU to my sermon that I had just finished delivering in the church opposite to our house. He highlighted things in my sermon that were hard to take.., it was the usual criticism.., ‘repetitions, unwanted honesty, forgetfulness…’ etc.., I had to listen to my parents and their observations since they were just as sensitive as me when it comes to not realizing the brevity and reality of things. All my happiness and joy at battling intense inner fear, nervous anxiety, strain etc and then standing before young people who were so cynical, dismissive and attempted to mockingly laugh and smile at your face and delivering a message fizzled away as I listened to what he was saying.., He could be really persistent when he wished to convey truths about my sermon that I could never see…, Call me insane but.., I don’t understand criticism because I deal with my own inner insecurity.., and to heave a dose of observation right after a tremendous test was quite horrifying to me…I sometimes wish people listened with their heart and not with their mind.., but he is my dad and I love him in ways that I can’t even comprehend.., he has done so much for me.., and struggles with a burden so big.., for my sake…, I can’t help but listen to my hero…but I have to remind myself to sit alone with my Lord.., perhaps I can climb above the slab of the upper floor and be alone.., and pour my heart, my tears and my feelings to Him who truly cares…, maybe I can become sane again.

I’ve discovered that most of us are expert talkers.., but few can look beneath the layers and words and understand the heart.., and find the selflessness to love back courageously and look past our own scars, wounds and weaknesses…, True Love seems to be too easy to long for and so hard to find. I am no longer content with human love.., I demand, desire and hunger for a love that can conquer.., accept me at my absolute worst and encounter me at my most insane and still love me fiercely, ferociously and insanely.., So far I can only count Jesus in that list.., nobody else comes even close.., perhaps my parents, sis and doggy can be added after a billion kilometers.., but then again God gave them to me.., and they ask me to love God more than them.., maybe I could place them after a million kms since for the first 25 years or so they were the only reflection of God that I could see, feel and enjoy and they were incredible, amazing and otherworldly at it. I’m blessed and thankful always.

I remember not so long ago when I bumped into an old acquaintance of mine. He had been a mentor to me in my past.., but a hard, no compassion showing dictator who was relentless in his handling of me.., I was chastised often.., rebuked often.., told to study hard.., and it always felt like his methods were too extreme.., too hard and too painful for a hyper sensitive, dreamer in love with his imagination such as myself… and I could clearly see that I was nothing like him… He had built up his own empire from scratch.., he started one of the most powerful ministries during the 90’s and had been responsible for a wave of revival that had hit Vellore during that time.., all of a sudden there was a surge of meetings, revival meetings, youth meetings, Godly sightings.., Angelic Sightings.., curing of terminal illnesses such as Cancer, Aids, Tumors etc… God had touched the sun scorched soil of Vellore in centuries.., and my Ex Mentor had been in the thick of things.., He was a disciplinarian, who was a hardcore perfectionist… He had a soft side to him and I could see it work on certain people.., but he was above the pack and was always leading the charge and taking all hostages with him.

Growing up I had always struggled with feelings that I could never be good at anything. I saw people naturally blooming all around me.., and I was never good at anything…, I struggled with insecurity.., inferiority and shame.., I always dreamt of killing myself in my early years.

I was his polar opposite, ie of my Imperfect Mentor.., I was a free spirit, but I could feel too powerfully the pain of a hurting, broken world.., I was deeply hurt at the plight of the street dogs whose stomachs had shrunk and the bones of their rib cage showed real clearly.., I felt pained when I saw people throwing stones at their feet, I was hurt by the fact that dogs and human beings had to search in the trash for food…, I was hurt by how some people never had the freedoms and privileges that I enjoyed.., my heart was always reaching out to the lonely, the hurt and the broken… I disliked the life that everybody led, I wanted to live a life that I enjoyed.. the childhood version of it was to live on an island away from people and that island would have libraries, food for eternity and a world class view of the stars that I would see every single night.., I enjoyed freedom, I loved being free.., I did not like to be tied down, I always dreamt of freedom the more I found myself in systems.., I enjoyed sports.., and I had a hunger in my soul to reach for the stars.. I dreamt all day long of fame.., of fortune and of beautiful stories that I could imagine, and maybe create someday.

After the initial years of growing up next to him, my parents decided that I would do a year in my Dad’s Alma Mater – MCC.., up and until that moment I felt trapped in Vellore.., Vellore was too raw and primal.., there wasn’t class, refinement, integrity or friendliness here…, I felt nothing but inner torment, anguish and boredom in my early years.., School was a bore.., I struggled to cope up…, I was detained after classes all the time.., or I had to cross paths with stronger, more assertive seniors who used me to beef up their own credentials.., I was either a punching bag or a source of teasing and scorn.., My skin color was highlighted which made me feel ugly, unwanted and awkward.., I was never accepted by my peers for some strange reason.., most of them were the sons and daughters of either rich industrialists or doctors.., I guess I was not their type.., I felt unwanted by them .. My teachers did not exactly convey any feelings of me being embraced or celebrated either…, You remember what people don’t say to you and what people can’t see in you.., I still do to this day.., I remember feeling like I was of no use to this world and I dreamt often of death and suicide… I was an invisible person who had to live like I was different.., like I was not special and like I was of a lower species…, My language speaking skills would be highlighted often.., or my grades would be brought up.., Nobody worried for me.., they were just shoving my lack of interest in academia into my face and telling me that I was useless. The hardest part of it was to feel shame for the sake of my parents.., who I could see were such kind, gentle souls and here I was shoving a brutal reality pill into their faces because of my sensitive soul… They had worked hard to get to where they were.., my Dad had undergone tremendous trials.., losing both his parents.. moving here and there.., taking care of his sisters…, struggling to come up in his own life, and my mother came from a very poverty stricken family and had studied hard to reach the management ranks of the most prestigious hospitals in our town… I had let them down.., here they were working so hard under really hard circumstances to make something of me, and here I was just wasting it all away.., I was never considered for anything or thought to be anything.., I loved sports.., but nobody took a special interest in me.., or thought that I could amount to much.., Growing up I so badly wanted somebody to believe in me and push me in fields that I was interested in.., but sadly I had none.

Such experiences with the unkind, non grace offering parts of life made me really hunger and long for love, for empathy.., for being understood despite what was going on on the surface.., I wanted people to feel sorrow for me.., but I was confused since I saw people from even lower places than me survive, fight and live.., this further made me despise myself and made me close my mouth. I did not want to talk it out to somebody and listen to them talk about things on the surface.. Nobody had the power to perceive the depths of me.. No one.. Unless I talked about it.., and when I did.., it did not impact them in the level that it impacted me.., my inner struggles helped me listen deeply to other warriors dealing with a cruel cruel life.., late on in my life.., my wounds, scars and inner demons created an artist…, created a resource so deep for my craft.., but the same feelings that I heard in my earlier years would trickle into my heart after any accomplishment.., ‘This is not good enough..’, ‘ Is this the best that you can give..?’…, ‘ Look at him/her they seem to do it in a way that feels easier than you..’.., ‘ This felt easy.., you’ve not been really challenged yet..’.., ‘ You call this writing..? A 8 year old with no understanding can write better stuff than what you just did…’ …, and so on and so forth.

When we had moved into the colony that we are staying at right now, he was the only person who was caring enough to welcome us and to also help us ingratiate ourselves to the culture of the small island of Christian only homes that stretched down two parallel streets. He was so kind.., and took such genuine efforts to include us and make us feel welcome…, but I remember the initial awkwardness of it all.., I remember my neighbors treat my mother with disrespect as she attempted friendly conversations with them.. I could not see it in their faces but I got a hint of it in my heart.., I was offended that they could respond to my mother’s genuine smile with a calculated one, how inconsiderate were they that they offered hate for love..? And I was never wrong about them.., all those highly rude individuals always seemed to find newer ways to establish their supremacy in our lives, their facial coldness seldom seemed to still.., they were always wound up, always ready to attack and always eager to express their imaginary dominance… and I am a really objective guy.., but I have always abstained from those who don’t welcome… I believe that it all comes down to early experiences. I have always struggled with being rejected.., I still do.., now I am a tough nut to crack.., but my heart is too soft. I am like my mom.., dedicated, personal and intense.., I used to alienate myself and rebel to gain strength briefly but I comply, conform and humble myself for the sake of the gospel these days, and the friendship of my Lord has really helped me forget those initial difficulties.

Nothing special seemed to happen to me.., nobody wanted to talk to me.., nobody seemed excited to be my friend.., nobody could really see me.., I understand it all now.., but the heart of a guy who knows and desires love but finds emptiness.., egoism and hostility can be hurt eternally. I did not get any love letters.., I was not anybody’s best friend.., I was hurt by the lack of interest.. by the indifference.. by the unkindness and chiefly by the inability to perceive one as being important, necessary, needed etc hurt me. But I guess those initial years and the senses that I absorbed have made me the person that I am today.., have helped me take on the cross for Christ’s sake.., and have created in me a hunger to find people who suffer the same silence that I did.., and perhaps lead them with the help of the Holy Spirit to the Lord Himself.

I don’t know who ends up reading this.., but I will beckon you to attempt to make the world a better place than the way you found it. I implore you to know Jesus as your personal Savior since the world can overwhelm, destroy and kill your good intentions.., but Christ can help you with His strength and power and lead you to work for the Kingdom of God.., and believe me the benefits are out of this world.

Art the Language of my soul – A Poem

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Art is the language of the soul,
It speaks in symbols,
casting a few fleeting glimpses of
unfathomable realms trapped below the human senses.
When the eyes close glimpses arise and play dramas of what can never be fully perceived.
When I explore what I can’t see, but am moved onward through my heart,
I find myself creating art.. I find my inner fire burning,
I guess my passions are ignited when I look inward,
So I pour out what I seek to discover,
unaware of the presence of the dawn,
and oblivious of the silent curse of the night.
The Dreamer paddles his raft in the waters of the unconscious,
passing by insurmountable depths and inward might,
I find myself staring at mirrors incomplete,
and into incredible depths of what has been truly given to me.
But I can’t stay there for long,
the world demands me, calling me away from my awakened sleep.

Describing the spirit is hard in a realm of material presence,
Our material dependence seems to outweigh our spiritual hunger,
How can I describe the buoyant reflections of godliness at times revealed in me..?
That seem to transcend my own visage, and take me away from the edge of madness..?
I am feeble, weak, too sensitive and broken by my unseen energies,
The Spirit speaks to us in our moments of quiet,
refreshing us with more than feeble full feelings,
Art is the vocabulary of the soul,
that speaks with storms that evade meaning,
that answers back when our wills don’t turn away
when encountering the inner world’s unconscious barrenness,
I refuse to stop dreaming, I am a great spirit,
I am discovering the paths to God’s tents set within me.
Prayer the language of my spirit,
I am a shallow trifle.. , leaning too much on human existence
for meaning, I am taking a chance here to keep on dreaming,
to soar on like a eagle and plunge into the depths revealed
by a Godly touch.
Are dreams messages..? Are dreams live paintings of God’s silent
cries to change our hearts, to turn and move on in the direction of Paradise
as we sleep and dream..?