Prophesy.

The exact moment where death and grave collides with vibrancy and vitality.

Growth in Agony

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To simply say, the moment I was faced with pain I had a choice. Is there such a thing to experience extreme soul-distressing emotion, to be raw, feel as though I was gutted and still believe I had the strength to flourish? I'm not sure how to put it, but the threshold of pain is set differently for everyone. I knew this and did not realize my threshold was the equivalent of bleeding out without a single hint of a soul nearby to rescue me. Was this the cup for me?

My answer was always - for your glory, not mine - and with an unrelenting peace, the size of a mustard seed, I grew undeniably. There were times when I could truthfully say I didn't see the metaphorical "light at the end of the tunnel." But I chose to believe it was there. Growth in agony, the manifestation of hope in the proverbial grave. When there was no more oxygen, I somehow took another breath. When there was there no more light, my pupil would dilate in adjustment. I cannot offer a specific day or moment when I was delivered from pain. However, I was offered a collection of moments, even seconds, of tears and retrogression that somehow moved me forward in anticipation.

Woe Is Not Me

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Isolation, desperation, and misfortune - a gentle voice acted as the diversion. "The sacrifices you are making is fueling the fire. Thankfully, this is not your fire. This is an everlasting fire placed in you that is bright and raging, all consuming. A fire that all you have to do is feed, it is there and will never die. It can never be put out, snuffed out, or watered out. The sacrifices you are making are not going unnoticed."

This was the moment I knew heaven had heard me. Not a single tear was wasted, but collected. The prayers, the groans, the recovery was incense in the temple. Time I used to grieve, and rightfully so, I was delivered through it. How? Not in one night. Sometimes I didn't know if I could trust myself to strategically place my soul in the environment to advance, let alone live. A handful of times I didn't. It was easier to wallow, but the cup has been poured. The revelation of being heard, of being seen, I could leave the grave behind me.

Vulnerability in Humanity

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I somehow can see the beauty in soul shattering agony. The strength it takes to weep, to fall apart. The courage to recognize you are more than the trauma that attacked you, haunted you, pursued you. A force that leads and guides to the truth. A transcending confidence to look a little closer, to go a little deeper, gave me the clarity to give credit to pain. Pain has a partner though, I understand. Without pain you cannot have remedy, without remedy you cannot have pain. The relationship is inevitable and unrelenting.

Thankfully, it is not me who saves me. It is not me who heals me. It is not me who restores me. That fire is raging, raging against the impurity and mutiny set to destroy me. It is important I fuel this fire, sacrificing the destructive natures inside me, because without this fire I will close my eyes and never open them again. There is not another breath, there is not another blink, there is no more light at the end of the tunnel. It is me six feet under without a soul to hear, to rescue in the immediate and distant vicinity. Vulnerability in humanity is the recognition of soul and flesh. It is the - for you glory, not mine - that is the proclamation, declaration, conviction that simplifies the complexities of agony.

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