"Sahara Desert"
The thing I do not want to do
Times the pressure had me do
Fighting upstream, the ice melts
A touch of Brisbane
Stung by bees, my bane
To my Sahara, a honeycomb
Amiss my portion, much water
Of Tamar to falter
A heap I combed, my hair
Unfair in the lion's lair
You fume so to Your feet I lay perfume
Your incense brings back my senses
I bath so I may come back to Sheba
Too long the eve, night mares slow a hare
Tears from the ridge, the eaves drop
To You I give my reins
That I shall not vain though I wane
As a soldier for Christ, at the core of my mission is to stop little sins from taking root in my heart. By the day I am sober and so can think well and decide better, but during the wee hours of the morning do my grapes sour when the foxes rush in as soon as I open my eyes, my mind still dazed. I counted from 1 to more than 50 twice, waiting on slight touches caressing the threshold of my thoughts to stop teasing. In a stoic stance I said "Okay," when dementors blabbered about proclaiming someone else's name again and again, ignoring my place in my own brain. This was how I dropped my hundred peso worth of bills this week to my piggy bank of spiritual endurance— and God knows how I tried to stand up to the advocates pulling my leg and disturbing my peace.
I've discovered and tested how words of prayer the likes of David's battlecry songs and music to His ears are the only panacea to my sick myceliums when politely saying no to their advances, even with the help of ones I tamed, could not defend my crown. As Amir Tsarfati preached in his message, we cannot take our bodies to heaven for it is subject to sin under the natural law. It is only when we die to our flesh that we can be changed by a baptism in the Holy Spirit.
So Lord, "Take us the foxes, the little foxes that soil the vine, for our vines have tender grapes." (Song of Solomon 2:15)
Comments