A Thought Circles

    Chaos leans over my shoulder and watches me stare at my blank computer screen.  My fingers twitch, agitated, just above the black keys with pallid letters.  To my right, words dance gracefully across the Bible on my nightstand, and I feel at a loss to compete with such literary elegance.  One warm, soft bead of sweat trickles down my face.  A thought floats in circles around my broad forehead, and as I reach to brush it away, it comes upon me, and inspiration floods to fill my skull.  This thought, you see, is Divine Inspiration, and I am immediately seized by the insatiable desire to write.  To write about the wonderful way a human baby laughs, or of the torrential tears of a mourner, or of the callused, quiet giants that masquerade as trees with thirsty toes.  Most predominantly, however, I want to write the words that God has saved for me to write—whatever they might be—whether they are few or winded, simple or profound.

    Not only do I desire to fulfill my Father’s perfect will through my writing, but in the same way live out my life as well.  I want to love like He loves, and be filled with His love.  Even now, Chaos tugs at my sleeve to remind me of my present “trials.”  These trials are not just insignificant in the grand scheme of things; standing on their own, from man’s limited outlook on life, these troubles are obviously trivial.  Trifling, but terribly effective.  It seems that every time I come close to that which is eternal, Satan the Destroyer tries to distract me with my present life circumstances.  For instance, pesky little brothers serve as excellent decoys, for they not only illicit feelings of anger and bitterness from my fleshly self, but also self-pity, which is an ugly decayer of beauty.  

    My Divine Inspiration, The Holy Ghost, tugs at my heart for me to love when my flesh would rather me not.  In obeying Christ’s command to love, I always grow closer to Jesus.  Regrettably, I oftentimes fail to fulfill these simple, yet crucial, tests.  Chaos is always in my shadow, even on my brightest days.  I suppose I should be thankful for the shadows, for at least they reveal to me the Enemy’s frustration with my relationship with Jesus.  There may be no shadows in the dark, but there is no thriving relationship with Jesus there either.

    Even now, as I prepare to write on my computer for my next high school writing assignment, Chaos creeps behind me, hoping to dissuade me from drawing any closer to The Truth than I have already come.  I plop onto my bed, start up Microsoft Word 7, and am immediately confronted with a blizzard-white screen framed in blue.  (GO BACK TO THE TOP)