There I sat, crunched up, legs squeezed so tight in angst that I was almost sitting on my feet, despite the lay-z-boy underneath. Guilt was heavier than ever, but he had nothing to say. When I needed a friend, this monkey seemed to care more about his own fur. As I prayed I thought about this load, how dreary all his ideas seemed, and how self entrapped I felt. Then the epiphenomenal moment came.
If I am made free in Christ, and this is true, from where does this enmeshing trap come from? It must be foreign, for I believe my heart and desires come from pure motives, a broken and contrite heart.
I swatted a flea off my fore-arm, and then smooshed another on my knee. A little certitude flickered inside, and I reared my head back with a countenance of disgust and loath.
"Guilt!!! Guilt, you have embodied your name, and emboldened yourself upon my back." Reaching backwards I took a fierce grip and held him straight armed. His attack and squeeks were nothing to the name of Jesus resting on my tongue, heart and mind. I opened the back door, and with a swift boot sent him flying. The door was locked I was resting back in my chair, cross legged and relieved. There I remained pondering, praying, and gracefully ready and free to make some decisions.
I haven't learned as many lessons as I should have by this age, but if nothing else I know I am not Jesus. I have burdens, responsibilities, desires, and convictions, but they do not match that of my Lords. I am not all encompassing, I have a role. That role is contained within the perimeters of time and space, as is my body.
The simplicity of life is reflected in my humanity.
The complexities arise amidst interaction and fronts to that humanity.
To remain simple and focused amidst complexity is an intricate process, and I need not the burden of Guilt, but of divine weights.
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