Prison

About a year and a half ago I wrote a poem because I felt far from God in my mind and was questioning my salvation, his presence, the works.  I dug up this poem from my old blog site at www.latinaatheart.blogspot.com. 

This blogsite was my internet forum before I knew about myspace, so it’s got everything from the mundane to the deep.  Before I drag on, though, here it is (the stanzas all run together in this blog format, so sorry if it looks long even though it’s broken up into two- or three-line stanzas).

PRISON

I am waiting in perturbed contemplation

Begging my head to clear its clutter

So you can come in.



You knock, but the din inside the grey walls

Prevents me from hearing the tap

Of your knuckles against the cold metal door.



Everything I want to know is outside that reinforced steel

But for some reason the door is wedged shut

And I grapple with the door handle but cannot open it.



The cat-eyed guard with pale, lifeless skin guards the door

Locking me in

Interrogating me

Brainwashing me.



“Why do you want out of this room?

There’s nothing out there, all lies!”

He plays “bad cop” and I cower into a corner.



You stand outside, waiting to pay my bail

And yet I am too weak to steal the guard’s gun

And shoot the lock open.



It’s tougher than Alcatraz in here

And the warden rules with a cruel, evil heart

And iron fist.



Please set me free from this maximum-security hell

And let my heart rejoice with all the innocents and the pardoned.

Only you can break down this cell wall.



My sentence is still up for bail;

Don’t let me die on death row.

Anyway, this week a lot of my old issues were resurfacing.  I’ll be honest.  My body image has been lackluster due to change in food, activity, weather, sleep, yadda yadda and one month’s time added to that equation.  It just reminded me of how much I let Satan get to me in the stupid things that have taken me prisoner in the past (and I have slowly, bit by bit, had to conquer them).  I felt God speaking to me this week about prison since I visited three times this week.  He confirmed it in my quiet time when he gave me these two passages in Psalms:

Psalm 142:7

Set me free from my prison, 
that I may praise your name. 
Then the righteous will gather about me 
because of your goodness to me.

Psalm 107:17-20

Some became fools through their rebellious ways
       and suffered affliction because of their iniquities.

They loathed all food
       and drew near the gates of death.

Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble,
       and he saved them from their distress.

He sent forth his word and healed them;
       he rescued them from the grave.

I read another verse (I wrote it down somewhere) about recognizing that the Holy Spirit is tougher than the evil spirits that try to overthrow it, and that made me feel powerful and foolish at the same time, as in, “Why am I not fighting with all my arsenal?” Why am I letting Satan keep me from my potential with issues, doubts and lack of belief and trust?

Potential is a waste if you do not use it.  Everyone has potential.  Look at Paul.  He headed the assassination a bunch of Christians and was called to be one of the greatest leaders in the early church by Christ HIMSELF who called to him and said, “Why do you persecute me?” 

What does God want to do with my life?  I have no idea from here.  But I cannot wait to find out.