Two Chairs
Imagine a room with no limitations, only two chairs and safety. Not safety as there are guards standing by or a loved one at your defense. But two chairs and open space to be real. To be vulnerable. To be heard. To be neutral.
I often visit this space. I put myself in one chair and my soul in the other.
It’s in this vast space I can ask questions and give my honest answers. I even ask myself questions I do not have the answers to. But the unanswered questions are not lost or forgotten. I bring them up ever so often to see if wisdom and revelation have been found.
I heard it once said to imagine your life on a tv screen.
Then the question came, would you have chosen to act differently or would you care if the person you respect the most watched it daily?
If your life was put up for everyone to see, would it change your actions?
For me, it isn’t the movie screen playing my actions. It is these two chairs and how I respond to simple and hard questions.
The question I have been stuck on for quite sometime is this – Who are you!? And what do you want!?
It’s deeper than a name. So much more than my abilities.
Who am I?
I’ve stared deep into my soul unable to see past everything wrong with me. Ugh, and it is so aggravating not being able to get past what is on the surface level when a war is battling underneath – trying to break out and be free.
I long to put that war to bed and finally be able to rest.
It’s grown roots and set up camp, sometimes I don’t think it’ll ever break out.
Fires.
Daggers.
Blades.
Swords.
Locusts.
Plagues.
Guilt and remorse.
The emotions of battle to numerous to count. Pain.
Pain that makes me numb.
I’m so tired, Lord.
I just want a way out.
Mountains.
Valleys.
Rivers and chains.
Bondage everywhere heavy with shame.
Hear my cry.
My desperate plea.
I’m tired Lord, I long to be free.
Free. Ha.
Free from me.
Free from constantly battling what feels like sinking sand.
Free from the weight and the drowning within.
Free from myself and the lies tangled like a web.
Not easily unraveled.
Not easily broken.
Engulfed and trapped.
Trampled on and bled out
Hidden and alone.
Wounded and scared.
I just want to be free!
Free from me!
Tear stained and numb with no end in sight.
Just loss of my taste for all things good.
No hope for light.
Who am I?
And Why is this so hard?
I’ve fought till I fall from complete exhaustion.
Clawed till my fingers bled.
Who am I on the inside but physically dead?
*** Writing is an art form. I do not post these seeking attention or to be preached to. When I ask God how to pray, I hear the depths of hearts. None of us are perfect in our emotions, thoughts, or actions. When we don’t know what to pray the Word says the Spirit utters for us.
It has taken me years of laying what I hear before the throne, asking if there is anything I should do with it other than pray about it. Through the years of me sharing it with my circle (the people who hold me accountable) they begged me to share it. But I was afraid. I was afraid people would mistake what I was trying to say.
I fought the Holy Spirit on taking this risk but not anymore.
My hope is that it lightens your heart by reminding you that you are not alone in this life. Your emotions are not something to beat yourself up over. Run to the throne room. Lay your heart and mind before the Mercy Seat and find rest. Trust God to be God. Trust in His comfort and find yourself wrapped in His embrace.
Writing is an art and I was created by the perfect artist.