Tuesday, April 16, 2013

My name is had...

I heard this recently on Beth Moore’s “When godly people do ungodly things” and it struck a cord and seems so true to me right now…
Wind_kisser_by_supermalade-d32omju1_large
 
 “My name is Had. You may know me, but you may not know my new name. You may have no idea what I’ve been through because I do mu best to look the same. I am scared to death of you. I used to be just like you. I once held my head up high without propping it on my hymnal.
 I was well respected back then, and I even respected myself. I was wholeheartedly devoted to God, and if the truth be known, sometimes I was the slightest bit proud of my devotion. Then I’d repent…because I knew pride was wrong. I didn’t want to be wrong. Not ever.
 
People looked up to me. And life looked good from up there. I felt good about who I was. That was before I was Had. Strangely, I no longer remember my old name. I just remember I liked it. I liked who I was. I wish I could go back. I wish I’d just wake up. But I fear I’m wide awake. I have had a nightmare. And that nightmare was me. Had.
 
If I could really talk to you and you could really listen, I’d tell you I have no idea how all his happened. Honestly, I was just like you. I didn’t plan to be Had. One day I hadn’t, and the next day I had.
 
Oh, I know now where I went wrong. I have rewound the nightmare a thousand times, stopping it right a the point where I departed the trail of good sense. The way ahead didn’t look wrong. It just looked different. Strange, he didn’t look like the devil in the original scene. But every time I replayed it, he dropped another piece of the masquerade. When he finally took off his mask, he was laughing at me. Nothing seems funny anymore. I will never laugh again as long as he is laughing.
 
If only I could go back. I would see it this time! I would walk around the trap camouflaged by the brush, and I would not be Had. I would be Proud. I thought I was Good. Not Proud. But I don’t know anymore.
 
Would you believe I never heard the trap shut? Too many voices were shouting in my head. I just knew I got stuck somewhere unfamiliar, and soon I didn’t like the scenery anymore. I wanted to go home. My ankle didn’t even hurt at first. Not until the infection set in. Then I thought I would die.
 
I lay like a whimpering doe while the world howled in the darkness. I got scared. I pulled the brush over me and hid. Then I felt like I couldn’t breath. I had to get out of there or I was sure it would kill me. I didn’t belong there. I refused to die there.
 
I pulled and pulled at the trap, but the foothold wouldn’t budge. The blood gushed. I had no way out. I screamed for God. I told him where I was and the shape I was in. He came for me.
The infection is gone. He put something on it and cleaned it up instantly. As He inspected my shattered ankle, I kept waiting for Him to say, “You deserved this you know. You have been Had.” Because I did and I have. He hasn’t said it yet. I don’t know whether He will or not. I don’t know how much I trust Him yet. I’ve never known Him from this side. My leg still hurts. God says it will heal with time. But I fear I will always walk with a limp.
You see, I wrestled with the devil and he gave me a new name. Had.

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