How has your week been? Wonderful, I hope. :) I've had a good week, I really have. Last week in the most pathetic blog post of the century, I showed you what I was entering in our county fair. And this last Saturday, we went to said fair and I found out how my entries did.
They actually did good!!! Meaning, they both got first place in their respective divisions! Which was something I wasn't expecting at all. XP So yeah, that was pretty exciting!
But that isn't the reason I'm blogging today.
I'm going to assume that we've all heard the story of the phoenix? For those of you who haven't, or if you need a refresher, allow me to tell you a little about it.
The story doesn't end here, though.
The phoenix would then rise from the ashes of its old body, raised up again from the flames that killed it, alive and well and new.
So, this blog post is about my love of the phoenix?
Not really.
Though I do love the phoenix and most other mythical creatures, that's only the first part of this post. There's actually a parallel I'd like to draw between this mythical bird and the human being. You in particular, maybe.
Bet you didn't see that one coming. Or maybe you did...
Anyway.
If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you another little story. Use your imagination for a moment. Pretend that you are no longer a human, but are now a great, fiery phoenix. You've lived for over a thousand years. You've experienced so many things, things you regret, things you want to live again. Sometimes it seems like hardly any time has passed, sometimes you can feel the weight of your years bearing down on you.
("Wait, did phoenixes have actual thoughts like this?"
I don't know. I'm drawing a parallel, remember? And you're supposed to be using your imagination.)
Either way, you know your end is near. You've lived a long, full life. And you know that you will just rise up again, but you're still afraid. What is this new life going to be like? Will it hurt when I pass through the fire?
So many questions, not enough answers.
You continue to put it off. Every night, when you nestle down in your nest and tuck your head under one massive wing, your mind is plagued by these fears. If you don't give in soon, you might not have another chance. If you wait until tomorrow, it might be too late.
("So the phoenix only had a certain amount of time to, er burn itself before it died forever?"
I have no idea! Remember, parallels? Imagination? Do those words ring a bell?)
But the unknown is a scary thing. Horrifying, in fact. So you don't do it, and you don't do it. You push it aside and you put it off, until you can't anymore. Your body aches with age. You can hardly lift your great wings and take to the sky, you can hardly move. There's no more putting it off. It's now or never.
You make your nest. A thick, cocoon-like nest made of sticks and bark and dried grass. Anything that will burn. You fold up your great wings and slowly squeeze your way into its dark depths as the sun sets in the west. Heart racing, you watch the sun in its descent. You watch as its last beams stretch across the sky, and you wonder if you'll ever see it again.
Is new life really worth the risks?
Yes, it is. You close your eyes. You clap your red and purple wings together, creating a sound that echoes all around like a clap of thunder. Fire leaps up from the bottom of the nest. It consumes it ravenously, eating away at the wood like paper. It starts biting at your feathers, and you draw back, suddenly afraid. It's going to hurt! You don't want it to hurt, you don't want to give up your beautiful plumage. What if it doesn't come back the same?
Do you honestly care anymore, though? Your ancient body can hardly move. You're so weak and tired. You want to stop fighting this and let yourself be born again.
So you do. You embrace the flames and let them cover you whole, let them burn away your old life, your old body. Your fear is gone and you look into the face of death with courage and relief and... Peace.
Then it's over.
The old body is gone. The flames are dead, reduced to a pile of ashes. But you have become something greater. Something more than you were.
You spread your wings out to their furthest extent. Your proud head shoots up from the ground and leads your new body upwards into the night sky, leaving a trail of fire in your wake.
Now, let's stop pretending your a phoenix. Just go ahead and go back to being a human.
("But being a phoenix was fun!"
I know it was, but it is time to move on with the story now.)
Are you feeling up for one last story, one last parallel?
Now there's you. For so, so long you've fought it. You've fought the guilt and conviction with every fiber of your being
I'm fine, you say through another church service. I'm fine, I'm good. I'm not a bad person. This is what you tell yourself after pushing away that utterly lost feeling that rises up in your soul day after day.
But your conscience tells you otherwise.
You can think of all the sins you've committed. Every lie you've told, every time you snapped at your parents, every time you've spoken to someone out of turn. They're all burning at your mind and driving you mad. When you try to sleep, it's there. It's telling you you're hopelessly lost and that every day you put this off is another day closer to an eternity of burning, an eternity without God.
But I can't! You argue. What will my friends say? What will my family think?! My life is going to change forever if I do this. I'm not ready yet.
So you put it off. Every day the weight grows heavier and heavier, and the fear grows stronger, but so does your desire for peace. You're being pulled in a million directions until you feel like you're being torn apart. You're faced with the harsh reality that the rest of your life is going to be like this if you keep fighting. And one day, that conviction will be gone and you will never have another chance. That scares you more than anything. But the thought of change scares you too. It's a continuous cycle, an endless circle, going around and around and around.
Until one day you're done. You are done fighting, done putting this off. You don't care what everyone will say or think. You don't care anymore. All you know is that if you have to go one more second with this fear and guilt, you are going to lose your mind. You're so tired and weak. You want to stop fighting and be born again.
So you do. Maybe you fall on your knees, maybe you sit at your counter, maybe you kneel at a church alter. Maybe you cry, maybe you're emotionless. It doesn't matter. All that matters is you open your heart to God. You confess your sins, you show Him the darkest parts of your life that you would never let anyone else see, but you know He needs to see it. You tell you Him what you've done, and you tell Him you know what His Son did. He died for you, for every single sin you've ever done, and he did it willingly, and you know He is alive. You can feel your sin nature struggling against it, but you don't care. You push against the flames and let it all burn away You confess and believe.
Then it's over.
All of the fighting. All of the fear. It's gone. You feel so relieved and complete and... at peace.
God has taken away your old life and burnt it. You are a new creature, something much more than you were.
You are new and more awake than you've felt in a long time. More alive than you've ever been before.
But you're not supposed to stay the same. You're not supposed to go back to those ashes and live in them and long for that old life you had. No! Don't forget the guilt, don't forget the tears. Rise up from the ashes of your old life and fly on the wings God has given you. Through his strength, rise up and live for him. Stop wallowing and be the magnificent human He has always wanted you to be.
You were made to be so much more than you are. Now go and be that person.
And those are the parallels I thought of. I hope this touched you in some way and that it wasn't too horribly long.... *Stares upward at enormous post looming above*. Wow.
Have a wonderful week, little phoenixes!! Until next time!
MR
