Thought Process: Testimony

Hey guys!
   So, I think that 'Thought Process Thursday' is going to become a thing. It probably won't be every week, but it might be. Who know. It all depends on if my mind decides to be all weird and deep that week or not. :P
   Last night I was listening to my usual thoughtful, deep music that I listen to (translate that to sad music), and inspiration struck. I'd been wanting to write a poem about my testimony, how I got saved, for awhile now. I've been chewing on the thought for the last few months, thinking of a good rhyming scheme, thinking of how I wanted to word things. And I finally did it last night.

   However, it isn't really a poem. No, actually, it's nothing like a poem. It's just a strange thing that vaguely explains it in my own weird way. So I thought I'd give you all a bit of clarification before I post that.
   I accepted Jesus as my Saviour on August 24th, 2014. I had originally thought that I'd gotten saved when I was younger, about 6 or 7. But God then showed me that wasn't the case.
   I was under conviction for a few months, fighting my need to be saved and my fear of a hopeless life and the even more hopeless death that was sure to follow if I didn't fill that need. I knew I needed to get saved, and I wanted to. But I was scared.
   I was scared about the fact that I hadn't actually been saved this whole time, so I was kind of in denial. Even more than that, I was scared of, well, everyone else around me.
   This is where things get a bit tricky because not even I understand what I was truly afraid of here. I wasn't really scared of people knowing I wasn't saved this whole time, despite the fact that I'd been teaching a kid's class and doing all of these church-things without having a real relationship with the Lord. I was mostly scared of them all paying attention to me.
   I'm the kind of person who likes to fade into the background. I can seem outgoing, but I'm also pretty quiet. No one really realizes how little they know about me, and I like it that way. It's nice. I'm there, but I'm not really deeply connected with anyone.
   Sounds weird, but it's true.
   I knew that if I came forward and got saved, everyone would be looking at me, talking about me, wondering what was wrong.
   And that was what I was scared of. Everyone would be focused on me and I didn't like that.
   Sounds even weirder, but it's also true.
   Hopefully, that all makes some sense and what I'm about to post now does too. If you are confused, you can always ask me about it, I'm not afraid to answer questions. :)
   So, here's the thing...

Testimony

Safety. Comfort. False assurance. Fake peace. Contentment in thinking I knew I was secure. 

Realization. Stabbing guilt, shattering thought. My safety crumbling around me in a thousand ragged pieces, tearing holes into my false cocoon and sending me plummeting downwards. 

Lies. Everything was a lie, all this time, and I didn't even know. All these people that thought I was safe, lied to. I should say something, I should speak, they would only forgive. He would only forgive. But I couldn't. To think I could like to myself for this long, that I believed it. And the people. Everyone would know, everyone would look at me, everyone would talk about me. This scared me more than the abyss I was plunging down.

Darkness. Clawing, cloaking darkness tearing me apart, pulling me, pushing me ever deeper.

Guilt. What have I done, dear God, what have I done? I killed the Light. His blood stains my hands and fills my thoughts and chokes me. I don't want to live with the guilt anymore, I want to be free. But the people, the eyes, the words all hold me back. 

Fear. In an instant death could take me and my decision would be made. I don't want to die in the darkness and be thrown to something far worse. But I can't cry for help. I can't admit my fear, can't admit my struggle. 

Would it be better to die?

No, death would only bring the deeper darkness, darkness with no hope. I need to look up, stop being stupid, stop fighting freedom. But the people scare me, and I stay silent. 

And I fall.

And fall.

The darkness doesn't end. It pulls more and more from me, willing me to give into it, to choose the deeper darkness. But I know that it's worse, and I know looking up is better.

I try it. 

I take a tiny peek at the Light. But the people see me. They see my tears, my fear, they're worried. I don't like them looking at me, their concern scares me more. I'm fine, I'm fine. 

I look back into the abyss.

Better. It's better this way. Maybe I should forget that I'm falling and let the darkness take me. How could I forget, though? I know better than that. I know what happens when you forget. I don't want that.

I fear the deeper darkness, I fear the Light and I'm stuck in between, being dragged downwards by fear. 

I want nothing more than to stop existing.

Tearing. The guilt is tearing me apart into nothingness. The fear soaks into me until that's all there is. I won't want to live in fear, but I do. 

The Light. I need it, more than I fear the people. I need Him.

ENOUGH

I look up. And the people see. They see my tears, they see my fear. They see my broken, shattered soul. I hate it. I hate it almost as much as the darkness, but the darkness is still worse. 

I reach up. Blood and blackness run from my hand, staining my flesh, my clothes, my heart. My sin, His blood. 

The Light reaches down and grabs hold. 

He washes me, pulls me from the darkness and builds me a cocoon stronger than the one I had before could ever hope to be.

But I'm still afraid.

Am I still lying? Is this real? Oh, how I want to be safe, but can I be?

Is. It. Real?

Yes. This time it is real. It was made by the Light. It can never be broken. 

I am safe. 

Safe from the darkness, safe from the fear.

Safe in the Light. 

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See you soon, dear readers.

MR