A Familiar Visitor

Last night, I had a familiar visitor. He has visited me for nearly forty years, and I rebuke him each time. He is persistent, and I am not equal to his power. Between his work, the world, and my own selfishness, he would see me defeated and laid low, broken, and ashamed. His intrusions come at all the right times when I am least suspecting, high times, quiet times, times of no consequence at all. He stalks me and strikes from the tall grass when I am unguarded.

I failed in pushing him out away from me like never before. My entreaties and bold rebukes felt hollow and lacked the power they needed. My humbling continues, but it teaches as well. This frailty of being human extends beyond the flesh and into the mind. Years have worn away the fragments of my faith, and I am lost without its full power.

I questioned the silence of my benefactor, of my lord, but I didn’t suspect my own deafness. Can I regain the saltiness, bolster my defense? For, the visitor will return. He will show me how much more than I is he. I will fear him and his inevitable victory, for I have stripped away the armor I wore for so long.