10/01/2019
With each intermittent, painfully violent lowering, intended or unintended, by the men above, an intense darkness and an equally eerie quiet surrounded me with its fullness. I hung in disbelief, as my senses, each one specific, with clarity and precision, gave credence as to my current state. The smell of fresh blood, its warmth as well, poured forth from under my arm pits as the makeshift rope, that of tattered rags, cut into the fragility of my flesh. With each “drop” of my dangling body, a stench, beyond any I had ever encountered, displaced my other senses entirely and I began to vomit what little sustenance I had within from the ferocity of the chasm’s odor.
As my body slowly entered into the mire which now held my weight vicariously, I struggled out of the rope that had held me unforgivingly bound. Soon after, the entirety of the rope fell down around and upon me and for some reason, I could not help but think that it was my single earthly possession. Each movement on my part caused me to sink further still and in the smallness of my mind I encountered the struggle between the warmth of the muck and that of the cool of the dungeon?
I instantly gathered the rope of tattered rags and began to use it to warm my hands; I carefully wrapped the remainder around my body, now shaking uncontrollably, that was not engulfed in the mire. Trying ever so cautiously to reduce my movement, I leaned my body and placed my head upon the side of the wall. The warmth of the rags ushered me in to a calm, though in the midst of horrible situation, and my mind began to undertake an unrelenting loop of thought and contemplation.
How, as one chosen by God himself, could they find themselves in an abyss reserved for murderers, thieves, and those of criminal activity and intent? Surely a child of God, a man or a woman could not ever imagine such absurdity and circumstance. I stood, absorbed in the muck, in disbelief.
Minutes became hours and when I was lucky, I drifted off and into a slumber of sporadic sleep that simply did not last long enough; I would awake to find myself still, as if in a bad dream, hopelessly mired in a mixture that consisted of all that was bad in the world.
Near to me and now within sight as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed, to my surprise, a bone. It was that of a human arm, suspended atop the mire, of a previous occupant that too once stood as I now stood. How long, did he or she remain, alive, if one could call it such in this dismal existence? It held itself steadfast in place, as a witness, to future inhabitants of what awaited and soon would come. The smallness of my life, now ever present before me, became increasingly clear.
Father, I have lingered long in the dungeon that held Jeremiah. I have read and reread the passage, each word carefully, even considered those not written in the blank spaces, to make sure that I have missed nothing that you wanted me to see, allowing it free reign in my thought process so that what you wanted spoken was heard with clarity and that I gleaned every tiny morsel contained therein. The darkness of the confined space, the horrifying stench of rot and death, the eerie quiet, the “alone” lie of the enemy, the sense of being forsaken, and his struggle with hunger and thirst, both in the physical and the spiritual realm, have had such a profound impact upon me.
In truth Lord, I too, have been held within the muck and mire just recently; obviously not in the physical space that housed Jeremiah, but in life with its trials and tribulations. I know with a certainty that I am not alone; one conversation after another emerging from those close to me have alluded to such. How does this happen Father? Your word reminds us that “the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ…” One would imagine that as His adopted children, as His sons and His daughters, those grafted in painstakingly and at such a great cost, that we would never, at and time or moment, experience such feelings of being alone, being held bound, with cruelty by worldly circumstance, hungry, thirsty, and longing for release. Yet, at times we find ourselves stagnant, addicted, conflicted, confused, dazed, stunned, overwhelmed, oppressed, possessed and sometimes utterly overtaken; believers and unbelievers alike. The enemy, if we are honest, knows our weaknesses, he cunningly preys upon such and holds us, unforgivingly, in shackles made of time tested, tempered steel, constantly speaking lies into our ears, ears somehow muffled from the truth.
Father, how do we escape from such when we find ourselves, unsuspectingly, weakened and in this state of stagnation, in the midst of the muck, and paralyzed mentally, physically and spiritually? For Jeremiah, they would send 30 men to literally lift him out of his darkest of days. Of course your word gives us the promise, that of your son, His life, speaking with simplicity, yet, with authority, “…he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.” We know this to be so very true but we must confess that we too, surely, must open our eyes, we must open our hearts, we must make ourselves readily available, available to hear, available to lend a shoulder for crying, available to comfort, and be one of the 30 that will grab the rope of another, their rope of freedom, that will toil, will struggle, ceasing to tire and though the palms of our hands shall burn, soil, blister and bleed from the weight of the one close to us, or not close to us, let us hold fast until that singular person has experienced your compassion, your kindness and of course your love unconditional; a love so deep and fulfilling that it releases the balm specific to and for each individual need. Someone, today, is fighting, alone, their very life hanging in the balance and finding little, if any, success as they try desperately to rid themselves of that which binds, holds and deters them from living a life of absolute abundance. Oh Father, open our eyes, to that of your Son Jesus and may we too, as we enter the world and our surroundings each day, find ourselves… “lifting up our eyes, and looking into the fields; for they are whited already to harvest.”
We so love you Father, we thank you for saving each of us, for sacrificing the life of your Son, even in the midst of our sin, that we might be your sons and your daughters. We so love you Jesus, for your life in the flesh, for your Passion on the cross, and for your life now at the right hand of the Father, ever living to intercede on our behalf. We so love you Holy Spirit, for your guidance, the intimate whispers in our ears and empowering us to be more than we ever thought possible…not for self, but for your glory, that of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit!
Daniel
Jeremiah 38:6 “then took they Jeremiah, and cast him into the dungeon of Malchiah the son of Hammelech, that was in the court of the prison: and they let down Jeremiah with cords. And in the dungeon there was no water, but mire: so Jeremiah sunk in the mire.”