The following was originally posted a couple years ago in another blog. I am reposting here because I have been asked about it, and as I remember, it is the first writing I have done based on a God inspired vision.
“Alive”
I have been engaged in torrid battle with this creature for what feels like years now. Perhaps it has been years; it would seem that way by looking at my battered form, covered in bruises and deep cuts, some partially healed and some still flowing blood. The evidence of wounding on my exterior does little to describe the horrible toll this fight has taken on my insides. I am weary. Though I try not to betray my growing weakness to my adversary, I fear that he notices my movements are slowing, the aggression draining from my sword. I have begun to question whether I can win this fight, and I believe this villain knows my doubts.
Even as I block a glancing blow from his jagged blade with my armored fist, I am distracted with the growing dizziness in my mind. I don’t remember the creature being so skilled a fighter when this battle began. Only now do I see his strategy. He has been holding back for a long time, feigning a measure of weakness. I can’t help but wonder if this fight would be finished if I had taken him more seriously in the beginning.
As I move in for another half-hearted sword strike, my vision becomes clouded by a besetting darkness. Night has been approaching for some time now, and I know I am doomed to fight the beast in his ideal setting. This frustrating realization removes any remaining determination from my attack. He grins angrily, bearing his ugly teeth as he disables my sword hand, clutching it in his fist. The touch of his skin is so cold it burns. Time slows to a crawl as I realize that the end is coming. Grasping his angry blade in his free hand, he draws his face closer to mine, relishing the moment, hating me more now than he ever has.
With sword hand drawn back, he says, “You are weak, boy. Always have been.”
All remaining clarity retreats from my consciousness as the creature’s black blade pierces my chest, tearing flesh from bone, ripping toward vital organs – attacking my heart. He releases me, and I tumble awkwardly to the ground. Through my fragile cognitive state, I am aware of the beast laughing at me, looming over my helpless body as he prepares to institute a final killing blow.
The fact that my pulse is still driven by a hopelessly shallow heartbeat is a mere technicality. I am dead already. Even if the beast were to spare me another attack, I would never survive this wound. It is too deep. I attempt to prepare myself for the inevitable, begging God almighty to forgive me for being so weak, so easily beaten.
My sense of sight is nearly useless, obscured by bodily trauma and the ever increasing darkness that destines itself for these Shadowlands. I pass my final moments listening to the gradual slowing of my own heartbeat, almost deafening inside my dying ears.
beat beat
It is so painful to breathe; I wish my lungs would quit the effort.
beat beat
I wonder why the creature hasn’t finished me yet; perhaps he’s realized the cruelest thing is to let me die as slowly as possible.
beat beat
There are sounds elsewhere in the background. They are the sounds of the other battles going on in these lands. Funny that I become more attuned to them now.
beat beat
The clash of steel on steel and the painful cries of the newly wounded sound as if they are all around me now. Of course, there have always been thousands of these smaller battles raging within the much larger battle that has continued for centuries.
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Only now, my own battle concluding in pitiful defeat, am I fully aware of how very small I am. There are millions of these creatures terrorizing humankind all around me. While my very existence now seems defined by the killing blow of this beast’s sword, to him, I am just another human. When I am gone, he will find another to hate and kill. Just another human. Just another monster, and he has sliced me through, displayed my powerlessness to all the other monsters.
beat beat
Something pierces the blackness that has overtaken my eyes. A small light. I suppose this is the end. I attempt to reach for the light, supposing that my spirit has left my body, but then realize how ridiculous I am for trying. Movement is impossible.
beat beat
The light becomes slightly clearer, and I see now that it does not appear to be an object or a doorway, as fabled stories would have me expect. It is a person. He seems familiar to me somehow.
beat beat
Echoing in the deep darkness of the Shadowlands, the final sounds are picked up by my dying ears. They are the sounds of men crying out, not in pain or sorrow, but in hope: “It is the Captain!”
beat________________________________
Somewhere in the recesses of my throbbing mind, I am aware of the sensation of my rising from the ground. For the moment I believe I have finally died, but I cannot ignore the fact that I still hear the faint sounds of battle around me. There is a brightness before me that seems veiled by something semi-translucent. I attempt to reach out in order to remove the veil, then feel foolish when I realize that the “veil” is nothing more than my closed eyelids. As I open my eyes, I am startled, first by the fact that I am conscious and upright, and second by the magnificent figure now standing before me.
The Captain stands boldly in front of me, in the very place where the hideous beast once stood before I was torn apart by his deadly sword. The brightness I have perceived comes from the gleam of his armor. Beyond that, even his flesh seems to permeate a sort of light. He has the look of someone otherworldly, but I would never describe him as alien. Quite the contrary, he is perhaps truly more human than any of us who wander this battlefield. He appears exceedingly tall, but were I to guess his height, I couldn’t say he was any taller than myself. He is both larger than life and unbelievably natural at the same time. I can only assume that the immensity of his presence stems from his unyielding confidence. The Captain has roamed these lands for many years and has dispatched countless dark beasts. He is unbreakable; nothing can beat him. Quite simply, he is everything I dream to be. And now, with him before me, I am ashamed.
I avoid looking straight into his face, embarrassed by the undeniable fact that I have been soundly beaten. I now believe that I should never have engaged that beast in battle. I never stood a chance. I was nothing but a child, attempting to fight in an adult’s world. I underestimated my foe, something The Captain has always warned against, and it’s cost me my life. I am convinced that my leader stands here only to review my mistakes, retrieve my armor and sword, and then send me on my way to the hall of the dead. Standing before the most authentic of all beings, I have never felt more fake. Before genuine strength, I have never felt more weak. Lowering my gaze to the ground, I await my chastisement.
“Look at me, friend” he says, and his words seem to resonate more within my soul than in my ears. My every urge is to turn away rather than face him, but nobody can run from The Captain. I muster the nerve to raise my eyes to his. Rather than the contempt that my instincts expect, I see something quite different. While his expression is stern, I can only describe his countenance as one of grace. For several painstaking moments, he looks on me in silence, piercing me with his gaze. I find the silence between us unbearable, and begin spewing out words of apology, almost involuntarily.
“Sir…I…” the quivering in my voice is pitiful. Lowering my voice to a near whisper, I continue, “I am sorry; I am defeated.” To my further shame, I find that I am unable to hold back tears as I attempt to imagine some sort of explanation for my disgraceful weakness in battle. “The beast, he…” As I fumble for words, I can no longer look him in the eye. Lowering my eyes again to the ground, I conclude, “he was too strong, and he killed me!”
I recognize the absurdity of my words even as they escape my mouth. There is obviously no need to explain to The Captain the fact that I am dead; the open wound still visible at the center of my chest is plenty evidence to that. Peering at the unsightly void that leads to my heart, I begin to wonder more how it is that I am still standing here and speaking. In confusion, I raise my eyes again to The Captain’s, but he speaks before I have a chance to say anything.
“Yes, the beast has killed you; there is no denying it.” He pauses and looks at me with an intensity that unnerves me. “But I wouldn’t worry much about that.” His statement serves to confuse me more, and I cannot hold back the desire to ask him my most burning question.
“Sir…Why did you come here? Did you come to see me die?”
“The reason for my presence will surprise you.” he states in a hushed tone that carries no less intensity. “First, let me show you something.” And with that, he turns from facing me in order to position himself at my side. With his movement, a mist is lifted from my sight, and I begin to see better where it is we are.
We are still standing on the very battlefield where my life was stolen from me. However, the figures I see walking about do not appear to be present in the same way The Captain who stands beside me is. It is as though I am seeing visual echoes of the events playing out in the Shadowlands. The faint sounds of battle I have been hearing all along become matched to scenes of struggle all about me. Not far from where we stand, I notice an older looking man clad in shabby, scarred armor; he is locked in battle with an ugly winged beast at least twice his size. My first thought is to assume this man is hopelessly outmatched and may soon be joining me in death. As I take in more details of his fight, my thoughts begin to change. While nothing about the man appears particularly intimidating, I can’t help but notice an amazing confidence in his bearded expression. While he has every reason to fear, I believe he truly thinks he can slay this creature. The more I watch, the more I see the older man in a different way. The signs of his age – the weathered skin and gray streaked hair – no longer seem so much a weakness as they do an advantage. The scars upon his body tell me he has taken his share of injuries on this battlefield, but I suspect he has instituted far more pain in his years than he has received. The sureness with which he wields his sword reminds me a little of The Captain himself.
“That man,” The Captain speaks, “knows much about fighting. You would have done well to seek his help.” In my mind, I regret deeply the fact that, in life, I would have tended to dismiss any aid from a man such as the old warrior before me. “Men like him,” and he points my gaze further out onto the battlefield, “are very rare.” It takes but a moment for me to understand what he means.
As my eyes scan the scene playing out before me, I find that most humans, unlike the old man, are not fairing well in battle. I see a teenage boy locked in a fight with a creature resembling a serpent, and there is no denying the evidence of terror in the boy’s eyes. The serpent is toying with him and will likely kill him soon. Elsewhere I find a man similar to myself, not just in age, but also in appearance. He tries to appear brave in the face of the awful creature he faces, but I know well the true fear that he hides behind his masked appearance. He is a poser, just as I am.
The Captain, perhaps knowing my thoughts, leans in closer to me and says, “Even now, you carry an enormous weight of guilt.” I silently nod my head. “You have failed to see something on this battlefield. Look.” And he points as he speaks to the places I was distracted from noticing. Because my attention was attracted to the fighting – the struggle between humanity and monsters – I did not notice that there are many humans walking about the Shadowlands, seemingly unaware of the conflict raging all around them.
In fact, the more I look, the more I am aware of the fact that these wandering humans vastly outnumber those who are engaged in battle. Here they walk in the midst of a great war, and yet they carry no weapon, wear no armor. And it isn’t as though they appear completely unaffected by the enemy. I notice a young man walking dangerously close to the drawn sword of an evil red creature. For a moment I think to cry out and warn the young man, but then remember that I am far too dead to hope he can hear me through the veil that separates me from his reality. The creature is locked in a fight with another human, but as he notices the young man walking past, he swipes his sword to the side, cutting him across his left shoulder and leaving a serious wound. The young man instantly clutches his injured appendage and then proceeds with his wandering. The wince of pain on his face indicates the gravity of his injury. Though not fatal, it will take a major toll on him. Most amazing is the fact that the boy completely fails to notice his attacker. He just walks on, shaking his head, muttering to himself as if it were simply bad luck that he’s been hurt. This absurd event repeats itself over and over across the Shadowlands. Men and women are wandering everywhere, the walking wounded, all hemorrhaging blood and shaking their heads because they don’t understand why they are being cut to pieces, unaware of the awful sword strikes that are slowly stealing their lives.
“Are they blind?!” I shout out in horror.
“Some are blind, yes.” responds The Captain calmly. “Many have never been aware of this great war, and are thus blind to its tragedies, but some…” and his voice drops in both tone and volume, “Some have known for some time that these lands are wrought with evil and danger, but they have chosen to blind themselves.”
“How are they not all cut down by the monsters?” I ask, “How do they survive when they don’t fight?”
“Because they have made treaties with our enemies.” says The Captain, his voice still low. “They choose ignorance because they believe it poses less danger, and…” his voice trails off momentarily. Turning to me with a tear in his eye, he continues, “perhaps they are safer, in a way. The enemy rarely kills a walking wounded. They are no danger to him.”
The Captain faces me, and I see that the single tear has been joined by several others, and I know he is prepared to speak to me something from his deepest heart.
“Listen to me, friend.” the Captain says in a hushed tone. “You feel ashamed because you fought and lost, but at least you fought.”
“But what does it matter if I failed?”
“It matters!” he responds, barely letting me finish my question. Staring me straight in the eyes, looking inside me, he says, “It matters because it means you haven’t forgotten me. These people you see wandering aimlessly about this battlefield, they have forgotten me. Some forget by choice, some are enticed to forget, and some know the truth of this life but choose to ignore its existence. They have forgotten me, and thus, they have forgotten themselves.” He pauses for several seconds, scanning the battlefield before looking at me again. “But you…You have allowed your soul to awaken long enough to understand that there are bigger things than yourself going on in these Shadowlands. You have fought beside me, and for that I am proud.”
Words fail me as I begin to allow the Captain’s statements to sink into my mind. The greatest person I know is giving me gratitude despite my severe failure. Even as this realization thwarts my own logic, a more desperate question begins to form, and I choose to bring it to the Captain, feeling more comfortable next to him than I had in the beginning.
“Sir, what became of the beast who slain me? He was above me when I fell, and then you appeared.”
The Captain smiles slightly. “You assume, whether you realize it or not, that these beasts fear nothing because they are so adept at creating fear in others. The reverse is true. They excel at administering fear because they themselves are plagued with a constant terror from which they will never find respite.”
“The creature fears you.” I state flatly, the words sounding idiotic in their redundancy.
“Yes, that is true, and it was my appearance that moved him to flee, but it is not just me the creature fears.”
For reasons I cannot explain, my insides begin to twist at the Captain’s statement. I pause only a moment before asking him the obvious: “Whom else does the monster fear?”
Staring at me with eyes smoldering, the mighty Captain says, “He fears you.”
Suddenly, this fact that had always escaped me becomes completely obvious. Of course the monster fears me. It was his fear that drove him to unleash his fury on me for so long. His fear drew him to insult me every waking moment we fought. His fear moved him to murder me. My thoughts are interrupted by the Captain’s bold voice.
“And now, dear friend, I must ask you a question.” He waits a moment to know I hear him clearly. “What is it that I can do for you?”
What a strange question from a person so powerful. Here I’ve fallen, my weakness displayed for all to see in the Shadowlands, and he wants to know what he can do for me? My instinct is to say that I desire nothing, but I know somehow that the Captain will see through my deception. I tell myself that it isn’t vengeance that motivates me to say, “Could you kill the beast?”
Before he responds, I relish the thought of walking peacefully to lie with my fathers, knowing that the despicable creature who murdered me would be tortured and cut apart in a thousand painful ways by the Captain’s powerful sword.
“I could do that, yes.” he says, and I wonder if he isn’t reading my thoughts as much as responding to my answer. “But that isn’t what you really want, is it, son?”
Of course, he is right. He must know that what I really want is to kill the beast myself, but I am embarrassed to let the words get past my lips. Beyond that, I find it impossible to utter such an absurdity, knowing that a creature that killed me once would surely do so again. Still, I can’t help but dwell for a time on the thought of taking that cursed monster down.
The Captain grins widely and says, “Yes, I will give you what you really want.”
With that, the Captain reaches his hand out to me and touches me on the chest, directly at the center of the wound that captured my life. I am overcome almost instantly by an intense heat that radiates through the center of me. Looking down at his hand, I see that the Captain has reached beyond the surface of my skin, actually touching my very heart which was pierced. I am stunned by the realization that, with the touch of his hand, my heart has begun to beat again. Like small, pulsating waves of electricity, my heart surges life throughout my once dead body. My senses begin to dull to the veiled world I have been peering at, and with each new beat of my heart, I begin to awaken to the fact that I am no longer dead.
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The air about me begins to darken.
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My ears open clearly to the clash of metal, the shouts of humankind intensely fighting.
beat___________beat
Like one long paralyzed and suddenly able to feel again, I am aware of the fiber of my arms and legs, awakened again to the existence of my body.
beat_beat
I close my eyes for several moments, and upon opening them, I am fully immersed in the reality of the Shadowlands. I squint, attempting to see through the distance of the battlefield, despite the oppressive darkness that has firmly settled in. To my right, the Captain still stands, his presence lighting the area immediately around us, his aura contrasting the malignant smog that encompasses the land. He points toward a small canyon between two rock formations.
“The creature is there. He awaits a helpless victim.” He then bends to the ground and retrieves my sword from the dust. Handing it to me, he says, “He will find one who is far from helpless.”
Feeling the sword’s familiar weight in my hand, I examine its length, amazed that it remains untarnished despite its years of use. It is lethal as ever. Peering down at my armor, I see that a crease remains in my breastplate where the creature stabbed me, and the tightness upon my chest tells me that, though healed, the deadly wound has left a scar that I will continue to bear. It fuels my hatred for the dark beast who struck me down.
“Go with my breath in your lungs!” the Captain shouts. “Go, now!”
With those words, I begin to feel a great wind moving against my back. Its force is powerful, but more alarming is the overwhelming noise that accompanies the wind. It nearly seems to roar as it rushes past my ears, daring any obstacle to stand in its way.
As I try to brace myself in the gale, I notice for the first time that the Captain has left me. I am alone again in the Shadowlands, and I am surprised to find how quickly my hope diminishes without my glorious leader beside me. For several moments, I wrestle with familiar doubts.
What was I thinking?
All this talk of fighting that beast again was foolishness!
He killed me once and most certainly will again.
I begin to think that I may be much better off becoming like the walking wounded. Certainly these monsters will spare me any trouble if I simply ignore them. Perhaps I can come to some sort of agreement with them…
The stubborn force of the wind behind me serves to break through my thoughts. Truly I know, deep in my heart, that it is lunacy to form a truce with such evil. Such evil that would toy with me for years, destroying me piece by piece and then stealing my life from me. A pact with that sort of monster would never offer true freedom. And so I make my decision here and now, that I would rather be slain again than give in to the slavery of my enemy. Whether I live or die, I will be free.
Looking toward the small canyon many yards in front of me, I know that the creature is aware that I have risen. He awaits me. I begin a steady walk toward him. With each step, my anger grows. I am not content to enter this fight with trepidation, and so I quicken my pace, the wind appearing to drive me faster along my path. The roar of the Captain’s rushing exhalation rattles through my insides, and I am compelled to move to an all out sprint. In the distance, I see the ancient beast step slowly out from his hiding. Only his ugly head appears at first, his red eyes contrasting with the white of his jagged fangs which he bears in something of a smile, as if he is welcoming my descent into his terrible domain. He does not appear surprised to see me revived; perhaps he expected the Captain would raise me. Looking at him, I cannot perceive any of the fear of which the Captain spoke, and a tinge of doubt begins to creep up my spine, threatening my resolve. I push back the voice of fear, knowing that, afraid or not, this monster will stop at nothing to avoid showing weakness. Though still far from earshot, I somehow hear the rumbling voice of the beast in my ears.
“You don’t want this, boy. Trust me.”
Atop my hurried breath, I respond, “Trust you? Absolutely not.”
With that, I speed my pace to what must be an impossible rate. The powerful wind seems to catch my steps, and I feel as though I am defying gravity between every footfall. Large rivulets of sweat flood my forehead and sting my eyes. The pounding ache in my muscles and joints reminds me that I am very much alive, and as I stress my body to its limit, I believe I have never run so swiftly in all my life. Nothing can stop me now; nothing will prevent me from meeting the evil beast again.
Discovering that I will not be dissuaded, the dark monster begins to move toward me, achieving a maximum pace in moments. He moves swiftly despite the mighty force of the wind against him. The air’s movement serves to accentuate his grotesque features, pushing against the unnatural folds that make up his outer skin. With his hide expanded in the wind, he seems even larger than before.
Somehow I know that all the visual effect displayed by the beast is nothing but performance. Though grotesque, I see the monster is not so intimidating as I once thought. With a loud shout, I raise my sword, prepared to enter this fight on the offensive. The beast responds with a roar, but his voice is muffled against the supernatural wind. Rushing forth, I make my determination to give nothing away to this monster. I will move quickly, unleashing all my strength right from the start, demonstrating that I will not give in to fear this time. I will strike the monster down. I will remove his head and hold it high for all the other monsters to see; they will see that here is one who will stand against them. I will fight with all my life, no matter the cost to me.
I will show no mercy.