"The LORD is a warrior."
- Exodus 15:3
"The time has come for me to avenge my people, to ransom them from their oppressors."
- Isaiah 63:4
"The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still"
- Exodus 14:14
"I look up to the mountains - does my help come from there? My help comes from the LORD who made the heavens and the earth! He will not let you stumble and fall; the one who watches over you will not sleep."
- Psalm 121:1-3
"We are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood, but against the evil rules and authorities of the unseen world, against those mighty powers of darkness who rule this world, and against wicked spirits in the heavenly realms."
- Ephesians 6:12
" I have given you authority over all the power of the enemy, and you can walk among snakes and scorpions and crush them."
- Luke 10:19
"May your kingdom come soon. May your will be done here on earth, just as it is in heaven."
- Matthew 6:10
armor up, warrior.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
stepping back
Behind my township's elementary school lies a matrix of broken and abandoned buildings. These structures stand alone in complete silence and solitude, windows boarded up and door nailed shut. Except one, but that's not the point.
These buildings stand along a circular road that goes around the whole area, with two ways out that, after a mile or so, join with the main roads.
I was running back along this road, and I came across the circular path that would take me near all of the houses, and while I was running, I couldn't help but observe that area. The broken one way road that held a distinct resemblance to a moat. The quiet, undisturbed weeds and tall, brown grass near the buildings. The wind filling the eerie quiet of the area. But most of all, the lack of wildlife.
I don't believe there's anything supernatural about this place, but for some reason, whenever I've passed through, I've noticed no wildlife. No squirrel running up and down a tree. No rabbit dashing its way through the ferns. No life, except the century-year old trees towering over the buildings, almost as if to guard its history.
These structures, probably built in the 1920s, used to be a mental asylum. It was where people who were insane, and stricken with mental diseases were sent. When you walk through this area, you can almost hear the confused sighs of patients, walking through the manicured lawns and reclining in the benches placed around the circular road. The anxious cries of family members worried about their loved ones, and the silent tears of frustration and disappointment shed by the doctors and nurses who couldn't help.
But most of all, the thing that hung most heavy in the air was the pain of confusion. Why was this happening to their loved one? Their mother? Their father? Sister? Brother? Why? I could picture the place seventy years ago, hear their voices, see them walking around, it all felt so real to me.
I'd think I'd like to go back there soon. And not to run, this time. But to take it in.
These buildings stand along a circular road that goes around the whole area, with two ways out that, after a mile or so, join with the main roads.
I was running back along this road, and I came across the circular path that would take me near all of the houses, and while I was running, I couldn't help but observe that area. The broken one way road that held a distinct resemblance to a moat. The quiet, undisturbed weeds and tall, brown grass near the buildings. The wind filling the eerie quiet of the area. But most of all, the lack of wildlife.
I don't believe there's anything supernatural about this place, but for some reason, whenever I've passed through, I've noticed no wildlife. No squirrel running up and down a tree. No rabbit dashing its way through the ferns. No life, except the century-year old trees towering over the buildings, almost as if to guard its history.
These structures, probably built in the 1920s, used to be a mental asylum. It was where people who were insane, and stricken with mental diseases were sent. When you walk through this area, you can almost hear the confused sighs of patients, walking through the manicured lawns and reclining in the benches placed around the circular road. The anxious cries of family members worried about their loved ones, and the silent tears of frustration and disappointment shed by the doctors and nurses who couldn't help.
But most of all, the thing that hung most heavy in the air was the pain of confusion. Why was this happening to their loved one? Their mother? Their father? Sister? Brother? Why? I could picture the place seventy years ago, hear their voices, see them walking around, it all felt so real to me.
I'd think I'd like to go back there soon. And not to run, this time. But to take it in.
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