We stand for justice
A thousand voices crying out
In
The night
Praying to God to lend sight
But even a thousand voices sound
Like a whisper
Echoing in the dark
Yet whispers are still spoken
And speech is heard
So just as one star
Penetrates the dark
Our shouted whispers will overtake
Silence
And the sun will break through
To consummate the day
Doing away with night
Once
And for all
I looked out at the vast sea before me. It was dark and foreboding, dangerous and cruel. My eyes traced the distant horizon, looking for anything—a leakage of light, a weak beam of the sun, a signal of hope. Straining, I saw nothing. The sea churned in a terrible, thunderous, and unearthly roar. It frightened me.
I turned and looked behind me. Surely there was a mistake. This is not how I had imagined my calling. But the road that snaked behind me, plain, unmistakable, and well-worn, was mine. My life’s journey—my calling—had led me here.
I know you likely read that title and thought that it could be read multiple ways. That, my friends, is a deliberate choice in ambiguity. Many would read that title and think I am going to talk about how it is so difficult to be a Christian. I am instead going to pose the question the other way: Why does everyone else think it is so hard to be a Christian? This is part 1. I am going to focus on the topic of sacrifice.
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"The Possession"
-The Visitor-
“What can I do ya for today?” the gruff owner of Eilif Inn inquired as he cleaned out a large mug.
Through discerning eyes he stared at a hooded man who had confidently and proudly taken residence at the counter. His entrance had been one of show as he crossed the wooden floor of the inn with a sign of arrogance.
