Prison

I can honestly say that I have never been to prison and never been inclined to do anything that would put me there.  But there has been bondage which is a type of prison.

The gray, dank walls of my cell were built with fear from deep within.  The floors were solidly composed of despair.  The ceiling was constructed of the finest apathy.  Windows were blocked with curtains of depression while matching throw rugs of dreams lost and anxiety lay loosely upon the floor.  A coarse black sofa filled with the prickly cactus needles of distrust finished the scene.  I stood there clothed in a garment of indifference desiring I don't know what and it did not matter.

That is the kind of prison that requires no outside abuser to torture the pained soul.  The walls can only be breached from within by the occupant.  The door was never locked.  It never mattered that there never was a door, just a simple doorway with a view.

It is difficult to see the view if your back is never turned toward the portal.  It helps if someone comes to the doorway and knocks to draw your attention toward the light.  Scripture speaks of visiting those in prison.  While the reference is most likely toward those in a cell with concrete or stone walls, it could be used for those who are imprisoned by their own fear or desperation or mental state.

That friend you haven't seen in a while, the one who did not speak, where was their mind?  Was it off tending to its garden of weeds and choking vines? 

You, who were rescued from prison, have you forgotten what put you there and how you escaped?  Have you passed on your good fortune or simply folded the memory and pressed it like a flower in a book?

Too often, I forget the ones who need a simple word of encouragement.  I forget how deep the well is.  I forget the stench of despair and how exhilarating it is when someone called or came by with the sweet incense of kindness.

Don't give up.  You are loved.  Pass it on.

Shalom.  May God's Grace shine abundantly upon you.