Here is my entry for the monthly writing contest located at the link below. The topic was on "ghosts". I am not interested in horror, but have experienced the horrors of a tormented soul. Here is a night that is very much like some nights I have passed in suffering. May it encourage you to seek "Deliverance" from your own "ghosts" as well... http://scribbit.blogspot.com/2008/10/ghostly-write-away-contest.html
The Quest For Deliverance
by Celita Perillo
Here I am... waiting for the alarm clock to buzz OFF, but knowing that I will have to take the initiative and lift a weary arm to do it by hand. Oh, if a night seemed to stretch into forever, this was it. Exhausted as I was, I still only decidedly closed my eyes in restlessness for a couple of hours.
I am being hounded. By my failures. By my past. By memories clinging, taunting, and torchuring my mind like gleeful, ghostly demons.
I know I have dealt with these feelings before, but they are back- full force. It is FEAR that nips at my heels calling for me to surrender into despair. It is immobilizing, debilitating, and distressing, to say the least.
I cannot seem to escape from its grasp, no matter how hard I try. Even though tears glide endlessly down my cheeks, and a heavy groan presses from my lips, the weight of it all threatens to suffocate my overwhelmed heart. My soul cries weakly for relief.
It is as I reach to turn off the still shrilling alarm clock that I notice it... peaking from the drawer of my night stand is a burgundy, leather cover. It seems to beckon me, whispering, "Draw near, and I will give you rest." But, all night I have fought, and Discouragement and Doubt prod me back into my self-pity. My frenzied Soul shrieks at my Heart to trust. And so, I hesitantly lift the book from its repose.
I stare at the cover, wondering what to do. Numerous times I have read, confidently and assuredly, with blessing and thanksgiving. This time, I am numb. I have NO WORDS. Like a cry for assistance, a tear runs down my well-tracked cheek. Slowly I open the delicate pages, hoping, while Fear wrings my clutched heart.
Ever so quietly I lend out a prayer so faint, so distant... "O, Help Me!" It would not be noticeable to anyone. Under normal circumstances the slight-sounding request would be dismissed without a thought in my busy day, but today, my frantic heart reaches for it desperately.
I glance at the open pages before me, trying to focus between my swollen eyelids to the printed words. As I do, my pounding heart stops. These words were meant for me...
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:7)
My flailing soul had become so overtaken by the darkness brought on by Fear that I had forgotten the truths that I had previously dwelled on in other days. In my need for encouragement and sustenance, these words reached out to my thirsty soul in the same way water calls to a man who has been driven to trudge through a long and wide desert.
Finally, with my hands shielding my face, I whisper, "God, deliver me from this weight that hurts my heart. Take away this fear that threatens to destroy me. Make me whole. Give me strength to ward off these thoughts, these doubts, and help me to dwell on things that are 'true...noble...just...pure...lovely...things of good report...things of virtue and that are praiseworthy...' (Philippians 4:8) Cause me to find rest, sweet rest in the shadow of Your wings, once again... Amen."
With a sigh, I rise, placing the Bible on my nightstand. I am no longer tormented by apparitions of my past, or hurt by mocking visions of my failures. I pause to look out at the morning with its orange-hued mountains and dew ladened trees, and I smile. I am have not completed my journey to healing, but... I am better.
"You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You. Trust in the Lord forever, for in Yah, the Lord, is everlasting strength." (Isaiah 26: 3 and 4)