Description: This is what you get when you read Frank Peretti I guess.
Is it angels or demons probing my mind tonight? I feel as if there are words that need to be spoken, rhythms and rhymes that must flow from my mind. It craves release.
But do I long for pride? Or does the Spirit nudge my pen to action?
My mind jumps from topic to topic. Why can’t I nail down the urge? Do demons cling to weigh down my wrestling? Do I listen to the calming voice of distraction? Does the Divine suggest mistake?
The Presence is so inside me. It is not here in this room, beside. No, the struggle is so clearly in mind – the battleground most oft trodden for me.
Is my conviction ill-fated? A nasty snip rather than a constructive flow? Perhaps I’ll never know.
But there is a fight, somewhere. Perhaps I’m only scratching the outside layer of the fight. I am not educated, confronted. Not yet. This is only the preparation, the training. Only moving in unconscious.
Who is my Teacher? I hope to be wary of demons, deceivers. Be with me, Lord, if not already. Help me see.