Tuesday, December 29, 2015

The Becoming

The Dying

I felt naked. When I arrived at the command center they immediately stripped me of my weapons and body armor, putting me in commoner’s clothes. They cleaned me of the dirt and dried blood plastered to my face and arms from the massacre of our newest adversary. I had just released my final arrow piercing the heart of the final foe when the protectors arrived to give me the news. I had been chosen. Because I was unconquerable in combat and the most lethal enemies fell at my arrows, our Commander-in-Chief took notice of me and selected me for The Becoming. I didn’t speak a word as shock besieged me. It had been so long since a fighter was chosen, and the Commander chose me. There were many fighters but only a few were chosen and, of the few chosen, hardly any made it. My heart beat harder at this news than it did when ominous armies rose against me. It never calmed. The protectors silently walked me to a door, opened it, gestured for me to enter and closed the door behind me. I felt the weight of solemn submission. The room was heavy with meaningful purpose and the power of choice. It was empty other than a chair with a small table connected holding an almost empty glass and a small piece of paper. I walked to the paper and picked it up.

Drink. Do not leave this room until the door is opened to you. If you do, you will not become.

I stared at the glass. It was the Commander’s; clear with a gold rim. My breath became shallow, and I felt faint. I was to drink from his cup. I sat in the chair and took long deep breaths. The instructions were so simple, but I was not so naive. Almost no one made it. The door was more attractive than I would like to admit. I was astonished at my fear. This was the greatest honor there was, but I was ready to run. I knew the prize, but what was the price? I would become untouchable, unable to be infected and deadly to every opponent. Thrill beat in one heartbeat, terror in the next.

Thrill. Terror.

Thrill. Terror.

I picked up the glass only to immediately put it back down. I pulled it close and instantly pushed it away. I shook my head ashamed of my weakness. I rubbed my hands together trying to conjure courage. I wasn’t sure why this never occurred to me. Even as a leading fighter, I never considered that this process was for me. At that moment, however, staring at the glass, I had to consider the fact that the Commander had chosen me.  That was more important than all of my ignorance. The truth. The Commander-in-Chief chose me to become. Finally, knowing at my core I could never disappoint him, I picked up the glass and drank everything inside quickly. The instant I set the glass back down my heart began to burn fiercely. It felt like it would rupture inside me. I opened my mouth to yell for help, but my breath caught in my throat as the pain strongly intensified. I pushed my hand into my chest as hard as I could as if to pull my heart out, anything to stop the pain. I looked for the door, but my vision was shockingly blurred. I was blind. Disoriented, I hit the floor. I pushed against the floor in failing attempts to lift myself. All of my strength was ripped from me in a moment’s time. The burning in my heart spread throughout my body, and I began to convulse. Every cell felt the poison. My organs cringed inside of me, and my nerves rushed the news to my brain.  More dominant than the physical pain was the ache of appalling betrayal. This was a set up. The Commander’s disloyalty worked like a dagger on my soul, ripping me apart one realization after another. My mind ran the scenario over as I coughed and panted with my head pinned to the floor, fully defeated. He made me feel unique, separate from the others. He chose me in order to lead me like a lamb to the slaughter to my death. He played me like a game, and I fell for every move. How foolish I was to believe that he would make me powerful beyond measure, untouchable and deadly to the enemy! No, the truth, he would poison me with the enemy’s venom! Anger rushed through my veins swelling my pain. Tears spilled from my eyes and wet the floor beneath me as I wondered why he would do this. I wailed. With everything left in me, I wailed. Bitter fury from a fallen fighter broke through the room, and I didn’t relent. My body rattled as my voice shook through my skin and bones.

Finally, I fell silent. There was nothing left. My vision progressively turned black, my breathing slowed and I gave way to death.

The Awakening

My gasp for air in the empty room pulled my head from the floor, awakening me from deadly slumber. I was alive. I could see. My eyes shot to the door. It was closed. My body was drained of strength, but I mustered up enough to crawl to the door. I used the wall to help me get up. My legs shook like a baby’s who was learning to walk. My hand touched the handle. I was about to turn it and open the door when I saw my hand. I jumped back, horrified. It was remarkably pale and bruised. I staggered backward in surprise when I realized my arm mirrored my hand. My hands at once moved to my face. Dread overtook me. I moved quickly to the glass that once held my poison. I gazed deeply into it waiting to see my reflection. My mouth slowly fell open as I met my eyes. They were hollow. Black. My cheeks were sunk in, my lips bruised. My hair was thin and faded. I looked terminally sick and distorted. In horror, I pushed my back up against the wall. What had the Commander done to me? I was afraid, so afraid. My weapons were gone. My power was gone. I was confused, so confused. I looked dead, but I was alive. I was devastated, so devastated. My leader didn’t want me anymore. My skill in combat was regarded as useless. I had been deceived, tricked by those I trusted the most. My protectors imprisoned me to die. As I trembled with my back against the wall, the note on the small table fell to the floor. I remembered what it said, but I picked it up anyway. I was dumbfounded. One word was different.

Stay. Do not leave this room until the door is opened to you. If you do, you will not become.

Hope. A small glimmer of hope struck my heart. Maybe I was supposed to be here. Maybe I wasn’t going to die. Fear. A mighty rush of fear struck my heart. Maybe the “Stay” was placed there to keep me dying. I shifted my eyes back to the door. I was mystified by the sharpness of my vision. Every etch in the door was crisp and defined. I could see every detail in the nails in the knob. As I marveled, dismay plagued me. My heart began burning again.

“No, no,” I cried.

My voice. So weak. I despised it. My body began to shake as the heat rushed through my veins. I didn’t try to move to the door. I knew it was too late. I curled into a ball on the floor as my organs began to cringe and my bones began to ache. I didn’t think I had enough to strength to do it again. Surely I would die this time. The bitterness birthed in betrayal intensified, and I shook with anger. I gave my life to the assignment of the Commander. I fought with everything I had without question. Shuddering on the floor in immense pain, I found great irony in a common quote of the Commander. “Loyalty pays a price.” Indeed, it does. I waited for my vision to turn black and hoped my eyes wouldn’t open again. My body shook uncontrollably until it slowly calmed. My breathing slowed. My crying stopped. I saw black, and I welcomed it.
The black didn’t last as long as the last time, but it also wasn’t the last time it visited. The pain came, the black overtook and I became more hollow and frail every time. I died over and over and over again. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I was sure that my days had turned into months. I stopped looking at myself in the glass. It was sickening. It wasn't me anymore. In the few moments between agonizing pain, I would watch the door. I couldn’t get myself to leave. It was too easy. It was surrender. And, I was ashamed to admit it, but there was still a very small part of me that believed the Commander had truly chosen me.

Ha.

Finally, the time came where my deepest fears became a reality. There was no becoming, only betrayal. The pain was so bad this time that I passed out and woke up multiple times while it shook me. I had never been surer that my existence was coming to a harsh, bitter end. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t leave. I didn’t take the easy way out. I stayed loyal to the Commander unto death, which was my task from the beginning. I lay on my back and didn’t fight the burning. I let the fire consume me. I didn’t cry. I chose peace and stayed quiet. Instead of waiting for the black, I closed my eyes.  I chose this. I chose to stay. It was not what I could have ever expected or desired, but it was my assignment, and I was going to complete it. I was a fighter to the end. I fought myself when I considered abandoning my mission, and I won. As I lay dying, I smiled. I did remain undefeated after all.

The Becoming

My eyes opened, but there was no panicked gasp for air as usual. Air moved through my lungs with gentle ease. I didn’t move an inch. If I did, the ache in my bones may return. The heat may capture my heart again. The fever may strike afresh. I watched the ceiling, breathing. The details were even sharper, more defined than before. I moved my hand from the floor to trace the carvings. My back shot up off of the ground. My hand was no longer pale and bruised. Astonished, I examined both hands and arms. They were warm, golden, full of life, full of strength. They glimmered with beauty. I slid my body across the floor and grabbed the glass, waiting with hopeful expectation for my reflection.

“Wow,” left my lips as I saw me.

I was warm, golden, full of life, full of strength. I glimmered with beauty. I was no longer hollow and distorted. My eyes swam with color and power.  My hair was deep and full. It flowed by my face with effortless grace, and my face was remarkably defined and my countenance, daring. I didn’t look like me anymore, but I couldn’t quite remember what the old me looked like. I only remembered what that hollow breathing corpse looked like, and I was gratefully overwhelmed that it was gone.

“Oh my God…”

My eyes darted to the door. It was cracked open.

“I made it.”

Tears, much different from the ones I had come to know, welled in my eyes as I stood and walked slowly to the door. I opened it, and the light I was living without flooded me. The room was empty other than my weapons and armor hanging on the wall. It all looked like my gear, but there was something distinctively different about it.  How glorious it was! I never saw anyone in the combat zone with anything like it. A small note rested on the wall near it.

I have drawn death out of you. Now you can never die. You are untouchable, unable to be infected and deadly to all of our opponents. I made no mistake in choosing you for The Becoming. You have become.

- Commander




@copyright Jade De Kelaita




Saturday, November 21, 2015

ELEFTHERIA 2016


What she saw could never be unseen, and what had been done could never be undone. She despised herself for her foolish ignorance, and she knew ignorance was an invalid, useless excuse.  Her blindness added to the horror, and she fought hating herself. The images of torture in Khaos tormented her and captivated every part of her mind every second of every day. Her reality had become a blur. She saw no one. She saw no thing. She heard no one. She heard no thing. She hadn’t looked Johnathon in the eyes for weeks. She hadn’t touched him, and she was deadened to his touch. No touch no matter how intimate and sincere could console her. Her fierce devotion and adoration for him was buried deep beneath her misery.

Sharp breaths of agonizing pain would wake her from her sleep every night. The grief was so deep in her soul her entire body felt its stinging ache. Some nights she would pull her knees to her chest and wrap her arms around them in failing attempts to shield the gaping hole inside from more plundering blows. Other nights she would grab hold of the mattress or the side of the headboard and exert every ounce of energy she had to try and exhaust herself of the strengthening agony. Her body convulsed, and her erratic breathing would turn quickly to uncontrollable sobs. She did not work to restrain herself. She had no pride and no strength to conceal the wound. Her heart beat like it would rupture, full with emptiness. There were moments she thought she would succumb to the torment and die. On those nights, her crying turned to groans and whimpers of utter despair. Johnathon would try to hold her, but she could not feel his touch. Her senses were numb with sorrow. Distracted with hopelessness, she would push his every effort away. He would sit up in the bed next to her and hide his face in his hands as he listened to her turmoil. When she would finally calm and fall back into a feverish sleep, he would lie as close to her as he could and place his hand in hers. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she awoke, pushed him away and suffered again.

One night, incapacitated with exhaustion, Elizabeth shuddered in and out of sleep continuously throughout the night with shortness of breath. She was fighting for consciousness, but her body would not allow it. Her shirt was wet with sweat, and her chest moved up and down in a violent rhythm. Johnathon had not attempted to lie down or close his eyes. He wrestled with her trying to grab her hand and hold her, but even in her unconsciousness she pulled away and withdrew into herself. When she finally awoke to the anguish, an awful lamenting began. This one was the worst, and he could not bear it. He moved quickly and put his arm around her. She pushed hard against his chest moving him away from her. He fought the urge stirring in his gut to weep with her.

 “Elizabeth, please.”

She didn’t hear him. All she could hear was the mourning of those locked in Khaos. She was too troubled to recognize that her wailing began to match theirs. He couldn’t sit helpless any longer watching her suffer. He wrapped his arm firmly across her stomach and pulled her to him. Her back met his chest, and she was too faint to fight him. He detained her gently, refusing to release his hold. She let go of her desperate grasp on the mattress and both of her arms wrapped around his, and she clung to him with all the strength left in her. He moved carefully with her every movement as she shook, and he kept his breathing steady. Using up the last of her physical strength, she rolled over in his arms and buried her face in his chest. Her arms and hands fell limp against him, and her sobs collapsed relentlessly into him. His hands remained on her back as her heaving turned to quiet cries, and her quiet cries turned to silent deep breaths. With her forehead pressed against his chest, the trembling faded. He knew she had to be cold as she lay uncovered, but he would not risk moving his arms from her.  He didn’t realize that Elizabeth felt the warmth of his body and of his affection. For the first time in a long time, she was aware of him and awake to his love. She paid close attention to his breathing, and she remembered his unwavering strength. Overwhelmed, she moved to sit up. He shifted his weight quickly to fix whatever was wrong.

“No, it’s ok,” she said through a whisper as she turned to face him.

He was sitting up leaning back on his hands at attention, and his eyes carefully studied her. For the first time in weeks, her eyes met his and she looked at him. She saw him. In an instant, the mental fog surrounding her love for him vanished. She watched him as they sat in silence. She saw her pain reflected in his countenance. She realized that as she was drowning, she held him under the water with her. He was careful not to move and break her gaze. He let each breath move very softly and cautiously through his lips. He kept his eyes on hers and refused to blink, afraid that if he did, her eyes would no longer be on him when they reopened. She had forgotten the power behind the sincerity in his eyes. She was speechless by her ability to fall blind to his irrevocable loyalty. She shook her head in disbelief at herself as she stared at him. She placed her hand gently over his heart. He fell into her touch besieged by how much he missed her affection. Her eyes were broken but steady. Her voice was frail but sure.

“I love you.”

Although he had told her countless times over the past few weeks and received no response, there was no hesitation in his reply.

“I love you.” 

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Brave Enough To Die


Point your fingers, growl and laugh. Make mockery of the cross.
Perhaps you’re too strong to hang on it, where all of your gain becomes loss.

Look! They’re bloody, bruised, beaten and scorned.
Perhaps you’re too mighty for your pride to be murdered and mourned.

What a fool! Who would choose naked humiliation hanging from a tree?
With our heads turned in disgust, all of us declare, “Not me!”

You can’t move your arms or your legs! You’ve chosen to be restricted!
Perhaps you’re too powerful to live the life of the convicted.

You gave up your majesty to die poor? Insanity!
Perhaps you’re too wealthy to crucify your vanity.

Rescue yourself! You’re God! Call on your Kingdom to save you!
Give up your rights. Perhaps you’re too brave to.

I was strong enough to come to the cross but not strong enough to get on it.
Why would I? It would slaughter my selfish ambition and confidently flaunt it.

I was brave enough to kneel before it but not brave enough die.
I was wise enough to admire it but not wise enough to bid myself goodbye.

I was mighty enough to bring my shame but not mighty enough to bring everything in my possession.
I was convinced enough to believe in the Christ of the cross but not convinced enough to make Him my obsession.

His indescribable love compelled me to have courage to climb.
I made my way up and lost everything that was mine.

He stretched out my arms and to His will and His way I am bound.
My feet are pinned. The Jade running after her own desires can no longer be found.

The greatest power I have ever known was found in dying to me.
Freedom that cannot be described, true freedom, is mine for Eternity.

I made my way onto the cross, in Jesus’ name.
In Christ, I found the courage to hang upon it, where all my loss becomes gain. 

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Death Has Died


Death, you have died, and I don't grieve.
I close the casket with no bitter mourning up my sleeve. 

I bring no note, no card, no flowers.
I read no eulogy to rehearse your past powers. 

I won't stay in the sanctuary and respectfully remember you.
No, I wont dare sit down and take my place in a pew. 

You won't find me with tears lingering at the reception. 
Death, you have died and with you, your deception. 

As I close the casket, what do I see?
Dead, with no breath to breathe, it's the old selfish me. 

Where Christ was hung, where He bled, where He died.
That's where the worst part of me was crucified. 

Death, you have died, and I lower you to your grave. 
I'm alive in Christ, the One who is mighty to save! 

I am dead no longer and no longer will I die.
Through Him and through His love, I am justified.

Death, I wish that you could see that there is truth in what I’ve said.
But that’s not going to happen. You’re already dead. 

THIS IS THE HOUR


The trumpets blast. Many hit the ground.
Others are jumping. They are familiar with the sound.

The sky splits as He makes His entrance in glory and power. 
People begin to repent. It's too late! This is the hour!

Some shout with joy. Their King has come!
Some faint in fear. In a second, awakened from their spiritual slum. 

Some leap from the ground. This is what they always expected.
Some hide in the shadows terrified of what they never accepted. 

Grace cries out for those that believe.
Sin screams on behalf of those who are not qualified to leave.

Arrogance turns to terror, pride to shame.
"This is He! The One that has been given the name above every name!" 

"I didn't know He was coming! I didn't know it was true!"
Those that are left look around. Do they see you? 

He will declare, "I am Alpha and Omega. The Beginning and the End." 
He will snatch away His saints and each of their hearts He will mend. 

"Shhh..." they say. "This truth, don't tell."
He comes on the clouds to declare war on Hell.

With many crowns on His head, His eyes burn like fire. 
This is the One who uncovers and crushes the serpent, the liar. 

Some will remain, their sin exposed.
Some are left, their filth disclosed. 

As evil darkness invades the earth,
Many will regret the day of their birth!

There's only one way. It is through Jesus, through His blood.
Those that leave with Him have been washed in a rushing crimson flood!

Their righteousness, their deeds, their efforts are not enough.
It is only the blood! This alone saves us!

"I didn't know He was coming! I didn't know it was true!"
Those that are left look around. Do they see you? 

He is coming on the clouds with glory and power.
Call on His name! This is the time of salvation. This is your hour!

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Knees On The Ground. Head To The Floor.


Knees on the ground. Head to the floor.
This is why we sleep. We don't do this anymore.

Cries arise.
"Where is God as our world dies? That black book called Holy is full of nothing but lies."

Dreams in a book in a box in the corner.
"Let them die with the dust. I've lost my Restorer."

"Where is His love, His power, His Spirit?"
It's in that box in the corner. You won't go near it.

Why so drowsy? Why do you sleep?
You've let it sift from your hands that which you were commanded to keep.

A book we won't read.
A God we don't need.

Prayers we won't say.
A price we won't pay.

Love we won't give.
The Word we won't live.

Knees on the ground. Head to the floor.
This is why we sleep. We don't do this anymore.

"Where is God as the world falls apart?"
He's right where you put Him, asleep in the back of your heart.

"Where is God with the dying? Why won't He free them?"
The answers in you, but you live like you don't need Him.

"Look," they say. "Everyone is rotten."
No, it's not so, but their God they've forgotten. 

How did they forget? Why did they lose their sight?
Because we've worked hard at being silent, worked with all our might. 

Put your knees on the ground. Put your head to the floor.
Speak to your God. Pray to love more.

Go to the book in the box in the corner.
Open it! Read it! Find your Restorer!

A book we read.
A God we need.

Prayers we say.
Prices we pay.

Love we give.
The Word we live.

"Where is God," the cries arise.
But they grow ever weak as they see Him in our lives.

Put your knees on the ground. Put your head to the floor.
"Look! Their God is alive! I see Him more and more!"

Knees bent. Head down. Book open. Love alive.
Watch! As you humble yourself, your nation is revived!

Run to the One who through forgiveness made your soul soar.
Then put your knees on the ground and put your head to the floor. 

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Wake Up. Sleep No More.


You stay quiet like it’s a secret you’ve been ordered to keep.
The world slowly dies as you indulge in your sleep.

Cries spill out of the mouths of the hungry and the poor.
They suffer from the convictions you don’t believe at your core.

The sick die, as you do nothing with what you’ve been given.
A horrific lie presented in the comfort you live in.

You casually walk by slaves.
You blindly eat by open graves.

Wake up, oh sleeper! There’s a destiny you’re missing.
Come to life, you dead, it's Satan’s cheek of comfort you're kissing.

Resurrect from the grave of complacent existence.
Your silence and lack of action is Satan’s assistance.

Tormenting darkness is terrified of your love on display.
It whispers and sings lullabies to you. "It's easier this way."

Wooing you to sleep like a weapon from hell.
Hell forbid your testimony of forgiveness you tell.

Tell it! Shout of the grace that's washed away your sin!
Live it! Act like God Almighty has called you His friend!

For the sake of the lost, I beg you, awaken from your sleep!
I beg you, stop acting like Jesus is a dirty secret to keep.

If you've found Love and breathe grace in your lungs.
If you've been redeemed. If you speak in tongues.

If you believe the bible and believe the words in red.
If you believe your Savior resurrected from the dead.

If you've been healed. If you've been put back together.
If you've been forgiven. If you're going to live forever.

Wake up. Sleep no more.
They need you. The broken, the sick, the tormented, the poor.

Wake up. Put your feet on the floor.
Those you are called to, refuse to ignore.

Wake up, oh sleeper, arise from the dead.
Wake up. You’re the answer. Get out of your bed.