I AM In Hell

I'm in Hell.

And I have been in Hell for some time.

The word Hell may conjure up images of dancing fire and smoldering lava, but there's another kind of Hell, one which is invisible to all but the one who is in it.

I have cried out many times for help, yet no one seems to listen.

Because, despite my many cries, I am still here, left in the ashes of my unfulfilled hope.

If I were able to express the grief in my Soul over my private Hell, the flood of tears would extinguish any remaining flames.

But I have run out of tears.

My voice has been smothered and reduced to silence, even though I have so much I would like to say, so many unspoken words and unheard sounds locked up in the silent chamber of suffering.

My Soul cries out, but the cries are nothing but stillborn children conceived in this Dark prison.

All I can hear is the oppressive sound of grief stricken silence, tormenting and vexing my Soul with its unheard voice.

Why?

I don't understand, is this a test, a school,  a training camp, a preparation for something better?

If so, then tell me, does an athlete prepare for a tournament by a strict regimen of exercise each day, or does he prepare to run the course by having his legs broken?

When his legs are broken, shall he run and win the first prize?

No, all that is left for him is time to heal, a time which restores him back to what he was.

Yet if he comes out of this process just as he was before his legs were broken, then what's the point?

Is there a point to meaningless suffering, is there a point to this Hell I am in?

Every day I cry out to Him who made me, daily I cherish a small hope that He will care and look upon me with pity in His heart.

I know one day He will show mercy, that is what I still believe.

But why this torment, why does He remain silent for such a long time, even to the point where my Soul ran out of tears and lies down in silent agony?

Even the little I had has been taken away from me.

The moments when the Light breaks through the clouds have become scarce, and I have to be content with a dish of tears served in complete and utter Darkness.

I have become as one who has been placed on Earth under a dome of glass.

I can see the good things life can offer from within the invisible dome, yet I cannot partake of it.

My eyes yearn to feed my Soul with a few morsels of the Good, but I have to witness how those who hate the Creator of Good devour it all like scrounging pigs in a trough.

All that is left for me is the empty longing for something I cannot have.

How I curse the day I was born!

Why did I come into this world?

Just to be a prisoner within this suffocating dome of unbreakable glass?

Have I sinned in Heaven and am I given the sentence of my existence on this wretched Earth where Evil thrives and Good suffers?

I have thanked my Heavenly Father for the Good, I have endured Evil to the best of my abilities, but when the Darkness does not lift and all I can see is the relentless presence of Evil in my Life, what am I to do but cry because of the pain?

I have become an object of scorn, even my own family turned into strangers looking at me with dismay.

"Is that the reward of the righteous, does the Creator punish the innocent?"

As if my pain is not enough I can feel the sting of their silent unspoken words.

I have to endure humiliation at the hands of those less skilled, making fun of my plight.

They have no regard for their Maker, and their words are but empty vessels devoid of understanding, a mockery of existence itself.

How my Soul yearns to discern some Light in them, how my Soul is vexed when all I see is Darkness, everywhere, all around me.

They are without Light, yet suffer no pain because of the Darkness, no, they love the Darkness, they are the Darkness.

And yet, whereas I see their folly, I am the one who has to suffer their correction though I am right.

Whereas I walk with honor and dignity, holding fast to the promise of the Light, I have to suffer mockery and contempt at the merciless hands of those who are deceived by their love for Darkness.

How long am I required to carry this weight around?

Why is He silent when I offer Him my everything and ask Him to be restored that I might proclaim His Name in a world which does not want to know Him?

Why is my love unrequited, why do my trust  and faith return to me like hollow echoes?

I do not understand the silence.

I pray, I shout,  yet even though I am in great distress and my Soul has become the ball in the playground of Demons, nothing but silence answers the cries of my Soul.

I trusted You, I believed in You, I cling to You because I love You, and how great the pain is when You appear to be unmoved in the face of the great turmoil in my Soul.

Vexations are my daily bread and bitter tears fill my cup until it spills over.

Where are You, my Creator, why don't You speak to me?

Is it because You will not forgive the Sins of my past, is it because You are angry with me, why?

Why do You leave me guessing and give me no answer?

You know that I love You with all my heart and all my Soul, and I don't understand Your silence...

Oh, that You would consider my plight and my solitary confinement in this place of torment which wraps my Soul in Darkness!

Why have You given me over to those who despise and hate me, why have You cut me off from all the Good things on this Earth and given me the bread of affliction?

And yet, though I cry out in pain, there are days when my weight feels like the burden of a stranger, when my tears seem to roll down the face of another, when the burden of my Life seems to rest on someone else's shoulders.

Though these days are scarce, they tell me the story from a different perspective, one of Light, one of encouragement, one of Hope.

In those moments when Darkness still seeks to wrap its tentacles around my Soul and I still remain a prisoner, my Soul can shut its eyes to this dungeon and dream for just a short while a dream of freedom, a dream of happiness.

But then the Shadows return and crudely interrupt even these scarce few moments that my Soul could dream, and I have to watch the world once again from my prison, the invisible dome which turns me into a spectacle for the entertainment of the Shadow Spirits.

No one can see it, no one is aware of it but for me, the prisoner.

The Demons hemmed me in on every side, and my Adversary smiles as I am thrown at his mercy.

And I can tell you firsthand that there is no true mercy in his heart whatsoever.

I have lived in the prison he created for the longest time, suffering at the hands of his tormentors, and I have come to know the true character of my Adversary only too well.

When shall my Liberation come, when shall my Deliverer set me free?

I suffer the torment my Adversary subjects me to, and pain has become a familiar companion on this Dark road.

Sometimes I think of how easy it would be for me to end this relentless misery by changing my mind and agree with my Adversary.

All that is required of me is to give in to the Darkness, say 'Yes' to the tormentors and abandon my great Love.

Suddenly the dome would be lifted up and the world would be at my feet...

But how could I?

How could I turn away from my own heart and the One to Whom it belongs?

How could I walk away from my one True Love?

How could I trade in my dome on Earth for a dome in Heaven?

I know all too well that this is why my Adversary torments me and heaps weight upon weight upon my weary Soul.

It is his desire to break me and build me up in his own image that I might become the trophy he can flaunt in the face of my Elohim.

He eagerly seeks to destroy my love for my Father in Heaven so that he might take His place and be my master.

I would become the physical embodiment of his victory over YHWH.

Yet he does not seem to know that I have surrendered my all to the One I love, and it is His strength the Adversary puts to the test, an endless strength which cannot be broken because He is endless and unbreakable.

It's just a passing thought, knowing all too well I could never change my mind, because I can never change my heart.

For my heart belongs to Him, my Father.

They ask, who in his right mind would love a Creator Who turns a deaf ear to the cries of His own when they are in pain?

Many would have abandoned Him, and they urge me to forsake Him just as they would have done.

Yes, there are times when even my own feelings try to push my Soul away from Him.

But then again, who indeed in his RIGHT mind would forsake His own father?

How could I turn away from Him?

I can't, I won't.

I love Him, I trust Him, even though I am a fool in the eyes of strangers for trusting Someone whose ears seem deaf to my cries.

But He has shown me His smiling face, He has given me His loving heart, He has guided me with the light of His wisdom and filled my heart with understanding of the things He hid from those who hate Him, and how could anyone in a truly right mind and a right heart forget that?

Perhaps the others never have seen that face, maybe they looked away when He desired to show them His heart, but I have not.

And so I suffer, and I cry, wondering why my name has been written upon this miserable Earth as a absurd monument to suffering.

Even among those who profess His name many have turned against me.

I have become the object of their scorn and ridicule.

When I speak up to defend the Name of My Salvation and I proclaim the purity of His being, they invariably turn against me, chosing sides with those who drag the Name through the mud of their polluted minds.

I have to suffer their insults, their animosity, and I see in their eyes the great divide, one which one day will lead them to persecute my own for the sake of the Name of my Salvation.

In their mouths the Name of my Salvation becomes a dagger of iniquity, for their hearts are turned against the One I love.

They use the Name to validate a strange law working through their Souls, a law which did not come from Him I love.

Their words, spoken in the name of Love, Life and Truth, become smothering cloths wrapped around the Lie bringing Death and Hatred.

Yet in their eyes I have become the hater, I have become the lover of Death, even though I speak out of the true Love of my Father, even though tell them the Truth of His Salvation gives me Life.

When I testify of the Truth, they condemn me, because they love the Lie.

They cannot endure Truth, for their hearts are set against YHWH's Salvation and those who abide in it.

When the season comes for this world to enter the darkest of nights, my brothers, my sisters, my mothers and my fathers shall be fodder for the Darkness in those who will claim to act out of love and their belief in their god and savior.

They will come to share in the legacy of an impossible life, watching life go by as they are turned into objects of scorn and ridicule shunned by many.

The lovers of Darkness will call my Adversary 'God' and 'Mighty Savior', isolating the few who are left that still worship the real Elohim, YHWH, and His real Salvation, Yahshua.

Here I am, seeing my plight this day while witnessing a foreshadowing of the greatest plight of my own in days to come.

I am given to see across the seasons of this world the suffering which the lovers of Darkness will bring to the lovers of Light.

My heart sinks deep within me when I observe the unbearable burden of this vision across time.

My sadness, born from the weight of my own plight, becomes overwhelming upon seeing the suffering of those who are destined to venture through the darkest of all nights.

They shall be abused, ridiculed, persecuted and even killed by those who made the Darkness their haven and the Fallen One their God.

The lovers of the Lie shall rule in the darkest of nights, yet my Elohim shall keep a remnant for Himself who will refuse to bow their knees to the shrine of the Lie.

Isn't this the way it has always been since the first man placed himself and his offspring under the dominion of the Fallen Ones?

The Lie waxes and devours everything standing in its way, rewarding those who serve the Lie while the ones who dare to reject the Master of Lies are given a diet of tears.

The only hope they have is the protection of our Father in Heaven.
Yet when He is silent and the Darkness makes itself felt into their lives, what else is there to do but to sit in the dust in silent agony?

Our grief is like the dry soil carved up by a multitude of cracks and crevices, unable to bring forth water from its eyes that it might restore itself.

It can only wait for the rain to come.

I wish I had died at birth, that my eye would not have seen the misery of a Life awaiting me, no, I wish I had not seen the night coming upon the face of this world!

How could I voice His thunder when my sound is silenced by the relentless assaults of unseen Shadows?
How am I, so little and so small, to make the big sound of Your thunder?
Still, I know that it is YOUR sound YOU make, and I am but the mere incapable vessel in YOUR capable hands.
It is YOU Who makes the incapable capable, the unqualified qualified, the weak strong, the stammerers eloquent.
I know I should focus my eyes more on YOU, but the distraction of my pain often seems so powerful.

Here I am, watching Life go by, just as as it will be denied to those who shall venture through the nights to come.

We have a right to live, a right to a place of our own, so why am I being denied even that, why are we forced into an impossible straightjacket of lies in order to have a Life upon this Earth?

As if we have no right to be here, and no place is given unto us.

My tears are not just for me, but for all those who share in my plight.

For I see their pains, their suffering, I feel their torture, yes, I have to watch the cruel mercy of my Adversary snatching them away as if they are garbage littering his road of the Lie.

He pierces them with the sword, cuts off their heads with the axe, throws them into the fire and drowns them in the Dark Well.

He turns them into jesters born to entertain their tormentors with their suffering.

He even takes the One to Whom my heart belongs and nails Him on a tree, though no Evil passed his lips, no injustice was given form by His hands, yes, even within His deepest thoughts no Darkness was found.

Yet he takes the Shepherd and slaughters His lambs over and over again, until the darkest night will have passed away.

In the eyes of our Adversary I have no right to be here, nor do any of those who will come after me in whose hearts the love of our Father lives.

If he cannot kill us, he forces us to live under the isolating dome within this short fading dream, where all we can do is watch life go by.

What is there to do for me but to look at Life from the window of my tower under the dome, isolated, watching others enjoy the Life I could have had, observing the many generations of my own and that one last generation across the landscape of time itself.

As I am imprisoned within this tower under the dome, they shall become prisoners of solitude and isolation, they shall sit inside their prisons awaiting Death.

For they shall find no home in the empire of the wicked.

My name has been written in the dust only to remembered for the misery ascribed to it, and my heart cries for those who shall inherit a life like mine, those who shall venture through the insane inferno.

Yet He knows my name, because it is He who wrote it in the dust of the Earth.

And that is why I trust, despite the lies of the Life given to me, that is why I love, in spite of the deception of my circumstances, and that is why I believe, because I know He cannot lie.

I am given the name which shall be shunned by many, for I am Job.

Yet though the name abhors my Soul for the misery ascribed to it, I cherish it nevertheless, because He gave it to me. 

For even in my Hell of misery, even when my own feelings are forged into weapons used against me and create delusions wrapping my Soul in Darkness, I know that I AM is near, and He shall vindicate me against my Adversary.

He is my Deliverer, HE IS, I AM, even in Hell.