The Funeral Barge

I protest by your rejoicing which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die daily.
~I Cor 15:31 KJV

I'm on a journey following that road that's less traveled. I had to get off the well traveled, wide road, it was just getting too crowded. Don't get me wrong I really liked that wide path. There were many lanes and only occasionally did you have that hesitant traveler that slowed the lane down. They would usually find themselves on the other end of some very foul words and hand gesture; the finger you don't use in
church when you're excusing yourself in the middle of a boring service.

I've reached this dark and gloomy ocean. Maybe it's the Dead Sea nothing seems to be living or able to live in these waters. As I stand at the shore not sure which way to go or how to continue on my journey, I notice a sign to my right that read, "The Sea of Forgetfulness," and to my left a giant funeral barge with the words "The Flesh," scrawled crudely in bright red paint. I looked down at the large bag I had been carrying since my journey began. It's a large, heavy bag and it has slowed me down and- most days weighed me down. I knew at that moment what the funeral barge was for. Who the funeral barge was for.

Slowly I walk to the funeral barge every step monitored and rehearsed like a bride on her wedding day. As I reach the barge I open the bag. The first thing I pull out of this bag is Self-Righteousness, it is brown and hard and looks similar to a uprooted dead tree. It has skinny crooked limbs and roots that favored tentacles, attached to these tentacles are many smaller but just as vicious creatures. There is Criticism, Judgment, Gossiping, Backbiting, Slander, Righteous-Indignation, Dishonor and Manipulation. I grabbed Self-Righteousness by the throat and held it at arms length. What a strange choice of weapon to use when all I wanted is to be loved. I threw that nasty little piece of poison on the barge with all it's cohorts.

Next out of the bag comes a large dreary Cloak of Pretense, it's faded black exterior is worn and dirty and has turned a cloudy gray, it's interior is dingy,thick and brown; covered with the lice of secrets and fears. I've gotten plenty of wear out of that old thing, I am always pretending. Pretending not to be lonely, hurt, sad, angry, bitter, unforgiving, confused, scared, self-centered, inpatient and egotistic. Those things just doesn't fit in my image, they're messy and reek of sin. I couldn't wait to throw that smelly old thing on board. Love will cover me on this journey.

Next came my running shoes. They're a worn raggedy pair of Nike Cortez Classic exactly like the pair Jenny gave Forrest Gump. Forrest Gump's are in better shaped than mine, he ran for three years, I ran for thirty. It was easier to run then be rejected. So I ran from everything and everybody, I ran from commitment, relationship, responsibility, accountability. I ran from God, his call to me, his love for me. Running help me to hide the fact that I'm mostly selfish and afraid. I ran and I ran. If anyone tried to pursue me I hid. I hid behind the rocks of offense, self-defense, depression, despondency, arrogance and spiritual pride. I hid my broken, seeking, wounded heart. I pulled those rocks out of the bag and threw them on the barge along with the shoes.

The last thing in the bag was a fuzzy brown pet mouse I named Timidity. She was cowering in the corner and shaking. I looked at her little beady brown eyes and whispered softly to her "You know it's time to go, don't you?" As I lifted her from the corner of the bag, I noticed five little hairless pink babies, the first she named Fear of Man, the second, Praise of Man, the third, Disobedience, the fourth, Passivity, the fifth, Compromise. I threw them on the barge one at a time.

I don't know what David meant when he said he "Walk through the valley of the shadow of death." Maybe he was referring to the enemy without, I struggle mostly with the enemy within.

I watch as the Funeral barge sail slowing into the dark and murky water. I hear a still small voice whisper the words.

"It is finished".

Fearless