“My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name”

This prison has been weird for me. In a good sense… and a bad one as well. Good in the sense that I’ve gotten my feet on the ground. Now a fellow prison chaperon. Bad in the sense that the walls of this prison have somehow shut out the light of Elyon. I began to feel him less and less and when you feel him less you tend to behave as though he isn’t there… and more often than not, you forget who you are, and whose you are.

“When darkness seems to hide “His” face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor rest withing the veil”

What happens when you forget? You begin to “do you”. That’s what I’ve been doing for a while in this prison. Not because I just wanted to rebel, but because the light was not visible. It get’s dark in this prison. I’m not refering to the scary kind of dark, rather it’s the comfortable kind of dark. Because the scary kind of dark will make you scamper for the light. But this one makes you recline. It even gives you an artificial light, such that the need for the real light wanes on you.

“His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.”

It feels like a flood. The waves of illuminating darkness, that give you a semblance of vision without the substance. Then you feel empty, drained, washed. You begin to search for the light but every attempt to find a crack in this wall is futile, you turn left, you turn right. Confussion sets in. You run to the seeming crack in the wall, only to realise it’s just the “dark light”.
Every iorta of light turns out to be a hoax. Pulling you deeper into the guilt that is the comfort of your present predicament. And after being battered, with the comfort of this darkness, you accept it… and embrace it…

“When He shall come with trumpet sound
Oh may I then in Him be found
Dressed in His righteousness alone
Faultless to stand before the throne”

He loves being dramatic. He loves it…

Suddenly a light shows up in the corner of my eye, I get up and begin to run to it, not because I’m in a terrible place, but because I know this darkness is not my home. And for once as I run to the light, it’s actually getting closer… and brighter. Every step gives me reassurance, because I feel at home more and more, closer and closer. I remember mummy’s tongue talking prayer sessions, the numerous family devotion sessions, pastor sunny, my own messages back in school, and I hear His voice… it’s saying, “Just keep coming”. I try to apologise, He shuts me up. All the while I’m still running, closer to the bright light. I try to apologise again, He shuts me up again. He’ll have none of it, He just wants me to keep running. Soon enough I get to the light source. It’s a window. I’m still in this prison. He’ll have me stay here for a while. But He’ll give me a window. With light that illuminates the whole prison. The prison shines like never before, and the “comfortable darkness” is ever so distant. I hold on to the window bars, in tears, and sweat, gasping for air and worshiping his majesty. His blinding majesty. This is the window of worship. The window that brings the battered child home. I’ll stay at this window. This is Home.

“Christ the Lord,
Weak made strong,
In’d saviour’s love
Through the storm
He is lord,
Lord of All.”

*** The song here is a remix of the popular hymn. This version is by Hillsong worship team australia. This was the vehicle that brought me to the window. Here is a youtube link. Enjoy.***