The night is cold and dark,
A wisp of cloud shrouds the moon
A man sits, and shivers in the cold
His thoughts racing, dark and looming
Fear
Why such fear? He cannot say, but knows it senseless, yet real
Such twisted thoughts, anguish, terror, despair
Fill his mind
He stands – flight he seeks, but finds it impossible
His mind sits, and scorns his attempts, and bids him yield
Despair
Intense stretching and pulling, pressure mounts
How to grapple with the Unseen? He frantically thinks,
Dreading the impending madness
He cries with his very soul –
“God, help me!”
Silence
He wonders if God has abandoned him to his pain
His feelings agree
But his knowledge tells him this is not so
He remembers the promises of peace, and again he cries
“O God, You promised peace to your children.
Why then do I feel so weak?”
Then, a still small voice says
“Peace, be still.” The storm ceases and
Calm
But he goes on, and in mere moments
The storm rages again within
Crashing, fears, explosions of anguish
Mental torment wrecking havoc
Again the man cries, “Why, Lord? Why the pain?
You gave me peace, and so soon it is quelled
What am I to think? The Almighty is not weak, is He?”
Again the still small voice gently murmurs,
“O you of little faith, if you only have faith as small as a mustard seed,
You shall move mountains. Trust my Word; forsake your unbelief.
This storm is ever near, and you can always bring it back – the choice is yours.
You must choose to look at me or at the storm. Now trust in Me,
And peace be still.” The night is calm,
The stars shine in the crisp night air.
The man is calm; the madness held at bay.
He sighs slowly, relieved
Peace
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