Out of the Hands of Self Betrayal

"When are you calling it over, this addition?

The flight is real, the crave is real, the heart is real, the fight, freeze, or flight is real, the chemicals are real, the draw is real.

Promises are near, hope is near, your will and courage are near, steps are near, finish lines are near. Disappointments, setbacks, anger, and inner rage—all of this is in your powerful hands of hurt.

To those who find the way out, it's real. Those who dare to take every thought captive to the maker so he can begin to change the flight path, that's real.

To those who overcome, surrender completely dead bolt to the water in order to find blessing in the waiting, that is real.

To overcome in the hands of the father of his blessings is real. Turning pages as a race for perfection in the mirror of adversity, the pure in heart will see.

Although the passion of the pursuit, day in and day out, to mark another sunrise as a win for sobriety is real. To overcome the turning wheel of regret, guilt, is something that we teach ourselves to only win by saying no to the drug of codependence, as a repetition of a first thought, is real.

Our feelings are one of self-betrayal to the purpose that we are to be royal to, feeling let down to those who give grace and hand us back our statehood, to disappoint, mainly our pride. And this mystical idea that we thought we could have down by now, control over this, addiction, this remorse, these flashbacks that we can't brush off, with the ugly picture that is quickly painting before us.

Timeless periods of recognition of our mistakes, in a group supposed to connect with ideas that we are not alone, only to be hunted down like animals at night and scoped out in caves we create.

So, again, at the altar of brokenness, as the choir sings, still here at the front, realizing that our betrayal is our own worst enemy.

But now, once everything is said and done, tears, anger, words said, we need to make this inner hand movement. Forgiveness is the first step, but not the last, not towards anyone else yet, but forgiveness towards our ideal that we measure by.

Looking forward, seeing still messed up, with cross-stained eyes, now this time, no marks, no identifying out strokes are permanent, we make when we choose to change, releasing we are not done with our maker. When he says come and follow me, it's an invitation to be sanctified bit by bit, realizing if the action is quitted in our guilty betrayal, that is only the start to an everlasting freeing approach on a God who wants you.

Fresh air now flowing, to breathe, no unrealistic idols before us, just to. Go. Deeper with Him.

Not. Alone.

Not alone."