Her Struggle with the Black

The wind picks up. A grey dusk moves in. The haunting twilight creating monsters out of any object still standing in the abandoned desert. Blackness is inevitably coming. It has been awhile. But it’s been brewing and ever so steadily creeping its way in, not from one side but every direction she looks, the billowing banks of sinister clouds are rolling in.

Photo by Dimitar Donovski on Unsplash

There’s no where to run. No where to hide. As they get closer she can see faces, yet they are faceless. Eerie sounds reach her ears. At first she tries to fight. Tries to run. But then stumbles and collapses, face down, gasping on the ground. Even the air turns sultry and each breath burns her lungs. Suffocation is imminent. There isn’t really a point to run. To try to escape. It’s steadily creeping in. Invading her space. Claiming territory that was to be hers. The wind picks up, ripping at her clothes and hair, as if reminding her of the impending gloom and doom. Reminding her that she’s helpless and completely at the mercy of the storm. It’s bent on controlling her, on wreaking havoc, on destroying her, and it looks like it’ll be successful this time. She sits up against a tree, hugging her knees. Tears that once washed down her cheeks are now dried on, crusted over. There are no more tears. The energy once taken to feel and to hope has long since fled. Any remaining energy is expended on simply continuing the agonizing rise and fall of the lungs. Every burning gasp is a choice, a brutal choice. She is a survivor and a fighter. This is the only reason she still chooses to choke in the burning, sultry air. The only alternative isn’t an option. No. She’s started down that path before, but she’s no quitter. She won’t surrender without a bloody battle. This time she’s going to fight till her last feeble breath.

It may not be very long anymore. The darkness swirls viciously around her; threatening to encroach her very being.  Sand stings her eyes as it blasts through the thick air. Ghastly noises from the faceless monsters scream heinously, reminding her of sins and struggles. One faceless being; the most sinister of them all, moves in ever closer. He sneers at her worthlessness and woe.  He glowingly reports the list of her failures and weaknesses, for all to hear. She hangs her head despondently; she knows it’s true. It’s time. They’ve come for her. It’s time to let it all go. There’s no strength for a battle. No one to hear her anguished cry. It’s all black now, no hint of light to be seen. Silently she feels herself letting go. Surrender. It’ll soon be all over, the pain and the struggle.

Photo by Tammy Gann on Unsplash

Suddenly out of that sultry darkness, thick with shame and doubt, came a cry. “Stop! Back off! She’s mine.” A light pierced through the black. The wind died down and the faceless being that had been right up in her face uttered a guttural moan, and withered a little. Squirming uncomfortably, he took a few steps back and in a weak but still rather authoritative whine, “but she’s mine. I got to her first.” Even as he said it, his strength was fading. The light was blinding, he winced, and tried to shield himself from the unrelenting light.

The girl- she’s curled up in a fetal position against the tree- her head hung low, her arms wrapped tight in a self protecting hug. The voice spoke again- this time louder and much closer than before. “How dare you touch my girl. Leave. Now! Before I cast you into the eternal abyss of darkness and fire.”

Again, the evil creature uttered a weak moan and whined. “But she’s believing my lies. Doesn’t that give me some ownership?”

“No! She was mine first. She will always be mine. I paid for her soul with my life. You have nothing on me.” A sword flashed in the light. A shrill cry rang out. The monster, so confident just a moment ago, slunk away, disappearing into the darkness, growling and grumbling under his breath, his pride severely wounded. His helpers followed behind him, defeated and worn. “We’ll come back,” he mumbled. “And next time we must succeed.”

Back at the tree, the man returned his sword in his sheath and knelt down. Silently he reached out and lifted her face. His eyes were focusing in on her. She shuddered a little uncomfortably, feeling exposed and vulnerable. It felt like he was looking clear through her, seeing everything. His hands gracefully wiped the tears that were now free falling from her eyes. Suddenly her eyes opened wide. What? It was really Him? His hands that were so gently wiping her tears were pierced. He had come. For her. Faith filled her heart again. And courage. She was not alone. She never would be alone. Even in the faltering. Even when all hope was gone and it was darker than ever before. He came through. Even in the brokenness. He came. Healer. Restorer. Redeemer.

This entry was started years ago- up to the part where surrender to the darkness was happening. I couldn’t finish it at the time. I was caught in the struggle, and really didn’t have the faith or the courage to hope for a rescue. The spoiler for you today, is that a rescue did come. My Savior fought for me then, and continues to do so. If you find yourself caught in the middle of the dark and the battle in your season. Please do know that rescue is coming. Reach out. Don’t do it alone. Let others believe for you if you can’t believe for yourself. You can pull through- because Jesus fights for you.

2 thoughts on “Her Struggle with the Black

  1. Thanks for starting a blog! You are a very gifted writer. As I read this blog post I could feel and see the struggle you described – your descriptions are so vivid and moving. Keep up the good work!


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