More than 2 weeks without solid food in my intestinal circuitry. I’ve long forgotten the taste or desire for food. Just me and Jesus right? Though my mental clarity is heightened, this skin rash is becoming a nuisance. Apparently it’s my body pushing out dormant toxins rapidly through the form of a rash. It’s progressed all over my over my upper body and progressing slowly ever still to the other extremities. Flex my upper-right back and I’m slammed with excruciating pain. I can’t maintain a good night’s sleep anymore and the urge to resist scratching causes my body to feel needles pricking at the surface my skin, when I do give in the burn becomes more unbearable. I’ve included juice into my diet now in hopes that it’ll speed up my recovery and still maintain a liquid-only fast (albeit without my original restrictions). Was I too ambitious? or is this when I need to lean on God the most? One thing’s for sure, I’m not undertaking this kind of fast again as it’s become more of a distraction of my vertical and horizontal relationship with Him.
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Cut Portraits by Lucas Simões
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If I exert above average physical effort I am winded, I become numb in my extremities. My head is light and I can feel my blood struggling to course its way through my body. My movements continues to be slow and calculated, but not as deliberate as the first two days. I rarely look towards the ‘notw LOVE’ band, but I can feel it wrapped loosely on my wrist. Time has slowed. I see flashes of white in the corner of my eye throughout the day. Sit too long and I can’t feel my toes…is this what a diabetic feels?
The smell of food being cooked piques my hunger only briefly as I am quick to remind myself of my promise to Him. ‘Man doesn’t live on bread alone’ I’d remind myself…’me and Jesus, me and Jesus’ the mantra goes. It’s a wonder I can put my thoughts onto this digital paper with the recent trouble I have with everyday conversation. This self-induced fatigue leaves me only enough energy to perform daily tasks, but it must be Him who propels me to do more. I pray that He fills my growing fleshly void with Himself to keep me filled.
I feel better than the last time I did this… losing about a pound a day.
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Daniel Johnston’s heart… now mine.
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1 Corinthians 15:47
“The first man was of earth, made of dust; the second Man is the Lord from heaven.”To a Christian, this flesh of ours is like dust delicately covering our invisible, spiritual bodies. Conversely, to an agnostic (or more), the idea of God is invisible and obtrusive only morally to his or her paradigm. Our views of flesh or God are much like like dust in the hands of the beholder; one we clench tightly and the other much less. Both sift through - unnoticed in the clenched fists - until either idea bears any weight at all. Carelessness leads to our indifference.
I reread some older posts. I declared to live life in the moment. I cringe at the sound of its campy, cliche verbiage and the fact that, much like the rest of man, I am fickle. I remain in limbo, treading against mud of past and present regrets. The more I dig, the more befuddled I am. The origin of why I am the way I am is unclear because I’d rather swallow this mud than clean it. At times I want this struggle to end and I ask Him to end me. ‘I can’t do it, so help me perish,’ I’d plead. If I am missed, it’ll only be temporary until, like dust, I am swept away. No answer yet. Guess I gotta honor life before I return to the ground.
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(Source: sarawrsays)
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Life is passing by without hesitation or consideration for my discontent. Its speed is like an arid wind whittling away at every thought and negativity grasps its parasite-like hooks onto my brain. My stubbornness and unwillingness to give into weakness is my undoing for I could be at peace only eternal slumber can bring. I stand a paradox, because of my weakness to things of this world. I can’t stand the rooms at FBCOC no longer. It’s air-conditioned rooms deprive me of the warmth I gladly basked in while in Taiwan… He’s breaking me until my spirit runs dry. It’s whittling away from the inside out ‘til I become hollow. I want to sweat again for Him. I want to bleed. I want to feel again.
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Eiffel’s View by Monica Alvarez.
