by Jeffrey Snell
I was so tired. Alone on the sofa downstairs, damp dusk outside, noises of a house filled with life above and around me, I felt lifeless. My heart crackled with a lament of exhaustion and dull pain as He asked the question. Staring through my tears, my thoughts rushed backward to so many days�.
Traveling through intersections toward home, sin's allure echoing in my mind, I fought the hundredth battle of the week. God's enemies always attacked with a hybrid strategy of siege, invasion and bold aggression. Proven effective time and again, groundwork laid long before began to pay off for them. The distant power of His word, like trickling water over layers of caked mud, was insufficient. Sipping at the poison through my eyes, my mind strode down the familiar path. Shouting from somewhere, one I used to hear lay just beyond audibility, a familiar voice. A shadow of warning, pleading and authority. Something important�but the conflict intensified, and I decided the voice was a distraction I could not afford. I had to concentrate and fight against the seductive betrayer. And though in my heart I knew my weapons were straw and plastic, I attempted to defend myself with pride, the voice fading with a sob and a word as I stepped forward: "son...."
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