Sunday Christian

The beat is intense. Every strike of the drum makes your heart quicken. soon your blood is flying through your veins. Everything speeds up, your breath, your reactions, your vision is sharper, you're truly ready for anything.
Then suddenly... the drum stops, you blood freezes in your veins, and a dagger is stabbed deep into your heart... by your own hand.

This shocks, maybe even horrifies you to read, or maybe you're numb to it, I don't know.
But what I know is that I've done this, and maybe you have too. See, this is the Sunday Christian. Sunday they are fired up, ready to take on the world, but the alarm beeps on Monday morning and they're once again dead. They kill themselves spiritually. I know because I've been one of those, in fact... I was this this Sunday, except I didn't even make it past LUNCH! I killed myself quickly after... why? I'm not entirely sure, but I know it had to do with the fact that My Sunday image and my weekday image don't match up.

Now that I've realized this... I'm just going to keep doing it.

Wait, does that sound right? Oh, I've realized I keep taking the wrong medicine and am putting myself at great risk, so I'm just going to keep doing it. Oh, I just realized I'm on the edge of a deadly cliff, so I'm just going to keep walking. Oh, that round in the gun was a blank, I'm going to pull the trigger again.

Yes, I'm being sarcastic, in a attempt to make my POINT CLEAR!
I'm not going to continue killing myself weekly, I'm either going to always be dead of be completely alive. For you Sunday Christians that read this... what's your choice?
God Bless,

Battle Field

Breathing heavy... my body aches and cries for relief. The many wounds across my body... my legs begging to not have to hold my weight. My strength is failing... but I most continue. I cannot fall, I will not fail. I must fight as though the lives of a thousand souls rest in my hands, or the fate of the entire world might hinge on this final battle. The cries of this battle surround me, the grunts, the screams, the last dying-gasp. The field is awash with blood, I am covered in it. Will I fall here?

I see a brother fall, the dark ones surround him, laughing, poking, mocking him. Rage fills my entire being, I will not allow him to stand alone. I charge among the dark beings, and stand over my fallen brother, my battle cry roars a challenge to those who would dare to strike him down again.

Not far away another one falls, but his life has ended. The entire battle field is shaken, a massive light surrounds the one that fell. He's sacrifice helps to push them back, but I feel as though the battle might be lost today. Then I remember, I don't fight alone. I kneel beside my still fallen brother and scream out with my entire being "Father, deliver us! or give us the strength to fight! But to your glory be all!" Silence covers the field, as the Spirit of the Almighty comes onto the field, and the dark ones throw themselves before him in complete terror. I and my brothers and sisters fall too, but in awe and reverence. The dark ones flee at His glance, they know He is the master, they know they lost the war, and now they know they lost this battle. I present my sword to Him, but He fades. He has not left us alone, but we battle by faith and not by sight. We battle because we know the truth, because it is worth fighting for!
I pull my brother to his feet, and shove the sword into his hand. "Come on, we can rest when time has no meaning or if the master calls us home."