I SAT ALONE in my room, contemplating what lay in the chest. I knew it was merely a symbol of what lay within. Of what I was not. The night terrors had returned, but they hadn’t taken hold. I would awaken to see a flicker of fire at my window. A dark figure would rush past, extinguishing the fire. Shadows of who I had been surrounded who I was.
I cried out to Jesus, rebuking that which surrounded me. I belong to him, to my Savior! But I had to let go…let go of who I had been and embrace who I was now. I had to face that which I feared most…that which had led to countless nightmares. The darkness of who I was and who I almost became.
“I’m ready,” I said, glancing out the window. Thunder and lightning raged, angrily breaking the silence. The power had been out for some time, and all had vanished. Save for God, I was alone. Attaching my flashlight to my belt, I reached for my Bible and held it tightly to my chest. The Word of God would be near my heart, both figuratively and literally; it was my truest weapon, the one that would not fail me.
I stood up from my chair and turned to the door. A shadow stood just before me, as if to block me from exiting the room.
“You have no power over me,” I said. “I am in Jesus.” I walked through the shadow and opened the door. The lightning briefly illuminated the dark hall as it cracked against the sky. I pulled my flashlight from its holster and turned it on, setting it to a flooded beam. I stepped to the right, entering my bathroom slowly. There I lay my flashlight on the side of the sink, looking down as I turned the faucet. No water came out. I stood for several minutes, contemplating the situation, whatever that might be. The silence was broken by another burst of thunder, and I looked up into the following flash of lightning to see a sword raised behind me, ready to thrust into my back. I grabbed my flashlight and spun around.
There was nothing there. Just as quickly as it appeared, it had vanished, leaving behind only the sulfurous smell of my own terror. The armed figure had matched me in height and build, and the sword resembled the one in the chest in my room, but that was all I knew. Shaken, but far from discouraged, I moved out of the bathroom to my brother’s room, to the left, just before mine. In the far right corner, beside the window, I saw myself, chained to his computer desk. I had once had the chance to break free, but I had not taken it. There were many things I could have done, had I not been chained to a computer.
I said aloud, “Though the past remains unchanged, the future is yet to be molded.” As I finished those words, the chains fell from my other self, and he began to move toward me. I extended my hand, and he took it gently. We became one. It was but one piece of my past that I had to join with my present to mold the future.
I closed the door and went into the living room, where I saw myself frozen before a television, slowly being pulled into it, losing myself to video games. Each day that I spent dedicated to them, I lost more and more of who I was.
I said aloud, “For what may one do when all hope seems lost, when you feel that you are all alone? Open your eyes.” I extended my hand, and my other self looked at me. The hold on
my past fell away, and he took my hand. We merged.
I walked to the kitchen, where I saw myself fall into a pit of lust, as pornography had a strong grip on my heart. I watched as my other self struggled fiercely, climbing so close to the top only to fall once more. “What a shame,” I said aloud, “when love has been so fleeting. Open your heart.” I extended my hand, and my other self emerged from the pit and walked to me. Taking my hand gently, he merged with me.
I moved to stand before the edge of the kitchen, next to the utility room. I stared down that dark hallway, my flashlight unable to light it sufficiently. My gaze fixed on my mother’s room. I trembled in fear as screams of pain and hatred bellowed from the darkness, as well as weeping, like that morning that I had found my mother in bed, her breathing erratic, her eyes wild, and I had thought nothing of it. I paused, frozen in pain and terror as the memories surrounded me. I clutched my Bible tightly.
I set my flashlight on the counter. “Let the Lord be my light,” I said as I stepped toward the hall. The darkness faded as I drew near, for I was with the Lord. But it had not always been so. The screams and crying grew louder the nearer I drew. Nevertheless, I pushed on. The Lord was guiding me.
I stood in the doorway, and, just as before, there lay my mother. Her breathing had ceased; her soul had left her body. I saw myself standing to her left and to the right. One version of me wore a black trench coat, a black dress shirt, and black pants. A sword was strapped to his waist. He was Hatred. The other wore a black BDU shirt and pants, and a black tactical vest, with an M4 slung on his shoulder. He was Rage.
Both of my selves stared at me, saying in unison, “She is dead because of you. Your hatred and rage led to this.”
“Your cold heart could not give her the love she deserved,” Hatred said in a cruel voice. “Your anger lashed out at her,” Rage said in a booming voice.
I watched them both silently. I remembered those feelings, those very thoughts. However, they no longer had any hold on me.
“The death of her body was painless and peaceful,” I said as I approached Hatred. “And the life of her spirit is eternal and joyful.” Hatred vanished at those words.
I placed my hand on my mother’s shoulder and looked over at Rage. “We often lash out at the ones we love the most, but through love, all is forgiven.” Rage vanished.
I knelt down and embraced my mother gently, and she, too, began to vanish. Her voice whispered to me, “I await you.”
I stood slowly then left the room and stood before the entrance to the porch. An angel appeared behind me. “You have faced your past. Now you must face yourself,” he said. “Carry with you only the Word of God, for that is all that you need.” The angel walked away, and I returned to my room. I held the Bible tightly, pausing for a moment. I would face my dark side, with only the Word of God as my sword and armor.
“Your faith will protect you,” a gentle voice said to me as I opened the door. My gaze fixed on the chest, the one in the far corner.
“Come!” a sinister voice beckoned to me. Through faith, I walked to the chest with confidence, kneeling to turn the key and remove the lock. The lock fell to the ground. I awaited…something…but there was only silence. The mood became still. I stood. Suddenly, the lid of the chest flew open, and Hatred and Rage arose from inside to pull me in. They took tight hold of me and began to pull me into the darkness with them.
In defiance, I cried out, “My Lord, remove this evil from me! Separate me from the man I was, for I am your servant now. Love dwells within my heart. Compassion rules my soul. May Hatred and Rage consume me no more!” With that defiant cry, I reached through Hatred and Rage and slammed the lid of the chest shut.
Light returned, and I was no longer alone. Hope stood beside me, encouraging me as she
had always done. Even though I could not always see her, she had been beside me the entire time. The chest was locked now. Thank you, my Lord, for guiding me…The room shifted as I revisited the burial…when I buried Hatred and Rage.
The Burial