The hard days: Waking to the realisation you are caged

This entry is part 3 of 5 in the series The Journey Series

There is a tug on my shirt as a bag brushes against my back. I get a little shove as another person pushes past me racing to catch the train. My legs are weary from the daily hustle. I feel the gushing winds going down the escalator in my everyday game of chasing the train. I am tired, but what else can I do? The bliss of ignorance is no match for the pain of realisation—the hard days.

I got to the office, and on seeing my colleagues, my skin crawled, but I managed a smile. The workplace soirée is a cruel mistress; you play her games or find yourself on her platter. This was the beginning of my daily torture session as I felt in my bones how out place I was in this theatre.

Why do I do this to myself?

This is what life is, right? There was no other place to go.

I either go along with the crowd or find myself shunned and miserable—sell my soul to enjoy the comforts of the cage.

The hard days of realising your world is a cage

I thought about the world outside this cage and the things that mattered. What is the point of chasing dreams of money and ambition? Wasn’t this programmed into each of us, churned out of the womb, funneled through the system, and spat out to die when our batteries ran flat?

On the other hand, what else?

I thought about what else I could be a part of. The other things on offer were not so palatable, but the cult of the need to belong is a powerful master. I thought of one of the multitudes of communities: the couch potato, the gamer, the sporting enthusiast, the fornicator, the churchgoer, the atheist, the pub and club junky, the outcast, the esoteric and the dark arts, private groups or exclusive clubs, or even the rebellious. 

You name it, and there was a silo readymade and commercialised for me to enter.

Perhaps I could mix a few for an exotic drink and call it an alternative lifestyle. I elicit a chuckle. Nonetheless, these were all religions leaving you still feeling empty even after the cleverly cloaked false motivational testimonies and the paying of fees.

A goldfish bowl of a world.

Goldfish bowl

The grind of walking this path is constant. I am hated by the prisoner who acts unknowingly as the guard for his own cell. This guy commits suicide with vitriol and fury, fighting for a kingdom carefully crafted to ensnare him. He dies an eternal death with the bravado of a superhero while his entourage cheers him on.

I now understood that the blindfold plastered over the whole world’s eyes was a serious thing. I suffered now at the hands of the blind. Still, the suffering in store for them was not merely staring at eternity head-on but knowing there was no way back and the opportunity had passed. They know that they fought against the glory of God, and the wine of his wrath will be poured out in full.

The creator only wants white linens—only righteousness, but looking at myself, I can see only filth. I was in a daily battle with the adversary in my thoughts. The more wisdom I was given, the more foolish I felt. How do I pick myself up, knowing I was a fool all my life? I knew the end of days would not be slowed for me, but I felt overwhelmed and inadequate.

I hope there is a plan for me; otherwise, I am royally up the creek without a paddle. I know there is, but it requires me to move and commit.

I am frustrated to see so much, and I thank God for peeling my eyes open. The same fate as the blind leading the blind, ending up in the ditch, awaited me. Such a blessing to know the truth and what an ordeal the world puts you through when you walk it every minute of the day.

Painstaking, to say the least!

The bliss of ignorance has long passed, and the brutal reality of this existence has smacked me square in the face. Now the requirements of God and his insistence on total trust are taking their toll. I know he values me and knows what I need, but knowing and living are different.

He demands living knowledge.

I must change my life in line with what he imparts. I wondered if I doubted but still walked if that counted. Maybe if I walk long enough, the doubt will fade away. Only time will tell.

I can feel the smack of realisation, knowing this is the real deal. When even the crazy think you are insane, then you know that you are in deep. In retrospect, hearing the rhetoric of faith, trust, and obedience and now having to do it proves very difficult. My unlawful—sinful thoughts take hold of my life and try to strangle me as I wrestle. I cannot give up, not now!

Each time I am about to drown, a hand pulls me out of the water and reminds me what is at stake.

Oh God, how will I make it through?

I am not good enough for you and know too much for this world.

The hard days.

Series NavigationThe Journey II: Trembling revelations echoing in the soulPowerful: Negro persecution and the shame of society
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