Musing

He was faced with a bitter choice; fight, fly, or freeze. He couldn't fly, and he didn't freeze. And men of God condemned him for his choice.
Is he so low that he should allow himself to be battered? Is God's shepherd so high that he may declare such violence as God's will?
No one else makes such a declamation. They understand.
He cries:
Lord, why can't Your people understand? I want to be in your house. I want to feel Christian love. But every time I try, all I hear are that minister's damning words. And I wonder if any shepherd could ever see me as anything but an animal you must not corner. A beast, a demon, a bomb.
This man just wants to go his way. Maybe be loved, be held by a sweet someone who doesn't mind his pain, his scars. He doesn't wish for wealth or fame. He just wants to live, to love, and have someone who views him the same.
He's tired of viewing others suspiciously. He is tired of wondering if they will force him to choose to fight, fly, or freeze.
He just wants a place he can worship and a woman he can trust. He's buried his heart so deep, and no one wants to dig it up. And that truth is killing him.
Where are the Christians for him?
Not knocking on his door. Not inviting him to come to church with them. He won't come to any general invitation. Life has wounded him to the point he must be coaxed, like a wounded animal, gently, slowly. And like a wounded hawk loves and is loyal to his healer, so will he be. Who will reach him, Christian? Or will he be lost to the void?