The quiet chaos (part 1)

In the stillness of the morning, before the birds are awake, amidst the buzzing insects and gentle breeze, you can hear it.

It's a sound you're familiar with, always present and always changing, yet always uniquely identifiable.

The quiet chaos.

The inner struggle, the war of flesh against spirit, the battle that feels eternal and yet we know is temporal.

It's the sound of light versus dark.

Selfishness versus selflessness.

Worldly lust versus zealous obedience.

Life versus death.

You try and pretend that it's not from you.  It's the outside: the circumstances of life, the daily grind, the environment you're forced into.  It certainly isn't you.  But that sound isn't coming from outside.

So you try to cover it.  It's quiet, after all, and if you can fill the space with louder noises, then you won't notice it.  But you can only keep the white noise for so long.

So then you try to ignore it.  It's easy to ignore at first, no more than a minor annoyance.  But the consistency of unbridled chaos cooks at the back of your mind and boils your heart.

You start to look at what is causing the chaos, and though you may not want to admit it, many of them have come out of your own heart.  But you see some new faces among the familiar ones.  Regardless of where they came from, they are beating you down, old and new; they are united against you.

So you have a choice: do I stay down, or do I step up and fight?

The battle armor seems heavier, your arm feels sluggish as you try to use your sword.  But you can't stay down, even if you keep getting knocked back, because you know you aren't fighting alone.

But....

Are you fighting well?

And so we cry out with Paul, "Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death??"