Sound of a Sword

Days short of flying (literally) into another nearly nonstop spring/summer of hacking away at darkness near and far, I’m moved by this—

A spiritual sensation I can only compare to the unsheathing of a sword, the sound of steel ringing in my soul's ear. But while I pace to and fro on the little crest overlooking my altar, the bit of stone and sod I call my “holy place,” this thought follows the tingling: To fight darkness truly, one must first be clear of it, have no part of it, know by choosing as well as desiring, what it is to hate it. To come out of it. Really.

I can think of only two men in history (though I doubt not there are many who simply haven’t come to mind) who fought from within…

One wrapped terrible arms around the pillars that kept roof overhead, and pulled the temple down on the heads of his enemies. And fell with them.

Another wandered up and down the streets of Jerusalem crying woe and desolation. Who also fell with the selfsame city.

There’s another way.

So this prayer, for me and mine, at this moment.

Lord Glorious, make us holy.