9-10 Stricken

At times the enemy strikes us during worship or from our nature as it did in this one sometime last year. Seems this occurs especially during a sermon!



That evening, in a warehouse basement

a praise group played and festive voices rose

to the Creator, blood of the Lamb and swirling Spirit


while a frontstage floodlight silhouetted

tattooed arms, upraised hands waving


as he proclaimed voice in crescendo:

Spirit rising, healing old heart wounds,

Consuming dark forces and irascible energies—


when suddenly Liar violently attacked me

with vile thoughts against a brown-eyed child a row ahead—

a pall constricted my body’s temple tighter than Spandex


and driving homeward David’s cry was mine:


The cords of hell entangled me; the snares of death confronted me. *


What kind of son am I?


*Ps. 18:5