Here's my situation.

I am a 29-year-old virgin living with my parents. I've only lived under my own roof for six months or so, with a couple roommates that were friends with my brother. It was also the only time I paid rent, since my parents haven't really charged me more than doing a few chores and either going to college or finding work. I am unemployed and have never held a full-time job for even a year. The closest I've come was maybe nine months. Possibly ten. And I turned down a janitor job that would've paid $12.50 an hour. People in my family have already made their opinions known on that matter, as has at least one friend.

I am a Christian, yet I find myself in chains. I have wasted hours on the internet doing nothing productive. When I'm not doing that, there's always something else on my computer I can find. I have a tendency to treat leisure time like a right instead of a luxury. I've looked at pornography many times and still struggle with it and lurid fantasies, even though I know such is poison to my soul. And yet, despite all that, I still have desires for deeper, better things. Things I'm not sure I'll have, not without a lot of blood. Most of it mine, if only in the figurative.

I wallow in sensual filth, and yet still yearn for heaven. I have my desires, and yet am snared by poisonous counterfeits. I want for true companions to fight by my side, yet I doubt and mistrust everyone around me. Perhaps I don't even deserve to be fought for, though I do wonder if that matters at all. No one deserved to be ransomed. And yet Jesus still paid in blood. But sermons are for later.

I say all this so that you may know something of my situation, and perhaps a bit of who I am, though I don't know if these are the truest parts. No doubt some will be able to tell. I would not blame the people that I agree with for looking upon me with disgust and pity. Or as a hypocrite. It is one thing to say you believe in something. It's quite another to live it.

I could blame my parents. That's easy, isn't it? Say it was their fault, their actions that forged me. Hah. What dishonest rubbish. Even though they may share some of the blame, for living under their roof means that their influence is powerful, I see little good in fixing the blame. God knows I haven't been very assertive or aggressive in my life. Hell, if I lose at multiplayer in a video game, I tend to quit in rage and never look back. Even if the other guy was just helping me out by exposing my weaknesses. And yet, I think it's fair to note that much of my life has been others setting things up for me, smoothing out the road. Mother... no, I don't think that's fair... Dad must have been worried too, wondering if his boy, his first born son, wasn't a little... broken. We only got the solid diagnosis just in the past year or so, and I saw so many doctors, so many physicians of the mind. Not to mention the drugs that seemed to drive me mad. And let's be honest... Lucius didn't come from nowhere. I still have bitterness and grief... perhaps something else... buried inside. It may not be part of me, yet it's there, and it has power to influence. After all, it feels so good to be the bad guy, to say the things I never could through someone else... to break all the rules I never dared to so many years ago.

Here I am, stuck in limbo. In purgatory. Trapped between life and death. No, I'm not being dramatic. This is a matter of the soul, a spiritual matter. The most weighty of matters, despite what some of you think. I feel like I'm trapped again, between heaven and hell. I've been here before. The one time I ever got free was a men's retreat, was a little place in Colorado called the Crooked Creek Ranch. I found healing there, and something that brought me out of myself. At least a little bit. And it was a relief to be free of Lust, that slimy jerk of a demon, if only for a little while. It lasted a couple weeks afterward too. Life felt wonderful. Then it faded. I was back to my "routine", if wasting your life can be called that. And when I lamented this, my parents, or at least my mother, dismissed it. "A mountain high" she called it. As if it was the location that mattered! As if I was just believing in another damn fantasy!

Heh. I have mother issues. Does it show?

I am tired of this. The one thing that keeps me going, that gives me hope, is that John Eldredge is right. That this is a love story set in the midst of a terrible war. In some ways, I almost wish I could go back to sleep. Take the blue pill, Neo, because life is too hard outside. Yet I can't go back either. It makes too much sense. What else but a war between heaven and hell could explain this world? Explain what I'm going through? And what other kind of story could ever give me hope of being someone that matters? Who could leave some impact on the world, and not have to fear that the bullies were right about me?

This belief is all I have to cling to. And some days, I don't even act like I believe it. I do enough to get by. I make my parents think I'm getting better long enough to get them to leave me alone. I dread listening to God for fear he'll ask something hard of me, something I can't handle. I push away friends and allies for fear they'll see me, or that they believe in some ridiculous nonsense that they got from church culture, or from watering down the Gospel. I neglect the one relationship that gives me hope of no longer sleeping in an empty bed... for sordid pictures that please the flesh and leave my heart starving.

I am not who or what you think I am. I doubt my own clarity in these matters, and I am going mad. I must get what I need to survive. Because if I can't, well... I may stop believing... and if that happens.

Heh. Well, Beautiful, I may just slip that lovely little mask on, and never take it off... Who knows. Could be fun to be the bastard for a while. To tear the wool off people's eyes, to make society admit the lies it's accepted just to "get by" instead of facing the truth. To watch the world burn and see it feel my pain.

I could be Gollum. I could be Wormtail. I could be the next shadow on the wall, the next headline in the newspapers. I could give the media their next big distraction, another nonsensical report that matters little except to my victims. I want to be Edmund. Oh, don't give me your little speech about how "we're all Edmund". Some of you understand the darkness as well as I. You've felt their claws of madness scraping through your grey matter, firing all the wrong neurons and feeding you all the wrong thoughts. Ah, but I'm letting it influence me again. You see how easy it is to hurt? How easy it is to wound the heart and soul? The devil knows. He's had countless years of practice. And so many of you, even Christians, write him off.

Do I deserve to be fought for? How the hell should I know? I have my hands full just trying to keep from letting my parents wound me, from trying to figure out what to say when I haven't done much that shows practical results. All I have to claim are intangible things, victories won in my own mind and perhaps my little bit of influence steering people halfway around the world away from the abyss. And my writing. The things I've never shown anyone because they're "not ready", the things I "never have time for", leaving my poor muse feeling overworked and under-appreciated. The ideas pile up and I have done little to reduce it. Though the frequency of last week or so gives me hope.

So does my Name. Got a letter from Ransomed Heart, from the ministry run by that guy I saw in Colorado. This time, John wrote about the importance of naming things, of naming the things and situations that come to you. The name can produce misery or create joy. And in those mountains, when my heart was open, God brushed aside everything that the Enemy had put there, and named me "Stouthearted". The very kind of person he needs in this war. Is it any wonder why the devil keeps me where I am? I must be very dangerous.

I do not know what to call my situation. I only know something needs changing. Myself, no doubt. I cannot stay who I am now, even though I'm not who I was. Yet I need help. I am going to face temptations. I am going to face doubt and uncertainty, and I have to deal with what bitterness I have toward my parents and family. I may need to stay offline for a while too, or perhaps take a sabbatical. It would be nice to cut down on the noise and hear from God and be certain of it. I have to fight for that or I'll never get it. Fellowship would be good as well, though I confess I'm unsure where to find it. I can hang with furries and have fun. But I'm not sure I'd ask them to pray for me. And for some reason, I never talk much to the people at church. Perhaps because I don't want them to know me in case I face rejection. But then, I fear rejection from just about everyone. I guess this is an attempt to head that off at the past. Burn the bridges before I get halfway and fall in the river. Knowing where I stand with others would be a great help, even as I seek to know what logs I have in my eyes, and which are mere specks.

I confess though, much of my isolation is self-imposed when I feel I've encountered a Christian who "doesn't get it". Perhaps I'm right. Or perhaps I'm being arrogant. Who but God can tell? And yet, I must ask: what have you done for the Kingdom today? What demons have you bound? What strongholds have you shaken? Have you brought anyone to Jesus for healing? Do you even really know Jesus as he is and not as you think? Do you place more importance on tradition and ritual instead of a real relationship? Don't answer too quick on that last one. Relationships are messy, and Jesus aims to point out your blind spots. He won't, if you'll pardon my French (and even if you won't), "bullshit" you about anything. And he won't let you do the same to him. Church culture is far more comfortable than real Christianity. I should know. I've had my taste of both, and perhaps a bit of hedonism on the side. I can tell you which is best.

This is my frustration, perhaps my greatest one. Even as I fail to live out the Story, I find many others who don't even seem willing to try. Those who've taken an easier route, who just try to get by and ignore anything else. Any call to something higher and more dangerous. And technology, that wonderful child of human want, is right there to help deafen them. It has happened to me, and perhaps will happen again. Don't pretend it's not happening to you. The internet has the Buzz, dear friends. And it will gladly drown out God if it can. Who do you think arranged for it to be there?

I am Stouthearted, and I tell you now, as surely as the blood of Vikings runs in my veins, these are desperate times. You cannot fool yourself anymore. Put on your armor, take up your sword, and fight. If not for me, then for the countless souls who don't know Jesus, whether they live on the other side of the world, or sit right next to you at church.

Enough nonsense. Enough excuses. It's war, whether you would have it or not. Wake up. If nothing else, take my life as proof of it. Not to say all of it has been warfare, but trust me, there is more to this life than misfortune and accidents. There are two plans for this world, two kingdoms locked in mortal combat (no, not that kind, you geeks =P) over every soul on this planet. And while the final overall outcome is decided, there are still battles to fight, and souls in desperate need of rescue. I dare say I am one, even if I'm not deserving of it.

Do you not understand? Or do you not want to? Are you going to take the blue pill and fall asleep? Browse a few more pages before you admit you're tired and fall asleep? Try to convince yourself that mission trips and sending money to starving children will be enough? Focus on your principles, on going to church, on singing worship songs without a thought as to who it is you're supposed to be worshiping?

I am tired of seeing people settle for church culture. For this sanctimonious counterfeit. I wasted so much of my own life on it, on thinking you had to listen to the right music, watch the right movies, dress the right way, or you were in danger of hell. There may be some danger in those things, but only so much in how much they drag you away from God, whether you choose to be a hedonist or a Pharisee. I've tasted the lifestyles of both. They don't give life. They are dead. One is a numbing poison and the other is a dry desert. Both will kill you, right in your heart and soul. If I could get even one of you to understand this, not as I would have you understand, but as God would have it, I would pay any price. I would run through the streets of every major city buck naked screaming it. I would endure this miserable, unenviable situation I'm in until both my parents dropped dead if I knew I could wake someone up by doing it.

So help me, if God has chosen me to beat the Eternal Truths of Reality into your collective heads, I will do so. I will rest only as God wills, so that I may keep fighting, and nudging, and poking, and bothering you until you realize what is at stake.

No more dismissal. No more lies or justification, no more living in the "real world" you think exists. We are at war, one fought in a realm beyond this world, and you are needed. Strength of Adam, Beauty of Eve, Glory of the Most High... and the Love that would die for others... all these are needed, and needed now, not tomorrow! Not when you bloody well feel like it, or when it "makes sense" to you! Your place is not to understand. It's to trust. It's to take up your sword and shield and fight! It's to put your back to Jesus and face the oncoming hordes, and have no doubt, they are coming for you! For you, your loved ones, your children, for anyone they can devour. And while God will indeed fight alongside you, he will not fight for you. God help me, I wish my parents had taken his example. But past is past, and I will forgive, and be healed. And what's more, I will be the ally of your discontent. I will be the thorn in your side, the little squeaky wheel that defies the grease, the little glitch in your software you can't get rid of. I will continue to poke and prod and bother as much as I am able, as often as I can, until you finally submit to the reality of the situation, and turn to the real Jesus. And never to the counterfeit you've been taught.

Heh. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, my situation is but a drop in the pool. But if I can be the drop that causes it to overflow, that reaches others through my tiny ripples, that will be enough. Even though much of what I say could be, and even should be, said to myself, I aim to keep saying it. Who knows? It may get through my stubborn heart too.

But if nothing else, I beg of you, wake up! And face the lion at your doorstep. He will not go away unchallenged.