July 2, 2008

From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 10:51 AM
Subject: The Bow

I have always thought of myself as an instrument.
An instrument of war. A blade or perhaps an arrow. To be used to slice
or penetrate the enemy. To be used up in this battle between good and
evil.
I thought of myself like gun powder or diesel, a supply to be used.
A consumable in this fight.
I have tried to stay in His grip so that my use would be for His
purpose.
The blade is better when sharp. The arrow is better when straight.
I am not sharp or straight now.
Can the maker that allowed a jaw bone to slay a thousand, use me?
Is the qualification for use determined by the deepest scars?
Am I to crawl up his garments and out on his arm. Am I to lay out
on His bow and be extinguished in the flight. Shattered against His
enemy.
Never to be used again. Broken off in the body of the evil one.
Does my seed share my use? Is this where they are? Slung into the beast
that steals, kills and destroys.
I know we have purpose, I know it is in the realm of the unseen. I
know that the battle is beyond the view of earthly eyes. I must trust, I
must conform. I must be used. I must be consumed.
Would they "boys" have expected less from me? They knew me well.
They probably conferred over how I would react after they were gone.
Did Satan approach God and ask permission? What was Gods comments
when he said OK? These are questions that mortals should not ask. But
they do and have had these conversations. Why was my name brought up?
Why and to what purpose do I go now. I cannot turn away from the fight.
I cannot change sides. I am destined to stay. To make war to be used up.

I stand in a driving rain, with lightning on every side. Soaked in
blood with no avenue for retreat. Death is all around me. It is with me
like a cloak. I have no sympathy for deserters or cowards. I await His
orders.
G