I Feel The Tears

I feel the tears upon my face, I know what I am feeling is real, in reality.
The tears--they comfort me--I am human, I cry.
Jesus came to earth as a man; He was human; He cried.

Tears Rolling on one's face
(tears are falling by sternenkindi on DeviantART)

At times when I feel like the world is closing in, like I am not connecting or misconnecting with everyone, especially those dearest to me, little things like tears helps me to know that I am alive.

When I see one reality and the world seems to see another; when I feel one reality and others feel another, I began to think maybe something is wrong with me.

Why do I sense, feel and see what others do not? Why I am sensitive?

So I ask to pray, offer to pray, want to pray with others, but I am told to pray alone. My prayers are not wanted. This hurts. I feel unloved, unwanted, rejected, misunderstood. It is like handing someone a gift and having it shoved back.

I love prayers and being prayed for by others. I consider it a spiritual gift to have someone love you enough to pray for you, but I am told others see it as being spoken to and told things that one would not say unless they pray.




This is foreign to me. Prayer comes from the Holy Spirit. I speak as the Spirit speaks. Oh, for shame to all of the false, pretending christians-in name-only who pray their own thoughts and wishes and thus have given people a fake view of prayer.

My head pounds in pain. I have been getting many headaches lately. My body is not working as it should. It is as if parts of my body are cut off and not functioning. So I stop to pray against the enemy, any spiritual attachments that have thought they could oppress me.

While praying, I see in the past few weeks, in looking back to where I have literally been, that there is a demonic darkness, a deep spiritual sickness, a mighty stronghold that I have walked among. Breaking away from it was not only physical but spiritual -- it took much strength.

And oddly in reflecting about it, in many ways while in it and even after, I am seen as the one to be shunned, the one to be rejected, the interfering one, the one to blame.

Oh, how darkness and people longing to enter the desires of lust and their own wishes (not God's), reject the protector and the messenger.

Enormous negative energy has been directed my way and I feel it in my bones. I pray and thank God that as I type these words it is lifting. The awareness is making it lighten. It is breaking, cracking, crumbling, falling as sheets of sleet piling on the ground. It was a cold place, frozen in time. Newness of life was not embraced. Joyfulness was not common or desired. There in that place, people live and die, expiring in their sameness. No growth, no life, no joy, no praising a living God. No wonder I felt so out of sorts and still do.

Tears do not come often. Though we need them. I realize that a person can be too exhausted to cry. Maybe that is why when the tears first started to fall today I felt alive. Their gentle warmth rolling down my face felt like a watering to my soul.

I felt the tears and cherished them. And than I listened to my soul.