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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Like a Red Rag to a Bull (11/28/13)

TITLE: Bully For Me
By Judith Gayle Smith


It growls from deep within, rising, sucking air like a cataclysmic volcanic blast, scorching lava blood pulsating, pushing, seeking blissful sweet eruption.

Hot white steam pouring from eyes, burning dry nostrils, choking lips, a smoky bitter taste of the epic blast to come. Stay away, I am dangerously smoldering, on the verge of exploding . . .

A nasty punishing demon lurks within my unprepared susceptible heart, eagerly awaiting your deft, masterful forefinger to push all my exposed buttons, inciting it to riotous possession of my ungodly temper. I am so red-hot stupefying hating life angry.

Stupefying, you ask? Yeah. Dulled but never boring. Anger dampened by chronic pain, exhaustion, self-righteousness. But oh, so deadly poisonous . . .

I have, can and will be insanely, savagely furious. Holy Spirit don’t tell me otherwise. Off to the side with You. I have earned this blinding, uncontrollable bottomless rage.

What set me off this time? Who waved the infuriating scarlet flag, freeing me from Jesus’ loving control, hot and spitting, primed and armed for unholy blood baths?

I am so easily, hopelessly ensnared by my desperate need to tear, diminish, devour.

So glad you stopped by. For today’s thrilling entertainment, I gleefully force my host to relinquish his lackadaisical tenuous hold on his Lord’s strength to deliver uncountable unseen blows on the instigator seeking my release and his ultimate death-dealing madness.

Cry one moment, screech the next. Inflict my tortuous pain on you, the detestable creature, prancing and waving that nasty, challenging little red flag.

I stand snorting, almost pawing the ground in my hunger for blood. Oh, I will definitely draw much blood in this encounter. You pierced me too deeply, too painfully with your silky barbed taunting.

All I see is red. Red is all I wish to see. Not my blood. Yours.

Feel my hate-fired rage. Come close and feel the heat of my unleashed slashing fury. Just take one little step.

Surprised by my reaction? Why? You knew the right buttons to push, and when. Think I have lost strength and passion since our last go-round? You are a most foolish unrealistic mortal. I may have wings, but I lack a halo. I choose to vent, cause excruciating pain, and torture you with the hot venom of my unrelenting hate.

This human host I inhabit is so easily manipulated. Just get him a bit intoxicated with Jesus fervor – no Scripture needed. Let him casually lean on his weakened weekend faith instead of living holy, righteously as Jesus did. Keep him far from the deeper truths, truths that speak of the unspeakable - of me. Yes, demons do exist. Just ask me. There is so much I want to teach you.

Why attack this poor dumb fool? Well, he started it, playing with spiritual matches. I comfortably sit inside this anguished soul, waiting for a spark to ignite. Then the ungovernable fun begins . . .

Hot tempered? You have no idea . . .

My host is such a weak, sappy soul. I am the one whose razor-sharp claws screech unrelentingly against his sad little unsaved heart, causing unendurable agony and suffering.

Many fear attacks from little green or grey men from outer space – hah! Thrill yourselves with gruesome vampire love tales, and oh – I am so scared – famished zombie movies. Beware that full moon and the urge to throw back your head and miserably howl. Better look within your own sweet little heart for the true monster . . .

Better to coax me out with God’s Word than to engage me in open battle with your flimsy little red flag . . .

What? You dare to fall asleep as I spew my vitriol? Oh, do fear - I am thirsting for you, my suspecting, unprotected friend.

Voice of reason . . .

The only red flag to wave at demonic fury is the blood of Jesus, the Christ. We have no other hope, no other salvation. Do not take His empowering grace lightly. Cry out for Him when tempted to sin against God. Satan knows the Scriptures better than we do.

Dearest Holy Father – oh how very much we need You. Thank You for Your precious Son Jesus, the Christ, our Messiah. Horrific battles rage within us, and we are unable to stand against the wiles of the devil without Your protective armor. You have won the eternal battle; we must realize that our only hope, strength and courage is You. Hallelujah.

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This article has been read 440 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Nancy Bucca12/05/13
Wow, how poignant, and so true to topic. The part that really gets me: "Let him casually lean on his weakened weekend faith". We all need to realize the spiritual battle we're in and take steps to overcome those demons!
C D Swanson 12/06/13
This was so well done! It held my interest and your words were riveting in content and delivery. Great message!

Excellent job!

God bless~
Sheldon Bass 12/09/13
Fantastic painting in words! Saturated in truth and reminiscent of "The screwtape Letters". I better keep my eye on you, you might be the next C.S. Lewis.
lynn gipson 12/09/13
Wow, I could feel the deep down rage coming, no, steaming of the computer screen! This is terrific, Judi. I love to read your superkalifragilistic description because they turn real right before my eyes. And Yes, Sheldon is a super encouraging pal!
Joe Moreland12/09/13
This is excellent work. Your voices were great, from all growl and no bite to the smooth talking, venomous snake that we all know bites with no warning whatsoever.

Excellent work!
Toni Babcock 12/10/13
A trilogy of thought here; descriptive and at times alarming. This piece could be revised and broken into three separate articles, each with its own spiritual application.
Brenda Rice 12/11/13
Wow! You captured my attention and gave me a wild ride. You made a beautiful point that the red we should wave is the Blood of Christ that covers us from sin, failure and destruction.

Wonderfully written. Thanks for sharing this stirring article.
Judith Gayle Smith12/11/13
Hey you guys! Thank you for your support for my writing. You are incredible, loving - and sometimes, savage. (except for Lynn who is never savage - you are a pussykitty.)