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My mind recreates the word knife that had once stabbed my eardrums. The knife again plunges deep into my heart, as my self concept bleeds out. The words once spoken by my church drama leader pierce my heart -- Stab – “You don’t have the gift of acting.” I create my own Nightmare on Elm Street only instead of Freddy invading my dreams, I allow the word knife to slash them, as it pops up at every audition, every performance.
When someone praises my acting, I display the knife so that they can protest its existence, as I seek their words to soothe my wounds.
But then, Jesus holds me close, as He gently applies the pure salve of His truth to my wounds “The dream you have in your heart is from me, and others cannot steal it from you with their word knives unless you let them. Listen to Me, my child, not to them.”
I arise from my Lord’s lap, and touch my heart where my dream resides, whole, healed and slashed no more.
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