Triune | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Triune | Previous Challenge Entry
By Krista Brubaker
05/06/10
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The truest passions of my heart can be quite elusive sometimes. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of one racing past, glancing back with a sly eye, beckoning me to follow. He and his friends show up every so often to whisper sweetly in my ear. His name is Music. Lighter than air, yet powerful beyond belief, he’s the inspiring sort of melody that speaks of higher realms. His spunky companion is Adventure. Roaming, romping Adventure. The beauty of the group is Love, the deepest and truest there is. He’ll quite literally take your breath away.

They allow me glimpses into the later chapters of my story. This author knows what he’s doing, I can tell from their hints. Even more, I see it in the author himself. He’s unique. He’s not just the author, but the main character as well. Our story line depends on his presence. He doesn’t just watch my every move, he moves with me. Every step, he’s by my side. Every ounce of air I breathe sends his grace and love streaming through me. The beauty of his stories is that he pours out everything he is to us before we ever meet him. Whether we realize it or not, each one of us lives and thrives within the framework of his personal plot. Our individual journeys with the author may look vastly different, but he remains steadfast and set on a happy ending.

Even in knowing the victorious outcome, I’m always curious what’s coming next. Sometimes the uncertainty leads to anxiety and I desperately search for my righteous passion friends, which is always unfruitful. They only follow the author, and my impatience with him leads me to turn my back and follow false trails, only to end up mugged and beaten in a ditch somewhere. Hopeless. Out of my mind. Left for dead.

I need redemption more than air. But I’m too ashamed, I don’t want him to see me like this. I’ve ruined his beautiful story by chasing feigned passions. My heart was tricked and now it’s broken, leaving me with nothing but overwhelming misery.

And yet, mercy comes out of nowhere to pick me up, dust me off, and carry me back to the well-lit path where he’s waiting for me. Instantly, I’m on my knees, smothering tears in shaking hands. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’m not worthy of his perfect presence. But he tells me I am. He says my impatience, my idolatry, my rebellion is all forgiven.

Erased.

I am a work in progress. Perfection is a long way away, and uninhibited joy is fleeting for the moment. But I trust my author. My sovereign protagonist. He sends me whispers of eternity through Music, Adventure, and Love, my dearest, but not always nearest companions. One day, though, he’ll lead me home, and I’ll see the enchanting place where my passions dwell, face to face.

He is my Passion. His story is Passion. Our individual, feeble tales are to be completed and merged with his. We who follow our story’s Hero, believe in our Passion, and love the Author above all else will be immortalized with them.

Made perfect.

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