We Are Human

Who is the man that knows he is human? Who is the man that understands his incapacitates, disabilities, and hindrances? Again, who is the man that truly knows that he is human? It is not those that chase after their lusts and satisfy their gross sensual appetites; nay–they think themselves free but they are slaves, wallowing in the repugnance of their own depravity.

“How delightful,” they say, “who can stop us; yea, who can judge us? We are free to indulge, and we are alive!”

To the contrary, they are rotting corpses! Good for nothing more than to consume, take, and gratify the filthy lusts that send them this way and that. Withersoever the wind blows they are swayed; for they are spineless and depraved.

Who is the man who knows that he is human? Wherefore is it not them man who daily strives against the lusts of the flesh–regenerated by the Spirit–he forthwith mortifies the flesh and the lusts thereof, and daily immolates himself on the pyre, knowing one day that this earthly tabernacle will be shed for something more glorious, real, and truly existential. Forsooth! Who is this man? Doth he not daily beat his breast and make his body his slave? Doth he not store up the afflictions of His master as he willingly runs headstrong into suffering, pray thee, hoping the passion that he pursues would purify the odious dross that so oft cleaves to him wherefrom he crieth out:

“O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

Who is the man that knows he is human? Does he not groan and moan in his prayers? Indeed, he is at a loss for words–daily doth he smash his head to the ground and cry out for deliverance; nay, for redemption from the striving that ceases not. He hates that monster that still dwelleth within, that is the flesh; indeed, more often than not, he hates himself. In the last cry of anguish, he screams blood-curling shrieks of despair, for he knows that His master is Holy, and he is unclean.

He is acutely aware of his sin; he is consciously aware of his Saviour.

He is ever thankful, always grateful–eternally hopeful.

Who is this man?

He is me.

-b

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