My brother is thinking about heroes. But the heroes he thinks of aren’t very heroic. They are broken, bitter people who live for themselves. There is little of the sacred light in them. Any resemblance is accidental. Give me wisdom to see these “angels of light” as the shallow, dead things they are.
I was reading an old history and was appalled by the debauchery carried on shamelessly and written down in these books. Any idea of the “golden age” is dispelled by the truth of these accounts. These were called their highlights. I wonder what they might have called their decay.
In these stories, the gods are merciless and cruel, revealed to be the demons they are. Demons that require sacrifice and the desecration of your temple, our bodies. You once said that whoever did things even to the least of your children, did them to you. These gods devoured the “least of these” and wish to devour today. I bless the glory of your victory, O Captain, which sealed forever these spirits so that they are no longer powerful, but must wait in prison, doing only a portion of what they once could do, as lions chained. Let us not be afraid of the lions, but to trust in the one who not only forged the chains, but also made and freed us.
The decay and death in these stories, both ancient and modern, are depressing. What else could they be? But you have called us to put away what is evil, and to cling to what is good. There are many people who reflect the holy light, and while looking up create works of beauty and grace. Somehow even the most broken of creations can be redeemed. This is your call. This is a side effect of your battle.
We fight not only to reach others, not only to make things better, not only to become holy, but to know you most of all. All other things, even this battle, flow through this. Help me to remember.
In your name,