The Great Mendacious Journey by Edward Armstrong

I sat heavily under the weight of my burdens, how the race of humanity has too sat idly by as their brothers and sisters in species die the slow death we call life which I’ll never understand. The lounge gave gently away under me like a splendid cloud as I suspiciously eyed my brown leather journal with that strap I’d attached rather hastily the previous summer.

I’m not ashamed that I wasn’t invited to the party which roared almost violently in a state of subtle confusion on the roof of my apartment, it’s a clear reminder that I don’t belong here nor in the greater scheme in this world of sin. I reached warily towards it like a child patting his first pet and lifted it effortlessly onto my lap, the martini bar caught my eye as it stood solemnly next to the pitifully sized double bed which I’d ‘conveniently’ forgotten to make up this morning. I began writing in a state of sleeplessness of the deprivation and injustice which I thought so valiantly was apparent in this world;

14th January 2009

We lock our souls in cages; the excessive indignation towards ourselves is unimaginable as we battle meekly against the affliction inside. The sweet quenching of our unexpected impulses is the epitome of idiocy. Golden drops of sunlight have no place in such lifeless evil as our sin. My heart retches as the splendours of new life are outshone by the shadow of our ill bent thoughts. Temptation is not the issue we must face but the weakness we so ardently exhibit when we are subtly attacked by it, giving in to desires we know so deeply are wrong. Yet we are extraordinarily reluctant to accept that we’ve done wrong, instead we play dangerously with our minds to accept our sin as normal. Such psychological toying is unhealthy to our souls as we convince the fragile emotions we share that it is human nature. Sin so readily whispers its harmful lie in our untrained ear; like children being told their first swear word, we receive it with joy. This occurrence, in conjunction with our severely poisoned minds which call lustfully for the quick fix brings us to our knees, devastating the already tattered flag we once resentfully called our ‘soul’.

The leather screeched beneath me as I shifted my side slightly into the depths of the cavern which is the gap between the cushions on this contemporary lavender scented lounge. The warmth of the heater only metres from me has radiated upwards and cheekily missed my tender feet which rest precariously on the edge of the coffee table in the centre of this rather small room. I can never seem to get comfortable on these ‘new age’ lounges; I guess they forsake comfort for style... I’d prefer comfort.

The sweetness one experiences through sin can only be described as the single greatest trick a magician could dream of, and like an obedient toddler we believe that this sweetness indicates trustworthiness. To dupe the whole of humanity into evil is a feat of sheer brilliance in itself, but to do so in such a subtle manner is a work of art to be admired by those corrupted enough to enjoy it. The grief one experiences as a result of this trickery is more painful than the unexpected realisation that the motivation of oneself is excessively egotistical. One must not blame himself for his inadequacies; we are but humans with free will, who are faced with the many decisions which the paths of life demand responses for. We were not created to be perfect, only one of us can claim that anyway, it’s not the faith which tests us but the situation which is used by God the Father to examine our hearts, not for Him to know but so we may see our failures and humble ourselves.

I looked up, briefly expecting the evening chill which unpleasantly seeps into this cave-like room, but alas! The large red cedar door had been swung dramatically open in a stoop of drunkenness from the man across the hall; it was up to me to close it. I ungracefully attempted to leap from my seat and close it in one swift movement but tumbled comically over the coffee table and onto my oversized stomach. I looked up and painfully admitted that the cruel winter breeze had won this round.

The mind, the single link we treasure so vainly which joins the physical beast of Homo Sapien to the humanity which inhabits it, setting society so facetiously apart from the animal kingdom. The twisted nature of sin we hold to so trustingly, provides the empty meaning we know too well, thus shaping our thoughts into an ill bent state. We weren’t created to develop our thoughts in such a secular way. Our minds are free but they aren’t meant for these evils we enjoy though deeply are disgusted by. Yet what perplexes me the most is the audacity which we readily show as we dwell in the sin we deeply know is wrong, no repentance unless divinity reveals itself. The sheer arrogance! Here we are; small, insignificant beings with only the ability to harness fifteen percent of the brain capacity which we were blessed with, and still we question the creator! Then we have the utter, almost inconceivable egotism to repent when we see judgement, how unthinkably selfish. When our eyes are opened to such secrets of divinity we become outsiders to this world, never can we return lest we close off all rationality. I’m glad that I’m not one of them.

The sirens blasted deafeningly through the semi-open window to my left, disorientating me and distracting me rather inconsiderately from my journal. I leaped, a little more graciously this time to the window and saw the pitiful outline of a drunken young man from the party above who’d probably thought himself quite the fighter until he was knocked unconscious by a larger, less drunk doorman; little did he know that it would call for a stomach pump and several stitches. Another reminder of the death, mourning, crying and pain which plague this world yet have no place in my true home, the one I’ve never been to yet feel more attached to than any dwelling I’ve spent time around in this world, the New Jerusalem. I’ll never feel more at home anywhere else.

Edward is a well-travelled student, he excels in academics and in the sporting arena. His passions are Jesus, rugby and writing. He hopes to be a psychologist in his adult years.