"Of Mice and Men".

"Only when a man flounders beyond any grip of himself 

and cannot understand things, does he really pray"

Oswald Chambers.

I will tell you a story about a man I saw once, he was tall and strong and proud. This man was given of his wife the task of dispatching a field mouse which had fallen into the "pit" of their egress window (it is curious as to how one kills a mouse in a confined space such as this).

As I watched these events unfold, the man took an oar and began futile attempts to somehow ferret the despised invader from the premises, he poked, herded, and pressed that fat little field mouse. and in spite of the mans harassment's that little mouse with all of its might jumped and bit the blade of that oar in hopeless futility. The mouse attempted to climb the screen of the window in an effort to escape, only to be struck down time and time again. This activity went on for some time until the mouse resigned itself to a corner of the pit apparently exhausted; the man seizing this opportunity, slowly, deftly, hovered the blade of that old oar above that small creature; and in one fluid motion - he became mouse slayer, defender of his wife from rodent uncleanness, a hero.

Why do I tell this story you ask?

I tell this story because I am that man. I have mastery over my environment. I am able to meet the needs and desires of those who rely upon me, and am all to ready to strike those weaker than myself. yes  I am that man, and that is my external reality. Yet in like fashion I am that Mouse; deep within the "pit" of myself striking out toward any intruder. Using all my strength to climb out of the recesses of self; only to be struck down again and again. Yes I am both the one who presses and is pressed, who drives and is driven, who strikes and receives blows. As these roles co-exist within, always opposed - I come to the end of myself, not knowing why I am such; only knowing it is then time to pray.

Luther.