I roam the countryside, fully knowing the ugliness of my affliction, fully
feeling the brunt of it each moment of each day. Mine is a lonely and tortured existence. What others see on the outside is only the
tip of the iceberg compared to the pain and the hurt and the brokenness that
lies within. They see the leprosy, but I
see the hopelessness. I see the debris from
the wreckage of feeling totally worthless.
I know the bottomless depths of my self-contempt, and I am helpless to
do anything about it. Oh, I’ve tried and
tried, but all has failed to offer a solution for my inner and outer turmoil. I cannot cleanse, nor heal, myself, so I roam
about, desperately seeking healing, or relief, or the faintest glimmer of hope,
wherever I might find it. Hope that
somehow, some way, someone—anyone—might help me make some sense of this mess of
a life I am trapped inside of. “Have
mercy!” is the constant cry of my soul.
Please, help! Anyone! O Jesus, Master, Son of David, can you help
me! O please, Great Physician, have
mercy on me and heal my affliction! For
only you can offer the healing and the wholeness I so desperately need. Will you?
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