Monday, January 7, 2013


     My name is Had.  You may know me, but you may not know my knew name.   You may have no idea what I have been through because I do look my best to look the same.  I am scared to death of you.  I used to be just like you.  I once held my head up high without propping in on my hymnal.
    I was well respected back then, and I even respected myself.  I was wholeheartedly devoted to God, and if the truth be known, somewhere deep inside I was sometimes the slightest bit proud of my devotion.  Then I'd repent...because I knew pride was wrong.  I didn't want to be wrong.  Not ever.
    People looked up to me.  And life looked good from up there.  I felt good about who I was.  That was before I was Had.  Strangely, I no longer remember my old name.  I just remember I liked it.  I liked who I was.  I wish I could go back.  I wish I'd just wake up.  But I fear I am wide awake.  I have had a nightmare.  And the nightmare was me.  Had.
    If I could really talk to you and you could really listen, I'd tell you I had no idea how this all happened.  Honestly, I was just like you.  I didn't plan to be Had.  One day I hadn't, then the next day I had.
    Oh, I know now where I went wrong.  I have rewound the nightmare a thousand times, stopping it right at the point where I departed the trail of good sense.  The way ahead didn't look wrong.  It just looked different.  Strange, he didn't look like the devil in the original scene.  But every time I replayed it, he dropped another piece of his masquerade.  When he finally took off his mask, he was laughing at me.  Nothing seems funny anymore.  I will never laugh again as long as he is laughing.
    If only I could go back.  I would see it this time!  I would walk around the trap camouflaged by the brush, and I would not be Had.  I would be Proud.  Was that my old name?  Proud?  I can't even remember who I was anymore.  I though I was Good.  Not Proud.  But I don't know anymore
    Would you believe I never heard the trap shut?  Too many voices were shouting in my head.  I just knew I got stuck somewhere unfamiliar.  And soon I didn't like the scenery anymore.  I wanted to go home.  my ankle didn't even hurt anymore.  Not until the infection set in.  Then I thought I would die.
    I lay like a whimpering doe while the wolf howled in the darkness.  I got scared.  I pulled the brush over me and hid.  Then I felt like I couldn't breathe.  I had to get out of there or I was sure it would kill me.  I didn't belong there.  I refused to die there.
    I pulled and pulled at the trap, but the foothold wouldn't budge.  The blood gushed.  I had no way out.  I screamed for God.  I told him where I was and the shape I was in.  He came for me.
    The infection is gone.  He put something on it and cleaned it up instantly.  As He inspected my shattered ankle, I kept waiting for Him to say, "You deserved this, you know.  You've been Had."  Because I did and I know and I have.  He hasn't said it yet.  I've never known Him from this side.  My leg still hurts.  God says it will heal with time.  But I fear I will always walk with a limp.
    You see, I wrestled with the devil and he gave me a new name.  Had.

Poem by:  Beth Moore