Prisoner of Hope (deep unto deep from Dana Candler page 159)

In this prison, sovereignly setenced by the Lord, my hope anchors itself in God's deep aquaintance with my way. He Himself has put me here. These walls would have no hold on me except that He has given it to them. If I believe myself to be in prison outside of the will of God, because of my own weakness or sin, it is my end. My hope is crushed, and I am no more. Only in believing that He Himself has ordained this sentence as perfect is my heart sustained. I am God's prisoner. It is His sovereignty that I hope in.

It is through the lens of love that any captivity can be endured. My heart lives today because I believe that His silence is His answer to awaken my heart in greater love. My sustaining hope is that beyond these walls lies the intimacy and union that i have longed for, and my only way through is this dark and silent passage. This prison is indeed my way forward into the inheritance of Love's communion.

Oh, the love-hate relationship I share with these walls. I despise the silent accusation these walls hover over me with, saying, "You will never be free from this place. Silence is your lot in this life. You are not just passing through-these walls are your journey's end." It is enough to drive me mad-the silent accusation of these walls. Perhaps the greatest madness is the life-threatening voice that says, "You're not in prison at all. This freedom is as free as you'll be. This is as good as it gets. You're not a prisoner-you're a a free one who just can't taste the freedom." Oh, the madness this lie torments me with.

And yet these walls I love. For they may be devilish, but they are God's devil. In the mysteries of my God's great heart, He has ordained that suffering would often be the escort and pain the companion into the realm of greater love. Along the journey of every believer's way are dark nights and deep, waterless pits. They are cruel and tormenting in nature, yet only through their darkened doors can one enter into the glorious, unutterable intimacy for which we were created. And for this reason I strangely love these walls.

I love them not in the sense of remaining within them. Oh, I despise the thought. No, every day I cry out for my release from their captivity. I have every intention of leaving them victoriously behind me and never returning to their darkened womb. Yet at the end of a prisoner's day, after crying out for deliverance all the long hours, I rest in God's usage of these walls. For I know that they have been sovereignly erected around me for the prupose of freedom, not captivity. They boast of being an iron tomb of confinement, yet in truth they are doorways. They think themselves to be great conquerors over me, and yet His ways are so much higher. He turns a prison wall into the grand gateway of a King. What the enemy means for captivity, God means for freedom.

These pricon walls above all believe themselves to be silencers. Lack the prisoner within, and the prisoner's voice is no more. Yet in Your inexpressible wisdom, O God, from the womb of the prison comes the song of deliverance. What the enemy means for silence, You mean for song. "Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise Your name" (Psalm 142). From the deep and horrible pit comes forth the new song that causes many to fear and put their trust in You (Psalm 40). You bring my soul up from the grave to the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent (Psalm 30). Yes, these prison walls may silence for a night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning, and what my enemy meant for silence, God has ordained for song.