Monday, April 30, 2012

A Letter To My Imposter

The inspiration for this comes from Brennan Manning's Sermon Jam entitled “Imposter”. Its worth a listen and will probably make the rest of this make a lot more sense


To: The Court Jester

From: The Healer Prince

Subject: Termination of Employment As Ship Captain


Upon the drafting of this letter, all of your privileges, rights, and responsibilities as acting Captain of a Royal Vessel have been revoked: YOU NO LONGER RUN THE SHOW.  This means an end sailing in circles to your heart’s content and putting holes in the bottom of the very vessel that carries you.

Your antics have been entertaining, that’s for sure.  While you were in charge liquor and laughter were never in short supply.  You looked good at the helm too.  Every man wanted to be you, every woman wanted to be your lover, AND they all were laughing with you.


You hate yourself.  You distrust and resent every single one of them.

Your humor is a grotesque and inhumane weapon.  You wield it maliciously against them, giving free reign to your anger and hatred.  You dismember them with the words from your smiling face, which doesn’t even attempt to hide the fangs drenched in their blood.  You hurl verbal bombs into their midst that explode sending out beautiful flames and brightly colored pieces of shrapnel that kill and destroy.  You feed them poison that smells of roses, and convince them that its medicine while it slowly brings about their demise.  As you lay waste to the objects of your hatred, you rise above the fray unscathed and victorious. 

Unfortunately, you’re the most frequent victim of that very weapon.  You have maimed yourself through cheerful self-deprecation: like a glittered razor blade carving smiley faces into your flesh.  What’s even sicker is you’ve used a weapon to try to heal yourself, dismiss your wounds, and carry on.  You’ve put cartoon-covered bandages over gaping, infected wounds that you reopen at every opportunity.

You are a WHORE.  You’ve devalued yourself, you’ve pawned your giftings, you’ve dismissed your integrity, and you’ve suffocated your passions in order to feed your constant and growing need for the approval of people you hate.

What appeared to be disheveled, unorganized, and sporadic maneuvers in the harbor actually was your way of avoiding your greatest fear: the open sea.  By hiding within the safety of not being taken seriously you’ve lost your identity and purpose.  You refuse to take risks in order to achieve great things.  You’ve crippled yourself with the fear of the unknown.

I, The Healer Prince, HAVE REPLACED YOU as Master and Commander.  The vessel you’ve commanded has become a contradiction and a joke.  It was designed to be mighty and powerful, a force to be reckoned with, AND IT WILL BE.

This is not to say that everything will run smoothly from this point forward: it won’t.  Certain parts of this ship have become accustomed to your wanton ways while others have atrophied from lying unused for so long.  They will strain, bend, and moan when used for their intended purposes; they will even break, but not beyond repair.  That will be perfectly all right, because this ship is headed out into the wild and dangerous sea to join the fleet.  There it will be strengthened by those that surround it and it will lend its strength to others. 

Out there it will finally become what it was meant to be.

Truly Truly,
The Healer Prince

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