How long have I been here?  It feels like forever.  Maybe this is the world and I have no life but this.  A thin pillow and threadbare blanket are my only comfort and protection in this cold place.  Many times I have felt around my cell seeking a bed, a chair, something to convince myself that this will one day end but I find nothing.  Why  am I here?  Who is it that walks this darkness jangling keys speaking only bitterness, hate and punishment then leaves me to my deep depression and thoughts of suicide?

As I lay here, day after day with no way to tell the difference between a week and eternity except my own hunger and the need to escape into the emptiness of sleep, I sometimes hear scurrying feet and a whispered, "The door is unlocked."  The I again hear my jailer jangling keys at my door.  What does this mean?  Stirring myself after hearing the call of "The door is unlocked" for what seemed to be the thousandth time, I crawl to the door and try to open it, expecting nothing but disappointment when the door opens.

Indignation rises in my spirit.  How long has this door been unlocked?  How long have others not loudly proclaimed it?  How long has deception alone kept me in confinement?  Just who does that key-jangling jailer think he is?  Resolve rises to tell the others, to show them that freedom is at hand.  Reaching for the door knob of the next cell, I open it and proclaim liberty to the one within.  Slowly, hesitantly, my neighbor comes to the gateway, fearful of another deceit, closes the door to freedom, returning to darkness and defeat.

Frustration raises its ugly countenance.  I should just leave all these wretched people here!  They don't even want deliverance!  They like all this darkness and fear!  But deep within, I know their distrust.  The years have eaten their heart away.  Maybe a few will accept and walk in freedom.  Maybe some will return to the light of day.

As I look down the long hall, behind me, I see the jailer closing every open door then jangling the keys and pretending to lock them.  I realize, he has no key.  He's just making it sound like he is in control.  I redouble my efforts to open the doors that surround me and keep hostage those who have been set free, but as quickly as a cell empties, the jailer finds another to fill it.  I continue making laps in this building.  Some receive freedom after my first visit, some after the third or fourth visit, some never find it, but still I continue.   I notice that the jailer has posted guards on some cells around me, but as I confront them, they scurry away like roaches from the light.  They  cannot stop me in my mission.

Ex-POW's are now streaming to the exits but I hardly have time to rejoice for the place is still full and I hear the quiet desperation of the multitude.  The jangling keys are close behind me - I almost smell the jailer's foul breath as I reach for another closed door and speak emancipation.  As the inmate scrambles for the nearest exit, I turn to see him escape and find the jailer right behind me.  My anger starts to glow hot and volatile as I challenge this lying keeper of this awful darkness.  As I face him, he quails and jumps into the just vacated cell.  Just as I start to enter and defy him the lights come on all over the building.

Are you the one locked in silent desperation?
Are you the one who whispers, "The door is unlocked," then escapes?
Are you the one who tells and shows others their freedom?
Are you the one who closes your door refusing to enter int your deliverance?
Are you the one who just waits for anything the jailer would bring?
Are you the one who leaves rejoicing in his freedom?

May the Lord bless all people who have visited here.