The Flesh is a Mess

As I wake up early in the morning around 5:30 am to be exact; I get my clothes on, grab my purse and jump on the 210 Metro going south on Crenshaw from Olympic boulevard. 210-metro-2

Koreatown Artiste

I was living in Koreatown at the time, a nice area of Los Angeles south of Hollywood. I took pride in my one room studio apartment with exposed brick walls. I felt like a true artist in my meager surroundings. Koreatown is a special place for me because that’s where I lived when I started learning about prayer and fasting. westa

West A COGIC

I got off the 210 bus right in front of West Angeles Church of God in Christ where I attended 6 a.m. prayer. As I walk inside the prayer room, many saints are already engrossed in prayer for our families, schools, city and nation. Intercessory prayer warriors is what they call us. What a fine group of people to be apart.

The Flesh is a Mess

As prayer time waned, Elder Taylor our leader approached the podium at the front of the room walking slowly. His austere presence of gray hair and nice suit with a commanding tone quickly grabbed our attention.

“The flesh is a mess!” Elder Taylor loudly pronounced. “The flesh is a mess.”

The sound of these inescapable and all too true words reign in my heart even today as I consider the ails of marital bliss, the breakdown of family life, and the demise of true love. flesh mess

Listen as I retort the mortal meaning of such strange words.

Love healing hearts,

Shirah Chante

 

 

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