To those who shine when surrounded by darkness, I salute you.

For them, the long nights of constant struggle with little to no sign of any coming aid become testaments of what strength of faith resides within them.

To those who persevere, a gift is given to them, a crown.

I know the thoughts of those who strain to hear Him, but only nothing greets their ears. “Of what use is a crown?” “Give me even a portion of what You promised, and I will be content.”

To those who struggle and claw for a crumb, a feast awaits.

Desperation is not the robe we wear. The scars come from the ravaging hunger against the sea of sand and hopelessness that threatens to swallow any existence, any sign that faith was here.

For them, their story is not one of continued pain but of joy.

Who is to say that the fact that you remain is not of the foulest stench to the enemy? He waits for you to pack up and go, he would have long ago. You are a mystery to him.

For those of the long night, your struggle is not in vain.
For those hounded by thoughts that betray hope, hold fast.
For those neck deep in emptiness, He will come for you.
For those of the remnant, your light shines unfailingly.

I salute, I bow, I bring you a royal goblet filled with the Blood of the King of kings. To the world, even our own eyes, we are madmen.

Who waits for His coming like a monk on the furthest rock?
Who holds their lamp and keeps it burning?
Who clothes themselves in sackcloth as if silk?

You do. God be praised, you do.
Thank you.