Yesterday morning our teacher, Herman Haan, gave us the assignment of writing our life story creatively. He wants us to struggle through learning to use our imaginations again; to return to the days of our youth and look for the story the natural eye cannot see or comprehend. Herman’s definition of creativity and media is to use it to explain with feeling and emotion what is invisible to the natural eye. We had three hours to complete the assignment, so it isn’t my complete story, but it is a broad outline. So without further ado, my story—creatively.

A hero’s life is often marred by trouble and hardship, and these tribulations shape his identity into what life requires. My life has mainly been filled with two categories: training and fighting. The early years from birth to twelve were spent sparring with imaginary enemies. I grew in confidence and strength fighting against these pretend foes. Training can make you feel better about yourself. It’s safe and comfortable. Sure, it has its occasional difficultly, but no comparison can be made between sparring and the actual fight.

However, eventually training is over and the time comes to step into the ring. At age twelve, the bell rang for the first round and my opponent, Divorce, came out swinging. He delivered crushing blows to my heart and eyes. I slumped back to my corner as the end bell rang. I had been defeated. My first serious bout and my opponent had smashed me. I was obviously hurt, but my most serious wounds were not immediately visible. Divorce had damaged my heart and caused pain, blame, and bitterness to fester and become infected. I became so angry that I dismissed my trainer.

Jesus and I had known each other for five years, but once I thought he had failed me I dumped him without a second thought. My pain taught me that I couldn’t trust anyone anymore and if I wanted something done—I would do it myself. This continued for the next six years. I trained and fought my battles alone, and managed as best I could, which only fed into my illusion that I could do it by myself. Finally, at age eighteen my grandparents convinced me to give Jesus a second chance. They gave me a copy of the book he had written, and I took it to college with me.

Jesus called me a couple of times my freshman year and I finally answered him the second semester. He had gathered an entire group of people together on my campus, and I learned incredible fighting techniques from them. I began spending regular time with Jesus again and he sharpened me into a stronger and more effective fighter. I grew tremendously during this time, and then my focus turned to a beautiful young woman I knew named Jen.

We began dating and it was great at first, but I neglected my training times with Jesus and he took a backseat to her beauty. I became weak and dull and wasn’t able to fight for her properly. I jumped into the ring once again and my opponent, Lust, landed blow after blow to my heart. I had been whipped once again and returned to my corner. Jen and I broke up and I was devastated. I didn’t have anyone to turn to and was once again alone—unworthy of love. I wallowed in my despair for about a year, but I didn’t dismiss Jesus as quickly this time.

I turned back to him and asked that he make me into the man he wants me to be, and the training hasn’t stopped yet. He has sent me to some amazing training camps over the past three years, including marrying the beautiful woman mentioned earlier, and I have grown in strength, endurance, and agility. My relationship with Jesus has gotten better, but I am still not as close with him as I desire. I yearn to share everything with him and feel comfortable fighting with all the strength he has given me. I want to be able to hear his voice and respond in an instant. I want to be dangerous in the ring to fight the giants of our day, so here I am at G42 training to fight– learning to be the hero the world needs.

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