A Sword in the Dark

“Wield me” A voice whispered.

The voice woke me up in the in the middle of my sleep. I wearily opened my eyes to see who was speaking to me. My room was still dark save for the faint glow of the lamp that rested at the table opposite my bed. I sleepily scanned the lone window of my room to catch the rascal that is tricking me but only found the faint glow of starlight. Thinking that the voice is only a figment of my imagination, I resorted back to sleep.

“Wield me” the voice spoke once more.

I bolted upright. I’m sure that what I’ve heard is real and the source is in my room. I grabbed the pen beside my bed, hoping to at least stab my assailant if he attacks me. I meticulously viewed the bare walls of my room but did not found anyone.

“Weild me” it spoke again.

This time I knew it came near the lampstand. I hurriedly flung my blankets aside and rushed towards the light hoping to scare the intruder. Instead, I was the one that was surprised. I found a claymore leaning on the right side of my table, barely illuminated by my lamp.
I carefully moved nearer the weapon while looking at the shadows to make sure that its owner is not nearby. Sensing that no one was there, I held the sword up high and viewed it in the light of the lamp. It was heavy, but it did not bother me as I studied it. The handle of the sword was made of bound tattered leather, worn from a hundred battles. The guard is straight bar and shone with a dull bronze glow. The blade itself was made of dark steel that seems to melt into the shadows of my room.

“Use me” the voice said. This time from the very weapon that I held with my arms.

I almost dropped the weapon. Had I not tightened my grip the whispering sword would have surely ran me through.

“What are you?” I asked the weapon on my hand.

I gripped it tighter as I believe that it will cut me down if I let go.

“I am a weapon sharper than any double edged sword. I cut through both flesh and spirit.”

“How could you speak? How could you understand me?” I said to the weapon rapidly.

“I am a living weapon. I see the thoughts of the heart”

“What do you want from me?” I asked “If you could see my heart you could see that I’m a writer, not a fighter”.

I was a loss on how describe my trade to it. My pen was nowhere to be found and my bed clothes cannot convince anyone of my literary profession.

“I am here to accomplish what my Master has sent me. “ It said “I’m here for you to wield”

“But I cannot use you! How could I swing you in battle? You are even taller than I am.”

“Do not be afraid” it spoke softly “My Master will guide your hand, He will help you.”

“Your master?” I asked

I think I understand now what the sword needs me to do. I held the weapon on one hand and carefully fixed it to my side with the other. For some reason I felt at peace, even as the sharp blade pressed lightly on my side.

“Who is your master? Is he the same as the One that I follow?” I asked the weapon.

“I am the sword of His Spirit, I am His Word”

I glanced back at the sword at my side. I felt that I can accomplish much of my Lord’s task with it by my side, by my heart.