But what of me? I am supposed to be a Knight Raider, a soldier of the light, in service to the Light Bringer, the great King of Kings with all of his power at my command. Yet here I am, listening to her cries and powerless to help her. No. That is a lie. A lie I tell myself to ease my conscience. I am far from powerless. As a Knight Raider, I have super strength at my disposal like Samson of old! As a Knight Raider, I have the supernatural power that far-surpasses any incantation or magic spell, power that unravels the foulest dragon-speech! And yet, here I stand, listening to her cries, torn by the shrieks, not only of the child, but her distraught grandmother, hopeless and broken by the repeated destruction of each of her grand-children as they grow to adolescence and leave the protection of her home in rebellion. All that power flows through me as a child of the king with His authority and by His imparted birth-right. Surely I could pursue the foul host that repeatedly violates this princess! My sword is drawn, my armor secure (though I seem to have misplaced my shield), I cry out to the King and the Emissary stands with me holding out a flaming key as I wave my sword, even launch a few arrows into the darkness, but my shots fly far afield, for my arms are weighed down, my strength useless because I refuse to take that key.
"Lord, why will you not free this girl?" I cry! "Her grandmother and I pray and we counsel and we teach and you do nothing! How can we have hope when we see her violated again and again by her own choice, listening to the dragon's voice in her ears and ignoring yours? Where are you?"
The Emissary speaks, as he always does when I ask these same questions, for the answer is always the same...
"I am with you in power and authority. Go and free her! Are you willing to pay the price for her as I paid the price for you? The key to your shackles is within your reach. Will you take it up and be free? Will you be an over-comer in my service?"
"NO! Why must it fall on me?"
And I realize that I have just given my answer. Sagging back to the floor in misery, I lay my sword down and reach for something that will drown out the screams... my crystal ball perhaps... or my trinkets purchased at the Dragon market. After all, if I take that key and put it in the door of my wooden prison it will ignite a fire that will consume all that I've accumulated here. And I love my toys... even if they are broken and grimy. Surely the king will here my requests and send another to free the girl. He loves her more than I do anyway. He will not let her go. That I know. Somehow it will all work out. If I keep shooting arrows of prayer out into the darkness from my window, surely one will find it's mark eventually. Or perhaps the girl will listen tomorrow when she returns bloodied and filthy, broken by her mistreatment. Why do I need to change?
And so I return to my battle plans and strategies to engage the enemy; plans I will share with my fellow Knight Raiders to inspire them to take up the battle that the King is calling THEM to. After all, I am an influential speaker. I can inspire them to make the sacrifice, I reason. And as I lose myself again in my piles of trash, another scream from the darkness falls lifeless at the window pane and the Emissary weeps.
