Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted. –Habakkuk 1:4, NIV
Man loves to imbibe in wrath, boiling himself into some sort of diabolically destitute frenzy. He craves –on his own- to thrive in frivolous pleasures, and he desires to flirt in his horrors. He fouls up the air, and as sin thickens, so does his distorted pleasures. His mind inflicts horrible pain to others, contaminating them, contaminating them with sulfur.
And the saints complain. The saints complain because they have no other choice. They’re drawn into a crossfire, with the darkness hounding them and the light propelling them to do something. They don’t want to suffer the foulness of death, but their flesh is craving for some sin. The saints are torn in a wheel. Their legs spread through the road ahead. They touch the dark with their hands, and a choice is made.
They have proven that the law is good.