What is it in my heart that refuses change and balks at the commands of my Lord? I suppose flesh would be the first thing that pops into my mind, but it seems to be deeper than just that. Somewhere below psychologies, next to the shelves and racks of rational thinking, and right through the door marked "KEEP THE @*%& OUT!!!" there lies the answer. It is found on the face of the guy cowering in the corner over there where the light can't quite reach. It is fear; fear of just about anything, but most particularly death. This would also include the pain associated with the whole process. This fear of pain causes no end of trouble. It hinders every effort towards freedom and hampers all clear thinking. It is the armed guard at every roadblock on the 'way'.
Of course the death this fellow fears is far more than the brutal gore dealt up by Hollywood and the pages of the latest thriller. It is worse because it is far more complete. There is nothing that this death would not touch or demand to be handed over. It is the utter annihilation of the self. Physical death still leaves the self free to wander through the afterlife unscathed. Not really so terrible, unless you just can't live with yourself, then it would truly suck. The kicker is that it is the very fact that the self is demanded and not just confiscated (at this point anyway) that allows this ghoul of fear to haunt the dark crevices of my brain.
The great thing is that in the end he is always proven to be made of nothing more than paper and the only real pain that he brings is the paralyzing fear of his desparate thoughts. He cannot be outsmarted, but he can be dealt a death blow if I will just bow my head and let the One who watches my back cut him down.