A reflection of James 3

I am a fountain. Guzzling and spewing. I take from a source that is tainted and overflow tainted waters. My water is bitter and abundant in salt.

How did I get to this place?

What has changed the course of my flow so drastically?

I have been rebellious with my tongue. I have allowed it to utter bitter expressions and then carry itself into the presence of God.

Shame.

My salty utterances have left me strung and I am drowning in my wasteful words, every letter rises up to lodge itself into my lungs until all that’s left of me is just that—words.

How can we begin to tame our tongues? How or where do we begin with our nature and ourselves?

I struggle with changing my mindset. I’ve never been one to self motivate or even heed the motivation of others. But lately I find myself with an extreme desire to seek all things holy. I am learning that there is no satisfaction in an unbridled tongue. Perhaps that is where our transformation from salt to fresh water begins—in our simple dissatisfaction with ourselves, in our complete disgust at our current current.

You and you alone have the power to change your mind. You can decide your mood. You can decide whether or not to speak ill of another. You decide how far you’re willing to go to fulfill the purpose of God in your life.

But alas, we must first begin with a question, the evaluation of your motives and your heart.

Change the way you speak.

Change your confessions—and your destiny will follow suit.

Lets be cliche together

I hate these blogs. 

You know the ones where we gauge our wording because of the nearing holidays. But I give in this time.

***

Ah, the smell of turkey and ham. The rice, beans, potato salads, casseroles, and baked goods. 

Another good 'ol American holiday. 

Our fireplace has fake leaves on it. I'm not sure why my mother decides to decorate our house with such tom foolery. Really, its very....cliche. But, living away from home has made me that much more appreciative of every fool I've come to love throughout the years. 

My family, who have held my hand through difficult times.

My boyfriend, who's held my heart through my brokenness. 

My friends: Gab, Jess, and Ro, who have carried my weight, figuratively and literally, through my weakness. 

Fools. All of them. 

Fools for staying so close for so long. 

I love each and every one of you with everything that I have.

And tomorrow I'll be thanking God, the one who's held my life for 23 years, for you guys more than anything. 

aut Caesar aut nihil

I can only pray that my transparency goes over well. 

Im quite sure it will turn some heads and crick some necks.

All in good faith--I'll share my heart.

I have learned how to pray. I've learned how to enter into the presence of the Lord with fear and trembling. I've learned how to be bold. I've learned how to be strong. I've developed thick skin.

 I've learned humility. I've learned honor. I've learned how to be faithful, truthful, discerning, grateful, loving, submissive, creative, trustworthy, outspoken, zealous, giving, and more.

I learned to pray like a warrior in battle and travail like a laboring woman.

I've learned that the presence of the Lord is picky, so be afraid. 

I've learned to be bold in the face of adversity, but only if the adversity is directed toward you and your folk. 

I've developed thick skin through years of criticism. 

I've learned to be humble because someone else is always better than you, God can always choose someone else.

I've learned to honor those in charge, not those to whom its due.

I've learned to be faithful to the church.

I've learned to be truthful and have had a lot of "truth" spoken to me.

Ive learned to "discern" the atmosphere and do things according to those inclinations.

I've learned to be grateful for what you're given. Its all you may ever get, no matter how hard you work.

I've learned to be loving--with conditions, of course.

I've learned to be submissive--the mark of every "servant."

I've learned to be creative--in ways everyone else, but myself, can imagine.

I've learned to be trustworthy--everyone loves a snitch.

I've learned to be outspoken--quietly.

I've learned to be zealous, I'd like to pair this with enthusiastic. I was so enthused by even a hello.

And I've learned to be giving, with what little time, money, and energy I had.

And that, my friends, was just optimism.

et nos cedamus amori

Im at that point in my life where I just want to start my life. I want to get on with my degrees and career. I want to make the mistakes that will teach me to be a better wife, daughter, and someday--mother. I want to live in my own house and let the dust pile up to the point where I cant bear it another minute and am transformed into a cleaning bot. I want to go on little vacations and lay out on the beach next to my husband, no words, just sun. I want to drink wine on the porch and marvel at this little life I have created for myself. I want to accomplish life. 

Earlier this year I thought I had found a man who was going to carry me to those moments. But the tide turned again and pulled him out as quickly as he came. I could have sworn he was going to make my life count for something, instead he left me in shambles. He had left me in a pile of rubble and had taken my will to give again. I had decided that although he had ripped me in two I was going to hold on to whatever elation I had previously experienced with him. I lived in a dream. He was still gone, and I was still holding on.

One day a very good friend of mine had decided he'd wanted some company. It was July 4th. An American holiday filled with smoked brats, grilled burgers, red white and blue face paint, and a false sense of pride and security. Everyone goes about their family gatherings mingling and smiling, watching the children play with flags and light little firecrackers. Its the same every year. That night I planned on visiting him and then planned on heading over to another friends house for a midnight swim. Upon my arrival at his house I greeted his family and we proceeded outside to the roof of his garage. Theres a set of metal stairs that connect the patio to the roof, so we made our way up. 

Really, I had see much more spectacular views before. He lives in the Humbolt park area of Chicago, a predominantly Puerto Rican part of the city. The roof was plain. There were no chairs or tables. Nothing added as decoration, just a roof. For the next hour and a half, that roof became a key in one of my lifes most defining moments. See, for the first part of the summer everyone we knew kept prodding us and asking why we weren't dating yet. I could never date him, I knew if I did it would get too serious and I had never been ready for that kind of commitment. I would brush off everyones comments and continue with my summer. Til that night. 

We began a casual conversation about how strange it was that people keep asking us. It was surprising and flattering, but a risk we both knew could cost our friendship. I remember trying my best to avoid eye contact as our discussion progressed, he maintained a steady eye--on me. I leaned over the side of the garage and told him I wouldn't be able to give him everything. It wouldn't have been fair to him. My heart was still stuck somewhere under the ravaged remains of a past love. How could he want that? Who in the world could want a broken heart?

I can't imagine if he had never taken on such a daring feat. There he stood, a man, asking me for my heart--knowing I didn't even have it all to give. A man, who wanted my broken heart. 

How could I be selfish? I paused for a moment, breathed deeply, and handed it over. He's held it ever since. His tender grasp hasn't let go for a second.

I recently came across a quote that read, "I hadn't realized how much I'd been needing to meet someone I might be able say everything to." How true that rung for me. I've spent my life on paper. I never had to say anything to anyone cause all I would do is write it down. Now, I wish I had practiced saying more. I never thought that I needed to. 

I have found love. What I thought I had before doesn't even compare in the least. There is nothing closer to Godliness than this. To experience love is to come as close to God as He will allow without Him having to show His face. It's in Julio's eyes and smile that I learned what God must look like. It's in his arms where I felt the embrace of the Father, and in his hands where mine were safely kept. It's in the way he says " I love you" and the way he gives without inhibition. Its in his heart and his passion that I find my heart and my passion.

He brought me to that point. He makes me want to be a better daughter, and someday wife and mother. He makes me want to pick out coasters and couches. He makes me want to rent movies and slump around in my pajamas, eat take out, and laugh till we're sore. He makes the anticipations of days on the beach worth the wait. I look forward to the next 80 years with him here on earth, and the infinity after that. And to reaching that point together where we've accomplished life. 

In vinculis etiam audax

Those days where your heart is pained beyond belief. 

Those days where the scars seem too deep to heal.

Those days when you're so overwhelmed with anger and resentment you lash out at anyone.

You know,

Those days where your guard is up so high--

not even your own senses can climb up over it. 

Those days where all you want to do is sit at the foot of that mountain

cause you fell down it last time.

Those days where the altar seems un-kneelable cause you haven't been in so long.

Those days when you yell and respond to yourself through echos.

Those days when you can't leave your apartment cause you have no where to go.

Those days when everything you know is changing.

Those days that define the rest of your life. 

Those days.

Those are the days I wish I could put my heart on display. 

I'd set it in a glass box and let the world interview it.

I'd let it share its scars and breaks. 

I'd advise it to untape and unbandage every wound so the world could see what a real heart looks like.

I'd let it cry to the people who've hurt it the most.

I'd let them know how much they stole my mind.

I'd tell them how much it killed me to know that their love could grow so cold 

so fast.

I'd replay every word I've ever said to assure them that I was on their side. 

I'd flash pictures of the years I had spent waiting on them,

Hoping they'd look my way, hoping that I could gain their trust--

their hearts. 

Id give them every piece of me all over again

just.to.have.peace.

And Id put a name to every pain, 

so they could see the damage they've left on a real human.

A real heart.

On display.

But only on those days. 

Non Omnis Moriar

Not all of me will die. 

Death

--one of the most beautiful experiences life has the opportunity to participate in. Surely our lack of knowledge on life beyond the grave would compel us to marvel at this mystery. Instead, death itself has become taboo. 

No one wants to talk about it, hear about it, let alone think on for even a moment. 

I find that strange. If death is indeed inevitable, wouldn't it be more productive to spend time acknowledging and even preparing for it? Or do you find it suitable to waste your time thinking on things that are of no use to your eternity?

Shame. 

Even modern Christianity has taken death and made it unbearable. We would much rather emphasize the importance of living instead of dying. I am completely aware of the results of ones passing. It has not escaped my mind nor will it ever. But I am worried that our devotion to life has brought us to forget that we once were devoted to death. Perhaps our most prime and influential example would be that of Christ, who we all seek to mimic. His life was brought to excellence through death, so that in turn our lives may be brought to excellence through his death. BUT, it doesn't stop there. Even the early Christians recognized that their lives were to be reflections of Christ's. Of course they took joy in the blessings of God, but simultaneously they took joy in the suffering. Not only their emotional suffering, but their physical suffering as well. You see, to them, it was a privilege to have the mark of death on their heads. To them it meant that their lives were purposed, and not only that, it meant that their lives were pleasing. They spent every moment preparing for that one instant, where their mortal eyes close and reopen in the light of Father. That was it for them; the reconciliation of servant to master. And if by their death a testimony of true salvation was born, then let it be. 

Perhaps it would do us some good to live as the martyrs. To speak as Polycarp did when he said "Father, I bless you that you have deemed me worthy of this day and hour, that I might take a portion of the martyrs in the cup of Christ... Among these may I today be welcome before thy face as a rich and acceptable sacrifice."

Perhaps even, it would do us some good to see life in the same way they did: to live as unto death.

July--A month of favor

Dear Love,

You changed your name.

 It's quite beautiful, 

as are you. 

I can speak of you with ease now,

my heart does not ache when you come to mind. 

Your voice is comfort and strength to my weakened will. 

Your hands are strong and labored, yet giving and tender.

I drove 300 miles to get to you.

Id walk that much too if I knew you'd be on the other side waiting. 

Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed I find myself having to sit in order to catch my breath. 

Yes, this is really happening.

Yes, its happening to me. 

Its real--its tangible. 

You're not a phone, or a computer, or even a memory,

you, my love, are a real person-- a real heart.

And you really have my heart, Julio.

You Have a Comforter

David Wilkerson Devotional:

I am learning something very wonderful about the Holy Spirit. He has a unique characteristic: He does not like to talk about himself. He does not make himself the primary object of our attention.

I have tried earnestly to study the Holy Spirit, digging into entire volumes about him written by respected authors. Some of these books are very deep and often hard to understand—books about his nature and personality. They are all very interesting—but not always edifying. The fact is, they can’t be edifying because you can only understand what the Spirit himself reveals and he won’t talk about himself!

I have tried digging into the meaning of the Holy Spirit’s names—Comforter, Paraclete, Advocate, Intercessor—looking for some insight as to who he is. But I finally realized that we Christians don’t have to understand the person of the Holy Spirit—because he doesn’t want to tell us hidden things about himself. All we need to know is that he is one of the Godhead: eternal, the very Spirit of Christ, sent down to this earth to live in us who believe. And his eyes are always on Christ!

The Holy Spirit doesn’t want us to know about him so much as to know about his mission, and that mission is to bring us to Jesus and keep us in purity and holiness. He is always at work, making Christ known in our hearts, and he delights in our seeking knowledge about why he has come.

Jesus said, “When he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will show you things to come. He shall glorify me: for he shall receive of mine, and shall show it unto you (John 16:13-14).

Stitch me up, doc.

I could have sworn I'd seen your face a thousand times before. 

Although I never had the luxury of touching mine to yours. It's a battle few win. Many are left wounded; some lose pieces of them and some walk away with few scars. Superficially its alterable. Internally--its a different story. 

I decided that this time I wasn't going to let my past dictate my future. I finally had it set in my mind that I was stronger than I had believed before. My heart is strong. Im not a weak willed person by any means. I can take a hit, try me. But if I've taken the time out to personally remove barriers and blockades that I, myself, have built...how is it reasonable that others don't give that same regard? My dreams are ruining me, my heart is ready to jump out of me, and my oxygen tank is low (from wasting my breath.) What gives, Love? What gives.....

Love, you fooled me once--shame on you. But, I swear, you're not fooling me twice. 

I could have sworn I'd seen your face a thousand times before. Although I never had the luxury of touching mine to yours. But I promise this time I'll win. 

I promise that this time Ill walk away unscathed. 

At first sight

Im certainly not a cynic. I truly and deeply believe in love above all things. Every so often you hear those stories about love that take your breath away. Books, movies, poems...I find myself with a sudden lack of curiosity for moments like those. Their various depictions, although true and relevant for some, have begun to bore me. Really love? You want to shout from a mountain top? I want to shout from a mountain top every time I get a new pair of shoes. Do better.  

Schadenfreude/Belle-lettres

Dear [insert social security number here],
You are dispensable. If you died tomorrow I assure you that the world wouldn't mourn for you. Sure, a few people might wallow in their grief and waste tissue for you, but all in all--you're replaceable. I can get someone else to fill your position at work. Someone else will surely buy your car. Your clothes will be given away or sold at a garage sale. Thats if your family hasn't decided to box it all, as if you were coming back--HA. Don't worry if you get fired, chances are someone was better suited. Oh you dropped your cell phone carrier? They don't mind. They just pocketed $200 from you and someone else will be taking your line in no time. See? I told you, you're dispensable. You're just a number. If the world knew you by name you wouldn't need a SSN. You'd be able to walk into the dmv and say hi, my name is [Wah wahhh, they really don't care.] It hurts doesn't it? Fighting to live a dispensable life? Going day by day according to what society tells you to do. Fitting their happy little mold and chasing the dream. The dream that well, lets face it, will all come crashing to an end once you end up in a hospital or a coffin. You my friend are worthless.

Sincerely
lovingly
affectionately 
unfortunately yours,
World.




Dear [insert full name here],
You are indispensable. There is no one like you in all the earth. Even if I ran around a million times and interviewed every person on the planet, there'd still be no other you. I understand that its a bit cliche, letters of encouragement or inspirational quotes. But just so you know: if you died tomorrow there would be a gaping hole inside of me. My world would be forever changed. Your place in the kingdom is one only you can fill. Do you think I want another you? No. I want YOU. Exactly as you are. Every curve, every roll, every chin, every hair, pimple, wart, scar, bruise, and broken bone. I want it all. It's strange isn't it? Knowing that someone cares so disgustingly about you. Every hair on your head accounted for. Every bone and blood cell kept record of. Its comforting once you get passed the eery vibe of a stalker. I assure you that not a moment goes by that you are not kept guarded. Not a second where you're alone. You are indeed a masterpiece created after perfection. You my love are worth anything and everything.


Sincerely
affectionately
wholly
adoringly
ardently
forever yours,
love.

persona non grata

Dear Love, 

Let me start by acknowledging your prominence in my life. Sure, miles didn't help. But your relevance goes undiminished. No, I'll never forget you. I'll never forget the broken pieces you left behind. But I'll sweep them up and throw them in the trash so no other love feels the sting of the shards. I'll make sure that there are no remnants left. No bits or pieces of you. 

A joke. A fallacy. All I ever had were your words--thats all you ever gave me. A bunch of words. Words over the phone, words over text, words over the internet, all just words. Nothing tangible. Nothing credible.
Just.Your.Words.

Dear Love, 

At one point you meant everything to me. At one point I could barely breathe at the thought of you. It was all so unreal. But as quickly as you came, you left. Here, in this blog, I'm leaving you. Letting you go to rot in whatever life you'll create for yourself. Cause well--you were always so independent. 

Dear Love,

You weren't real.
You weren't true.
You weren't love at all. 

Dear You,

You.....
You were a cop-out. 

I don't mind if I step alone

"Whatever your work is, do it gladly. Do it as you would do it unto the Lord and not for people." Colossians 3:23

Perhaps I'm taking this verse out of context when I apply it to things such as my writing. Within the context of previous verses it's actually referring to slaves; giving them reason to do their work with joy and zeal--as if it were unto the Lord. But I can't help but personalize it and make it for me and what I do. 

My mind is constantly on "write" mode. I tend to think as though I'm sitting at my computer writing rather than just speaking. Of course I have other passions, other desires, and other loves--but this, this is perhaps one of my greatest treasures. I often forget why I do it, which is why posts are so infrequent. I always find myself getting frustrated that no one reads these, even after I sweat and weep as I write them. I have so many things running through my head at any given time that I always consider "blogging" but never do. See, I hate knowing that I spend hours on these things--these insecurities. I hate knowing that I can write a million words and no one would even know. But I love knowing that I at least have an audience of one.

He's my biggest fan. None of my words ever go unread or un-noted. If He keeps count of the hairs on my head, which aren't life changing to me, I can only imagine how much esteem He gives to my words. If He gives regard to when a sparrow falls, then I know His eye is focused just as intently on me. I have the hardest time getting passed that, don't you? The creator of the UNIVERSE has His eye on you. To Him you're a celebrity. To Him I'm a famous author, I'm His treasure. I like to imagine that when the thunder claps it's His exclamation to me that I've done a good job in His eyes. The lightning is His camera flash, He's such a proud parent--such a beautiful father. He'd show off my picture if He could. Brag to all His friends that He's got a daughter who's completely smitten by Him and would do anything to make Him proud. What a gracious King--that He would come eat at the table with me. That He would choose to be my audience. 

So--I don't mind if I step alone. I don't mind if I write a book that never gets published or a song thats never sung. I don't do it to make a name for myself. The Lord of all already knows my name.

The snack bar will keep these hunger pangs at bay.

There are moments in worship where my heart wants to beat right out of my chest, and moments where it sinks to the pit of my stomach. Such is the life of a worshipper. It has become my deepest desire to have my heart be moved. I frequently find myself forcing it. Seeing that it's easy to become complacent, its easy to let our hearts stay still. A worshipper must take caution never to become too acquainted or "familiar" with the way it feels when they worship. I am constantly on this roller coaster of sorts where you never really get used to the rush. Its easy to stay still--its easy to fall asleep. But, it's in those moments of lifelessness that His hand comes and gives a little jolt--sending your heart right back out of your chest.

Have you ever known the heart of God? Have you ever just sat and soaked? You never want to forget those moments. The ones where you end up with a sort of worship vomit. Once you start admiring and acknowledging the beauty of the sovereign God you just can't stop. It stirs up this insatiability that almost possesses you. You literally step out of sanity for that moment. The hunger turns you into this beast that wont stop until the desire is satiated. Every taste is better than the last. I wish I could literally sit and be drenched in his presence like the rain. That I could walk out from having just immersed myself in his love and be completely soaked and have to ring out my clothes. I want to drown. I want it to fill my lungs. I want to be swept away by the waves and washed up on a shore on some remote island. The natives will have to revive me, but once I come around--they'll get it too. As I write I find myself longing for a drop. I almost feel like an addict, my veins are itching. My body'll start going through withdrawal because every moment spent away is a moment wasted. This is love. This is real love. It can't be curbed, it can't be stopped. He won me over and He'll keep me.

I've done it. I've lived without the presence of God in my life. I've gone through days and months without so much as a drop. The most trialing times of my life have been when there was a lack of His presence. More importantly, a lack of seeking Him. How terrible are we? Who do we think we are to punish God by walking away? You know, I've heard that it's wrong to boast in the greatness of God because people of other beliefs and opinions would get offended. Well--God is not politically correct and He's so much better for it. He's not molded or moved by the times. He doesn't change just because we change, no. We do not have the power to change God. He is sovereign, and he is beautiful, and he is worthy, and his presence...well...His presence is delicious.

I never told anyone: Part Deux

Remember the love I told you about?

I should probably give you an update as to its whereabouts. 

My phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans. I was startled by its ringing so I grabbed it to see who it was. I didn't recognize the number right away, but I assumed it was someone from school who's number I didn't have saved. Anyway, I proceeded to pick up the phone. Unfortunately my family was blaring a Marc Anthony concert so I had to exit the room to hear the voice on the other end. Once I heard the voice I immediately knew it was him. He said he needed to talk to me about something. Naturally I assumed the worst. I was at a family function so I told him I'd call him back. 

When I got home that evening I prayed and mustered up the courage to call. He didn't pick up the first time, and of course I missed the call back, so I dialed once more and--he answered. The next hour would be spent listening intently to everything he had to say. There were moments I let out small giggles, but I never let him know I was crying on the other side. My tears? Pure Joy. Finally he pulled his thoughts together enough to spit out three words-- "I love you." I clasped my hand over my mouth and sat as a stream of tears ran down my face. I had waited for him to come back, but I never expected him to come back with something as big as those three small words.

Of course I responded a while later assuring him that I reciprocated. The next couple weeks were spent in pure bliss. Catching up, random texts, ridiculous story lines, and picture message after picture message. We had both known and considered the realities of pursuing a relationship with the other, but both decided to keep hushed till the time came. 

One night he called and spent the next couple hours talking about distance and differences. I had recognized them prior to our conversation, but my heart felt so right in his hands I didn't want to take it away so suddenly.

And, as quickly as love came--it left. Well, it didn't necessarily leave. More like I kicked it out and shut the door. The only problem here is...I didn't lock it. I told him that since he wasn't spiritually equipped to "lead me" we couldn't be together. I sound like a fool to anyone who hasn't walked the road I've decided to travel. It's an age old battle. Heart vs. Head. My head tells me he doesn't serve in the church, or worship the way I do, he doesn't pray as vigorously as me, or attend services on a regular basis. My heart tells me he's never walked in my shoes for even a moment, but he understands everything about me. He knows my secrets, my weaknesses, and my strengths. He knows my quirks and makes me laugh. He talks my ear off but I somehow never get bored. He listens to my gripes intently and makes no criticisms or judgements even though I've judged him countless times. He's not a spiritual man. But he's a noble man. Then I get to thinking, spirituality doesn't equal nobility. I know plenty of guys who serve in churches but aren't noble in the least. And here I have this man who doesn't but has ten times the love in his heart. I know men from churches who are two faced and some who serve but can't protect. He admits his faults, he knows he needs God and is willing to admit his lack of "spirituality." 

Have we become so picky as "children of God" that we decide who will suit and who wont simply because they aren't as avid in the faith? As far as I can tell his heart is true. But I cant judge his heart...can you? 

I spend so much time thinking about what I could have done differently. Or whether or not I made the right decision. I pray constantly that God looks favorably on the sacrifices I've made in his name. I gave up my life, my family, my home, my friends, and now I've given up my love. However, Im not angry at God in the least. But my heart is shattered. There have been moments where I could barely breathe. Nights where I can't sleep. My peace is gone. But thats not supposed to happen when you've followed God right?  

He brought my Isaac, and I willingly brought him to the altar. But when Abraham brought his sacrifice God brought him a ram in a thicket. Not to mention he got to keep Isaac. 

I lost him and got no ram. I dont know what to do anymore.

The crosses we bear

John Howard Yoder. 

Ever heard of him?

If not, I highly recommend taking a gander at his book entitled The Politics of Jesus. He gives interesting insight on the "type" of Jesus that people prefer. I was particularly drawn to his discussion of the term "bearing the cross." The following is an excerpt from the above mentioned book:

"Only at one point, only on one subject--but then consistently, universally-- is Jesus our example: in His cross. This much could have been said without special attention to our learnings from Luke. But all of this language of imitation and participation, all the pious and pastoral meditation on the believers cross takes on a new dimension if we take the measure of the social character of Jesus' cross. 

The believers cross is no longer any and every kind of suffering, sickness, or tension, the bearing of what is commanded. The believers cross is, like that of Jesus, the price of social non-conformity. It is not, like sickness or catastrophe, an inexplicable, unpredictable suffering; it is the end of a path freely chosen after counting the cost. It is not, like Luther's or Thomas Müntzers or Zinzendorf's or Kierkegaard's cross or Anfechtung, an inward wrestling of the sensitive soul with self and sin; it is the social reality of representing in an unwilling world the Order to come. The word: 

      "The servant is not greater than his master. If they persecuted me they will persecute you. (John 15:20)

is not a pastoral counsel to help with the ambiguities of life; it is a normative statement about the relation of our social obedience to the messianity of Jesus. Representing as he did the divine order now at hand, accessible; renouncing as he did the legitimate use of violence and the accrediting of the existing authorities; renouncing as well the ritual purity of non-involvment, his people will encounter in ways analogous to his own the hostility of the old order.

Being human, Jesus must have been subject somehow or other to testing of pride, envy, anger, sloth, avarice, gluttony, and lust; but it does not enter into the concerns of the Gospel writer to give us any information about any struggles he may have had with their attraction. The one temptation the man Jesus faced--and face again and again--as a constitutive element of his public ministry, was the temptation to exercise social responsibility, in the interest of justified revolution, through the use of available violent methods. Social withdrawal was no temptation to him; that option (which most Christians take part of the time) was excluded at any outset. Any alliance with the Sadducean establishment in the exercise of conservative social responsibility (which most christians choose the rest of the time) was likewise excluded at the outset. We understand Jesus only if we can empathize with this threefold rejection: the self-evident, axiomatic, sweeping rejection of both quietism and establishment responsibility, and the difficult constantly reopened, genuinely attractive option of the crusade."

After reading this, what then is the point of bearing the cross? Is it through enduring as much suffering as possible that we become Christlike? If so what constitutes as suffering if, as it seems, it is an extremely relative term?

For so long we've been taught that any kind of suffering or trial we endure is considered "bearing our cross."But we forget that the cross was meant to be a public death. It was a sort of public humiliation. Jesus constantly fought the social norm. He came to change the world, more importantly, he came to change society. How then can we compare our minute struggles to bearing a cross? The cross was heavy, the cross was a symbol of death. We die to ourselves not for the sake of ourselves, but for the sake of our brother. Jesus didn't take up the cross to make His life better. He took it to make our lives better.

Now then, as a part of Christian ethics, wouldn't bearing your cross as a propellor to further your individual overall state of being be a contradiction to the purpose of the cross? Furthermore, wouldn't it constitute as unethical if our intentions are self-promoting? 

The crosses we bear are not parallel to the cross Christ bore. He broke social boundaries. And us? We sit quietly in our churches and homes, and the only time sociality takes place is when we go out to eat in our designated cliques and crews. Christ-like? Not in the least. Church--your cross should be like that of Christs. Persecution for public displays of Godliness. Persecution for incessant preaching and praying. Everywhere Jesus went He was about the fathers business. Every city, every town, every house. That was his cross, and it should be ours as well.

You can get with this, or you can get with that.

Just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.” 1 Peter 1:15-16

Although we ourselves are not divine we are invited to be partakers of such nature. We must strive to bring a full portion of the character of Christ into our daily lives. It is by this character and by this unfailing love that the world will ultimately be changed.

It is not up to us to bring conviction to our fellow man. The Bible reserves that right for Holy Spirit. However, holding our brothers accountable to the cause of Christ is necessary and well within our rights as Christians. But don't be fooled into thinking that it is your job to work out the salvation of others. Keep account of your own actions, your own thoughts, and your own words. When before the throne of God there is no opportunity for redemption, the line is drawn and what side you're on depends on you and you alone. 

In ancient Judaism the word holiness was ONLY used to describe God and in the new testament Jesus invites us into that realm. Leviticus 11 calls God's people (Israel) to consecrate themselves. Dietary laws were instituted in order to separate the clean from the unclean, the wheat from the chaff--God's people vs. the world.

A direct invitation from a rabbi was unheard of in those days. They were the elite, the chosen. Jesus, the high priest, invites us to participate in a nature that is unbeknownst to mankind. While remembering your humanity is important, it is far more important to remember your re-creation. Humanity qualifies us for redemption, becoming Christ-like qualifies us as heirs. The blood was not poured out for believers only, it was poured out for mankind. What separates us, what makes us holy, is the nature of Christ. Apart from possessing salvation we are no different than our neighbor, we're human.But being human and being born with sinful nature does not give room for perpetual and intentional sin. Once you step into the realm of holiness retreat is not an option. As members of the body of Christ we are required to live a life different from that of the world. It becomes our identity. 

The people of God were never meant to be less than mediocre. We are called to excellence. We are called to be the elite members of society. We are called to be politicians changing the world, doctors, lawyers, teachers, and even janitors. We are called to infiltrate every area of our community. It will be impossible to incite change in others if we first do not incite change in ourselves. When salvation is truly had, holiness is what becomes of us. It's painful, its stressful, its long--but its beautiful. The path to holiness will undoubtedly one of the most trying and excruciating things we can experience. But the end result is well worth every test. 

I urge you to evaluate yourself. Ask God to judge your heart and your life. We are all born into sin. But the gracious God of heaven offers us a new birth and calls us a new creation. Yes, the character of God, the entirety of His being is love. But God is also Holy. We must therefore be imitators and partakers of His love, mercy, and holiness. 

Become Holy--because God is Holy.

I've never told ANYONE.

So I fell. Sue me.

I spent my whole life being guarded and scared. Partially because of what I've been told and partially because of what other people would think. I let myself believe that if I made other people happy with the relationships I was in then I'd be happy too. Sadly, that wasn't the case. I never made them happy--I never made myself happy. I let the judgements that other people make get the best of me. I let my heart be held by people who don't hold my future. As every human, all I ever wanted was to love. It must be something spectacular if the world has this undying obsession with it, right? I mean, I don't really know much about it other than what I've been told. But I do know that I've seen it once. 

It was a cold day in December and one of the most beautiful days indeed. I saw it standing there, tall as ever. I, of course, had no idea who he was. I watched him sit at my piano and play a million songs while my mom and I did puzzles at the table. I had always wanted to sing for him but I knew he was a harsh critic so I never did. He was there during the most difficult time of my life. I fought with him almost daily. He was so old to me, even though he was only 11 days older. We hugged twice in the span of a 2 year friendship. I quickly found myself falling for someone who was so very different from me. He would always say "we're from two different worlds." And that was the best part about it. He knew nothing of what I knew and vice versa. We hadn't ever experienced the same things which meant we'd have endless stories to share. We were completely opposite. "Saint and sinner" he would say. I spent hours talking to him, days thinking about him, and now I'll spend years regretting him. I can't walk into a bookstore without him coming to mind. 

He used to think I never paid attention. But I always paid attention. I loved his strange collections of music and literature. I loved how he'd driven to my house a million times and used a GPS every time. I loved how he would go off on tangents about life being about pain and heartache and tell me one day I'd find a good man and forget about him. He was really one of the only people I'd ever shared so much of myself with. Sounds ideal huh? Things took a turn when I started developing feelings for him. He'd told me he felt the same, but I never brought myself to revealing it to him. I knew in my mind it would never work. At the same time I knew in my heart that he was exactly what I wanted. 

(If you've read this far, I commend you.) 

I started thinking that something like this would never fly with my family or my church. All that would race through my head was everyone disagreeing that I wasn't with someone who was a Christian. So I stopped contacting him. It made sense at the time. I develop feelings that I cant act on, so I cut him off. Seems easy. I didn't mind it as long as I knew that I could call him up and know he'd be there. Til one day he called and told me he had hit the road and left Chicago. [Originally he's from Hartford CT. To be honest I doubt he'd even care an ounce now.]  I remember being at my aunts house and crying cause I knew I'd missed my chance. At that point all I wanted was a hug from him.

 Im still trying to talk myself out of finishing this blog. It's more than likely just me being, well, me. 

I wont go into the gory details about how our friendship ended. I wont lay blame on anyone either. But I will say this, our separation is tearing me up inside. I promised him that I wouldn't come back. I don't know whats more foolish. Me wanting to, or me just sitting here writing blogs about it for the rest of my life. Im sure he's not torn up about it, or secretly hoping that I do come back. But I'm more sure that I would give anything to see him again and lay it all out, just so that I don't have to wonder. I'd love to know that I fell and was able to get back up without a scar. As of right now--its still an open wound, and I miss him more everyday.

Bound by the Draconian Code.

I am troubled.

Indeed. I am troubled in the sense that I am only human and have not yet reached divinity. I have stayed up nights fighting back tears. I have lied to people and myself. I've slandered and been slandered. I've held bitterness and been prone to fits of rage. I have sinned and fallen short of His glory. I fought off tears and deflected pain to the point that I can no longer be softened by a tender touch. I kept myself from feeling. See, I spent so long attempting to be moved by the Spirit alone and remove myself from human weakness that I made myself numb to the movings of the Spirit. I lost my sensitivity to the inner workings. I was so set on sanctified tears and tears of worship that I had no burden. 

We find all too often that we struggle only to suppress our humanity. All our lives we've been told that it is our humanity that makes us sinful. Actually it is quite the opposite--it is our humanity that qualifies us for redemption! We are redeemed because we are human. There is so much emphasis on divinity that humanity gets left in the dust, why? It truly is one of the most beautiful parts of living. If I were an angel or even a dog, I wouldn't qualify for the blood. I would never have the opportunity to experience the extreme need and, at the same time, lack of God. Christianity has called us to be statuesque, the rain comes, lightning strikes, and they'll tell you that in the end if you aren't standing you've been defeated. Defeat to me means you're destroyed, irreparable. Take joy, hope is not lost. Christianity is not the cornerstone. Christ Himself calls us to Him through His blood. Surely the blood was not shed for a fashioned rock. No, it was poured our for humanity. He calls us to holiness, and He's so gracious, and so good, that He even puts a little disclaimer knowing we are incapable. "Not by might, not by power, but by my Spirit. Says the Lord." (Zech 4:6)Through our failings and shortcomings he works wonders. If he perfected the perfect there would be no miracle of redemption, no healing, and no restoration.

Paul commanded us to count it all joy when we suffer and go through trials. Indeed, count it all joy that you qualify for the unfailing love and salvation. Count it joy that you can cry out, and struggle, and desire a Saviour. Not even the angels in heaven  have that chance, they already sit at the throne of God. But we, dear humans, have been granted eternal life through salvation because of our weakness. And because we, as humans, are troubled and have not yet reached divinity. 

God is not man that He should lie.

The validity and credibility of the Bible has always been the prominent subject of Theological debate. It's content has come under fire time and time again. Many argue that we cannot put our faith in this "book" because it is just that--a book. I have heard it said that its reliability is virtually non-existent seeing as it was written by men. Spectacularly, God always seems to show Himself through these words that meremen have written. Although some may claim that it is inaccurate and cannot be used as fact, thefact is that God's word is His word. Imagine coming before the throne of God having read numerous theological reference books, having dedicated your life to proving that the Bible is not inerrant--only to be looked at by God and asked "SAYS WHO?" Now pardon me for failing to believe that Gods word as it is written is not His word. Granted it has been translated and rewritten hundreds of times. But don't you think that God would honor my quest for truth? Do you not believe that if I seek out revelation of His word He'll give it to me? Do you think He's willing to excuse mankind's deliberate wickedness and rebellion because man re wrote the Bible? Do you think the Lord our God is pleased with a man who doesn't trust and take Him at His word? It is impossible to me, or at least it seems impossible, to be able to serve God without having a daily connection to His word. And you who are well versed in scripture ought to know better. Do you think that at any point in time someone was praying about the Bible and suddenly the Lord appeared to them and said "man has tainted my word, you should question it. Not only that, but I command you to read books about theology and history WRITTEN BY MAN, so that you can find out more about what I actually said. Apparently Moses and Paul weren't listening to me correctly. As a matter of fact, just create a whole new doctrine."

Mercy. Mercy. Mercy. I pray mercy, and pity the fool who questions the word of God. I feel sorry for the man who thinks He knows better than God Himself. Just to be clear, God is not a respecter of person. He's not a respecter of human tradition or culture--no. God breaks the pattern of this world, He is not characterized by any less than mediocre mold that we have dreamt up for Him. Tell me, where in the Bible does it say that we need to prove it wrong? Better yet, show me where God says it is unreliable. Learn to read your Bible under the direction and inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Because God is not man that He should lie.

"If it is in the Bible, it is so. It's not even to be prayed about. It's to be received and acted upon."  Smith Wigglesworth

Mono.

My life is quickly becoming monotonous. 

Daily routines: Bed times. Alarm clocks. 

Cups of coffee.

 Lunch and dinner at the same time

--everyday. 

I have been reduced to the uninteresting. 

It's on the verge of pathetic really. I sit and watch movies on my Netflix in my spare time. Basically, thats all the time. I'm afraid of being stuck in this rut. I have this overwhelming fear of living a life of complete and utter mediocrity. Where to the world, to my family, to my friends: I am nothing more than a passer-by. Up to today I have achieved nothing. I have no degree. No real job. No money of my own. Nothing that I can say I've done. My childhood friends are married, seriously dating, have kids, and ones even divorced. I must say though, I am extremely humbled. I'd never consider thinking of myself higher than what I am currently. To society I'm a student. To my friends I'm an extra body. To my parents? Well I'd call myself a burden. 22 and still mooching off my parents. Feel free to call me a bum at any time. I'm quite sure I'd agree, along with a few others. But as much as I look down on myself there's still Him. I want so much right now to bury myself in my pillows and blankets and cry. 

You see, there is no map to this life. There is no "x" to mark the spot. Life has no highlighted roads, no icons marking pit stops. The mountains we'll face aren't embossed. The lowest points in our lives aren't colored blue marking the oceans we'll venture through.

Alas, there is rest for the weary and hope for the hopeless. He calls me His treasure. He calls me His own. I don't see it now, and I highly doubt there will ever be a time where it's clear to me. But for now Ill hold to an old song: 

God is too wise to be mistaken
God is too good to be unkind
So when you don't understand
When you don't see His plan
When you can't trace His hand
Trust His heart

Will you or wont you

It all comes down to this--a simple response to His beckoning.