#and how she's going to bring down her enemies with the righteous flaming sword of vengeance and wrath and truth etc

[gloriousmonsters]

read camp dama.scus. enjoyed some stuff, really wish i didn't have the experience so often reading a book that's Good and Progressive and about Queer Affirmation etc of feeling like i'm side-eying the author like 'and you know that delineating the people that oppose you as pure evil that therefore deserves torture or death or being eliminated from society entirely is bad, right? you know that, right??'

[val-aquenta]

Alright sorry if it’s a tiny bit late, but here for the final prompt for Jedi June: Intergalactin therapists.

Here on ao3

On Ryloth, many many years after the Clone Wars had finished, years after the Empire had been brought down, years after even the First Order had fallen and Palpatine had been killed, there was a legend of two warriors. The twi’lek would whisper of their shared strength and intelligence and, most of all, their compassion. One, always with the symbol of gold and dark purple, was an elegant storm. It was said that he had been able to push through an entire battalion of enemy droids without his weapon. The other, always drawn in cream and a light blue was kindness and intelligence. They spoke of how he had saved so many lives by winning battles before spilling a single drop of blood. 

More than that, the twi’lek spoke of them together, fitting together and moving in harmony. Their fighting, elegant and effective, matched the other. Where one defended the other would reach out and attack. Two storms, the twi’lek called them, one of righteousness and justice, and the other of shrewd intelligence and compassion. Together they were unstoppable, managing to vanquish the threat against Ryloth and bring peace to a world ravaged by much bloodshed and war.

With the flow of time, it was clear that the story had been twisted this way and that way, the original tale forgotten and turned to myth, but it stemmed from a truth. Mace Windu, compassionate and just, a righteous flame burning in his eyes, had used the Force and his fists to move through an entire battalion of droids. Obi-Wan Kenobi, intelligent and kind, had valued the lives of the twi’lek and the lives of his men more than the supposed glory of a battlefield. The two Jedi turned into legendary beings, living on long after they met their respective demises, one falling from the Senate building with the knowledge that the Order was about to die, the other at the hands of his closest friend, a dying star finally burning out. 

****

Felucia, even after the rise and fall of both the empire and the First Order, remained somewhat isolated from the galaxy and galactic politics. The felucians who inhabited the planet remained largely as farmers, living this relatively isolated lifestyle. As such, it allowed stories to spread like the wildfires that sometimes raced across the surface of the planet. One of these stories involved that of a young blue twi’lek, donning traditional twi’lek garments with pride. Her name, long lost and forgotten by almost everyone, had become Alema, the Ryl word for protector as that is what best described her.

She was brave, fearless, strong, and most of all kind. The felucians whispered of her to their children, hoping that the values that the young twi’lek had been raised and had died with would be imparted on them too. They spoke of her battles, a sword of justice at her side as it fought those who sought to destroy and exploit Felucia. They spoke of how she had looked at the felucians and not seen the peaceful farmers as weak and worthless, instead, she had seen their value and their worth. 

Indeed, Alema had become something of a cornerstone in felucian life, becoming a spiritual protector of the farmers. They said that if one stopped in the middle of the jungle and focused for long enough, calling for her, she might appear and offer sage advice with a smile. As years continued passing, she became more and more important in their lives and soon it was almost unheard of for a felucian to not hold something that symbolised the young twi’lek. Whether it was a small blue pendant on a necklace or a bracelet, or it was an intricately carved figurine of her, every family held something that honoured their protector. Aayla Secura, long dead and one with the Force, still managed to listen to the worries and woes of the small felucians who had been so kind to her. 

****

Shyriiwook, due to the long-lived nature of its speakers hardly ever changed at a rapid rate. Sometimes certain pronunciations were altered and spread over the galaxy, but it often remained unchanged. As such, it was a surprise when an entirely new word was added to the language. The word itself in basic would have looked something like Yoda, but the nature of the Shyriiwook language meant that it sounded a lot more like a roar vaguely resembling the original word. Nevertheless, the new addition had not surprised many wookies but had startled the galaxy at large.

Yoda, the small green being, was well remembered by the old wookies. The wisdom that the creature had brought along with the compassion and even stare remained something that they would whisper to one another when they had little else to talk of during the Empire’s reign. As such, they had eventually begun to substitute the word wisdom with a Shyriiwook version of Yoda. There had been little pushback. The young were already used to the name often when speaking of the small warrior, and they knew of its connotations. The old were happy to honour the small green being who had such a large heart, willing to open it to just about anyone. 

Yoda, removed from society and in his self-imposed exile, heard nothing of the tales. He only heard them after his death when Chewbacca, the large wookie still alive from the time of the Clone Wars, used his name when referring to Luke. Leia, who had not had the chance to truly explore her skill as a Jedi, turned in surprise when a quiet joy and thankfulness sprung up around her. Luke turned and zeroed on a point of blank space to Leia’s left. Yoda’s face, wrinkled and old as it might be, still twisted into the softest look Luke had ever seen. The little troll’s ears shifted upwards with delight, and his eyes seemed to twinkle. They remained looking at one another for just a moment before Yoda began to disappear, fading into the background once more. 

****

Tatooine had a history with the Jedi that was largely unknown. It was a backwater planet, just clinging onto outer rim territory. Indeed due to the large diversity within the groups of people on Tatooine, many had their own stories to tell. The slaves would whisper tales of Amavikka, the Hutts of their own ancestor’s ruthlessness and drive for power, and the populace would whisper of sarlaccs and the pits that ate and ate and never stopped going. However, one group of people, in particular, one that was largely hated by all three and thus removed from standard society, developed their tales. 

The Tuskens spoke of a demon, a slaughterer and a child killer who stopped at nothing to kill an entire tribe. There was a fear that jerked the movements of their speech as they told the tale of what appeared to be a dreadful storm brought to life, one who had swept through a village and massacred all those who inhabited it. A demon with a sword of pure light made to destroy those it feels have wronged it, they said. Golden eyes like the shifting sands, ready to eat up those who are unworthy.

However, they also spoke of another hooded figure, one who seemed to oppose the other entirely. He could speak to Krayt dragons, and make them turn away from a path of destruction. With his hands, water could rise from the sands like it was drawn to his very figure. He too had a sword of light, used once to deflect the bolts of a blaster. The newer tale however was not just a protector of the Tuskens, but also a defender against them. He was never on one side fully, instead doing what he seemed to think was right.

The Tuskens remembered the Anakin Skywalker who had been hurt and then had lashed out terribly. They remembered the burning village that was left, the clean burn wounds slashing across the torso of a young child, another whose head had been relieved. They also remembered Obi-Wan, the strange eccentric man who had seemed so very vulnerable, yet also very strong. The strange wizard removed from society and living his own solitary life at the edges of civilization. They built stories around them, a demon lashing out in anger at them. Another repenting for his sins in a dessert, alone and sad. Imaginary backstories constructed, entirely far from the truth, yet still speaking of a betrayal so large and painful that it ripped them to bits. Not so false, yet not entirely true. Obi-Wan and Anakin, once more reunited in the Force, had time enough to visit the Tuskens every now and then, observing the new life and trying to not hear the stories spoken of them.

****

All across the galaxy, stories of the Jedi turned to legend. On Geonosis, there were tales of a quiet and powerful woman who had stood up to the queen and won. Both a hero and a villain, she was admired for her strength and prowess when taking down the queen, yet the fact that she had gone against the queen, still a symbol of power within their community, was disliked by many. On Florrum the various species of people still spoke of a group of mischievous young spirits who would cause both harm and good. In the front, constantly trying to keep them from causing too much of a ruckus was an older spirit.

All across the galaxy, the Jedi had saved lives, showing the abilities and philosophy that made them Jedi. In doing so, they cemented themselves into stories and myths that showed their skills in battle as well as negotiation, their calm, and oftentimes most of all, their compassion and kindness. Jedi long gone and in the Force, still heard the whispers of them on the lips of others. It was nice, they thought quite often, to be remembered in this way. The Jedi had become these legends, and even with the merging of fact and fiction, the Jedi remained Jedi in these tales. Perhaps not explicitly, but in all the ways that mattered, they did.

[fieryphoenix0007]

Prologue/Introduction

In the beginning…

  God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

And God said, “Let there be light”: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.

Or so the story of Creation goes…

  Same, too, to say, that this was also the story of Michael’s first triumph against Samael’s Great Rebellion.

They say that the Bible is the Word of God, His Story, and His message to humanity, however, many theologians never fully understand all the words written by the great apostles, prophets and scribes of God.

  The writer themselves were puzzled with every word that came from the inspiration of God through their writing.

  ------------------------------ ------------------------------

  Facing with the punishment of being banned from the promised land of Canaan, the writer of the first five books, the “Pentateuch”, Moses, the great leader of the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt, determined to himself that he will write and record, scribe what the Lord inspires him to write.

  He began with the words, “In the beginning…” notating the answer to the large mystery of ‘Where did everything started from?’

  From Genesis to Exodus, how they escaped slavery from Egypt, and Leviticus and Numbers and Deuteronomy, Moses played a large role in starting writing the original manuscript of the Holy Book.

  What is common on these books are that they present God’s power to the human realm, His influence, physically, on the Earth’s fundamental laws. The impossible made possible, the unthinkable made pursuable, and the improbable proven.

  Little do we know about the spiritual creatures that help conjure these so-called ‘miracles’, or as the humans call it, ‘abnormalities’.

  The power to bend reality into your will is something that cannot be achieved by mere human. The humans do have their wild imagination – concoctions to a colourful and advancing world, however, they can only so little to so much with their own bare hands and feet.

  They are limited and cased into the laws of physics and the laws of the universe, whatever they can produce beyond those boundaries were theorized to be with the help of spiritual beings upon the will of God.

  These spiritual beings took on faces similar to human, but were theorized to be genderless, their form changes according to their purpose and each of them has a different power that can bend even nature itself.

  In reality, the appearance of each was uncommon to the human eyes, and mind, looking like sword, flames, ray of light, wheel, beast, and winged creatures.

  They operated in the shadows, perhaps, secret agents, fashioned by God, effortlessly blending into the crowd to create opportunities for trials and temptations, and visited humanity time and time again in a particular way that sends shivers down your spine.

  ------------------------------

------------------------------

  Moses was an Egyptian scholar. Years of his life focused on grooming and preparing him to be one of the great pillars of the dynasty of Egypt, along with his father and brother, the Pharaoh and prince regent.

  In the middle of the great pyramids’ construction, some believed that Moses was the chief engineer in building those ginormous symbol of wealth and power of the Egyptian monarchs and elites.

  Moses, the brother of the prince, standing in the midst of the crowd, proud of his lineage, and assisting his brother, the regent, on his projects and plans for the future of the kingdom.

  He was always at the top of his game. His teachers taught him manners of the royalty, work ethics, and their religious gods, but nothing from his prestige education and training has prepared him for the upcoming events.  

  “Stop! Please!” An Israelite girl pleaded and kneeled in front of the Egyptian soldier as her salty sweat runs down her brows.

  The slaves have been tirelessly put to work for almost seven days now by one of the nobles who felt that he would die at any moment.

  Soldiers were assigned to monitor each and every slave to work and accomplish the great task of mounting one of the greatest pyramids of all time.

  As women and the children were assigned to distribute food and water, the men, the older ones, and the young ones, were assigned to the heavy duty of creating blocks of mud and bringing them to the construction.

  SFX: WAPOOSH! The sound of the whip echoed in the valley.

  The Egyptian soldier just wouldn’t stop.

  She looked away every whip, the sight of her grandfather, whipped to death for falling behind the line, blood oozes out of the pores of his back, blending in the mud and straw where the slave drenched as he fell behind the line, rashes start to appear as the straw’s unbearable dryness produced the itching reddish appearance as it touched and the heat torched the old man’s skin.

  Moses was sensitive to these kinds of things, he doesn’t remember ever getting to know a slave, nor does he know that he was from one of the slaves, but his heart ached every time a slave cried out, his mind exploded in frustration every time he sees someone lashed to death.

  He did not fully understand why, but his body followed his heart and mind, because of this, most of the Senate did not like Moses.

  To them, he looked weak, sympathizing with the slaves. Though, the current Pharaoh keeps him in his heart as his son, and the current regent treats him like a blood-brother, you will notice a difference in heart.

  “Father, I’d like a slave to be in my quarters.” The first time he heard this from his brother, the prince regent, it immediately broke his heart.

  He realized he is still too weak to do anything, but now, now, that he’s the chief engineer, maybe, maybe, he thought, Maybe I can do something about this!

  He quickly rushed to the aid of the old man with a collapsed lung, the soldier continued to whip the man to death until he submitted, wobbling standing up and tried to barely carry his load.

  Of course, he wouldn’t be able to stand up - you’re whipping him to death!

  He thought this through…

  But it was too late, he grabbed the soldier’s wrist to stop, but the old man collapsed again and was no longer breathing, his unmoving body lay still half-buried in the sand and mud and the straw that he grew up to pick up in.

  I thought I can save him.

  He expected a wave of rejoicing of gratitude from the slaves, instead, a wild, deafening screech from the weeping of the granddaughter of the old man echoed through the desert.

  He couldn’t comfort the girl, he couldn’t scold the soldier, he couldn’t punish the abuser, and protect the weak, stuck in the middle, he was faced with the greatest enemy of his life – the cruelty of his own father, or so he thought.

  That night, determined to get justice, and to be the defender of the weak, the sneaky vigilante snuck through the darkness and struck quickly in the moonlight.  

  “No, please, don’t kill me.” The soldier appealed with his life.

  But the more he beseeched for mercy, the more Moses got agitated, he remembered how the little girl implored for his grandfather’s life, and for that, he struck the blows even harder and harder, until there’s no recognizable feature in the man’s face.

  A sigh of relief rushed down his spine as he finished the task, he succeeded in sending that soldier’s soul to hell’s hottest and finest rooms.  

  The relief quickly brushed down his face, and terror and panic soon came charging in. The clouds that covered the moonlight passed on and as the light hit the sand, his murder handiwork reflected in his eyes. His hands covered in blackish hard liquid, as the blood dried out immediately in the cold of the night.

  What have I done?

  Alas, he thought he was doing a righteous task by taking justice in his own hands, but what he took was his own innocence, and send it off to hell.

  Sand! I’ll… I’ll bury him in the sand!

  He quickly scooped his bloodied hands in the sand, cold and rough, gasping for air as he dashed to bury the body in the middle of nowhere. He knew that no secret in this world that will never be revealed, but hoped at the least that his family doesn’t find out.

  As he was finishing his burial, his eyes nervously darted and scoped around like a cornered impala, waiting for the lion to strike.

  There’s no one. Good.

  He speedily head back to the palace, near at the river’s bank, and washed off his body and threw his clothes, the river stowed away with the bloodied evidence of his crime.

  He looked at the silver moon, it was not a good sight. His eyes filled with the red-stained blood that splashed around while he bludgeoned the soldier to death with a sharp rock.

  He wanted to go back in time, to undo what he did, but it’s too late, it’s already done.

  Forgiveness from a god was familiar to Moses, they have customs and rituals indicated in their history paintings and drawings, but this was the first time he sought forgiveness from the God of the Israelites.

  God, if you can hear me, please… please forgive me. I’ve been good, and I’ve helped many of your people. I hope You can help me this time.

  Every one of the Egyptians was well acquainted with each other, though they treated the Israelites as slaves, their definition of family was still pretty close, hence, the next morning, the family of the soldier petitioned a searching party from the palace.

  Alarmed by the missing soldier report, the Pharaoh quickly dispatched a team to rummage through the desert and the nearest kilometres of the borders.

  And within that day, a few volunteers discovered a body, unrecognizable, near the borders of Egypt.  

  So… so fast, I… I need to get out of here.

  God wanted to help Moses, though he murdered a man in the name of revenge, he was still the chosen deliverer of the Israelites out of Egypt, that was His plan.

  Then…

  God liberated Moses all from the anchor of his family, the pressure of Egypt and from his crime.

  “Aren’t you the one who killed this man? Are you not an Egyptian as well? Why did you kill him?”

  Someone whispered in the crowd.

  Moses darted his eyes through the crowd, there was no one.

  Who’s talking, then… who?

  An old man has his back turned from Moses, and that’s when his heart spoke to him, Approach the old man, approach him.

  And he did.

  That voice steered him to something that he could not fathom, at the least for that moment, or for the next forty years.

  He frantically stretched out his arms across the crowd and reached the old man’s shoulder.

  “Wait…”

  His face quickly turned pale and devoid of any colour, as if the blood came rushing out, the old man’s face, it was the dead old man, the unmoving old man, whipped to death, bloodied with his back, and rashes in his whole body.

  “You killed him! You killed your fellow Egyptian! He killed him! I saw him last night!” The outlandish accusations of the old man seemed to be believable to the people around Moses.

  The Chief of the Army quickly posed a wanted poster and notice for the head of Moses, the man who killed an Egyptian.

  How is this possible? That old man already died, I avenged him.

His thoughts got scrambled quickly as puzzle as he packed up his things to escape justice for his murder charges.

  Pressed by the elites and nobles, the Pharaoh, issued a warrant to arrest and punish Moses for the murder charges.

  I have no other choice but go.

  MOSES! MOSES! The echoing soldiers and army ready to arrest him were now threading to the gates of Egypt.

  He quickly marched on to the death of the desert to escape his pursuers.

  *Huff, Huff*

This isn’t working, this isn’t what I wanted. I only wanted freedom for the slaves. Fair treatment for everyone, how did it end up this way?

  It’s too late, he was already miles away from the kingdom, in the vast desert. At least he knew how to find an oasis or something similar in this time of the day.

  Exhausted, lingering between life and death, Moses continued to march on at the cold of the night, his eyes barren of any life and hope, not knowing where to go, what to do, and if there is any future ahead of all of this.

  Then…

  SFX: Thud, thud

  His knee gave out, weakness due to thirst spread throughout his body and he suddenly fell on his knees, then his face on the sand.

  It’s as if he had lost all hope, closing his eyes to oblivion, his ears started tingling, there’s sound coming from somewhere.

  “Father, father…”

  The faintest sound of a lady woke him right up, his eyes dilated of joy and hope. He pulled out his arms from the sand, and pushed his body upwards, along with his torso and his legs.

  Flailing like his legs were going to give out, he struggled to find the sound.

  Where… where was it?

  “Aaa-, aa-, hee-“

  He doesn’t have that much voice in him, the sand dried up his throat, there’s vibration from his breathing, but sound, there’s nothing much, he’s too weak to speak, or even shout for help.

  “Father…”

  The whispers were getting louder by a minute, in what direction were they coming from?

  Moses closed his eyes, felt the wind and located where the whispers were coming from.

  South-east! South-east, go, go, go, move legs!

  And there it was, a small group of people, in tents surrounding a small oasis, supply of water, in the middle of the desert.

  Moses’ eyes lights up even more, shone, and the only thing he could see was the well besides the oasis.

  He ran and threw his face down at the water of the oasis, drinking, gulping, and-

  “Haaaaaaaaaaa.” Gasping for air. He lifted up his drenched face from the well, and looked up to the Heavens, the stars, the skies, the moon, it wasn’t bloody red anymore. He clearly saw the shining light reflecting to the water and on to his eyes.

  He wanted to cry his eyes out, but that’s not possible, he was still dehydrated from walking in the scorching hot desert for almost a day.

  Regaining his composure, his eyes wandered the premises, there’s no one nearby, no one awake, no soul that could whisper what he heard and yet he knows what he heard, he remembers what he heard.

  However…

  There’s something weird about the place. Everything was quiet, no one was definitely awake, particularly different from the bustling evening of Egypt.  

  Something even weirder caught his eye. A sword plunged shallowly on the sand near the well caught his curiosity, he began approaching the sword. It’s a double-edged sword.

  He was not familiar with this type of sword as Egyptians used a sickle-shaped, one – edged sword in their military.

  He’d only seen double-edged swords in their library of pictures, the walls that described their history and glory.

  In all the war pictures in those walls, he never saw a double-edged sword depicted in the drawings.

  Enthralled by the sword, he grabbed tightly the hilt of the shining silver sword and quietly pulled it out of the cold sand.

  “Moses.”

  “Ha!”

  Upon hearing a voice, he was startled and jerked off the sword out of his hands into the sand beneath his shoeless toes.

  What was that? Was that the sword?

  “Was… was that you?”

  What am I doing, talking to a sword? Is this a full-on hallucination?

  “Yes.”

  It talked! It talked, it talked, it talked! What?

  “What… what are you? Did you… did you save me and lead me here?”

  Definitely intrigued, he slowly approached the talking sword.

  “I am the messenger of God - the God of Jacob, the God of Joseph, the God of the Israelites.”

  You? A sword? Wait, Israelites?

  “So, it’s true, the God of Israel, is the true God?”

  There are many Egyptians gods that we pray to, but… I never felt a connection.

  Moses tried to grab again the hilt of the sword. This time, he made sure he tightly gripped the hilt.

  “Yes.”

  His heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t let go of the sword. Hard as it may seem but his mind accepted the fact that the talking sword is what led him there.

  “What do you want?”

  “Simple. To inform you something.”

  “Some… thing?”

  “You are of Israel, son of Jochebed, daughter of Levi, one of the sons of Jacob.”

  “What? That’s… that’s… impossible.”

  He gathered his thoughts, he’s an Egyptian, yet he has feelings for the slaves, pity, love, mercy, and the slaves are good to him as well, they knew something that he doesn’t.

  Flashbacks came flooding in.

  The time he felt pity for the first time for the slaves outside of the palace working on with the pyramids, and that time that he saw a little girl guiding him in the river, or that time that he remember in his dreams that an adult woman slave was singing him to sleep, those… those weren’t just dreams, they’re… they’re memories.

  They’re… my memories?

  “Your mother kept you alive in a basket for almost three years.”

  “Pharaoh, your adoptive grandfather has decided to slay the male Israelites to avoid increasing the number of the slaves, he was afraid that a rebellion will happen if Israel were to outgrow Egypt and overcome them in numbers.” The sword continued the story.

  “Numbers… wait, what? He… Grandfather…”

  “The history is not one pleasant thing to remember. The children howled and whimpered, and their mothers wailed and bellowed their cries, it’s as if the Heavens closed again its windows, this time, against humanity.”

  “So…”

  The reason why many Israelites hated my grandfather was… was…

  “The soldiers, along with their conscience, begrudgingly tossed the male infants to the Nile, only to be drowned, or subdued or eaten by the reptiles which roam about the river. That day, the Earth, the land, the waters grieved for the gifts of God shed blood unnaturally through the wickedness of the heart of Pharaoh.”

  “Then… I… I was about to be killed…”

  “Yes, however, your mother was able to get you hidden from the soldiers. Once she was fully aware that she will not be able to for the next years of your infancy, she… she prepared a basket for you to be able to float into the Nile. Guided by your sister, Miriam, Jochebed hesitantly watched you, and the basket sail within the most dangerous depths of the river to the chamber of Pharaoh’s daughter. That’s how you became the Prince of Egypt.”

  His eyes opened wide, his knee gave out again, but not due to hunger, not due to dehydration, but due to shock, he also lost the power to hold the sword and it fell, blade-first into the ground.

  “That’s… how do you know so much about me?”

  “I already told you, I am the messenger of God.”

  “If you have saved me, then…”

“Yes, you will be Israel’s deliverer, you will deliver them out of slavery into the promise land.”

  “I… no, no, no… I just came out of there as a murderer! I’m a criminal, not some saviour, and who am I to… to…”

  “You’re not just someone, God set you up to be the Prince of Egypt and the Deliverer of Israel, you are Moses.”

  “How can I…”

  “Believe. For now, learn the way of the priest and the shepherd. I will be reaching you again when the time comes.”

  “When the time comes?”

  “Yes. “

  Moses, looking down, has realized his fate, and his life was a set-up to believe what’s in front of him, but now…

  There’s an even bigger person than father, than the Pharaoh.

  “Who… who are you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  As soon as Moses became curious about the sword, what emerged from the back of the sword raised his interest even more.

  White, fluffy, and shining bird-like wings fluttered in front of his eyes, with a jaw-dropping beauty and elegant movement, the only thing that Moses can do is try to reach out the illuminating wings.

  He let go of the hilt of the sword and thus, it hovers in the air.

  “I am-“

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Steel Becomes Stronger Wrapped in Flames but What about Your Soul?” Chapter 1

Summary: Valtor is fighting Oritel on a missions his mothers sent him on to retrieve an artifact for them. But only when he admits to himself that it isn't them he's fighting for he manages to gain the upper hand. He is faced with a hard choice when winning the battle would mean losing his reason for fighting it in the first place, though.

I'm... not sure what really happened here. The original direction of this was perhaps lost a little but hey, we get Valtor x Griffin angst from Valtor's PoV for a change so...

The blades clashed and the sound entered his body, his veins to tangle with the adrenaline flowing through them. It was exactly what he needed, what he’d craved for so long now. Training didn’t have the same effect when there was no opponent against him and he wouldn’t waste his time sparring with any of his covenmates who couldn’t rise to his level no matter how hard they tried. Not that Oritel was a match either but it was all he could hope for nowadays. Marion was not on the battlefield now that she was pregnant and Griffin was obviously avoiding him which he preferred to keep that way. He didn’t need the feel of her magic all around him when a physical fight was so much more rewarding and helped focus his restless energy and pour it into the battle.

“Feeling tired?” Valtor mocked when Oritel barely blocked a swing that would’ve cut him in half a moment later. He was bursting with energy, not only because he had the power source Oritel could only get to feel when his wife was around, but also because he had undying anger in him to fuel him through everything and he knew how to use it, too. It would take extinguishing his rage to beat him and nothing could do that. Something impossible would have to happen to defeat that emotion that had turned more or less into a companion, a home when he had nothing else. “I may let you die with Marion and not make her suffer your demise if you surrender now,” Valtor pushed to even the playing ground as much as possible. It wouldn’t be a challenge otherwise.

“I’ll never lose to you,” Oritel seethed just like he’d expected he would, the self-righteous anger coming out on cue as just another proof he was so easy to manipulate and steer right where Valtor wanted him to go. And once he lost himself in the raging sea he didn’t know how to navigate, he would lose his control too, throwing caution and planning to the wind and diving into battle headfirst to seek his death and prove Griffin had been wrong to join him and his friends in their hopeless quest to win against the Coven, to win against him. “My resolve is stronger than yours and so is my sword,” Oritel growled like a madman and pushed him away before attacking with all the force he could muster while Valtor’s words were in his mind and were doing their job of tearing his confidence and any beginning of a strategy to shreds.

Valtor evaded the strike with ease, making Oritel look like a fool as he lost his balance and almost fell, the force he’d wanted to hit him with becoming a rock that was weighing him down instead.

“Your sword won’t save you no matter how special you believe it to be,” Valtor taunted, hiding behind the smug sound like Mother Lysslis had taught him to. It wouldn’t do to show his own outrage at the fact that Oritel dared to challenge him just because he had a spark of the Dragon Fire woven in his weapon. That power belonged to Valtor only and he’d make sure to take it from Marion too. “The Dragon Fire isn’t yours to use,” he said, unable to contain himself. He was done with having things taken away from him. It was him who’d take from now on.

“It’s not yours either,” Oritel bit back. “It’s Marion’s and you’re just a fraud, an experiment gone wrong that should’ve never happened in the first place but those three witches don’t have any sense left, just their pursuit of power,” Oritel spoke, making his inner flames burn and reach to get out to prove him wrong. His Dragon Fire was just as natural as Marion’s and even more powerful. It was the winning side of that opposition and he’d show them all how wrong they were to think otherwise. Death was always stronger than life and he’d teach them that lesson the hard way as they didn’t leave him any other option with their refusal to see it and accept it.

“Even your wife won’t be able to save you,” Valtor glowered at him, giving himself a pause for a second to let the words sink in before attacking again. It was time to put an end to that fight. He’d drawn it out to entertain himself but he was getting bored, not to mention annoyed by Oritel’s point of view on the matter that he neither appreciated, nor had the desire to hear. They weren’t in a romance novel, that was for damn sure.

Oritel blocked his strike with ease this time, his gaze pushing into Valtor’s just like their swords were as they were trying to cut through each other. “That’s where you’re wrong,” Oritel said, his voice too calm as he was too sure of himself and Valtor didn’t like having the balance of power being tipped away from him as if he’d had the rug pulled from under his feet. He’d fallen too hard already to do it once again. “Marion is my strength and as long as I have my family to fight for, you will never be able to defeat me,” Oritel said, the fire in his gaze so familiar it made Valtor wish to break his eyes to pieces so that they wouldn’t be able to harbor what had once been a reflection of his own but was now only a broken memory that cut through him and made his muscles weaker, and especially his heart. “My sword will always be stronger than yours because it’s forged and yielded with love.”

“We’re not in high school, Oritel,” Valtor said, choosing to focus on the naivety and ridiculousness of the words instead of on the feelings they carried. Keeping your focus on what mattered was key for winning and he couldn’t forget that lesson after his mothers had made sure to drill it into his head. His education may have been more unconventional but that was exactly what would bring him victory. “Save your speeches for the drama club,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep out the memories of the words that could’ve passed for poetry–the most beautiful poetry in the world–he’d been saying himself some time ago. The element of past was the important part in that thought. It was all behind him now and he was a weapon himself now just like he’d always been. And he would gladly go through Oritel if that was what he needed to do to accomplish his goal.

Valtor pulled back, just for a moment, just to gather the momentum he needed, and jumped right back into battle with a series of smooth, swift strikes that had enough force in them to cut through a fortress but Oritel had no problem avoiding or blocking them, sending sparks flying from their clashing blades. Sparks that only set Valtor on fire with the rage surging through him and almost made him release his magic to see Oritel burn as well but that would be a hit against himself and his own ego so he held back, holding on to the last ounce of respect he had for himself.

“You’d think differently if you’d felt anything similar,” Oritel said, allowing himself the smugness over the trap he’d pushed him into, daring him to prove him wrong when he knew he couldn’t. Or rather, he wouldn’t. There was an easy way to prove him wrong but it would mean sacrificing his pride and he’d already lost too much to all of his enemies, old and new. “But I don’t expect you to understand,” Oritel spoke again, daring to insinuate he wasn’t human enough to have love flowing through his veins and it made him wish to let out the demon in his essence and make him regret ever challenging him and trying to make him admit things that would unravel him or choose to accept the monstrosity being pushed on him from everywhere. “I’m fighting for a cause, and you’re just fighting for yourself,” he threw in his face, so lost in his tirade he didn’t realize he’d pushed him past his limit. But that was okay with Valtor. It gave him the power to make him pay for it.

He used the energy, the madness he got from the image of her invading his system and put it towards defeating Oritel and making him cower away rather than on keeping the memories of her warmth and his desire to give her everything out of his head. It made him reel, the feeling of pain and sadness intoxicating and charging him with determination because without her he had nothing and he’d never been satisfied with that. So if he couldn’t have her, he’d have what he’d wanted for the two of them.

He’d have the world at his feet and everyone begging him for mercy and he’d have none for them like they hadn’t had any for him. He would make them all regret ever getting in his way and hurting him. And he would make her see her mistake, would make her wish to come back to him, would make her give him her heart again. And he’d prove her wrong, too, by keeping it safe even when he had all the power to destroy her and tear it to shreds. But he’d never been the monster she–and everyone else but that hardly mattered to him when it was the judgment in her eyes that made him bleed and threw him in pain–had tried to make him out to be.

He was so fast, like a lightning, almost like Mother Tharma’s winds, and Oritel didn’t even see him coming, his sword forced out of his hands before he could comprehend what was happening. Valtor had him pinned against the wall, the dangerous edge of his blade pressed against his throat and needing just a little push to sink in and spill his blood. And Oritel had already pushed him too far. Not to mention the poetic justice in it for all that Oritel had dared spit in his face.

He was more than tempted to see the look on his face as death took over him and realization of the pain Marion would have to go through sank in. And the thought of having Marion suffering the same fate he’d had and being weakened by the loss of her partner had him convinced to press the sword harder in Oritel’s neck and see him bleed out slowly, his nostrils flaring from the smell of the first drops of blood as he nicked the skin and the widening of Oritel’s eyes to accommodate the immense terror that filled them luring him even more into the idea to have someone else in pain other than himself.

“Valtor,” Griffin’s cry cut through him worse than Mother Belladonna’s frost that was always so striking against the heat of his inner flames. It made his hold on his control slip, his hand shaking and forcing him to withdraw the blade a little to make sure he wouldn’t make a mistake. He couldn’t let her see him so lost in his thirst for vengeance. It would give her the wrong idea. And she already knew how much she’d hurt him so his last argument to hold his position and let his intentions play out crumbled under the logic that had been her religion and she’d made him believe in as well, taught him how to control his impulses and use his brain, be smarter and more strategical. And his plan would crumble if he affirmed her belief he was a monster like the three that had raised him.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. He couldn’t explain her presence, couldn’t find a logic to her showing up only now if she’d been there the whole time. Had she been hiding from him or had she not sensed his presence? Which answer was less terrible? And what had made her come out? Worry for Oritel or worry for him and his soul, worry for their love that would die if he allowed himself to kill now?

He let go of Oritel and threw his sword on the ground, for it was useless to him. He wouldn’t need it ever again because he’d proven he was stronger than Oritel but he couldn’t fight him, couldn’t hurt him if he wanted to keep the source of that strength alive. Her eyes were already full of too much doubt, and the pleading... The pleading had that edge of confusion that ripped through him with the uncertainty of being able to give her what she wanted. Because he couldn’t tell what she wanted anymore. She’d told him she’d wanted a better world for dark magic users and she’d told him she’d wanted him, but she’d ran away from him when he’d tried to give her exactly that and she was now begging him, silently, her eyes torturing his soul with the watery agony in them, not to hurt their enemies. But maybe they were just his enemies now. And he had no idea how to deal with the fact that they were her friends because that put them on opposite sides and made him fight her when she was what he was fighting for.

“Griffin,” he said, allowing himself to say her name with reverence at least once more because he wasn’t certain he’d be able to do that the next time he saw her. She was avoiding him and the fires she’d set in his soul when she’d left him were burning bad enough to churn even the love he held for her so he wasn’t certain he’d be able to keep it alive for much longer. It was the last time he could promise her he wouldn’t hurt her and everything that came in the future was more than uncertain and unstable like he hadn’t been used to it being when she’d been in his embrace, grounding him and showing him what he truly wanted to have.

He left without the artifact he’d come for. He couldn’t make himself fight her for it when he knew that could be the last time he was capable of making that choice while he still wasn’t blinded by the fire burning in his core. Even if he risked having it extinguished by his mothers. Perhaps that would be better as it would leave him no opportunity to hurt her. Even when she was the one thing that had  the power to hurt him worse than any sword would ever manage.

[ares-golden-ram]

So I wrote something on Hedy’s past and what ultimately brought her to Earth, it’s also on AO3 if anyone wants to read it from there here’s the link! I have proof read it so many times I can’t even understand if it makes sense anymore so please feel free to point out any mistakes! 

The // sign at the end of specific sentences represents a time skip!

THE RIGHTEOUS (THE HIEROPHANT/STRENGTH)

I notice her the moment I walk through the golden doors of the Royal Hall, the corridor is completely empty except for us and I subconsciously hold my breath. I freeze in the presence of the right hand woman of the Monarch because despite this being a place of passage it feels like I've intruded a very private moment. The knight is facing a stained glass window depicting a flaming sun rising before a barren ground, she fits perfectly in the illustration as the daylight hits her metal body making it glisten in golden accents. I can't bring myself to talk, I've never seen the android on the battlefield but I've heard the stories, listened to every single retelling of her feats, one wrong word and I'm done for. She turns around and all I can do is stare, she's not as big as other war bots, the model of her screen is older but sturdier and on it her expression is ever-changing, the pixels reforming every so often to display what she feels. She's frowning, the line that is her mouth forms waves every time she speaks and right now her soft humming creates constant soft ripples, she's holding her sword in a tight, clawed grip. Her stance relaxes and a soft jingling sound catches my attention as she sheathes back the weapon. Electronic Escort Droids don't have antennas, those things are useless for such technologically advanced forms, yet she wears one, both ends are fused in her casing and in it a small number of silver specks can be seen, embedded in the wiring. Spoils of war, or even better, trophies. Sword shards, tips of modified arrows, bullets...and they say EED aren't vain. In her defense the whole planet sees her as the symbol of hope, the bringer of future harmony and peace, having a fake halo just means she fully embraces her role as The Guardian as everyone seemed to call her since she started to rank up in the military.

"Are you going to stare a bit longer? I have places to be you know".

I realize my mistake but my mouth is dry and I can't think of some reasonable justification, another moment passes and just when I start to wonder if she'll draw her sword again the sound of her laughter fills the hall, clear and sharp, like coins falling to the ground one after the other.

"Please, forgive me but this joke never gets old!" She says as she touches her chest, mimicking the organic gesture of needing air. "I'm aware of the moniker civilians have given me but please, call me Dee" she extends a claw in a very careful manner trying to look as harmless as possible, "I'd love to stay and chat but our Monarch awaits us".

ENLIGHTENMENT (THE HANGED MAN/THE TOWER)

The moment we are deployed on the battlefield I know what I must do, the few soldiers I took with me are my first objective, less than a dozen but they're the only ones I was able to recognize after their secret meeting. How could they betray our Monarch? He's a strict ruler but just and compassionate, he doesn't want this war any more than anyone else yet they accuse him, dirty his name while carrying his banner. I'll keep him safe, I'll kill the traitors and move on, the unlucky bastards should have been more careful. I unsheathe my sword, the only companion I can always seem to trust lately, and I get to work. //

She begs me, crying and screaming for absolution, she didn't know any better. I sink next to her, carefully fixing her hair behind her ear, the organic ones are always too easy to kill, too emotional.

"Why?" I ask, she's not a threat anymore and I need to know what could ever justify their treason.

"They talk! We...we spoke to one of them, Tix wounded one with a poison arrow but the venom was taking too long. He begged to be killed but we were too shocked to do anything".

"Nonsense, the Belkaith don't speak. And they sure as hell don't implore for mercy, the only thing they'd ever talk about if they could would be war and violence".

"I know it's insane but that's the truth, we were fooled! I ask you to read this, please-"

I strike her as soon as she reaches for her pocket, I don't have time for the blabbering of a scared traitor but unexpectedly she still moves, trying to save a few papers from either getting soaked in her own blood or catching fire thanks to my sword.

"I'm sorry". That's what she tells me as her eyes go blank, the papers fall gently to the ground and I extract my weapon from her body, the flames go out as soon as I sheathe it back in the scabbard.

I pick up the letter and instantly recognize the Monarch's hand writing, the fancy lettering and short sentences compose a threat. I recognize a few more names the letter is addressed to other than the ones of the soldiers I just killed, I guess his majesty knew of their treachery already, maybe I should have talked to him before attacking them.

Something's off, the more I read the less it all makes sense, the writing becomes more sharp towards the end of the page, sloppy as if he was in a hurry...or scared. I read the letter over and over again until it's imprinted in my code and all I can do is stare at the page, my mind completely blank.

I get up, store the letter in one of the pockets on my belt and start walking towards the sound of blasters and screaming, like a ship following a siren's song. //

I finally reach the heart of the battle and as I pull out my sword everyone stops. I turn around to check what caused the abrupt change and there, slowly lowering through the sky his ship appears, radiating a soft glowing white light. The first thing that comes to my mind is home, how many times did I sigh of relief spotting his vessel after a strenuous battle? Now that feeling travels all the way from my heart to my stomach and then to my limbs like fire following gasoline trails.

"My dearest, please come on board I believe we need to talk"

His voice sounds so comforting, so much so that for a moment I'm tempted to say yes, to climb inside and be saved from this nightmare, I want to hear him say it's all a misunderstanding, I must have gotten it all wrong! Except for the fact that he is here and that alone confirms the very awful truth.

There are so many questions swirling through my mind: Why? Who else is in on this? Does everyone know? Am I the only one who was fooled? I served by his side for years fighting for our people, how could he do this to me?.

If he's a monster then what am I?.

A blinding rage possesses me, the flames engulfing my sword creep higher and higher, my vision blurs with tears, I can't trust my voice right now so I do the next best thing to make him and everyone else understand. I raise my sword in his direction then turn it towards me and with a sharp motion I slice my antennas, severing the halo on my head. I cut down my puppet strings.

It doesn't hurt, the anger makes it all feel numb, the only thing I'm aware of right now is that I'm surrounded, enemies on every side and the only way I can leave alive is by fighting them until I can't and then fight some more. The message has been understood loud and clear, he doesn't waste a moment and immediately gives the order to kill me, the Belkaith yell in their ancient guttural monosyllabic sounds that I was too presumptuous and stupid to identify as a language and resume their assault as if the order was given to them, my companions don't touch me, they're baffled by the situation, shocked by the Monarch's words. I can't hesitate, can't repay them with the same kindness, the spell breaks as my first attack pierces the armor of a fellow soldier and everyone tightens the grip on their weapons.

"Traitor!".

"The Guardian has forsaken us!". //

My sword is in pieces, the legendary Maramakula is destroyed, the head of the sea serpent that was engraved in the handle is just a few steps away from me, I was a fool to think that I could face them all.

"What good is a knight without his sword?"

"And without a king!" they laugh, so easily turned against the one they idolized just a few hours before, I can't blame them. All of a sudden the same feeling of when I saw the royal ship washes over me like fire burning my every circuit. I cling to it this time, feel it rage in my heart and soon enough it feels like a volcano is about to erupt inside of me.

"What the fuck is she doing?"

"How am I supposed to know? She's disarmed anyway stop wo-" He doesn't finish the sentence, can't really, not when right in front of him the grass burns and the blood from the corpses of fallen enemies and fellow soldiers alike starts bubbling.

My whole left arm is on fire, the deepest red I've ever seen dances around my limb with a life of its own. With a reinvigorated spirit I rise from the barren ground, the sun shines its blinding golden light on my armor.

"Good thing I'm not a knight anymore, then" That's the last thing I remember before the overwhelming strength of this new power swallows me whole.

METANOIA (THE CHARIOT/TEMPERANCE)

I wake up in the little shelter I built in the last few months I've been stranded on this new planet, I have no idea what its name is but I've never seen so much green in a single place. I grab a clean pair of shorts and put them on, slowly make my way to the kitchen where I down a cold cup of oil, I'll never get used to the taste. Today I need to go to the stream and wash my clothes, then I'll get back to the fields, I've been trying to plant almost anything I could get my hands on in the meadow near the shipwreck but nothing seems to take. //

I'm still unsure of this whole 'clothes' concept, I'm not organic, I don't really need them but for some reason seeing me bare makes the villagers feel uneasy, so I humor them most of the time and only take them off when I need to do some heavy work, they're too constricting for my taste. As I'm hoeing the soil I can't stop looking at the ruins of my ship, barely visible from behind the thick foliage of the nearby trees, sometimes I think how unhealthy it must be to see the reminder of a failed past life every day yet somehow I always end up here, staring at this horrible monument perfectly depicting my foolishness, my anger, my mistakes.

The sun is going down, painting the barren field in reds and oranges, the colors softly shimmer on my body and the warmth of it all makes me recoil as the haunting memory of someone else, someone I no longer want to remember, tries to surface. I fall to the ground trying to make myself as tiny as possible, folding in on myself, I want to escape from this place I want to run away from it all once more. And then I see it, between the tears clogging my vision, a small sprout trying its hardest to grow between the cracks of the unwelcoming soil. The symbolism is clear, almost like a cruel joke from the universe itself, so I laugh like I haven't in years.

[checkfortraps]

Tyrean Deities

There have been some requests for me to talk about the deities I homebrewed for my world Tyrea, and I recently found the time to sit down and write an overview, so here you go, folks. Under a cut to spare the poor mobile users.

A word of explanation first: Tyrea is a world that has been shattered by a legendary demigoddess called Leanor, who transformed into a titanic serpentine dragon after consuming the divine essences of several evil deities. The original gods of good, commonly referred to as the Prime Deities, battled her during three centuries now known as the Age of Bravery. After defeating her, they were too weak to maintain their physical form on the Material Plane, so they bestowed the remaining sparks of their divine power upon the Chosen, heroes who fought at their side during the war. The current gods are either the Chosen, or their successors, for the divine spark can be passed on and even taken by force, though few are powerful and daring enough to attempt the latter.

Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon

Bahamut is the last surviving metallic dragon created by the Prime Deities before they left Tyrea the first time. He is the sworn enemy of Tiamat, the Queen of Chaos, and acts as the patron god of protectors and heroes.

Holy symbol: the head of a platinum dragon in profile, often on blue ground

Dogma: Stand as a paragon of honor and justice. Smite evil wherever it is found, yet show compassion to those who have strayed from righteousness. Defend the weak, bring freedom to those without, and protect the ideals of just order.

Caestis, the Stormbringer

Caestis is an air genasi man with light blue skin, cloudlike white hair, and sky-blue eyes dressed in flowing white and blue robes and draped in silver jewelry, typically followed by a flock of birds. His portfolio encompasses the air, the sky, and the storm.

Holy symbol: lightning bolt above dark blue wave

Dogma: Cleanse the world like a storm. Be wind where there should be change and lightning where destruction is necessary, but rain where good things should grow.

Dun’Thyn, the Deep One

Dun’Thyn appears as a giant mermaid with long, midnight blue, seaweed-woven hair living deep within the elemental chaos of the oceans. They are the deity of water, the ocean and the tides. They are often depicted holding a cup of dice, for they are said to roll for the lives of sailors - both of the sky and the sea - who cross the ocean.

Holy symbol: set of bone dice

Dogma: Do not seek to conquer nature. Embrace the chaos and live in harmony with it. Slay abominations and other dark mockeries of nature who seek to corrupt the world.

Iastia, the Divine Judge

Iastia is a tall aasimar woman dressed in white robes, with flowing silver hair and her eyes hidden behind a blindfold, holding a scale in one hand and a sword in the other. She is the patron goddess of judges and paladins and represents divine justice.

Holy symbol: golden scale balanced evenly

Dogma: Embrace the company and aid of others, for the efforts of the individual often pale against the capabilities of the community. Stand true to your word even when it might do you harm. Do not let emotion cloud your rational judgment. 

Laciune, the Lie-Smith

Laciune is a changeling who favors the form of a person of varying race in their twenties with fair, freckled skin, flaming red hair, and golden eyes, either dressed in all black or the most colorful clothing you can imagine. They are the deity of deception and trickery, as well as the patron of thieves and travelers. Their nature is erratic - they are as likely to prank you as they are to bestow you with unexpected gifts, and they seem to pick and choose prayers to heed on a whim.

Holy symbol: Two snakes, entwined in the shape of an S, biting each others' tails

Dogma: Seize your own destiny by pursuing your passions. Let the shadows protect you from the fanatical light of good and the eternal darkness of evil. Walk unbridled and untethered, finding and forging new memories and experiences.

Lupeica, the Wolf Mother

Lupeica is a shifter with dark, scarred skin, short brown hair, amber eyes and wolf’s ears which betray her lycanthrope nature. She is the goddess of untamed wilderness, the hunt and legacy, often connected with ancestral spirits, and rules Wolfclaw Island at the side of her husband Zhaltor, with Magistra Minadora Petran serving as her stewart.

Holy symbol: grey wolf’s paw

Dogma: Accept the natural order and know your place in it. Do not seek that which you are not entitled to. Find your pack and defend it to your last breath, for only in unity lies true strength.

Rhonar, the Rune-Carver

Rhonar is a dwarven man of very old age, round-bellied and scholarly, with tan skin, long white hair with a matching beard braided with gemstones, and dark brown eyes, who’s most often seen wearing gold-rimmed spectacles and comfortable clothing in shades of purple and blue. He is the god of craftsmanship, knowledge, and invention, and the patron of artisans, scholars and tinkerers. Out of all gods, Laciune aside, Rhonar is the most sociable, often found studying or teaching in the great libraries of Stonehall.

Holy symbol: hammer and chisel

Dogma: Seek knowledge, yet hold firm to your convictions. Honor tradition while striving for innovation. Legacy is paramount; to create something that lasts the ages is to change the world for the better.

Saytara, the Lady of Luck

Saytara is a tall, fat kalashtar in her mid-thirties, with alabaster skin, dark pink hair worn in long and loose curls woven with flowers, and dark blue eyes. She’s typically wearing dresses in pastel colors combined with sandals, as well as heavy golden hoop earrings, bracelets and rings set with gemstones. Her portfolio includes divination, luck, good-natured trickery, and trade. She is the newest of the Chosen, having inherited the mantle of Lady Luck from Tymora about ten years ago, and serves as the inofficial leader of the Fairweather Confederacy.

Holy symbol: gold coin etched with a stylized exotic flower

Dogma: Luck favors the bold; grasp your own fate before others do it for you. Change is inevitable; the righteous can ensure that it is for the better. Rise against tyranny; fight for freedom of yourself and others when you can, and inspire others to fight when you cannot.

The Raven Queen

The Raven Queen is a tall and slender woman, with flowing black hair and pale, porcelain skin, though few people ever see her before she comes to claim their souls upon their death. She almost always wears a blank, porcelain mask. Those who have seen her without it describe her features as elven in nature, but with unsettling red irises. She dwells in her realm, the Shadowfell, and only ever appears to mortals in dreams and visions. Hers is the dominion over the souls of the dead, which she is rumored to have taken by force from the previous god of death, Kelemvor. As a result, she and her servants are often regarded with unease or outright fear.

Holy symbol: a raven’s head in profile

Dogma: Death is the natural end of life. There is no pity for those who have fallen. The path of Fate is sacrosanct. Those who pridefully attempt to cast off their destiny must be punished. Undeath is an atrocity. Those who would pervert the transition of the soul must be brought down.

Vinari, the Forgemother

Vinari is a tall, strong tiefling woman with brown, heavily freckled skin, dark red hair, and pale grey eyes, often wearing a leather apron over a simple woolen tunic. She is the goddess of the forge and the hearthfire, as well as of life and rebirth. Her divine spark has been passed down from mother to daughter ever since the Age of Bravery; Vinari came into power about a hundred years ago.

Holy symbol: an anvil wreathed in flowers

Dogma: Always strive to be the best version of yourself. Do not be afraid of the old you dying; this is how you grow. Remember that your actions have consequences, and that the tiniest spark can birth a wildfire.

Zhaltor, the Heavenly Father

Zhaltor is a githzerai of undefinable age, his head shaved bald and tattooed with gith runes and his eyes so black they seem bottomless. He is the god of the sun, the stars, and all other celestial bodies, and as such the lord of all light. At the side of his wife Lupeica, he rules over Wolfclaw Island, and occasionally joins ceremonies at his temples. Once per year, he journeys into the Astral Plane, though to what end is unclear; a popular theory is that he seeks out the guidance of the lost Prime Deities, which leads to him often being associated with divination.

Holy symbol: crown of stars

Dogma: Treat all beings as equal, for light and darkness dwell within all that lives. No matter how dark the night, dawn always follows. Trust in the guidance of the stars, for they shall never fool you.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for September 3 of 2021 with Proverbs 3 and Psalm 3, accompanied by Psalm 76 for the 76th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 96 for day 246 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 3]

[The Rewards of Wisdom]

My child, if you truly want a long and satisfying life,

never forget the things that I’ve taught you.

Follow closely every truth that I’ve given you.

Then you will have a full, rewarding life.

Hold on to loyal love and don’t let go,

and be faithful to all that you’ve been taught.

Let your life be shaped by integrity,

with truth written upon your heart.

That’s how you will find favor and understanding

with both God and men—

you will gain the reputation of living life well.

[Wisdom’s Guidance]

Trust in the Lord completely,

and do not rely on your own opinions.

With all your heart rely on him to guide you,

and he will lead you in every decision you make.

Become intimate with him in whatever you do,

and he will lead you wherever you go.

Don’t think for a moment that you know it all,

for wisdom comes when you adore him with undivided devotion

and avoid everything that’s wrong.

Then you will find the healing refreshment

your body and spirit long for.

Glorify God with all your wealth,

honoring him with your firstfruits,

with every increase that comes to you.

Then every dimension of your life will overflow with blessings

from an uncontainable source of inner joy!

[Wisdom’s Correction]

My child, when the Lord God speaks to you,

never take his words lightly,

and never be upset when he corrects you.

For the Father’s discipline comes only

from his passionate love and pleasure for you.

Even when it seems like his correction is harsh,

it’s still better than any father on earth gives to his child.

Blessings pour over the ones who find wisdom,

for they have obtained living-understanding.

As wisdom increases, a great treasure is imparted,

greater than many bars of refined gold.

It is a more valuable commodity than gold and gemstones,

for there is nothing you desire that could compare to her.

Wisdom extends to you long life in one hand

and wealth and promotion in the other.

Out of her mouth flows righteousness,

and her words release both law and mercy.

The ways of wisdom are sweet,

always drawing you into the place of wholeness.

Seeking for her brings the discovery of untold blessings,

for she is the healing tree of life to those who taste her fruits.

[Wisdom’s Blueprints]

The Lord laid the earth’s foundations with wisdom’s blueprints.

By his living-understanding all the universe came into being.

By his divine revelation he broke open

the hidden fountains of the deep,

bringing secret springs to the surface

as the mist of the night dripped down from heaven.

[Wisdom, Our Hiding Place]

My child, never drift off course from these two goals for your life:

to walk in wisdom and to discover your purpose.

Don’t ever forget how they empower you.

For they strengthen you inside and out

and inspire you to do what’s right;

you will be energized and refreshed by the healing they bring.

They give you living hope to guide you,

and not one of life’s tests will cause you to stumble.

You will sleep like a baby, safe and sound—

your rest will be sweet and secure.

You will not be subject to terror, for it will not terrify you.

Nor will the disrespectful be able to push you aside,

because God is your confidence in times of crisis,

keeping your heart at rest in every situation.

[Wisdom in Relationships]

Why would you withhold payment on your debt

when you have the ability to pay? Just do it!

When your friend comes to ask you for a favor,

why would you say, “Perhaps tomorrow,”

when you have the money right there in your pocket?

Help him today!

Why would you hold a grudge in your heart

toward your neighbor who lives right next door?

And why would you quarrel with those

who have done nothing wrong to you?

Is that a chip on your shoulder?

Don’t act like those bullies or learn their ways.

Every violent thug is despised by the Lord,

but every tender lover finds friendship with God

and will hear his intimate secrets.

The wicked walk under God’s constant curse,

but the righteous walk under a stream of his blessing,

for they seek to do what is right.

If you walk with the mockers you will learn to mock,

but God’s grace and favor flow to the meek.

Stubborn fools fill their lives with disgrace,

but glory and honor rest upon the wise.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 3 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 3]

A song of David composed while fleeing from his son Absalom.

Eternal One, my adversaries are many, too many to count.

Now they have taken a stand against me!

Right to my face they say,

“God will not save you!”

[pause]

But You, Eternal One, wrap around me like an impenetrable shield.

You give me glory and lift my eyes up to the heavens.

I lift my voice to You, Eternal One,

and You answer me from Your sacred heights.

[pause]

I lie down at night and fall asleep.

I awake in the morning—healthy, strong, vibrant—because the Eternal supports me.

No longer will I fear my tens of thousands of enemies

who have surrounded me!

Rise up, O Eternal One!

Rescue me, O God!

For You have dealt my enemies a strong blow to the jaw!

You have shattered their teeth! Do so again.

Liberation truly comes from the Eternal.

Let Your blessings shower down upon Your people.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 3 (The Voice)

[Psalm 76]

For the worship leader. A song of Asaph accompanied by strings.

The One known in Judah is the True God;

in Israel, His name is great.

He has made Salem His home;

indeed, He rests in Zion.

There He destroyed the instruments of war:

flaming arrows, shields, and swords.

[pause]

You rise and shine like the dawn.

You are more majestic than the mountains where game runs wild.

The strong-hearted enemies were plundered;

they were buried in slumber.

Even the noble warriors

could not raise a hand to stop You.

O True God of Jacob, with just Your rebuke

both horse and rider fell into a deep sleep.

You are feared; yes, You.

And who can stand before You when Your anger flares?

You decreed judgment from the heavens.

The earth heard it and was petrified with fear, completely still,

When the True God arose for judgment

to deliver all the meek of the earth.

[pause]

For the wrath of man will end in praise of You,

and whatever wrath is left You will wrap around Yourself like a belt.

Make vows to the Eternal your God,

and do all you promised;

Let all the nations around you bring gifts

to the God who arouses fear and awe.

He squashes the arrogant spirit of the rulers

and inspires fear in the hearts of the kings of the earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 76 (The Voice)

[Psalm 96]

Sing a new song to the Eternal;

sing in one voice to the Eternal, all the earth.

Sing to the Eternal of all the good things He’s done.

Bless His name;

broadcast the good news of His salvation each and every day.

Enlighten the nations to His splendor;

describe His wondrous acts to all people.

For the Eternal is great indeed and praiseworthy;

feared and reverenced above all gods, the True God shall be.

For all human-made, lifeless gods are worthless idols,

but the Eternal plotted the vast heavens, shaped every last detail.

Honor and majesty precede Him;

strength and beauty infuse His holy sanctuary.

Give all credit to the Eternal, families of the world!

Credit Him with glory, honor, and strength!

Credit Him with the glory worthy of His magnificent name;

gather your sacrifice, and present it at His temple.

Bow down to the Eternal, adorned in holiness;

lay awestruck before Him, trembling, all people of the earth.

Shout out to the nations, “The Eternal reigns!

Yes, indeed, the world is anchored and will not shake loose.

He governs all people with a fair hand.”

And so, let the heavens resound in gladness!

Let joy be the earth’s rhythm as the sea and all its creatures roar.

Let the fields grow in triumph, a grand jubilee for all that live there.

Let all the trees of the forest dig in and reach high with songs of joy before the Eternal,

For the Eternal is on His way:

yes, He is coming to judge the earth.

He will set the world right by His standards,

and by His faithfulness, He will examine the people.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 96 (The Voice)

[dailybiblelessons]

The Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

Revised Common Lectionary Proper 16 Roman Catholic Proper 21

Complementary Hebrew Scripture from the Former Prophets: Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18

Then Joshua gathered all the tribes of Israel to Shechem, and summoned the elders, the heads, the judges, and the officers of Israel; and they presented themselves before God. And Joshua said to all the people, “Now therefore revere the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

Then the people answered, “Far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods; for it is the Lord our God who brought us and our ancestors up from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, and who did those great signs in our sight. He protected us along all the way that we went, and among all the peoples through whom we passed; and the Lord drove out before us all the peoples, the Amorites who lived in the land. Therefore we also will serve the Lord, for he is our God.”

Semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture Lesson from the Former Prophets: 1 Kings 8:1, 6, 10-11, 22-30, 41-43

Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel and all the heads of the tribes, the leaders of the ancestral houses of the Israelites, before King Solomon in Jerusalem, to bring up the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of the city of David, which is Zion.¹

Then the priests brought the ark of the covenant of the Lord to its place, in the inner sanctuary of the house, in the most holy place, underneath the wings of the cherubim.²

And when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.³

Then Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of all the assembly of Israel, and spread out his hands to heaven. He said, “O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love for your servants who walk before you with all their heart, the covenant that you kept for your servant my father David as you declared to him; you promised with your mouth and have this day fulfilled with your hand. Therefore, O Lord, God of Israel, keep for your servant my father David that which you promised him, saying, ‘There shall never fail you a successor before me to sit on the throne of Israel, if only your children look to their way, to walk before me as you have walked before me.’ Therefore, O God of Israel, let your word be confirmed, which you promised to your servant my father David.

“But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built! Regard your servant's prayer and his plea, O Lord my God, heeding the cry and the prayer that your servant prays to you today; that your eyes may be open night and day toward this house, the place of which you said, ‘My name shall be there,’ that you may heed the prayer that your servant prays toward this place. Hear the plea of your servant and of your people Israel when they pray toward this place; O hear in heaven your dwelling place; heed and forgive.

“Likewise when a foreigner, who is not of your people Israel, comes from a distant land because of your name—for they shall hear of your great name, your mighty hand, and your outstretched arm—when a foreigner comes and prays toward this house, then hear in heaven your dwelling place, and do according to all that the foreigner calls to you, so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you, as do your people Israel, and so that they may know that your name has been invoked on this house that I have built.”*

All these footnotes are for parallel passages: ¹2 Chronicles 5:2 ²2 Chronicles 5:7 ³2 Chronicles 5:11-14 *2 Chronicles 6:32-33

Complementary Psalm 34:15-22

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,  and his ears are open to their cry. The face of the Lord is against evildoers,  to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears,  and rescues them from all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,  and saves the crushed in spirit.¹

Many are the afflictions of the righteous,  but the Lord rescues them from them all. He keeps all their bones;  not one of them will be broken.² Evil brings death to the wicked,  and those who hate the righteous will be condemned. The Lord redeems the life of his servants;  none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.

¹This stanza is quoted in 1 Peter 3:10-12 ²This verse is quoted in John's account of the crucifixion (John 19:36)

Semi-continuous Psalm 84

How lovely is your dwelling place,  O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, indeed it faints  for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh sing for joy  to the living God.

Even the sparrow finds a home,  and the swallow a nest for herself,  where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts,  my King and my God. Happy are those who live in your house,  ever singing your praise. Selah

Happy are those whose strength is in you,  in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the valley of Baca  they make it a place of springs;  the early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength;  the God of gods will be seen in Zion.

O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer;  give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah Behold our shield, O God;  look on the face of your anointed.

For a day in your courts is better  than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God  than live in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield;  he bestows favor and honor. No good thing does the Lord withhold from  those who walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts,  happy is everyone who trusts in you.

New Testament Epistle Lesson: Ephesians 6:10-20

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints. Pray also for me, so that when I speak, a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it boldly, as I must speak.

New Testament Gospel Lesson: John 6:56-69

“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.”

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Year B Ordinary 21, RCL Proper 16, Catholic Proper 21 Sunday

Selections from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings, copyright © 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Unless otherwise indicated, Bible text is from The New Revised Standard Version, (NRSV) copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All right reserved. Footnotes in the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) that show where the passage is used in the Christian Scriptures (New Testament) from Complete Jewish Bible (CJB) by David H. Stern, Copyright © 1998 and 2006 by David H. Stern, used by permission of Messianic Jewish Publishers, www.messianicjewish.net. All rights reserved worldwide. When text is taken from the CJB, the passage ends with (CJB) and the foregoing copyright notice applies. Parallel passages are as indicated in The Holy Bible Modern English Version (MEV), copyright © 2014 by Military Bible Association. Used by permission. All rights reserved. When text is taken from the MEV, the passage ends with (MEV) and the foregoing copyright notice applies. Image credit: Emmaus, Christ Breaking Bread by Pier Leone Ghezzi (1674 - 1755), via Wikimedia Commons. This is a public domain image.

[wickedvalentine-blog]

- Accursed Blessing I. -

Act I – Tribute of the Divines

A child was born, pure of human senses of judgement, duty and knowledge. At his cradle came to give their pledge, three goddesses of heaven, sisters of Celestis.

The child wandered in dreams as the sisters gathered around. Intrigued by the purity profound; the lost treasure of kings and queens.

The youngest sister stepped out, caressed his head, her snow-white hair gently touched his joined hands. Her name is Alba, an angel of forsaken lands; it was a goddess of words staying at his bed.

“Sleep, child, while there is still a dream to cherish. Once you are awake, a dreadful path you will tread, pained and lonely, you will miss your warm bed. But do not fear it, you will neither fail nor perish, for we will watch over you. I, Alba of the lands forsaken, will be with you as you reawaken, to guide your hand through the world written anew.”

The goddess of book and quill, ever so bold, leaned forward and kissed the child’s cheek. He is small and frail, but no longer weak, the gift of writing would shine down on his dark road.

Alba... her realm is travelled only by few, for who would willingly wander alone? Wanderer explores the land forlorn, forever old and forever new. Still the goddess uses all her might to help her children on the forsaken road, at its end, the promise of joy tenfold, the divine delights dwell, for which mortals fight.

Although she is youngest of the three, Alba’s powers exceeds all and any. With her thought a world is created, and with it many as well faded.

-

The eldest looked at the sleeping boy wondered whether she gives her pledge. “Another gift would make his spirit foil, but his senses sharpened like an edge.”

Aura, goddess from the house of melodies, full of friends, free of enemies, doubted her decision more than ever, wished to save the child from painful endeavour.

“Can we make a perfect human of this child? One wild of nature and calm of mind? There will always be a price to pay for talent, that is the way of fate, unwanted and ambivalent.”

Aura knows more than anyone how success is failure’s son. Her fair hair and voice angelic... although divine, she is a cursed relic. Through pain and loss the voice goddess rose. Now at the cradle she stands fighting her own moral laments.

She looked at the middle sister blankly expecting her move to provide a decision. She approached the child and watched, her eyes saw more than a kid, a dreadful vision.

-

Atra, the goddess of visions and memory, her blood red eyes saw a lot of pain, war, love and treachery, her torment never was in vain.

Her gift is to see more than meets the eye, and remember the stillness of the world around. Once the time of art is nigh, a memory to a canvas is eternally bound.

“Alba’s gift was more than enough. We already interfered beyond our limits. His life will be dangerous and rough should Fate ever hear of this.”

-

Unfortunate this sentence was, an unexpected turn of the cause. Fate made her appearance in the room, a failed progeny of doom.

Strange powers bound the sisters powerless as the Fate took over their place. She came here to curse the child, not to bless, to turn his righteous pride into disgrace.

“So it is a gift you wish for... Fear not, I shall provide a suitable one. As for the gift you received before, keep it, your life had just begun.

I give you a gift of eternal pain, knowledge of what could have been had your trying not end in vain and your dreams so close to be seen but never close enough to grasp, I promise you will cry and gasp in agony begging me to help this useless insignificant whelp! And I grant you the curse of the soul-wrecked; you shall know and fear of being imperfect! Go now, Alba’s young apprentice, the gifts of her sisters you shall forever miss.” Fate and the goddesses faded away, left the child a high price to pay for a life neither asked for nor wanted. What lies ahead is a story, tragic and haunted...

Act II – A kiss, my beloved...

The child grew up in great haste, his gift is still unfound but not in waste. Alba, in her kingdom imprisoned by fate, grieved and cried, forced to watch and wait.

She wished to help the kid right away, to banish the dread and dismay. Alas, there was nothing in her power to escape the heavily guarded prison tower.

-

Six times the winter came and went, bringing sadness in every moment spent. Loneliness sank its vicious teeth into the skin, and the kid started thinking: what could have been?

Laments sent out a silent cry, thus far the child did not wish die. Once upon time, on a lonely wintry night, the child went to sleep, only to wake as a knight.

In a dream, often shrouded in mystery, he met a girl – to his life the greatest victory. The moon shined brightly upon those two, love-struck, they immediately knew this encounter is above fate and nature, an adventure for the chosen ones to tread and wager. The dream was coming to an end, no more than their eyes have met. Yet, they both knew what was in their mind, a wish for kiss, the sweetest of its kind. The sealing of lips was nearly made, but alas, sooner this dream had to fade.

The child woke up cast out from heaven once again, back into reality, the hell’s harsh and dissonant den. But this time he entered without a frown. In tears of joy he could swim and drown.

For years the child wandered the halls of hell, what he was thinking, no demon could tell. His heart like the one of a dog, loyal, relentless and lost in a monologue, awaited his mistress with tempered belief, his heart hidden well from any thief.

Sixteenth winter had passed since his birth, the child started doubting his true worth. No miracle brought the two lovers together, from angel’s wing falls the last feather.

Fate smirks and grins at her triumphant trickery, douses the flames of hope to induce misery. Alba still trapped along with her siblings, sends her children to do her biddings.

“Go forth, daughters of affection, I place my apprentice under your kind protection. Go forth, be swift! Free him of the guilt and unveil my gift!”

So the two daughters hurried, hardly breathing, the two muses emerged in the world of the living. In a place once filled with love and light, they found the child, wounded from the fight.

Act III – Honour turns to horror / Monarch of Hell

Now they were three on this journey of tragedy. The muses told him of the gift in his soul, a way to fend off his perilous agony, one that is worthy of its toll.

With quill and blood he wrote, but never ceased to wonder: where is the colour and where is the note? Doubts slowly started ruining his mind asunder.

“Unneeded or unwanted am I? I break down for no reason why. As if cursed was this gift weighing me down, As if fate itself wanted me fall and drown.“

The muses looked at each other anxiously, to them he was still like a family. They revealed fate’s curse, unknown to him, laments turned his feelings dark and grim.

-

Fate has won both the battle and war, swept away his hopes with no remorse. When there was no place to go anymore, the child shut himself behind iron doors.

There his mind fell into dark depths into hatred, lust and laments. No more did he wish to live and create, no more time to waste, no more time to wait. “There’s a battle to be waged once again, this time all my anger I shall unleash along with pain! Brace yourself fate, I will tear apart your wings! You will regret the day you moved my strings. And should I die, I care not. Life never was the place I sought. Death walks with me as a friend, who sees to it that I shall end with a smile on my soul and face as I slay the one who upon me bestowed disgrace.”

Fate and the child - each other they still loathe, a war’s end needs the death of both. They have yet to cross swords and blades, and when the child´s life-light fades the Pale Lady takes them both to hell where their story I can once again tell as I did so many times before, and yet, you all read and listen without bore.

Act IV – The Chaos Walker

“Alba... heed my words, for I can no longer heed yours. I, the chaos walker of the real worlds, have lived through enough wars. Your gift I will no longer use, your ideas I will no longer follow. Find another child to abuse with your hope that brings sorrow.”

Is this what I really wish for? Anxious and uncertain chaos doth be... It is both all and every and neither, nor, a spiral of colour which no one can see.

I wish to be no more the fire that heals and water that burns, bloody peace and merciful war, the kindness given and meanness that returns, silent cry of a loud, deaf person, white pawn on a square of a black king, the remedy that will worsen and the venom that can heal everything.

Here I stand – the chaos walker. I, the child who in darkness grew older, and swore vengeance upon the thread weaver and the strong currents of fate’s river.

Years passed, tears were shed. To nought but darkness my path led. The light of my long lost heart is hidden in the words of my art.

Alba, answer me, for your cursed child became a monster most unkind. Would you let this weary soul yield as it threw away pride and kneeled?

Act V – Archdemon Faust

Many times I stumbled just to survive. My actions like thorns on a rose, will hurt those who wished to adore, and all who upon me wearily repose.

How can I ever undo my mistake? Welcoming the body and heart of a dame different from the one fated... All just to survive and keep sane...

This thorn... I don’t want her to bleed, nor by a fact that I find it not a mistake. It was to remain sane - and the same person whose name I used to take.

Perhaps it is too late for me to see another day, even if a brighter one. I had to become the evil side of nature - by losing to the truth, I have truly won.

As a demon, I’m seeing only myself. I gaze upon my own needs neglected, and mercilessly follow what it needs to have one’s life corrected. And now less than a human I am called? The same shadows we all bear inside; what they suppress and neglect I decided to no longer hide.

Tempered by confinement remade by a dystopian world; I have taken on a new name - Faust the archdemon of nature. Still I am a mirror to whom you vent, the same lover to whom you’ve curled when you realised love is just a game that gets better the further in you venture.

 Come see me in the darkness where you needn’t light to see that body gives us joy regardless of poor ugly me.

Embrace the evil of freedom where in mind you can find that we’ll get what we want and still remain in heart kind; for it is now we know what is true - the nature’s call we no longer heed. In life upon lust we want to feed, and by death, we’ll have all we need.

[mykingjon]

Let him be soft

*DISCLAIMER: A one-shot written for my followers celebration, requested by @salazarastark, thank you so much! :’) Prompt: “Let him be soft”, Lyanna & Jon. Written from Lyanna’s POV, ~1350 words. You can request another one here, or figure out what’s the deal with my celebration here.*

This morning, Lyanna Stark have heard of her brother’s and father’s death.

There was not a single thing in this world which could stop her tears from falling, guilt from swallowing her whole, despair from taking over her mind, her body, her soul. Before she knew, she was destroying the furniture of the beautiful chambers of hers and her husband. She wanted to scream, yet she couldn’t force a single sound to escape her throat. She felt her wolf blood boil, yet it was of no use anymore, she could do nothing anymore. She needed vengeance. She needed Aerys’ head on the silver plate. 

 Rhaegar was sitting on their bed, his expression blank, yet he was shaking all over his body. Her prince couldn’t look her in the eye, and Lyanna knew he blamed himself, hated himself for the amount of pain he was just putting her through. How naive they were, to trust their love so blindly, to believe their life could be like the ones in the songs. She began to weep silently, and touched her belly softy. I have to be strong. I can’t lose my babe, too.

Yet, she could not be strong, not now, perhaps not even in a thousand years. She sat down next to the father of her child, her face hidden in her hands. She could feel him shift as he went to embrace her, unsure. When she raised her head to look at him, she noticed he was as pale as a corpse, fear evident in his eyes. He’s afraid I hate him now, too, for what has happened to my family. She let him touch her, yet when he did, something snapped inside her against her own will. She began to pound her fists against his chest, sobbing even louder, wailing into his shoulder. He, on the other hand, didn’t make a single sound, nor objected to her anger. No words could heal the damage they have done, anyway.

She didn’t know how long she had stayed in his arms, hurting him with her fists and nails. It could have been minutes, hours, days. Suddenly, she felt the need to go to the godswood, to her father’s gods, so she could at least feel his presence in a way. She wanted to feel that perhaps not everything was lost in the flames of Aerys’ madness. She raised from the bed, heading in the direction of the exit.

“Lyanna, don’t...”, Rhaegar began silently, his voice coarse, pleading. She turned to look at him, realizing he could think she’s entirely lost her mind.

“I need to go to the godswood. Alone”, she stated, perhaps a little too harshly, yet she could not bring herself to care for anything but her own grief, rage and pain. Her husband just nodded once in response, looking bewildered. And so, she was on her way again.

She moved past ser Arthur Dayne and ser Gerold Hightower, who were shielding their chambers at that time of the day. She spotted their Targaryen armor she had already seen so many times, yet today, she felt sick solely by looking at the three-headed dragon on their breastplates. Arthur went to follow her, but she dismissed him with a single wave of her hand. This time, he understood, and stayed behind without complaining. Lyanna was eternally grateful for it, for she would not be able to control herself if he tried to defy her wish.

When she was climbing down the endless stairs of the Tower of Joy, the images of her father’s and Brandon’s faces flooded her mind. She could see lord Rickard smile at her as she climbed onto her horse, she could hear her brother’s laughter from the times when they were children still, sneaking out of Winterfell. They went there because of me. They died because of me. My child will never meet his grandfather, or race on horses with his uncle, because of me. My babe will never feel their love, and neither will I. She felt tears fall on her cheeks again, yet she didn’t bother to wipe them off. She knew there were more to come, endless more to come, for her heart seemed to have been ripped in two.

When she finally reached the godswood, she fell onto her knees in front of the heart tree. She was shaking from cold, although the day was hot and the winds were calm, as always in Dorne. She could feel her child’s presence as strongly as she felt the old gods’ eyes on her, watching her each and every move. Do they think me as unworthy as I think of myself now? Deep in her gut, she knew they did not. They were the gods of her family, the gods the First Men. They were a part of her, now and always, no matter what an awful mistake she made. For some reason, that have made her feel even more disgusted with herself.

Nevertheless, there was a part of her she still loved endlessly. She caressed her stomach softly, knowing that the child could feel her distress as clearly as she could feel the sun on her face.

Rhaegar had hoped for a girl, and even spoke of naming her Visenya, yet Lyanna knew she was carrying a son ever since she’s known she’s with child. She could not explain it to her husband why she was so certain of it, although he asked her that many times. It was only her motherly intuition. Maybe he will look just like Brandon. He will have brown locks, and his smile will always reach his grey eyes.

But now, the war was coming, she could sense it in the air, and there would not be many reasons for her son to be smiling about. Not only would it tear the whole country apart, but also both families of her precious babe would be fighting on the opposite sides. She felt her heart sink, fearful of his fate with every fibre of her being. She raised her eyes to the heart tree, trying to gather the courage to speak, feeling like a wayward daughter seeking forgiveness and understanding, although she did not deserve it at all.

“The gods of house Stark, the gods of my family”, she whispered silently, her voice shaking, “You have my father and my brother now. You took them from me”, she accused them, feeling her inner wolf howl for blood of her enemies. But who was her enemy, anyway? She was married to a Targaryen, and her loyalties would always be divided now, for she loved him and would never let any harm come to him. It took her a couple of seconds to calm down again and to think straight of what she wanted to ask for.

“Please, do not take my son and his innocence, too”, she pleaded dismally, as she began to weep again. “Let him be soft”, she begged desperately, “Let him know peace, and his father’s and mother’s love, and let him never remember the terrors of this war still to come. Let him never have to use his sword and stain it with the blood of his kin. Let him never feel the loss I’m feeling now”, she prayed, sorrowful. “Let him live and be as righteous and good as my brother Ned.”

Her thoughts travelled to the two brothers that remained to her. What were they feeling? Were they worried for her now, but would they grow to hate her had they learned the truth? Would they love her babe one day, or would they never want to look at the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?

“Ned and Benjen”, she added, powerless, “Please, let them understand. Let them grow to love their nephew, when this nightmare is over.”

Although Lyanna Stark sensed dread creeping upon her, she forced her to believe the Old Gods would not abandon her little prince. His life will be better than ours. It has to be. Gods would never be so cruel.

With her son, there was a new hope ascending. That single truth must have been enough for her until the end of her days.

[shipsbcshesdiabetic]

Chapter 34

Wednesday, June Seventh, Two Thousand Seventeen, 9:00am- Sunshine Foods

It’s amazing how fast shit gets fucked up. In all actuality, it happens slowly, sneakily building and building until the unnoticeable traces of it suddenly explode around you, and in that moment, you finally realize that you never actually sensed any of it until you’re in that one singularity. In one moment, you’re on cloud 9, and in the next, you have no money, no fallback, and all you can feel is the sense of dread that comes with watching your friend roll a stolen turkey across a busy road to you.

Wide eyed with hunger and fear, Kirsten carefully rolls the frozen bird over the edge of the sidewalk, giving it one last good shove so it’ll have a greater shot of making it across the three lanes of busy traffic. I stand at the other side, waiting and ready to catch it. A white truck passes the lane closest to Kirsten, but it doesn’t matter because the turkey is rolling through the middle lane. This must be what football is like for people who care about football. Right as it reaches the right lane, it just… stops.

I lock eyes with Kirsten. I dart out into the road to get it, but just before I can wrap my arms around the freezing, slippery packaging, a huge truck screams as the driver applies the brakes. I spring backwards by instinct, panicking, thrown by my own stupidity. The 18 wheeler jolts very slightly into the air and speeds up. The driver slams his hand down on the horn as he leaves the scene. After the frenzy clears itself from my mind, I spot the turkey, which is now pressed flat into the road. Red spires of shock move up from it and into me.

Once it seems safe to do so, Kirsten helps me peel the mess of meat and plastic off the road. It comes up with a sickening smack. Grimacing, she drapes the pancake over an arm. The juices drip onto the grass. I get into the truck and look out the front window with my eyebrows raised, not even having enough sense to close my door. I’m still processing it all. Seizing her opportunity, Kirsten dumps the flattened bird into my arms. I hug it close, crossing my arms over it. Kirsten struggles to shut the door as she drives away.

 Welcome to North Dakota

The Peace Garden State

 After unbuckling my seatbelt to get in a better position, I hold the turkey at the edges as Kirsten draws circles on the underside of it with her lighter. The strangest sensation of needing to eat while needing to vomit in disgust twists my throat. My arms grow heavier and heavier. It’s dense like a rock, and the stone grows into my body.

“We need to steal something else. This is shit,” Kirsten says, turning the flame off.

I toss the warm, raw meat onto the dash so it has at least the slightest bit of a chance to cook. It might give us food poisoning if we try to eat it later, but at this point, that’ll be the icing on the cake. I’ve thrown up and seen throw up so much that it’s just another regular process.

“Thank god for our lipstick collection, am I right?” I comment, picking up a pink one with golden packaging. I uncap it and stare at it, trying to convince myself to not bite into it.

“I don’t know where we’d be without it.”

I bite into it, my tongue immediately rejecting it. I hang my head out the window and let it fall out of my mouth. I’m an idiot. I watch it slowly crawl away in the grass as Kirsten pulls back onto the road. I don’t understand why I’m so hungry when we ate yesterday. It’s probably because I’m used to eating three solid meals every day, and I’ve never gone without anything like this before.

Even now that we’re in a condition as stupid and poor as this one, my subconscious belongs to her. Over a thousand miles away, billions of synapses away, and she’s still living in my heart. My love does last. I cannot bear it.

“Should we take a bag of dog food?” Kirsten asks, slapping her hand onto the biggest one.

I suddenly find myself standing in the pet aisle of a very large, well-lit farm supply store. I blink several times to adjust to the light. “Sure. Why though?”

“I hate stealing,” Kirsten admits. What she doesn’t say is that we only deserve to eat animal food, and that’s why she picked this place. I think I agree.

“Me too.”

We stand awkwardly still, staring at each other with self-pity in our eyes, waiting for the other one to pick a bag. Kirsten frowns and her eyes widen.

“Fine,” I say. I randomly pick one. “This one helps your pets keep their coats shiny. Whatever the fuck that means.” I throw my hands out to the sides and spin around.

She sighs and looks up. “Should we get cat food? I think it has more nutrients in it. It’s also easier to carry because it comes in a smaller container.”

I walk over, focusing on the bag she pointed out so I don’t have to look at all the dogs and cats on all the packages staring at us judgingly. “It has taurine,” I say, trying to find something positive about any of this.

“What does that do?”

“…I don’t know. Let’s stick to the dog section.”

We eventually settle on a thirty-five pounder with natural and artificial beef flavoring. Ten dollars, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Kirsten bends over in an L shape and puts her half on top of her back, gripping it tightly at the sides. I lift up my end and put it on my shoulders. We look like we’re in one of those weird two-person horse costumes. We slip out of the employee exit, struggling to keep ourselves in one piece. Kirsten unlocks the door, dropping the bag in the process. Rubbing her back, she helps me heave it in the space in between our seats. Once the bag settles itself in, we notice that we each only have half of our original seat space. We shrug and get in.

“I want to eat something else,” I complain fruitlessly.

“I hope you like eating dirt, then,” Kirsten says, ripping open the bag at the image of the golden retriever’s snout. She selects one pebble and eats it. “You know… it’s not horrible.”

I pick up a handful and look at it for a while. It falls from my fingers back into the bag. I’m suddenly not so hungry anymore. A different emptiness violates me. She’s not here. But, in a deeper way, she is. It’s powerful, like I could see her again if I’d just turn around. If I could just gain the courage to say her name out loud.

I never could have guessed that what we had was so flimsy. It didn’t make any sense until yesterday. It still doesn’t make much sense at all. It was like a secret that felt as solid and as final as a law, as unmovable as the fixed stars that live on the firmament. It’s so expansive that life itself does not understand, yet it was born of consciousness. The air we breathed was supplied by an entity greater than any calculable thing. It gave every discordant force in our sphere an ultimatum- kill us, or let us fester alone. It’s a wonder that something so quiet and tender could cause such a pain- a pain that inspires its keepers to lay down their life and the lives of others for just one more butterfly. It was like I’d end if it ever stopped. And yet, no one approved. Love her, or die. Love, and die. It has all the workings of a tragic Shakespeare play, except instead of dying a romantic death, Romeo’s in North Dakota eating dog food.

Swords drawn bring forth my bleeding heart and expose it to the morning light. I’m in an ancient Verona fighting for a deadened love without armor and without skin, yelling at enemies that don’t exist in a drizzle of illuminated rain. I’m slashing at the air, desperate to sever the lines dividing me from her. In turn, deep lines appear in my flesh. I don’t bleed because I shouldn’t. I live and fight because I don’t want to do anything else, and I don’t know how to do anything else. This resolve cauterizes my lifeblood. The silver of my sword briefly sends righteous light into my eyes. My muscles taut with anticipation, insufficiencies rip up what lies within my ribcage, sending pure, red guilt simmering with the heat of my instability. I walk the streets proudly, waiting for anyone who might dare to take her away from me for good. My veins dare my enemies to slash at them again and again. The rain lightens up. I focus on a random raindrop. To me, it’s the past, present, future, unseen forces, things that were, and the things that will never be. It hits the tip of my sword, covering me in dry blood.

She isn’t going to make my day ever again. She’s not going to show up with a bouquet of flowers, another $1000, and a portable oven for our turkey disk. It would be great if she’d do that, though. But she won’t. I have to accept it and move the hell on. I promised myself that I would never return. Nonetheless, my stream of consciousness keeps diverting to that channel. The phone call changed the wiring of my brain. She changed me. Again. In a matter of moments. The scale in mind keeps tilting back and forth from being aware of my surroundings and being aware of a past I should forget about. The chalices weigh heavily, taking the place of my brain. They are filled with lead and poisoned honey, each cup fighting for the honor of being the most burdensome. Both are thick and dark and equally vile, but one tastes better. I want to beat my head against a fucking wall.

I scoop a handful of dog food out of the bag and start tossing the kibble, one by one, into my mouth. I cry in Beatrice’s arms while we smoke weed in the bathroom. Kirsten yells at me for spilling my handful of dog food. Beatrice gives me a present covered in golden wrapping paper for my birthday. I pick the dog food up off the floorboard. Beatrice shows up to pick me up in the middle of the night for the billionth time. I eat the spilled dog food. Beatrice and I walk into the ballroom. Dog food, and I’m stupid. I hold Beatrice’s hand while she talks about getting rejected from her dream college. Dog food. Beatrice and I look at the stars. Dog food.

I start to feel worse and worse about myself as the memories collect together. Why can’t I let it down the drain? Why must I let myself suffer? Why can’t I kill the affection trapped in my arms and chest? The screen I unwillingly watch keeps dividing, splitting into two memories, then four, then eight, then sixteen, and so on. All the feelings flood out of me. My throat closes up and I clench the contents in my fist. Within the pixels, a bittersweet image shows up- the underlying, the ultimate. I stop eating and rest my head back. The pixels shine in the quiet like candles in a chapel.

 Part I

I stare blankly at a blank gray wall in my room, thinking about what I’m about to do. Dancing on the paint, the light from my window buzzes in my eyes. I know what I’m doing, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I stop sitting in my bed and pace around, badly hunched over. I finished writing a letter to her recently. I’ve been spending all of today preparing myself for what’s next. I know it isn’t going to go well, but I have to try anyway. I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself if I didn’t.

           I had no idea of what to say until very recently. What I had wasn’t a letter so much as a random mess of pain, anger, citations from papers, disrespect, tidbits from blogs, and general stupidity. I was planning a war with the world. Post-it notes were all over my room. It had the energy of a conspiracy theorist trying to prove that George Washington killed JFK and did 9/11. It was so caustic. So I tore it all down. And I wrote a different letter with no notes. No plan. No structure. I started writing it yesterday at 2am, and I didn’t stop until 7am.

She’s a vector of truth. Something fundamentally calming and simple resides within her. When I stepped back and thought about her, the writer’s block unfurled. It was like nothing and everything made sense at the same time. And that’s what I needed. Returning to reality, I find myself standing with my back pressed against a wall. I open my eyes wide and breathe in because I had forgotten to. It falters in the middle of the intake. My reflection looks at me.

And with that, I pick up the piece of paper and walk out my door, down the hall, out the front door, and along the road.

              Once Kirsten pulls up to a laundromat adjacent to an RV park, we dig through our crap to find all our unwashed clothes. I lift up the base of my shirt. It smells like a sweating, rotting thing. I take my dress into the laundromat with me and change into it in the bathroom because it smells the “best”. It has a giant scorch mark on the front, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m only going to wear it for an hour. We really should have washed our clothes ages ago.

           Kirsten emerges from her stall wearing her off-white wife beater and baggy jeans. No leather jacket. A woman gives us a dollar after watching us scour the floor for loose change. We thank her. I hold the bill in my hand, feeling feathery, but that subsides once I remember everything. Now it feels less like being on the receiving end of an act of kindness and more like I sucked money from someone who needed it too. Kirsten puts the bill in a washer and lumps all our clothes into it. It moves slightly from side to side, clanking against the dryer underneath it.

           Kirsten and I look at each other. We remain silent. We agreed earlier that we shouldn’t talk at all today unless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s too hot to talk. There’s also nothing to say.

           My hands and feet feel heavy and enlarged with the excess heat in the building. There isn’t an AC or even a fan. Just vents at the top. I sit on a brown chair with stuffing coming out of the seat, letting my forehead rest against the tan-yellow wall. It probably has all the germs in the world. My muscles shift against my will as if I’ve been swimming for hours.

I’m not sure if I miss money or if I miss when I brushed my hair and cared about others. I’m mentally drained. My forehead wrinkles against the marginally colder wall. I put my legs forward slightly so I can balance myself well enough to fall asleep. A vent from another room gently whispers into me. I wilt. I breathe slowly in and out, focusing only on the hot hair blowing on my legs.

  Part II

           I stand in the bushes near the road’s intersection, trying to figure out how I’m going to cross the highway. The road I was on is perpendicular to it, so I might just stand behind the traffic light and run with the cars. Being able to drive would have made this process a lot easier, but since I failed my driver’s test a few weeks ago, that simply isn’t possible. I couldn’t parallel park, and I have to go back once I think I can safely do so.

           I dart out into the road once it seems safe and stand between two cars waiting for the green light. Something in me tells me to quit, but I shove it aside and wrestle it to the ground. This fear is disgustingly human, and I am doing this for a reason greater than most others. A driver yells at me. I turn around and flip the bird.

           Enamored with my own determination, I passively watch the cars race through the main thoroughfare with a big, dumb smile on my face. Revelations about existence spill around me as the smell of diesel and the vibe of impatient cars fills in every edge of me. Complete lack of safety can feel like the safest thing ever. The realization that I am not her other half rushes in. There was never any room for me. I am one of two dyadic wholes. That’s why I’m capable of this. I don’t die with her. Her philosophy returns. People are so scared of existing. People are so scared of talking. People are so scared of thinking. Maybe she’s projecting.

A spring breeze injects my edges with a delirious sense of hope; it’s as if I’m levitating ever so slightly off the ground. It’s a shock of purity that arrives after not feeling that kind of air for a year, for a lifetime. Endless particles with endless variables ricochet off each other, building invisible connective structures. Dominos fall and rise. Anything is possible. The awesome feeling ends. I’m just me.

The light turns green, and I run.

  “Fucking machine,” Kirsten grunts, beating on the glass door of the washer. She pulls up her sagging shorts.

I stand immediately, recoiling upon sensing the crick in my neck. My back doesn’t feel great either. I watch her slam on the washer’s door until something pops. The sound hits something in my ears, making me feel funny. She opens it. Right after she scoops out wet clothes, the door falls off by the hinges and spins like a quarter until it lies still on the dirty floor.

“We’re leaving now.”

We drape the clothes out over our other stuff in the back. It looks like we’re trying and failing to conceal something weird.

Kirsten finds herself pulling into a gas station. We don’t have the money for gas anymore, no matter how desperately we might need it. After a few ear-ringing moments of silence, Kirsten runs out and slams the door. She’s probably going off somewhere to cry.

It’s too hot to stay in the truck, even with the shade from the gas station. I climb out and sit on a bench next to a ten-year-old boy with a half-eaten orange pop. I stare at the spots of flattened, darkened gum on the white asphalt. My mind travels again.

“I hate women,” I sigh.

He just stares at me, his eyes turning into pools of wonder in his pudgy, tanned face. He goes back to biting into the pop.

“They’re too damn confusing. And it’s not even their fault. There’s something about the sheer beauty of a pretty girl that screws with your mind. You end up believing whatever you want to believe, but you also don’t dare to believe. There’s something so incredible about the touch of a woman. It’s easy to see why a lot of songs are about romance and youth… art is the only outlet for such complex things. Don’t you agree?”

He belches.

I’m too impassioned to see straight. The parked cars turn into dizzy lines. “My girl… well, she isn’t my girl anymore. Not really. And that’s the problem, I guess. I think about her all the time. I want to return to her and make everything okay again, but I feel as though trying to do so would be a deep betrayal of the opportunities I have been given.” I stand and pace, wringing out my hand. “No choice is a good one. No matter what side the coin lands on, the other side is still dark. It’s like… do you listen to your heart despite its logical fallacies, or do you listen to your head despite the fact that it has its own set of fallacies?” I gesture through my monologue.

Kirsten carrying a used straw from the trash comes into my view. She blows through it, sending thick strings and droplets of leftover milkshake onto her pants and the parking lot. My stomach cringes. She makes eye contact with a mother filling her car with gas. Unperturbed by the audience, she walks over and sticks the straw into the tank and sips in a bit of it. My jaw drops. The woman swears and tries to slap her away. Kirsten runs over to our truck, accidentally letting the fluid in the straw drip back into her mouth. She makes a sick face and spits it out all over the white concrete. The woman is still yelling.

           “It was nice talking to you,” I say without looking at him. I roll up onto my feet and start walking toward the truck to leave.

Not many interesting things have happened today. I spotted a Prius with truck nuts on the drive over. That was cool, I guess. But the more I think about it, the more I believe that I don’t really want to have anything to do with interesting things. I’m all mellowed out and drained. I’ve retired. In fact, anything completely out of the ordinary would throw me. Today’s me would hate yesterday’s me. In all honesty, I could probably come up with a few good ideas if I really wanted to. Right now, I just want to make sure that I can still successfully exist.

 Part III

I breathe in and out slowly, trying to maintain my cool. I carefully put my finger on the worn doorbell and press it in. I’m definitely doing the right thing.

I don’t care about the bad consequences that could stem from this. There’s a big difference between a good Bad Consequence and a bad Bad Consequence. A bad Bad Consequence is dying from doing something excessively stupid. A good Bad Consequence of this is that I might live too much. I have no self-doubts in this glorious moment. I look at the paper in my hand.

I hear her footsteps storm toward the door. I can tell it’s her. Something strange creeps up in me. She opens the door.

What the shit what the fuck what in the goddamn fuck what sorry shit God I fucking wish things were simple still but fuck me God fucking damn it fuck goodnight. I’m a fucking idiot loser shit pile.

Barbed wires become me. A “what is wrong with you” expression dances on her crestfallen face, as if she opened some long-awaited package and found severed limbs. My eyes widen with the realization of how stupid this actually is. My emotions go haywire when I realize that I don’t know how I feel about her now or even who she is. Her label is a balancing act between The Girl Who Hurt Me and The Girl I Love. It screws with me. Hot and cold waves wrack my body as I stare deeper into her eyes. It’s hard to feel safe when there are walls within her pupils waiting to shut me out again. Her image flips back and forth between being heavenly and devilish.

It’s then when I realize that she’s just a girl. Just a person.

And I’m just a moron. In fact,

I am a crazy bitch.

Maybe I need to write it on a piece of paper and staple it to my forehead for me to learn.

“Are you going to speak?”

“Maybe eventually,” I squeak. I wish I could have been cooler with that.

  I watch the gas as Kirsten continues to drive toward Canada. I can’t believe it, but we might actually get there all in one piece. Rolling hills, marshes, and trees come into view.

Turtle Mountain Scenic Byway

We decide to stop outside of a hotel to see if there’s any complementary coffee. It seems upscale. As soon as we enter, a lady at the front desk tells Kirsten to cover her shoulders more if she wants to be in here. We look at each other. Kirsten goes out to the truck and comes back with the giant yellow sweater we bought at the mall. It’s like a giant sheet of tinsel that swallows her neck and goes down a foot past her knees. She smiles sarcastically at the lady and drinks the coffee. Crinkling the empty cup in her hand, she travels to the trash can by the staircase, observing it for a concerning amount of time. I slowly walk up to her.

“I want to cook the turkey,” Kirsten states.

“So do I, but that’s just not happening. It’s not possible.”

She turns around with a bad idea trapped in her brain. “Well, if I set it on fire, it would cook, right?” Her hands are on her hips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her arms rigidly at her sides.

“Well…”

“We’re setting this bitch on fire,” she decides.

I guess the punishment fits the crime.

We take the hotel’s trash can without saying anything, leaving the bag. It’s a giant dark gray one that is as tall as me minus my head. We could cook a dead, flattened cow in here. We toss it in the back and find another river to set our literal dumpster fire beside. A muddy one with a quick current comes into view. Kirsten sets the can next to the bank and fetches the turkey. Holding it over the opening, she puts her lighter up to it, praying for it to light. A sizable chunk falls into the base of it. Kirsten rips up a fistful of grass and tries that. I go to the truck, get our sunglasses, and hand her a pair.

“For protection,” I say.

She shrugs and takes it. I peek over and watch as the flames consume the grass. A turkey disk flies past my left ear and clunks against the bottom. It finally catches. We stand back at a safe distance and wait for our food. Soon enough, as expected, something decides to go horrifically wrong. The fire begins to react badly to the plastic. Thick smoke billows out of the top as it crackles madly. Flames shoot out from the top, illuminating every single fiber of tinsel on Kirsten’s golden sweater. The fire reaches several feet above the rim. I recoil before braving kicking it into the river. At least we were smart enough to anticipate needing to do that.

After the fire dies and the can gets swept away in the current, Kirsten and I look at each other, horrified. We plunge into the murky water, scrambling to get the turkey back. Thick mud sucks the bottoms of my flip flops with every step. I lift my legs with twice as much force as I normally would, which gives the impression that I have a really bad wedgie. Kirsten is no more graceful. We slog our way to where the trash can caught itself on a branch in a slower, shallower section. Kirsten flings the floating trashcan toward her, only to find nothing inside. She panics and starts raking the bottom of the river with her hands. I do the same, trying to squint through it. It’s exactly like trying to see the bottom of a glass of chocolate milk. I’m covered to my waist in a film of mud and leaf particles.

My hand grips a chunk of turkey. Thrilled, I tear off the tire-marked plastic and chisel away at the charred part. It’s soaked through. It apparently has a burnt layer, a thin cooked layer, and a raw layer. I do the best I can to get the good parts out of it before tossing it way out into the other side of the river. Kirsten finds a piece of her own and eats it like a dog.

Something fleshy hits the back of my hand. I eagerly grab it and bring it up to me. The image hits my brain, and something within me shuts down. It’s sickly pink. And veiny, and cylindrical, and flaccid, and weirdly tapered off at the ends. As it regurgitates more lake liquid out, it droops even further, causing it to curl and stick around my hand. My eyes cross as I notice all the angry flies and other insects buzzing over the surface.

Oh no.

Kirsten looks at me, pauses and stands still, and drops the desecrated leg and lets everything she was chewing out of her mouth. I examine it from different angles, not daring to believe. I don’t know why I’m waiting so long to toss it back into the abyss.

Kirsten stutters. “I think it’s… um. I think it’s a part of the turkey. The neck part.”

I stare at it. “Are we certain of this?”

I toss it back anyway. Even though I’m 90% sure that it’s just a neck, I’m not taking any chances. My hands sift through the murky water in search of more burnt turkey, shivers going through my spine. I find another piece and tear away the bad sections. I carefully bite into the soggy cooked part, careful to not let my mouth touch the remaining raw portion. Out of nowhere, Kirsten kicks a wave of brown onto my back. I’m sure she just did that to start some shit. Hopeless and angry, I swipe water toward her, soaking her front. Mud, water, and flies obscure my vision. The foul water violates my mouth as I toss more fistfuls of crap. The sound of rocky mud hitting the side of my face echoes in my ears.

  Part IV

           My legs stiffen as I fully realize that I’m standing in the doorway of her bedroom, saying nothing. I look at the piece of paper in my hand. “I’ve written you a letter,” I say, stating the obvious.

           Beatrice doesn’t respond. She just keeps sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for me to explain, leave, or die where I stand. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She mostly just looks blank. She finally raises her eyebrows as if I’m an embarrassment to myself.

I look down at the print and think about what it says. My heart is empty of all of it. This was all stupid. Watching her act all dejected tears everything out of me. “This is… weird. I’ve come this far, so… um… so… I,” I pause. “I think I should just say what I was going to say. I’m sorry if this turns out to be weirder than it already is,” I apologize exasperatedly. A breath shudders into my floppy lungs.

It’s currently two in the morning, and I’m sitting on my floor writing this letter to you because I’ve finally made a decision. In situations like these, it seems as though there are no good solutions or ways to move forward. Letting you go is probably the right thing to do, but it also seems like the worst thing I could possibly do. You’ve grown to mean a lot to me, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I didn’t try to show you what you’ve shown me. I hope you like the letter, and I hope that I do too, because I have no idea of what I’m going to say yet.

I can’t get it out of my head that we were meant to be. The force that made God surely made that. The fact that the girl who taught me to love without fear fears the way she loves is nothing short of a tragedy. Religion is meant to be a solace from pain and a tool for self-improvement and salvation- not something that destroys the soul. To “fear God” is not to praise a force that loves conditionally and is ready to beat you into submission at a moment’s notice. We were not made to cower and wrap ourselves tightly in a box in order to avoid eternal damnation from a disapproving force that doesn’t understand. To fear God is to be in awe of God. To fear God is to marvel at how such an infinite love could possibly exist, a love beyond what the human mind could possibly comprehend. To fear God is to never fear anything again. I am not afraid of you. I do not fear your fears.

The wrong kind of fear breeds actions that are against the core of religion. This form of strict adherence causes parents to kick out their children and makes those children kill themselves. It is fruitless. Religion becomes a checklist rather than a source of salvation. But where are the people who demand women to sacrifice two doves at the end of each menstrual cycle? I do not know. Very few, if any, people avoid picking and choosing what in the Bible they should follow, and because of this, we are saved. Kill nonbelievers. Stone young girls if they cannot prove their virginity. Women cannot speak in church. Sacrifice God’s creatures to atone for your sins. Women are property. It’s okay to whip your slaves. The writers of the word of God could not help but be influenced by the surrounding truths in the culture they were brought up in. These injustices were truths as old and as solid as the knowledge that the sun would rise in the morning. Women are dogs, animals burn, and the sky is blue. Today, in this millennium, the sky is blue, and I’m not ever giving up.

What is destroyed by religion can be mended with religion. The Bible seemed to show that slavery is natural, but those in bondage read other lines and let their faith carry them and their descendants into a more just world. Countless wars started in the name of God, but those who walk with God walk in peace. Even thousands of years ago, the rigidity of the powerful religious stripped people of their personhood for so much as picking food on the Sabbath. Jesus ate grains and forgave. God takes care of the forgotten, the unpopular, the powerless, always. Faith embraces all who have it.

Others may not accept us, but all of them pale in comparison to God. There is no male or female in His eyes. He cannot see anything other than our connected souls. In His hands, no one can tell us that we are abominations. No one can make you hate who you are. We are not freaks. Was God wrong for making you this way? It is no test; God is not a trickster. Repressing your feelings will not make you closer to Him. Not being you destroys you. You were meant to let yourself breathe. We have a place here. Kids don’t have families, and we can help them. The idea of you in pain over this hurts me as if you were a part of me. It breaks my heart. I will shield you and dry your tears if you’ll let me. I’ll tell you over and over that God wants you to feel safe. I want to help you feel safe.

To sin is to be without God, and by extension, without meaning. Vices provide temporary relief, but they will die with our bodies, and we will be dragged down along with those simple, empty pleasures we used as a crutch. Sin destroys us. It lies. It suppresses the light of God, ruins lives, and does the opposite of what we want it to do. Lust and gluttony satisfy the flesh, but never the soul. You can consume and consume and consume and find yourself lost in emptiness. It doesn’t stay. It never satisfies. Greed, wrath, and envy burn their host to the ground and stave away any hope of redemption. Pride’s keepers believe themselves to be too good for improvement, for openness. Pride is the treasure of the insecure.

I do not believe that what we have is infested with sin. This happiness feels whole, not empty or temporary. The truth blazes within you; it is not hideous and riddled with the deceit of evil. This feeling is not a lie. The way my heart is stitched to yours is not a lie. I’d have to be a fool to feel cursed. Tear out my brain, rip me limb for limb, kill desire, defeat pride, leave only my soul- and it still wants you. Even so, perhaps we really are abominations for some profoundly strange, arbitrary reason. This is something we cannot know. But this is what I do know. My feelings for you last beyond me. Beyond time itself. Heaven comes down to Earth when I’m with you. You expand my heart and mind beyond the brink. This truth overturns every stone and opens every door. Here I am, with you, in your hands, learning. Everything is complex and ceaselessly pours in. And yet, everything is simple. In this, I am made perfect. I am clean.

“Agape” is the unconditional love that God has for us. It wants nothing; it just is. It flows endlessly without question. Agape is what I have for everything that exists, for I am lucky enough to live here in the constant Now. These subtle forces that allow us to be here and breathe are surely a divine gift. This world is a reflection of God, my consciousness a reflection of His love. I see virtue in even the saddest and strangest of places. You, my dear, are a prism; God’s light refracts through you and ignites everything that can be perceived. You are the opposite of suppression. How can you be a vice if you bring me closer to the light? I’m ceaselessly inspired to love the world with all of me. This pours from me and begs me to do good rather than evil, or worst of all, nothing. This love is ancient and forever. Every place I go is a place I hold dear to me. It’s all heavenly. There are no vice-like pitfalls anywhere, and meaning is infused into all I do. I want to love, to share, to mend, to speak endlessly. I love you with this intensity. Agape.

There’s a character in To Kill a Mockingbird who believes that flowers and those who look at them are damned to hell because they’re pretty and distract from the glory of God. She reasons that beauty is a vice and that no one should enjoy it. That vision dictates that the purpose of humanity is to shun all the good things in life and to stay in a rigid line. If that is so, lock me in a box where I can never see another flower, never touch your face, never breathe. If that is what I am to be, I will stand there forever, beating on the walls, begging to be let into a fear-infused paradise where there is nothing but more lists of rules on a wall.

I believe that God is in the flowers. He is in them, and He is in my adoration of you. Too many people pray to the rules, not praying for love, not understanding that God prays for them to love. God prays to be understood. Flowers are not a refuge from the light; the light is in them. God is not some unreachable thing locked away in the heavens, separate from the world and its people. He is not some white dude sitting on a cloud waiting to smite you for eating pork. His love seeps from everything our senses can perceive.

I see God in the clouds. I see God in pain and in resilience and healing. I hear God during funerals. I feel God in my grandmother’s small church on Christmas Eve when everyone holds candles. I hear God in the old cars in our town when they struggle to start. I see God in homeless people and quiet streets. I feel God when we play music from The Cars in your car at night when no one else is there. I hear God in the streetlights that dance on your face. I see God in the kids that recklessly chase each other in the park. I see God when I talk to kind strangers. I see God in you.

You brighten all of these things. There are bits of you in all I experience. The elements on the periodic table don’t have shit on you. You unearth dimensions that you alone can access, dimensions where existence itself is its own grand purpose- depth within depth. I have been changed beyond comprehension. Even though you’re this brave force of perseverance that fears nothing and can make anyone smile, you’re also meek, gentle, and pure. You can do anything and make me believe in anything. You’re the crown of this world that you beautify.

Despite this, you don’t seem to know who you are. At all. When I look deeper into you, I see someone who is unwittingly full of contradictions- a hypocrite with a heart of gold. I see someone who loves everyone deeply and abhors herself with the same passion. You’re torn between letting yourself out or hiding away forever. You don’t know if you can afford to stop hating yourself. You don’t know if you’re brave enough to try. You’re selfless, yet you give yourself nothing. You are wise beyond your years, but you are unsure if your logic is a delusion. You exude peace, but your mind, heart, and soul take part in a daily bloodbath. You want to be good. You don’t know if you should stop caring or care too much. You’re always in pieces, and you’re always fighting those fragments that make you who you are. These things build up.  They build up until you’re lost in the frenzy of a whirlwind. You’re stretched thin across a continuum of uncertainty, false hope, and second-guesses. In those times, you don’t seem to be any one figure. You can’t make up your mind about who you are supposed to be. I think it’s because you’re everything, infinitely.

“I can see you clearly now,” I say into the light.

Her eyes are wide and dewy. I smile at her because I feel the same as I had when it all began. My heart has been restored. I have her again. Her angelic presence renews me. Our souls separate from our flesh and refract into a singular heavenly globe with us in the middle. The golden light warms as I slowly reach my hand out towards hers. The heavens above open for us. No longer star crossed, the warring and bleeding constellations uncross and file back into their order, further blending our lines together. Old grudges, hatreds, and ways within us and outside us melt away with our enlightened love. No one can ever take this away from us again. Everything that seeks to deaden and choke us out has no power over this anymore. We’re immovable. She grabs my hand after I extend it all the way. The saintly outpour of emotion solidifies as our fingers interlock into an unchangeable bond.

I want to keep you close to me. I want us to keep being there for each other during our lives on Earth and beyond as we rest in death among the stars. I want you to be the one part of my life that doesn’t move. If I had to pick and choose one part of the Bible to follow blindly, it wouldn’t be verse banning tattoos, the one that hates shrimp, or even the one that vilifies clothes made from several different types of string. There’s a part in Corinthians that I happen to like the most out of everything I’ve read so far. It says that signs of worship do not mean anything without love. Giving the world everything is an empty act if you do not have it. Love is the foundation of religion, and in its absence, religion is a farce- almost a sin in and of itself. Love never falters; it is the only true constant. As the world keeps going through the spiraling path of the future, all of these things that we hold dear will pass away. Our bodies will rot, and civilizations will crumble as if they were nothing. Science will grow and diminish, songs will be deleted from the canals of history, and the concept of music itself will cease. Fleeting hateful thoughts will fade out into nonexistence. Inventions and human glory will die. New religions with new books and new rules will rise and sink back into the dirt, and the people of the future and their cultures will forever remain in a state of change. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.

  A quiet epiphany overtakes me as I come to and watch myself stew in this low point. In the silence, I feel the four tires moving under me and blank again. I barely smell the stale cough of the air conditioner. I barely feel the caking layer of mud that saturates me from my feet to just below my lips. I barely know that I’m being dumb by letting this truck take me farther and farther from her. This quiet state of wonder, this beautiful space between pain and redemption consumes me in a bath of enlightenment. I have not been blessed with true consciousness until now. I was plopped into existence only moments ago to find myself inhabiting a teenage girl who is running away with a bad friend. A grand possibility that I never could have dreamt of until now puts my sparks back in me. I look down at myself and around the interior of the vehicle as if I am seeing the world for the first time. Peace dulls my senses. I close my eyes and inhale sharply. Everything is so easy. In this nothing, I am overcome with great emotion- more than I’ve ever felt before.

“I want to go home,” I say quietly, earnestly.

“What a shame.”

“I’m not kidding. I mean it, Kirsten. I want to go home, right now.”

She sighs and puts her other palm on the wheel. “Why the fuck would you want to go back, especially now since we’re so close to what we’ve been moving toward? The answer is no. I am not turning around on a stupid whim.”

“I have to see Beatrice.”

She gives me a quick, incredulous look. “Why do you have to see Beatrice?”

“I need to talk to her. I think I can fix things,” I say, my breath heavy with my thickening resolve.

“She doesn’t like you. She probably never really did. That’s why she ditched you. You need to get the fuck over it. You were the one that begged me to go on this stupid fucking trip anyway.”

“Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

Her face hardens.

“I bet you haven’t. I’ve known you for a while. You can’t even pretend to love anything. You don’t understand anything about it because you’ve never felt it.” Vitriol fires me up and flies out with every word.

“I damn well understand enough to know when it is and isn’t there. You didn’t even know how to talk to her. And all the better too, because when I saw you two together, it was her talking endlessly and ignoring you and you saying nothing at all. She never shuts the fuck up. And you don’t know how the fuck to breathe. And both of you are real piles of shit for it. You’re like the Shit King.”

“The Shit King,” I repeat.

“She made you her bitch. You were her pet that she’d drag around to do illegal shit with. She controlled your every damn move. Sometimes, you’re so pathetic that it makes me cry. Did you love slinging weed at parties with her? You used to flinch whenever I’d mention so much as smoking cigarettes. And then she didn’t ever even have sex with you… because why? It’s especially funny because I remember that she’d open her legs for just about anything freshman year.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” I mouth.

“Do you really want to do all that again?” she taunts, ignoring me. “Live that fake-ass life? Be an accessory?”

“You don’t know one fucking thing about her and me. You never saw us alone. You never read what we wrote for each other. You never felt the way she looked at me. You’re a miserable person to be around. I don’t like being your friend. I only started talking to you because I felt bad for you because you’re horrible and barely have anyone. And would you like to know who inspired me to do that? Beatrice. Fucking Beatrice. I saw how beautiful her fearlessness was and I decided that I needed her and everything else in my life. She’s why I feel comfortable in this world. There’s nothing ‘fake’ about us. It’s not like you’d even know. You can’t get into an actual functioning relationship of any kind to save your life.” I take in a shuddering breath. “Your sister is fucking dead, and you may as well be too at this point. You’re a useless goddamned bastard. You don’t have a reason to live. I do.”

She looks dumbfounded. Her pupils retract into some unreachable asylum. I feel satisfied for the first time in a while. All I know is that I need to do whatever I can to go back to her. I’ll make it all okay again like I did a few months ago. I’ll do it in a thousand different ways with a thousand different letters, each one better than the last.

I gather my thoughts while she dissolves the blow. “I love Beatrice. I don’t love any of this. Take me fucking home,” I say gently.

I suggest that she should pull up a map on her phone so she can find the fastest route. She retrieves it and types in the password. She bites her lip and points to the “no signal” icon with a single shaky finger.

           “Maybe there will be a signal at the top of the hill over there,” I suggest. I try to keep a much softer tone so I don’t hurt her more than I had to.

           Kirsten squints through the trees, or at least pretends to. She nods and turns the truck on, still not looking at me. Sunlight dances on the road as we reach the base of the hill. She pulls off the road and floors the gas, sending us up it. It mainly has medium-length grass as well as a few shrubs. She turns a little to the left after a minute so we don’t fall off. I look behind at the little dots of trees in the forest beyond the jagged edge. The bottoms of my feet writhe.

           Kirsten lamely exits the vehicle, her phone tightly wrapped in her hand. We walk until we reach the very top. I start panting in the unfiltered heat. She squints at her phone and hits the side of it. She lifts it in the air and checks it a few times.

“My data provider never anticipated anything like this.” Her voice sounds weak. More impatient anger billows up inside me.

She reaches her hand higher and higher into the sky.

I groan. “Maybe if-”

A metallic creak reaches our ears. Kirsten drops her phone. Pangs of fear and disbelief stream through the skin of my neck as I watch the truck begin to slowly roll backwards. Kirsten runs out in front of me before I gain the sense to run. The truck picks up speed, rumbling and jumping in the slanted grassy hill. We stop chasing after it once it gets to the edge because it’s no use. The remaining front wheel jolts upwards as it rolls over the lip of the cliff as if it were raising its hand in a desperate “save me” motion. I reach out my own hand as if I could. It falls and claps against my leg in despair.

“Did you put the parking brake on?” I ask.

Her silence answers me.

I gulp in nothing. The wind ripples around my disgusting rag of a dress. We stand for a while in mourning, our bodies turning into wood. My brain slowly processes our situation. I am too dead to be shocked. I am too shocked to be mad. I am merely an observer of the presence of nothing. Chills wrack my body, but I’m too stiff to shiver.

 (this is supposed to be separated with a line but the format is weird)

Kirsten and Lily stand a car’s length apart from each other as they take in the awe of their own destruction. Their faded emotions knock on the doors of their hearts, begging to be let in, begging to be felt, but they do not bend to them. If even one broke in, they would break. They stand stiffly still in the intermittent wind, scared to move, scared to see.

The camera pans up and down slowly like what one might do to capture the image of a world-class playboy model. Blood spurts and streams down from Kirsten’s nostrils to her chin without inhibition. Her busted lip marks her graying face with a pop of color. Her eyes twitch as the picture moves all the way down the length of her yellow tinsel sweater matted with dried dirt. Her scene cuts. Lily’s mouth is agape. The mud that overtakes the front of her body takes center stage as she absentmindedly tries not to let any of it in. Her matted hair moves awkwardly in the wind. Her faded dress recoils harder every second that it has to touch the river’s excrement. The gigantic, gaping burn in the center is a second mouth. Hairy legs peek out from the brown. Just before her scene goes black, the camera zooms in on her arm tattoo.

Deadpan humor permeates the air. It’s all so hilarious in the same way that ironic deaths and terrible jokes that fall flat are hilarious. Everything is funny, and everything has happened. The girls are plagued with dog food branded into their mouths and stained with badly drawn dicks and thoughts of death and strife, but it’s alright. The cold is a form of heat once the nerves go numb. And though it is not yet even noon, the sun sets, leaving them in darkness.

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings January 13, 2020 at 11:00PM

Psalm 5-6

Psalm 5

Trust in God for Deliverance from Enemies

To the leader: for the flutes. A Psalm of David.

1 Give ear to my words, O Lord; give heed to my sighing. 2 Listen to the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to you I pray. 3 O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.

4 For you are not a God who delights in wickedness; evil will not sojourn with you. 5 The boastful will not stand before your eyes; you hate all evildoers. 6 You destroy those who speak lies; the Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful.

7 But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love, will enter your house, I will bow down toward your holy temple in awe of you. 8 Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies; make your way straight before me.

9 For there is no truth in their mouths; their hearts are destruction; their throats are open graves; they flatter with their tongues. 10 Make them bear their guilt, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; because of their many transgressions cast them out, for they have rebelled against you.

11 But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, so that those who love your name may exult in you. 12 For you bless the righteous, O Lord; you cover them with favor as with a shield.

Psalm 6

Prayer for Recovery from Grave Illness

To the leader: with stringed instruments; according to The Sheminith. A Psalm of David.

1 O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger, or discipline me in your wrath. 2 Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror. 3 My soul also is struck with terror, while you, O Lord—how long?

4 Turn, O Lord, save my life; deliver me for the sake of your steadfast love. 5 For in death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who can give you praise?

6 I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. 7 My eyes waste away because of grief; they grow weak because of all my foes.

8 Depart from me, all you workers of evil, for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping. 9 The Lord has heard my supplication; the Lord accepts my prayer. 10 All my enemies shall be ashamed and struck with terror; they shall turn back, and in a moment be put to shame.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 10-11

Psalm 10

Prayer for Deliverance from Enemies

1 Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? 2 In arrogance the wicked persecute the poor— let them be caught in the schemes they have devised.

3 For the wicked boast of the desires of their heart, those greedy for gain curse and renounce the Lord. 4 In the pride of their countenance the wicked say, “God will not seek it out”; all their thoughts are, “There is no God.”

5 Their ways prosper at all times; your judgments are on high, out of their sight; as for their foes, they scoff at them. 6 They think in their heart, “We shall not be moved; throughout all generations we shall not meet adversity.”

7 Their mouths are filled with cursing and deceit and oppression; under their tongues are mischief and iniquity. 8 They sit in ambush in the villages; in hiding places they murder the innocent.

Their eyes stealthily watch for the helpless; 9 they lurk in secret like a lion in its covert; they lurk that they may seize the poor; they seize the poor and drag them off in their net.

10 They stoop, they crouch, and the helpless fall by their might. 11 They think in their heart, “God has forgotten, he has hidden his face, he will never see it.”

12 Rise up, O Lord; O God, lift up your hand; do not forget the oppressed. 13 Why do the wicked renounce God, and say in their hearts, “You will not call us to account”?

14 But you do see! Indeed you note trouble and grief, that you may take it into your hands; the helpless commit themselves to you; you have been the helper of the orphan.

15 Break the arm of the wicked and evildoers; seek out their wickedness until you find none. 16 The Lord is king forever and ever; the nations shall perish from his land.

17 O Lord, you will hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear 18 to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more.[a]

Psalm 11

Song of Trust in God

To the leader. Of David.

1 In the Lord I take refuge; how can you say to me, “Flee like a bird to the mountains;[b] 2 for look, the wicked bend the bow, they have fitted their arrow to the string, to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart. 3 If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?”

4 The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven. His eyes behold, his gaze examines humankind. 5 The Lord tests the righteous and the wicked, and his soul hates the lover of violence. 6 On the wicked he will rain coals of fire and sulfur; a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup. 7 For the Lord is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold his face.

Footnotes:

Psalm 10:18 Meaning of Heb uncertain

Psalm 11:1 Gk Syr Jerome Tg: Heb flee to your mountain, O bird

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Genesis 3

The First Sin and Its Punishment

3 Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” 2 The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; 3 but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’” 4 But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die; 5 for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God,[a] knowing good and evil.” 6 So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. 7 Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.

8 They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 9 But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” 10 He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” 11 He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” 12 The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.” 13 Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent tricked me, and I ate.” 14 The Lord God said to the serpent,

“Because you have done this, cursed are you among all animals and among all wild creatures; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. 15 I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will strike your head, and you will strike his heel.”

16 To the woman he said,

“I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”

17 And to the man[b] he said,

“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife, and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; 18 thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. 19 By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

20 The man named his wife Eve,[c] because she was the mother of all living. 21 And the Lord God made garments of skins for the man[d] and for his wife, and clothed them.

22 Then the Lord God said, “See, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil; and now, he might reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life, and eat, and live forever”— 23 therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken. 24 He drove out the man; and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim, and a sword flaming and turning to guard the way to the tree of life.

Footnotes:

Genesis 3:5 Or gods

Genesis 3:17 Or to Adam

Genesis 3:20 In Heb Eve resembles the word for living

Genesis 3:21 Or for Adam

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Hebrews 2:1-10

Warning to Pay Attention

2 Therefore we must pay greater attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away from it. 2 For if the message declared through angels was valid, and every transgression or disobedience received a just penalty, 3 how can we escape if we neglect so great a salvation? It was declared at first through the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard him, 4 while God added his testimony by signs and wonders and various miracles, and by gifts of the Holy Spirit, distributed according to his will.

Exaltation through Abasement

5 Now God[a] did not subject the coming world, about which we are speaking, to angels. 6 But someone has testified somewhere,

“What are human beings that you are mindful of them,[b] or mortals, that you care for them?[c] 7 You have made them for a little while lower[d] than the angels; you have crowned them with glory and honor,[e] 8 subjecting all things under their feet.”

Now in subjecting all things to them, God[f] left nothing outside their control. As it is, we do not yet see everything in subjection to them, 9 but we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower[g] than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God[h] he might taste death for everyone.

10 It was fitting that God,[i] for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through sufferings.

Footnotes:

Hebrews 2:5 Gk he

Hebrews 2:6 Gk What is man that you are mindful of him?

Hebrews 2:6 Gk or the son of man that you care for him? In the Hebrew of Psalm 8.4–6 both man and son of man refer to all humankind

Hebrews 2:7 Or them only a little lower

Hebrews 2:7 Other ancient authorities add and set them over the works of your hands

Hebrews 2:8 Gk he

Hebrews 2:9 Or who was made a little lower

Hebrews 2:9 Other ancient authorities read apart from God

Hebrews 2:10 Gk he

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

John 1:19-28

The Testimony of John the Baptist

19 This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” 20 He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.”[a] 21 And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” 22 Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” 23 He said,

“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’”

as the prophet Isaiah said.

24 Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. 25 They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah,[b] nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” 26 John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, 27 the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” 28 This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

Footnotes:

John 1:20 Or the Christ

John 1:25 Or the Christ

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[stephenaltrogge-blog]

We have a real enemy, Satan, who is a liar and a deceiver. In John 8, Jesus tells some Jews…

You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies. John 8:44

Satan has deceived millions from believing in Jesus Christ. But even for us who believe in Jesus, the devil wants nothing more than for us to believe his lies to harm us and undermine our faith.

There are a number of areas Satan lies to us about. He lies about God, about sin, about God’s word and lies about us.

Lies Satan wants us to believe about God

Lie #1: God doesn’t love you.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that God loves us. But God has told us in his word that he loves us.

but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

We don’t always feel God’s love for us. Especially when we’re going through hard times. But our feelings, though true feelings, are not always the truth. And God has demonstrated his love for us by sending his Son to die for us while we were still sinners. Don’t believe Satan’s lie that God doesn’t love you. Nothing can separate us from his love – our failures, our lack of love for him, even our unbelief. God loves you.

Lie #2: God will not be faithful to you. He won’t keep his promises.

Satan tells us God won’t meet our needs. God won’t work in our lives. God won’t save our children. But God promises in his word:

Know therefore that the LORD your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations, Deuteronomy 7:9

who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. 1 Corinthians 1:8-9

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 1 CO 10:13

God will keep every single one of his promises to us. He won’t forget to keep them. He won’t change his mind. He is faithful.

Lie #3: God is not going to answer your prayers

Satan will point out situations where it looks like God didn’t answer prayers. He reminds us of people we prayed for who died. He points out people we have prayed for to be saved who have not yet responded to the gospel. “God won’t answer your prayers. Don’t bother praying for this.” Yet God tells us:

The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore its fruit. James 6:16-18

And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him. Hebrews 11:6

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! Matthew 7:7-11

Lies Satan wants us to believe about sin

Lie #4: Nothing will happen to you if you sin

And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis 3:2-5

Satan will tell us we can commit sin with no consequences. He will tell us we can commit sexual sin, or we can lie or steal or harbor unforgiveness. He will lie to us and tell us that to do something just once won’t hurt anything. He will tell us no one will find out. Yet God warns us again and again:

For the wages of sin is death��� Romans 6:23

Whoever is steadfast in righteousness will live, but he who pursues evil will die. Proverbs 11:29

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. James 1:14-15

Every one of us has sinned and deserves death, both physical and eternal, yet God is so merciful, when we believe in Jesus, he delivers us out of spiritual death and gives us eternal life. Yet we don’t want to believe Satan’s lie that we can sin and suffer no consequences. When believers willfully sin, they often suffer horrible consequences. Marriages suffer, families suffer, churches suffer, individuals suffer.

Lie #5: Sin will satisfy you

Sin would not be tempting if it didn’t promise us pleasure or satisfaction. After Satan lied to her, Eve looked at the fruit on the tree and it looked promising….

So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Genesis 3:6

Sin may “satisfy” us temporarily, but in the end it leaves us unsatisfied and unhappy. We must remember that the only one who can satisfy us is God:

The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16:5-6

For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things. Psalm 107:9

who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. Psalm 103:5

Only Jesus Christ can satisfy us. God fills us with his joy, peace and contentment. Sin can never satisfy. Don’t believe Satan’s lie that sin will satisfy us.

Lies Satan wants us to believe about ourselves

Lie #6: Your sins have wrecked your relationship with God

God calls Satan “the accuser of the brethren”:

And I heard a loud voice in heaven, saying, “Now the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brothers has been thrown down, who accuses them day and night before our God. Revelation 12:10

Satan accuses us day and night. He reminds us of our sins and failures. He wants us to focus on our sins, rather than our Savior. He wants us to forget the incredible truth that Jesus paid for every single one of our sins and that now…

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Romans 8:1

Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Romans 8:34

For if, when we were enemies of God, we were reconciled to Him through the death of His Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through His life! Romans 5:10

Satan lives to accuse us. If he can’t prevent Jesus from saving us, he will try to prevent us from enjoying what Christ has done for us. He is like a prosecuting attorney in a courtroom, who continually brings our sins up to the Judge. But every time he accuses us, our great Defense Attorney, Jesus, says, “Objection! Your honor, I paid for that sin on the cross.” To which the great Judge slams down his gavel and says, “Objection sustained! The defendant is not guilty!”

Lie #7: You will never change

Satan will lie to us that we can’t overcome our sins. That we will never change. That we are hopeless. But God’s word tells us that we can change and we will change.

But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. Romans 6:17-18

For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. Romans 8:2

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6

When we trust in Jesus Christ, he makes us new creations. We are no longer slaves of sin, but slaves of righteousness. He begins a good work in us, the good work of transforming us into his own likeness. He will not fail to complete this work. We must not believe Satan’s lies about who we are in Christ.

How to combat Satan’s lies

#1. Read God’s Word, pray, and fellowship with the Lord

In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. Ephesians 6:16-18

Counter Satan’s lies with God’s word, the shield of faith and sword of the Spirit. When Satan tempted Jesus, he countered with God’s word, “It is written…”

#2. Realize there is a tempter out to destroy you

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. 1 Peter 5:8

#3. Fear the Lord

Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil. Proverbs 3:7

And he said to man, ‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to turn away from evil is understanding.’” Job 28:28

#4. Flee temptation

Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. 1 Corinthians 6:18

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. Colossians 3:5

Satan lies to us about God, about sin, about ourselves. Let us fight those lies with God’s word and his Spirit.

The post 7 Lies Satan Wants Us To Believe and How to Overcome Them appeared first on The Blazing Center.

[dfroza]

An act of grace paved the way for the rebirth of the heart

and this includes the promise of the body being reborn, and earth as well at some point.

in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament Letter of Galatians Paul illuminates the significance of what grace has done:

Fourteen years later, I returned to Jerusalem, this time with Barnabas and Titus, my coworkers. God gave me a clear revelation to go and confer with the other apostles concerning the message of grace I was preaching to the gentiles. I spoke privately with those who were viewed as senior leaders of the church, wanting to make certain that my labor and ministry for the Messiah had not been based on a false understanding of the gospel.

Even though Titus was a Syrian, they accepted him as a brother without demanding that he first be circumcised. I met with them privately because false “brothers” had been secretly smuggled into church meetings. They were sent to spy on the wonderful freedom that we have in Jesus Christ. Their agenda was to bring us back into the bondage of religion. But you must know that we did not submit to their religious shackles, not even for a moment, so that we might keep the truth of the gospel of grace unadulterated for you.

Even those most influential among the brothers were not able to add anything to my message. Who they are before men makes no difference to me, for God is not impressed by their reputations. So they recognized that I was entrusted with taking the gospel to the gentiles just as Peter was entrusted with taking it to the Jews. For the same God who empowered Peter’s apostolic ministry to the Jews also flowed through me as an apostle to those who are gentiles.

When they all recognized this grace operating in my ministry, those who were recognized as influential pillars in the church—Jacob, Peter, and John—extended to Barnabas and me the warmth of Christian fellowship and honored my calling to minister to the gentiles, even as they were to go to the Jews. They simply requested one thing of me: that I would remember the poor and needy, which was the burden I was already carrying in my heart.

When Peter visited Antioch, he caused the believers to stumble over his behavior, so I confronted him to his face. He enjoyed eating with the gentile believers who didn’t keep the Jewish customs—up until the time Jacob’s Jewish friends arrived from Jerusalem. When he saw them, he withdrew from his gentile friends—fearing how it would look to them if he ate with gentile believers.

And so, because of Peter’s hypocrisy, many other Jewish believers followed suit, refusing to eat with gentile believers. Even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocritical behavior!

So when I realized they were acting inconsistently with the revelation of the gospel, I confronted Peter in front of everyone:

“You were born a Jew, but you’ve chosen to disregard Jewish regulations and live like a gentile. Why then do you force gentiles to conform to these same rules?”

Although we’re Jews by birth and not gentile “sinners,” we know that no one receives God’s perfect righteousness as a reward for keeping the law, but only by the faith of Jesus, the Messiah! His faithfulness has saved us, and we have received God’s perfect righteousness. Now we know that God accepts no one by the keeping of religious laws!

If we are those who desire to be righteous through our union with the Anointed One, does that mean our Messiah condones sin even though we acknowledge that we are sinners? How absurd! For if I start over and reconstruct the old religious system that I had torn down with the message of grace, I would appear to be a lawbreaker.

For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God.

My old identity has been co-crucified with Christ and no longer lives. And now the essence of this new life is no longer mine, for the Anointed One lives his life through me—we live in union as one! My new life is empowered by the faith of the Son of God who loves me so much that he gave himself for me, dispensing his life into mine!

So that is why I don’t view God’s grace as something peripheral. For if keeping the law could release God’s righteousness to us, then Christ would have died for nothing.

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 2 (The Passion Translation)

to be accompanied by these lines about preserving the truth of grace:

Some people who were pretending to be our brothers and sisters were brought in to spy on the freedom we enjoy in the Anointed One, Jesus—their agenda was clear: they wanted to enslave us. But we didn’t give in to them. We didn’t entertain their thoughts for a minute! We resisted them so the true gospel—and not some counterfeit—would continue to be available to you.

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 2:4-5 (The Voice)

Their ulterior motive was to reduce us to their brand of servitude. We didn’t give them the time of day. We were determined to preserve the truth of the Message for you.

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 2:5 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 66th and closing chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to a time of rebirth but also severe Judgment upon God’s enemies:

Eternal One: Heaven is My throne, and earth is where I rest My feet.

So what kind of structure would you build Me?

What man-made space could provide Me a resting place?

Everything is the product of My hand—My being and My doing—

that’s how all you see came to be; I made it all.

Nevertheless, I am interested in and concerned about even just one person

who is humble and downhearted and trembles at my word.

Eternal One: Whoever slaughters an ox without humility is no better

than one who kills a man;

Whoever sacrifices a lamb without brokenness is no different

than one who breaks a dog’s neck;

Whoever presents a grain offering without fear is no different

than one who offers pig’s blood;

Whoever burns incense without obedience is no better

than one who worships an idol.

They’ve made their own choices

and seem happy enough with their detestable practices.

But I have a choice, too, and I choose to punish them;

I will bring on them what they fear most.

For when I called, no one answered;

when I spoke, they refused to listen.

Instead they did all the wrong things and made terrible choices—

what I expressly said that I hate.

So, if you are one who trembles at His word,

listen closely to what the Eternal One has to say:

Eternal One: I know that some people, even your own family,

reject you because you accept Me,

And they’re saying, “Let the Eternal receive the honor He deserves,

so that we, too, can know your joy.” But they’ll only know sorrow and shame.

Can you hear it? There’s a commotion in the city,

great rumbling coming from the temple area!

Ah, it is the Eternal thundering in to take on His foes.

Have you ever heard of a woman who gave birth before she went into labor?

Have you ever seen a woman who delivered a son without feeling a thing?

Do you think it’s possible for the land to go through labor in an instant,

or to bear a nation, to be new and strong, in a single day?

Nevertheless, Zion suffered only a moment

before she gave birth to her children!

Will I open the womb and not deliver?

I have made this place labor in terrible pain,

But do you think I won’t help it give birth?

That is what I, the Eternal One have to say.

Eternal One: So be happy for Jerusalem;

give her hearty congratulations, whoever holds her dear.

Take part in this joyous celebration, especially if you remember her grief.

For you are her children, and she is giving you the milk of comfort and peace.

Drink at her comforting breasts with satisfaction that all will be well.

I will rain down prosperity on Jerusalem, peace abundant on Zion,

and flood her with wealth from all over the world.

Like a thundering river, the riches will come down.

Like a toddler, you’ll be held, carried, nourished, and comforted.

As a mother soothes her child, so I will comfort you.

And Jerusalem will be so nice, feel so good and safe to you.

When you see what I have in store, it will ease your mind and lift your heart;

you will flourish like the grass!

The Eternal’s power will be clearly evident to His servants;

but His rage will be unleashed against His enemies.

Look now, the Eternal is coming with a vengeance

that scorches all His foes with flames of fire;

Whooshing like a whirlwind, His chariots rush with punishing fury.

God comes with fiery anger and flashing sword.

The Eternal One will execute His judgment,

And many people will die on that day.

Eternal One: Those who perform sanctifying and purifying rituals to serve false gods in gardens, and then proceed to do whatever they see the leader do—eating impure things such as pigs, snakes, and rats—won’t live to do it again. This is My word to you.

Because I know what and why they do what they do, the time is coming when I will bring people together from all over the world. Everyone will come here and have a chance to see and know who I am, in all My weighty significance and splendor. I will put a sign among them and send the survivors of My people to Tarshish, Put, and Lud (where those great archers live), from Tubal east of Lud, and Javan, which is near it. I’ll bring them here from places so far away that they’ve never heard My name, much less had a chance to see My glory. But they’ll hear about Me, far and wide among the nations. And they will bring the surviving members of your family back as if they are a grain offering from all the nations. They’ll come by every conceivable means—on horse, camel, donkey, or mule, in wagons or litters—they’ll come to Jerusalem, My holy mountain. They will be delivered just as the Israelites bring their grain offerings to Me in a clean container at the temple. And out of those who return, I will make priests and Levites. This is My word to you.

Because just as the new heavens and the new earth that I am making

will go on by My enduring will,

So your name and the people

who come from you will go on as well.

From one month to the next, on Sabbath after Sabbath,

everyone, every living thing, will come to this holy place

To honor Me as God of all.

This is My word to you.

They’ll visit the site where the people who rejected Me lie rotting on the ground,

crawling with worms that never die on a fire that just keeps smoldering.

All who see it will recoil at the horrible sight.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 66 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, August 13 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that answers a question mark (?) about God’s name:

I sometimes get email from people confused about the "real" name of God. Is it Yahweh? Jehovah? Yahoshua? or perhaps something else? Is "Jesus" a pagan name that comes from "Zeus"? and so on... Sadly there is a lot of nonsense taught about the name of the LORD floating around out there, often by people who dabble in Hebrew and believe they have gained some esoteric wisdom.... Such false teachers promote some "secret" way to pronounce the name of God, as if it were a "shibboleth" or password to access his presence, and consequently they focus on the superficial rather than the substance. Those who are wise, on the other hand, search for the deeper significance and what must be spiritually discerned.

We must remember that the most common name of God given in the Hebrew Scriptures is "YHVH" (יהוה) which is clearly wordplay on the verb "hayah" (היה), meaning "to be" (Exod. 3:14-15). I have written about this many times before, and there are several articles on the Hebrew for Christians website that deal with this issue decisively, but for this short post let me simply remind you that God's name YHVH is "ineffable" and mysterious, a word that cannot be defined, because a definition requires that the "definiens" (i.e., the group of words that define something) to be equivalent to the "definiens" (i.e., the word or term to be defined). The Scriptures teach, however, that the LORD is unrivaled, matchless, without peer, and utterly unique (Exod. 15:11; Psalm 89:6; Psalm 113:5-6). There is categorically nothing in the likeness of finite reality to whom the LORD can be likened: No amount of words can fully explain who He is, the depths of His character, or the power of His life (Psalm 147:5). Moreover - and as alluded by the verbal wordplay on the name YHVH (i.e.,אהיה אשׁר אהיה) - it is a category mistake to think of YHVH as a "noun" or "thing" rather than as a "verb" or power... He is the "Living God" (אל־חי), alive, powerful, and the Source of all that exists. Therefore if God is to be known by us, we must look to the historical revelation of His creative and saving acts: "You have magnified Your word above all Your name" (Psalm 138:2), which means that God's fame and glory constitutes the very meaning of His Name.

There are hundreds of names and titles of God in the Scriptures, each revealing something about the attributes and character of the LORD, and each therefore worthy of study and appreciation. Ultimately, however, God is disclosed in the person of Yeshua, who embodies and gives expression to the very life and character of the divine. The advent of the Savior (מושׁיע) reveals the meaning of who God is. Indeed it is written in these "last days" God speaks to us "in Son" (ἐλάλησεν ἡμῖν ἐν υἱῷ), that is, by means of the revelation and language of Yeshua, who is "the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature (χαρακτὴρ τῆς ὑποστάσεως αὐτοῦ); Yeshua is the one who "upholds the universe by the word of his power" (Heb. 1:2-3). "For by Him (Yeshua) all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities-- all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things," καὶ τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκεν- "and in him all things hold together" (Col. 1:16-17; John 1:3). Yeshua is the "Name above all names" (ὄνομα τὸ ὑπὲρ πᾶν ὄνομα) the One before whom every knee shall bow and every tongue confess to be the LORD of Glory over all (Isa. 45:23; Phil. 2:9-10). His Name is Wonderful (פֶּלֶא), the Mighty God (אֵל גִּבּוֹר), the Everlasting Father (אֲבִיעַד), and the Prince of Peace (Isa. 9:6). "His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is ‘The Word of God’" (Rev. 19:12-13).

It is interesting to note that though the ancient Greek language was capable of transliterating the Hebrew name YHVH, it was never done, not in the the Septuagint (i.e., the most ancient Greek translation of the Torah), nor in any of the manuscripts of the ancient Greek New Testament, where the name “ho thos” (ὁ θεὸς) was used in place of YHVH (יהוה). We have no textual evidence that Yeshua ever used this Name (he apparently followed the practice of using the circumlocution of "Adonai"), though he did explicitly refer to Himself as none other than "ehyeh," the great I AM (see John 8:58). But Yeshua’s most common name for God was simply “Father” (πατήρ in Greek, אֲבִי or אַבָּא in Hebrew).

Knowing the Name of the LORD means being in a personal, vital, and all-important relationship with the truth. The Holy Spirit is called the Spirit of Truth (רוּחַ הָאֱמֶת). This means understanding God’s character as "merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin" (see Exod. 34:6-7). Since the Hebrew idea of “word” (דָּבָר) is coextensive with truth (i.e., “being”), Yeshua is called the Word of God (דְּבַר אֱלהִים) who represents the Name of God to all who trust in Him (John 17:26, Heb. 1:3). Jesus (Yeshua) is the Name of God, the “life” of God, the “substance” of God, the “exact imprint and representation of His nature,” and so on. Do not be deceived, chaverim: those who impugn the name of our Lord Yeshua thereby profane the very name of God. [Hebrew for Christians]

8.12.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 13, 2021

The Righteous Judge

“The LORD is righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his works.” (Psalm 145:17)

When Abraham was interceding with God to spare Sodom if even 10 “righteous” people were there, he asked: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” (Genesis 18:25). The Hebrew word (mishpat) refers to a formal judgment about right and wrong and is more commonly translated “judgment.”

Indeed, the divine Judge will do right and give right judgments in all things, for He “is righteous in all his ways” and “canst not look on iniquity” (Habakkuk 1:13).

Ever since Adam disobeyed the Word of God, however, all his descendants have been unrighteous in their ways. God’s righteous judgment has been that “there is none righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10).

Thus, a truly righteous Judge would not only have to consign Sodom to destructive “brimstone and fire from the LORD” (Genesis 19:24) but every one of us as well “into the lake of fire” (Revelation 20:15) forever.

But God, being not only the righteous Judge but also “a faithful Creator” (1 Peter 4:19), had a plan whereby He could “declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past” and both “be just, and the justifier” of those who had been lost sinners (Romans 3:25-26). “God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh” (8:3). Those who believe on the Son of God as their substitute and Savior are now “justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (3:24).

So, Christ has been “made unto us...righteousness” (1 Corinthians 1:30). Furthermore, our loving Savior has now Himself become our righteous Judge, for “the Father...hath committed all judgment unto the Son” (John 5:22). HMM

A tweet by illumiNations:

@IlluminationsBT: Today, we're highlighting a Bible portion from Papua New Guinea. This language is spoken in 8 Gamei and Boroi villages in Yawar Rural LLG, Bogia District, Madang Province.

Do you know what language this is? Comment below with your guesses.

8.13.21 • 12:01pm • Twitter

[dfroza]

A sign of restoration

and of rebirth that is illuminated by the writing of Scripture (to conserve spiritual truth) is seen in Today’s reading with a point of renewal beginning with these lines from Psalm 18 for the 18th day of Winter, here & now as january 7 of 2020:

But me he caught—reached all the way

from sky to sea; he pulled me out

Of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos,

the void in which I was drowning.

They hit me when I was down,

but God stuck by me.

He stood me up on a wide-open field;

I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!

God made my life complete

when I placed all the pieces before him.

When I got my act together,

he gave me a fresh start.

Now I’m alert to God’s ways;

I don’t take God for granted.

Every day I review the ways he works;

I try not to miss a trick.

I feel put back together,

and I’m watching my step.

God rewrote the text of my life

when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 18:19-24 (The Message)

and lines of the same Psalm mirrored in The Passion Translation:

His love broke open the way

and he brought me into a beautiful broad place.

He rescued me—because his delight is in me!

He rewarded me for doing what’s right and staying pure.

I will follow his commands and never stop.

I’ll not sin by ceasing to follow him, no matter what.

For I’ve kept my eyes focused on his righteous words

and I’ve obeyed everything that he’s told me to do.

I’ve done my best to be blameless and to follow all his ways,

keeping my heart pure.

I’ve kept my integrity by surrendering to him.

And so the Lord has rewarded me with his blessing.

This is the treasure I discovered

when I kept my heart clean before his eyes.

Lord, it is clear to me now that how we live

will dictate how you deal with us.

Good people will taste your goodness, Lord.

And to those who are loyal to you,

you love to prove that you are loyal and true.

And for those who are purified, they find you always pure.

But you’ll outwit the crooked and cunning with your craftiness.

To the humble you bring heaven’s deliverance.

But the proud and haughty you disregard.

God, all at once you turned on a floodlight for me!

You are the revelation-light in my darkness,

and in your brightness I can see the path ahead.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 18:19-28 (The Passion Translation)

to be accompanied by lines of wisdom from chapter 7 of the book of Proverbs:

Stick close to my instruction, my son,

and follow all my advice.

If you do what I say you will live well.

Guard your life with my revelation-truth,

for my teaching is as precious as your eyesight.

Treasure my instructions, and cherish them within your heart.

Say to wisdom, “I love you,”

and to understanding, “You’re my sweetheart.”

“May the two of you protect me, and may we never be apart!”

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 7:1-5 (The Passion Translation)

and a sign of restoration is seen in the reading of Today’s paired chapters of the Scriptures beginning with the closing chapter of Zephaniah that starts with a word of correction and Judgment, followed by rebirth:

[Sewer City]

Doom to the rebellious city,

the home of oppressors—Sewer City!

The city that wouldn’t take advice,

wouldn’t accept correction,

Wouldn’t trust God,

wouldn’t even get close to her own god!

Her very own leaders

are rapacious lions,

Her judges are rapacious timber wolves

out every morning prowling for a fresh kill.

Her prophets are out for what they can get.

They’re opportunists—you can’t trust them.

Her priests desecrate the Sanctuary.

They use God’s law as a weapon to maim and kill souls.

Yet God remains righteous in her midst,

untouched by the evil.

He stays at it, day after day, meting out justice.

At evening he’s still at it, strong as ever.

But evil men and women, without conscience

and without shame, persist in evil.

“So I cut off the godless nations.

I knocked down their defense posts,

Filled her roads with rubble

so no one could get through.

Her cities were bombed-out ruins,

unlivable and unlived in.

“I thought, ‘Surely she’ll honor me now,

accept my discipline and correction,

Find a way of escape from the trouble she’s in,

find relief from the punishment I’m bringing.’

But it didn’t faze her. Bright and early

she was up at it again, doing the same old things.

“Well, if that’s what you want, stick around.”

God’s Decree.

“Your day in court is coming,

but remember I’ll be there to bring evidence.

I’ll bring all the nations to the courtroom,

round up all the kingdoms,

And let them feel the brunt of my anger,

my raging wrath.

My zeal is a fire

that will purge and purify the earth.

[God Is in Charge at the Center]

“In the end I will turn things around for the people.

I’ll give them a language undistorted, unpolluted,

Words to address God in worship

and, united, to serve me with their shoulders to the wheel.

They’ll come from beyond the Ethiopian rivers,

they’ll come praying—

All my scattered, exiled people

will come home with offerings for worship.

You’ll no longer have to be ashamed

of all those acts of rebellion.

I’ll have gotten rid of your arrogant leaders.

No more pious strutting on my holy hill!

I’ll leave a core of people among you

who are poor in spirit—

What’s left of Israel that’s really Israel.

They’ll make their home in God.

This core holy people

will not do wrong.

They won’t lie,

won’t use words to flatter or seduce.

Content with who they are and where they are,

unanxious, they’ll live at peace.”

So sing, Daughter Zion!

Raise the rafters, Israel!

Daughter Jerusalem,

be happy! celebrate!

God has reversed his judgments against you

and sent your enemies off chasing their tails.

From now on, God is Israel’s king,

in charge at the center.

There’s nothing to fear from evil

ever again!

[God Is Present Among You]

Jerusalem will be told:

“Don’t be afraid.

Dear Zion,

don’t despair.

Your God is present among you,

a strong Warrior there to save you.

Happy to have you back, he’ll calm you with his love

and delight you with his songs.

“The accumulated sorrows of your exile

will dissipate.

I, your God, will get rid of them for you.

You’ve carried those burdens long enough.

At the same time, I’ll get rid of all those

who’ve made your life miserable.

I’ll heal the maimed;

I’ll bring home the homeless.

In the very countries where they were hated

they will be venerated.

On Judgment Day

I’ll bring you back home—a great family gathering!

You’ll be famous and honored

all over the world.

You’ll see it with your own eyes—

all those painful partings turned into reunions!”

God’s Promise.

The Book of Zephaniah, Chapter 3 (The Message)

and Psalm 7 also speaks of God eventually making things right for those who trust in Him and in His grace, especially when wronged for no reason:

A David Psalm

God! God! I am running to you for dear life;

the chase is wild.

If they catch me, I’m finished:

ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions,

dragged into the forest and left

unlooked for, unremembered.

God, if I’ve done what they say—

betrayed my friends,

ripped off my enemies—

If my hands are really that dirty,

let them get me, walk all over me,

leave me flat on my face in the dirt.

Stand up, God; pit your holy fury

against my furious enemies.

Wake up, God. My accusers have packed

the courtroom; it’s judgment time.

Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel,

throw out the false charges against me.

I’m ready, confident in your verdict:

“Innocent.”

Close the book on Evil, God,

but publish your mandate for us.

You get us ready for life:

you probe for our soft spots,

you knock off our rough edges.

And I’m feeling so fit, so safe:

made right, kept right.

God in solemn honor does things right,

but his nerves are sandpapered raw.

Nobody gets by with anything.

God is already in action—

Sword honed on his whetstone,

bow strung, arrow on the string,

Lethal weapons in hand,

each arrow a flaming missile.

Look at that guy!

He had sex with sin,

he’s pregnant with evil.

Oh, look! He’s having

the baby—a Lie-Baby!

See that man shoveling day after day,

digging, then concealing, his man-trap

down that lonely stretch of road?

Go back and look again—you’ll see him in it headfirst,

legs waving in the breeze.

That’s what happens:

mischief backfires;

violence boomerangs.

I’m thanking God, who makes things right.

I’m singing the fame of heaven-high God.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 7 (The Message)

to be concluded by the paired chapter with Zephaniah 3 of Acts 11 where we see the True Message of grace shared as a seed that has spread throughout beautiful mysterious earth for nearly 2,000 years:

By the time Peter and his friends from Joppa returned to Jerusalem, news about outsiders accepting God’s message had already spread to the Lord’s emissaries and believers there. Some of the circumcised believers didn’t welcome Peter with joy, but with criticism.

Circumcised Believers: Why did you violate divine law by associating with outsiders and sitting at the table with them for a meal? This is an outrage!

Peter patiently told them what had happened, laying out in detail the whole story.

Peter: I was in Joppa, I was praying, and I fell into a trance. In my vision, something like a huge sheet descended from the sky as if it were being lowered by its four corners. It landed right in front of me. It was full of all kinds of four-footed creatures that we would call unclean—I could identify mammals, snakes, lizards, and birds. Then I heard a voice say, “Get up, Peter! Kill these creatures and eat them!” Of course, I replied, “No way, Lord! Not a single bite of forbidden, nonkosher food has ever touched my lips.” But then the voice spoke from heaven a second time: “If God makes something clean, you must not call it dirty or forbidden.” This whole drama was repeated three times, and then it was all pulled back up into the sky.

At that very second, three men arrived at the house where I was staying. They had come to me from Caesarea. The Holy Spirit told me I should go with them, that I shouldn’t make any distinction between them as Gentiles and us as Jews. These six brothers from Joppa came with me; and yes, we entered the man’s home even though he was an outsider.

The outsider told us the story of how he had seen a heavenly messenger standing in his house who said, “Send to Joppa and bring back Simon, also called Peter, and he will give you a message that will rescue both you and your household.” Then I began to speak; and as I did, the Holy Spirit fell upon them—it was exactly as it had been with us at the beginning. Then I remembered what Jesus had said to us: “John ritually cleansed people with water through baptism, but you will be washed with the Holy Spirit.” So, if God gave them the same gift we were given when we believed in the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, who was I to stand in God’s way?

There was no argument, only silence.

Circumcised Believers: Well then, we must conclude that God has given to the outsiders the opportunity to rethink their lives, turn to God, and gain a new life.

The believers who were scattered from Judea because of the persecution following Stephen’s stoning kept moving out, reaching Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch. Until this time, they had only shared their message with Jews. Then some men from Cyprus and Cyrene who had become believers came to Antioch, and they began sharing the message of the Lord Jesus with some Greek converts to Judaism. The Lord was at work through them, and a large number of these Greeks became believers and turned to the Lord Jesus.

Word of this new development came to the church in Jerusalem, and they sent Barnabas to Antioch to investigate. He arrived and saw God’s grace in action there, so he rejoiced and urged them to remain faithful to the Lord, to maintain an enduring, unshakable devotion. This Barnabas truly was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit, full of faith. A very large number of people were brought to the Lord.

Barnabas soon was off again—now to Tarsus to look for Saul. He found Saul and brought him back to Antioch. The two of them spent an entire year there, meeting with the church and teaching huge numbers of people. It was there, in Antioch, where the term “Christian” was first used to identify disciples of Jesus.

During that year, some prophets came north from Jerusalem to Antioch. A prophet named Agabus stood in a meeting and made a prediction by the Holy Spirit: there would be an expansive, terrible famine in the whole region during the reign of Claudius. In anticipation of the famine, the disciples determined to give an amount proportionate to their financial ability and create a relief fund for all the believers in Judea. They sent Barnabas and Saul to carry this fund to the elders in Jerusalem.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 11 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, january 7 of ‘20, also the 18th day of Winter

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for june 3 of 2021 with Proverbs 3 and Psalm 3, accompanied by Psalm 76 for the 76th day of Spring and Psalm 4 for day 154 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 3]

[The Rewards of Wisdom]

My child, if you truly want a long and satisfying life,

never forget the things that I’ve taught you.

Follow closely every truth that I’ve given you.

Then you will have a full, rewarding life.

Hold on to loyal love and don’t let go,

and be faithful to all that you’ve been taught.

Let your life be shaped by integrity,

with truth written upon your heart.

That’s how you will find favor and understanding

with both God and men—

you will gain the reputation of living life well.

[Wisdom’s Guidance]

Trust in the Lord completely,

and do not rely on your own opinions.

With all your heart rely on him to guide you,

and he will lead you in every decision you make.

Become intimate with him in whatever you do,

and he will lead you wherever you go.

Don’t think for a moment that you know it all,

for wisdom comes when you adore him with undivided devotion

and avoid everything that’s wrong.

Then you will find the healing refreshment

your body and spirit long for.

Glorify God with all your wealth,

honoring him with your firstfruits,

with every increase that comes to you.

Then every dimension of your life will overflow with blessings

from an uncontainable source of inner joy!

[Wisdom’s Correction]

My child, when the Lord God speaks to you,

never take his words lightly,

and never be upset when he corrects you.

For the Father’s discipline comes only

from his passionate love and pleasure for you.

Even when it seems like his correction is harsh,

it’s still better than any father on earth gives to his child.

Blessings pour over the ones who find wisdom,

for they have obtained living-understanding.

As wisdom increases, a great treasure is imparted,

greater than many bars of refined gold.

It is a more valuable commodity than gold and gemstones,

for there is nothing you desire that could compare to her.

Wisdom extends to you long life in one hand

and wealth and promotion in the other.

Out of her mouth flows righteousness,

and her words release both law and mercy.

The ways of wisdom are sweet,

always drawing you into the place of wholeness.

Seeking for her brings the discovery of untold blessings,

for she is the healing tree of life to those who taste her fruits.

[Wisdom’s Blueprints]

The Lord laid the earth’s foundations with wisdom’s blueprints.

By his living-understanding all the universe came into being.

By his divine revelation he broke open

the hidden fountains of the deep,

bringing secret springs to the surface

as the mist of the night dripped down from heaven.

[Wisdom, Our Hiding Place]

My child, never drift off course from these two goals for your life:

to walk in wisdom and to discover your purpose.

Don’t ever forget how they empower you.

For they strengthen you inside and out

and inspire you to do what’s right;

you will be energized and refreshed by the healing they bring.

They give you living hope to guide you,

and not one of life’s tests will cause you to stumble.

You will sleep like a baby, safe and sound—

your rest will be sweet and secure.

You will not be subject to terror, for it will not terrify you.

Nor will the disrespectful be able to push you aside,

because God is your confidence in times of crisis,

keeping your heart at rest in every situation.

[Wisdom in Relationships]

Why would you withhold payment on your debt

when you have the ability to pay? Just do it!

When your friend comes to ask you for a favor,

why would you say, “Perhaps tomorrow,”

when you have the money right there in your pocket?

Help him today!

Why would you hold a grudge in your heart

toward your neighbor who lives right next door?

And why would you quarrel with those

who have done nothing wrong to you?

Is that a chip on your shoulder?

Don’t act like those bullies or learn their ways.

Every violent thug is despised by the Lord,

but every tender lover finds friendship with God

and will hear his intimate secrets.

The wicked walk under God’s constant curse,

but the righteous walk under a stream of his blessing,

for they seek to do what is right.

If you walk with the mockers you will learn to mock,

but God’s grace and favor flow to the meek.

Stubborn fools fill their lives with disgrace,

but glory and honor rest upon the wise.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 3 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 3]

Covered by the Glory

King David’s song when he was forced to flee from Absalom, his own son

[The Humbling of a King]

Lord, I have so many enemies, so many who are against me.

Listen to how they whisper their slander against me, saying:

“Look! He’s hopeless! Even God can’t save him from this!”

Pause in his presence

[The Help of God]

But in the depths of my heart I truly know

that you, Yahweh, have become my Shield;

You take me and surround me with yourself.

Your glory covers me continually.

You lift high my head.

I have cried out to you, Yahweh, from your holy presence.

You send me a Father’s help.

Pause in his presence

[The Song of Safety]

So now I’ll lie down and sleep like a baby—

then I’ll awake in safety, for you surround me with your glory.

Even though ten thousand dark powers prowl around me,

I won’t be afraid.

[The Secret of Strength]

Rise up and help me, Yahweh! Come and save me, God!

For you will slap them in the face,

breaking the power of their words to harm me.

For the Lord alone is my Savior.

What a feast of favor and bliss he gives his people!

Pause in his presence

The Book of Psalms, Poem 3 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 76]

For the worship leader. A song of Asaph accompanied by strings.

The One known in Judah is the True God;

in Israel, His name is great.

He has made Salem His home;

indeed, He rests in Zion.

There He destroyed the instruments of war:

flaming arrows, shields, and swords.

[pause]

You rise and shine like the dawn.

You are more majestic than the mountains where game runs wild.

The strong-hearted enemies were plundered;

they were buried in slumber.

Even the noble warriors

could not raise a hand to stop You.

O True God of Jacob, with just Your rebuke

both horse and rider fell into a deep sleep.

You are feared; yes, You.

And who can stand before You when Your anger flares?

You decreed judgment from the heavens.

The earth heard it and was petrified with fear, completely still,

When the True God arose for judgment

to deliver all the meek of the earth.

[pause]

For the wrath of man will end in praise of You,

and whatever wrath is left You will wrap around Yourself like a belt.

Make vows to the Eternal your God,

and do all you promised;

Let all the nations around you bring gifts

to the God who arouses fear and awe.

He squashes the arrogant spirit of the rulers

and inspires fear in the hearts of the kings of the earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 76 (The Voice)

[Psalm 4]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by strings.

Answer my prayers, O True God, the righteous, who makes me right.

I was hopelessly surrounded, and You rescued me.

Once again hear me; hide me in Your favor;

bring victory in defeat and hope in hopelessness.

How long will you sons of Adam steal my dignity, reduce my glory to shame?

Why pine for the fruitless and dream a delusion?

[pause]

Understand this: The Eternal One treats as special those like Him.

The Eternal will answer my prayers and save me.

Think long; think hard. When you are angry, don’t let it carry you into sin.

When night comes, in calm be silent.

[pause]

From this day forward, offer to God the right sacrifice from a heart made right by God.

Entrust yourself to the Eternal.

Crowds of disheartened people ask, “Who can show us what is good?”

Let Your brilliant face shine upon us, O Eternal One, that we may know the undeniable answer.

You have filled me with joy, and happiness has risen in my heart, great delight and unrivaled joy,

even more than when bread abounds and wine flows freely.

Tonight I will sleep securely on a bed of peace

because I trust You, You alone, O Eternal One, will keep me safe.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 4 (The Voice)