#and it made me think of the time i was tasked with writing a psalm-like song and so i wrote a song of lament

[cartograffiti]

January '24 reading diary

I finished a whopping 17 books in January, thanks to picking up a lot of quicker reads (novellas! poetry! manga!), and a bunch of them were really exciting!

At Christmas, my mother bought a copy of Taskmaster: 220 Extraordinary Tasks for Ordinary People for the assembled family to pass among ourselves. It's fun and funny, but there's very little in it I'm likely to try. It's also worth noting that the book was published in 2018 and Alex Horne ran a contest alongside it, which means that there are some prompts with a 2019 deadline, and some that require going to specific places in the United Kingdom.

Some cookbooks! Pieometry: Modern Tart Art and Pie Design for the Eye and the Palate was another Christmas gift to me, by the amazing Instagram sensation Lauren Ko. I've always found her very precise decorations intimidating, and I doubt I'll attempt more than the simplest of the ones she gives instructions for here, but they're inspiring to look at, and I very much want to try some of the recipes for interesting fillings and naturally colored crusts.

I picked up Snacking Bakes by Yossy Arefi after seeing someone claim that an earlier Arefi book, Snacking Cakes, had changed the landscape of home baking in the US. I found the recipes in Bakes really basic, but I hopped into the much longer hold line for Cakes, so maybe in a couple of months I can tell you how much that's hype.

I probably won't make anything from Tasting History by Max Miller, but I like him on YouTube, and expected that. This is a book for reading about historical cooking, and the recipes are a bonus if one really intrigues you. Nice details, well laid out.

It fit in nicely with a couple of reading challenges to read a Pablo Neruda collection--I chose The Essential Neruda on the basis that Hoopla had it--and I enjoyed it hugely. I'd read Neruda poems from time to time as a child and student, mostly ones about nature and love, but this collection has a nice breadth to it, introducing me to examples of his work that deal with labor exploitation and political events. I can't speak to the quality of translation, but even only knowing his work in English, I find the rhythm and imagery really special and memorable. I'm especially fond of "Drunk as Drunk on Turpentine." He's one of the most famous Chilean writers, and I'm glad to be more familiar now with the reasons why.

Last month, I said that my mother and I had started working through a hard Nick Bantock puzzle book, and we were very impressed with it. It's called The Egyptian Jukebox, and it's a succession of interesting puzzles about interpreting the contents of photographed shadowbox "drawers." Mom, who is an excellent codebreaker, worked out a core mechanic pretty swiftly, while I floundered with wrong approaches for a bit and then asked her to confirm whether I was finally on the right track; that made the first few pages the hardest part, and the rest relied more heavily on my strengths of observation and lateral thinking. We both found the final solution extra fun because of a personal connection, but I think the journey will be satisfying enough for most puzzlers.

I've been trying to read literally any Becky Chambers book for multiple years without getting around to it, but this month I listened to the audiobooks of A Psalm for the Wild-Built and A Prayer for the Crown-Shy and just adored them. This is a duology about Sibling Dex, a monk whose role is to serve tea and listen to people's problems, and Mosscap, the first robot anyone has seen since robots became sapient and withdrew from human society, generations ago. They travel together, with beautiful writing about nature, spirituality, and various kinds of social responsibility. Every bit as good as I'd heard.

Dumb Witness is a solid mid-range Agatha Christie mystery (which is to say better than most people's), an inheritance murder plot involving a letter sent months after it was dated, interesting poison facts, and key evidence from a dog. It's a bit dated, because it relies on subverting some ideas about mental health and xenophobia that have changed since 1937. I can appreciate what she did, but at a remove.

More than one of the reading challenges I'm doing this year call for reading a manga. I like manga, but I probably haven't read any in about 10 years, since I read all sorts of Clamp and shoujo and shounen with high school friends. I fell off as my tastes moved to series aimed at young adults, which were at the time harder to find in my area. Anyway, I'm excited to have gotten sucked into a manga again! I'd seen some of Shirahama Kamome's beautiful art from Witch Hat Atelier and I quickly fell in love with the story, which surrounds Coco, a young witch being taught to work magic using art supplies. The interpersonal relationships are strong, the apprentices are real people with distinct outlooks, and the larger plot about what kinds of magic are banned, and whether they should be, is fascinating. I tore through volumes 1-5, and I have two more checked out and another on hold. Both cheerful and serious, original, and not set in a school environment. Lovely, and one of several things motivating me to try drawing again lately.

The Emelan group read has gone into the Circle Reforged novels, and we're reading in chronological order. Battle Magic was...fine? Not the most interesting Pierce major arc, but lots of interesting things woven through it. It was written in her period of slower pacing, which I don't like as much.

I know several big fans of Dorothy Dunnett's 16th century historical fiction drama the Lymond Chronicles, and oh man am I on the boat now too. The Game of Kings is so confusing (complimentary), full of emotion and grabby characters, and I fell in love. She expects a lot of her readers. I sent in the chat where I'm live blogging that, "Here's an obscure Ancient Roman. Now understand an allusion to how a particular beetle moves. Jokes in five languages. And there's even a plot." Sometimes it's overwhelming, but it's also exactly my kind of thing, every chapter has at least one perfect scene, and Dunnett does some incredible literary magic tricks. One night I felt like I felt like I was being crushed in a vise. I'm already reading the next one, which has a reveal that made me stop reading for fully 40 minutes while I unpicked what I'd missed. I want to write fanfiction. God.

And yesterday I put on a sim game and listened in one sitting to all of Malka Older's The Mimicking of Known Successes, a wonderful sci-fi novella about a detective (Mossa) on Jupiter collaborating with her former college girlfriend (Pleiti) to investigate a case that touches on Pleiti's research, the study of ecological history with the hope of repairing Earth's ecosystem enough for humanity to return to it. Their chemistry is great, the plot is clever, and the dialogue in particular is shiny and tender. I found a couple of world-building beats underdeveloped--there's a thing about "conservative" being a slur in this future that I don't think stuck the landing of indicating the threat being conservative posed to people who had to change or die--but I look forward to reading the next.

[mothric]

Happy Palm Sunday, happy Autism Acceptance Month (and I'll keep saying it!), and if you live in the US, remember to do your taxes by Friday!

[pau-blogs]

FACE SHAME? BODY SHAME? QUIT SHAME!

You keep telling yourself that you are ugly. You constantly look at any mirror or at the reflection of a nearby window searching to see the bags under your eyes, the lizard lips plastered in your face, the unnecessary weight or how visible are your bones in your skin. We all stress more on how we look than basing them on what people think. Honestly, I find more body shame in our heads than in society's mouth. We constantly think about how ugly our eye or hair color is, on how our stretch marks and wrinkles are starting to turn more visible than before, or on how the outfit we are wearing are not suitable for our curvy or slim to the bones bodies.   I say that we have more body shame in our heads than in our surrounding because I could say it through my perspective, my experience. I fight more with myself than with the people's words. I let myself feel insecure by standing in my mirror for long minutes that feels like hours; searching and searching for the worst thing of me. Searching places, looking for answers on why people reject me. Searching places to see if I can improve them because I feel so much shame for the people to see.I hide in long sleeves and long pants. I hide in skirts that uncover my belly. I hide my face in pictures and videos made by others... We all feel face shame, or body shame, even both at the same time. I always feel insecure about my weird nose, my circle potato face, and the weird belly I have. People, through my Instagram comments and sometimes when they see how I am, tell me beautiful things. But I don't feel like it. I am thankful for their words, but I don't feel them the way I should feel them. I let some people invade my brain. "Bad people" that I crave for their compliments, and they say none. Is rather best for them to avoid me and change of subject, which I don't understand. But writing this and researching the meaning of body shame has let me think. WHO THE HECK CARES ON HOW I LOOK? I have let people define me, because I have led my thoughts to conquer me and invade me with a plague of insecurities. I am devastated that I constantly look for acceptance and fear rejection. I shouldn't fear rejection. I should embrace rejection. I should embrace the people who love me the way I am, that constantly loves me and tells me I look pretty. I should embrace that the only one who should define my beauty is God, for he created me perfectly and beautifully, and in His own image (Psalm 139:14). Is not an easy task to get back to those grounds, but everything is at its time (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). Face shame? Body shame? LETS QUIT SHAME! The things that really matter are your successes, the way you treat people, the way you live your life... What matters are the people who accept you as who you are. Beautiful. Handsome. Outstanding. One of a Kind. And so much more on what they see in you... For beauty is not entirely physical. Beauty is selfless. Beauty is hopeful. Beauty is love. Beauty is bulletproof. Beauty is healing from falling. Beauty is inside you, where it never wrinkles, where it makes something that will change the world. Do me a favor. When you look at your reflection find the things that satisfy you, then find the things that don't and tell it, "You are Beautiful. You are there for a reason. Some day someone out there will not like it, will love it." Also, to help others. Let us tell them they are beautiful. Bonus, say something specific that you find is really beautiful, inside and/or out. Let us defeat stereotypes of a cyberbully, and spread love, spread compassion. To recap, tell yourself you are beautiful because you define yourself, and God defines you. Not a mirror nor the people around. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL :) <3 PAU

[barbaramoorersm]

July 26, 2020

July 26, 2020

17th Sunday of Ordinary Time

First Book of Kings: 3, 5, 7-12

Solomon asks God for an understanding heart.

Psalm 119

The Psalmist shares what is more precious than gold and silver.

Letter to the Romans 8: 26-30

Paul reminds the Romans that, “…all things work for good for those who love God”.

 Matthew 13: 44-52

Jesus continues sharing parables.

 Recently I came across a bit of advice from a letter attributed to St. Peter.   “…serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received”.  This quote says to me, that we all have been given gifts and we all are urged to use them to assist others.  In addition, my guess is that you and I, as we move through life, have at times, discovered hidden gifts we never knew we had.  Or someone reminds us of a gift they have seen in us that we never noticed. A talent for writing, music, speaking, healing, art, teaching, leadership and the list could go on.

Today King Solomon asks God for a gift after God said, “Ask something of me and I will give it to you.”  The King then asks for “an understanding heart”.  The Psalmist seems to be asking for “compassion and kindness”.   Paul is encouraging the Romans to ask for the gift of responding to God’s call.

But it is the Gospel parables that are so interesting this weekend.  The Gospel contains three new ones.  The treasure found in a field, the pearl of great price and a net full of a variety of fish.

Let’s ask some questions of the first two parables.  First a person finds a treasure in a field, hides it and buys the field. Why didn’t he just take what he found? Then, a merchant finds a pearl, sells all that he has and buys it.  They both secured a treasure they believed was a great gift, but what did they do with the treasure they acquired?  We have heard sermons over the years that speak of the hidden treasure and the pearl as the gift of faith.  And indeed, that is a treasure.   But then I recalled the words of Jesus in the Gospel.  “Then every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old”.  Might there be something new to think about in these “old” parables’?

What struck me for the first time was the fact that the merchant and the other buyer acquired the pearl and the field with its treasure.  And then Jesus ends the stories.   What did they do with these gifts?  Gifts that they sacrificed so much to gain.  Why did Jesus or Matthew end these two short parables at this point?

In this ancient context, a person without a bank at his or her disposal often buried their treasure and hoped at a safe time to claim it if it could be found. Well someone did find it.  What if the finder was a poverty-stricken day laborer?   Imagine the joy?  We would be happy for them.  Here is one new way to look at the story.  But the question still remains.  What did both finders do with their treasure?

And the question also remains for all of us as well.  We are told by Paul that the gifts we have been given, are to build up the Body of Christ.   Our task is to be grateful for what we have received, and use all our gifts for the greater good.   We also have a responsibility to celebrate the gifts of those around us and to encourage them to share what they have.  There is another point here that is important.  It is the Holy Spirit who is the source of all our gifts.  How can any system or institution stand in the way of the exercise of the great variety of gifts among us?  Gifts given to men and women alike.

Many scholars see the parable of the net and fish as a last judgment story like Matthew 25. But is there is another way to look at the parable?  Modern fishermen often sort out the fish as they catch them.  This is done for a variety of reasons.  The reasons might be conservation or the size of the fish. But today’s fisherman in the parable did not sort out the fish as he caught them. That came at the end of the process. They were brought to shore and then sorted.  But in the act of gathering, the fish were all put in the net no matter their strength, weight and worth.  Doesn’t this show us a God and a Kingdom open to all and ready to accept all?  But, from the world around us we see folks making choices and sorting out people all the time because of their different race, culture and faith.  Choices are made by groups and individuals who feel superior and chosen above others.   How else can we explain reactions to black men and women who are questioned because of where they are simply walking, living or gathering?  Some want their net to be small and exclusive.

Perhaps, this coming week we might make the effort to thank God for the gifts we have been given which are like a “pearl of great price”.  To ask ourselves if we have given our gifts away in the service of others? And then perhaps make the effort to name the gift you have observed in someone else.

[scotianostra]

On February 8th 1587 Mary Queen of Scots was beheaded at Fotheringay Castle.

Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de Brantome was a member of the French nobility who accompanied Mary during her internment. He provides us with a sympathetic account of Mary's execution that begins with the arrival of a delegation from Queen Elizabeth announcing that the former Queen of the Scots is to be executed the next day:

"On February 7, 1587, the representatives of the English Queen, reached the Castle of Fotheringay, where the Queen of Scotland was confined at that time, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon. In the presence of her jailer, Paulet, they read their commission regarding the execution of the prisoner, and said that they would proceed with their task the next morning between seven and eight o'clock. The jailer was then ordered to have everything in readiness.

Without betraying any astonishment, the Queen thanked them for their good news, saying that nothing could be more welcome to her, since she longed for an end to her miseries, and had been prepared for death ever since she had been sent as a prisoner to England. However, she begged the envoys to give her a little time in which to make herself ready, make her will, and place her affairs in order. It was within their power and discretion to grant these requests. The Count of Shrewsbury replied rudely:

'No, no, Madam you must die, you must die! Be ready between seven and eight in the morning. It cannot be delayed a moment beyond that time.' " It was that sudden, very little time for Mary to prepare, a brutal way to spend the last few hours on this earth........Mary spent the rest of the day and the early hours of the next morning writing farewell letters to friends and relatives, saying goodbye to her ladies-in-waiting, and praying.

At 2 am on Wednesday 8 February 1587, Mary Queen of Scots picked up her pen for the last time. Her execution on the block at Fotheringhay Castle was a mere six hours away when she wrote this letter. It is addressed to Henri III of France, brother of her first husband. The letter was written in French, the following is a translation and is a fascinating insight into the mind of our Queen hours before her murder. Mary had only learnt her fate a few hours earlier.

Note, even though she had been forced to abdicate, and had been a prisoner of her cousin for 19 years, she still called herself, Queen of Scotland.

Queen of Scotland 8 Feb. 1587

Sire, my brother-in-law, having by God's will, for my sins I think, thrown myself into the power of the Queen my cousin, at whose hands I have suffered much for almost twenty years, I have finally been condemned to death by her and her Estates. I have asked for my papers, which they have taken away, in order that I might make my will, but I have been unable to recover anything of use to me, or even get leave either to make my will freely or to have my body conveyed after my death, as I would wish, to your kingdom where I had the honour to be queen, your sister and old ally.

Tonight, after dinner, I have been advised of my sentence: I am to be executed like a criminal at eight in the morning. I have not had time to give you a full account of everything that has happened, but if you will listen to my doctor and my other unfortunate servants, you will learn the truth, and how, thanks be to God, I scorn death and vow that I meet it innocent of any crime, even if I were their subject. The Catholic faith and the assertion of my God-given right to the English crown are the two issues on which I am condemned, and yet I am not allowed to say that it is for the Catholic religion that I die, but for fear of interference with theirs. The proof of this is that they have taken away my chaplain, and although he is in the building, I have not been able to get permission for him to come and hear my confession and give me the Last Sacrament, while they have been most insistent that I receive the consolation and instruction of their minister, brought here for that purpose. The bearer of this letter and his companions, most of them your subjects, will testify to my conduct at my last hour. It remains for me to beg Your Most Christian Majesty, my brother-in-law and old ally, who have always protested your love for me, to give proof now of your goodness on all these points: firstly by charity, in paying my unfortunate servants the wages due them - this is a burden on my conscience that only you can relieve further, by having prayers offered to God for a queen who has borne the title Most Christian, and who dies a Catholic, stripped of all her possessions. As for my son, I commend him to you in so far as he deserves, for I cannot answer for him. I have taken the liberty of sending you two precious stones, talismans against illness, trusting that you will enjoy good health and a long and happy life. Accept them from your loving sister-in-law, who, as she dies, bears witness of her warm feeling for you. Again I commend my servants to you. Give instructions, if it please you, that for my soul's sake part of what you owe me should be paid, and that for the sake of Jesus Christ, to whom I shall pray for you tomorrow as I die, I be left enough to found a memorial mass and give the customary alms.

This Wednesday, two hours after midnight. Your very loving and most true sister, Mary R

To the most Christian king, my brother-in-law and old ally.

We rejoin de Bourdeille's account as Mary enters the room designated for her execution and is denied access to her priest:

"The scaffold had been erected in the middle of a large room. It measured twelve feet along each side and two feet in height, and was covered by a coarse cloth of linen.

The Queen entered the room full of grace and majesty, just as if she were coming to a ball. There was no change on her features as she entered.

Drawing up before the scaffold, she summoned her major-domo (steward) and said to him:

'Please help me mount this. This is the last request I shall make of you.'

Then she repeated to him all that she had said to him in her room about what he should tell her son. Standing on the scaffold, she asked for her almoner, (chaplain) begging the officers present to allow him to come. But this was refused point-blank. The Count of Kent told her that he pitied her greatly to see her thus the victim of the superstition of past ages, advising her to carry the cross of Christ in her heart rather than in her hand. To this she replied that it would be difficult to hold a thing so lovely in her hand and not feel it thrill the heart, and that what became every Christian in the hour of death was to bear with him the true Symbol of Redemption."

Standing on the scaffold, Mary angrily rejects her captors' offer of a Protestant minister to give her comfort. She kneels while she begs that Queen Elizabeth spare her ladies-in-waiting and prays for the conversion of the Isle of Britain and Scotland to the Catholic Church:

"When this was over, she summoned her women to help her remove her black veil, her head-dress, and other ornaments. When the executioner attempted to do this, she cried out:

'Nay, my good man, touch me not!'

But she could not prevent him from touching her, for when her dress was lowered as far as her waist; the scoundrel caught her roughly by the arm and pulled off her doublet. Her skirt was cut so low that her neck and throat, whiter than alabaster, were revealed. She concealed these as well as she could, saying that she was not used to disrobing in public, especially before so large an assemblage. There were about four or five hundred people present.

The executioner fell to his knees before her and implored her forgiveness. The Queen told him that she willingly forgave him and alI who were responsible for her death, as freely as she hoped her sins would be forgiven by God. Turning to the woman to whom she, had given her handkerchief, she asked for it.

She wore a golden crucifix, made out of the wood of the true cross, with a picture of Our Lord on it. She was about to give this to one of her women, but the executioner forbade it, even though Her Majesty had promised that the woman would give him thrice its value in money.

After kissing her women once more, she bade them go, with her blessing, as she made the sign of the cross over them. One of them was unable to keep from crying, so that the Queen had to impose silence upon her by saying she had promised that nothing of the kind would interfere with the business in hand. They were to stand back quietly, pray to God for her soul, and bear truthful testimony that she had died in the bosom of the Holy Catholic religion.

One of the women then tied the handkerchief over her eyes. The Queen quickly, and with great courage, knelt dawn, showing no signs of faltering. So great was her bravery that all present were moved, and there were few among them that could refrain from tears. In their hearts they condemned themselves far the injustice that was being done.

The executioner, or rather the minister of Satan, strove to kill not only her body but also her soul, and kept interrupting her prayers. The Queen repeated in Latin the Psalm beginning In te, Damine, speravi; nan canfundar in aeternum. When she was through she laid her head on the block, and as she repeated the prayer, the executioner struck her a great blow upon the neck, which was not, however, entirely severed. Then he struck twice more, since it was obvious that he wished to make the victim's martyrdom all the more severe. It was not so much the suffering, but the cause, that made the martyr.

The executioner then picked up the severed head and, showing it to those present, cried out: 'God save Queen Elizabeth! May all the enemies of the true Evangel thus perish!'

Saying this, he stripped off the dead Queen's head-dress, in order to show her hair, which was now white, and which she had been afraid to show to everyone when she was still alive, or to have properly dressed, as she did when her hair was fair and light.

It was not old age that had turned it white, for she was only thirty-five when this took place, and scarcely forty when she met her death, but the troubles, misfortunes, and sorrows which she had suffered, especially in her prison."

The account of Pierre de Bourdeille was originally published in 1665 and republished many times thereafter.

[storywriting]

“Collect”

Verse: Psalms of Planets Words: 1075

Re: Send a word and I will write a drabble or headcanon based on it 

Requested by @pawnshopsouls​, but you know I’m too verbose for a proper drabble.

“What’s it for?” Eureka asked, turning the trinket over in her hands. It was a smooth scallop shape attached to a key ring, but beyond that it seemed to serve no functional purpose. He had called it a shell, though she supposed it must be some sort of replica. This planet hadn’t harbored oceans in centuries.

“It’s--”

Renton hesitated, seemingly unprepared for the question. 

“It’s not for anything, I guess!” A dusting of red began to bloom in his cheeks, and he looked away. “It’s just a nice thing that I thought you might like to have. I thought it was pretty and--” 

Renton trailed off.  The young girl regarded her companion for a long moment, tilting her head with an air of puzzlement. 

“But what would I do with it, then?”

To his credit, Renton recovery time was speedy. He sucked in a breath before taking this question with much more ease than the first.

“Well, whatever you want, I guess,” he explained, offering a sincere smile even as his face continued to redden. “You could clip it to your lifting gear or maybe put it in a spot that feels too empty.”

Despite her confusion, Eureka couldn’t help but smile, too. It was a gift, after all. It would be wrong not to appreciate a gift. After a short pause, Eureka took the boy’s instruction to heart, nodding sagely.

“I see. In that case, thank you Renton. I’ll put it to good use.”

---

Eureka had never noticed before now how utterly sparse her room was. Nothing on the walls or nightstand. Nothing on the floor or on her bed. Nothing of interest. Just necessities. She turned in every direction as though regarding the space with new eyes.

People had things, didn’t they?

A frown.

Well, of course they did.  So did she, but other people had special things. She could not say the same for herself.

Eureka realized with some modicum of horror that though she possessed a small number of personal items, she had never particularly felt any attachment to things the way others seemed to. She had clothes, and a bed, and a closet. Tools, and food, and a brush and comb...  She bought them with her own stipend, an amount she rarely used even half of, and yet Eureka has never loved those things any more for being hers.

Hey eyes flickered between the shell and the walls.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t put it just anywhere. She could, certainly, but no particular surface felt inviting. Put simply, no part of the room had any character, save for the childrens’ little box of toys by the window. Even that was fairly nondescript without any children nearby. When Renton had offered his advice, Eureka  feared she wouldn’t be able to find a place that felt too empty. Now she was certain there were too many to choose from.

“Mama! Mama, look!!!”

Eureka turned to face the sound of tiny feet pattering against the linoleum. All at once her conundrum faded at the sound of their voices. Maeter reached her first.

“Look Mama! Look what Hilda got me!”

She held out a glittery pink marble just as Linck caught up, brandishing his own green one. Maurice followed through the doorway more slowly, a small sack clutched in his tiny fist. Judging by the sound it made, they had a whole entire set of marbles to play with.  He gave a nod down the hallway to Hilda before joining his siblings, and Eureka guessed that she must have been instructing them to share when their excitement got the better of them.

Eureka smiled and knelt down to see their gifts, but Maeter gave her no time to catch up. She was instantly on top of Eureka, pawing at the shell.

“What’s this, Mama?”

Linck crowded close as well, Maurice following suit. 

“It’s a thing called a shell,” Eureka explained, letting them each inspect it in turn. “There used to be lots of them when the planet was covered in water.”

“It’s pretty, Mama!” Linck’s voice was eager he held the shell toward the window,  watching the light gleam over the smooth surface. The way it glimmered reminded Eureka of the sun shining over the backs of skyfish.

“It’s pretty like you...”

As the oldest, Maurice, had a slightly more nuanced way of calling attention toward himself when his siblings were hogging it all. Eureka put an arm around him and pulled him close.

“Renton got it for me,” Eureka explained. She supposed they must have all stopped in town this morning.

“Eww! It’s from Pukey!?”

Maeter darted backward, knocking the shell to the floor as she furiously wiped her hands against the bottom of her dress. Linck, ever eager to mimic, followed suit. Eureka couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics.

Just then, the door whirred open and Hilda stood on the other side looking severe.

“Did you kids listen to a single thing I said?”  she asked sternly. Maurice rose to the mission instantly.

“Uh, Mama, Miss Hilda said for us to come tell you we should all help set up for dinner.”

He turned toward the door with pleading eyes, earning a sympathetic smile from Hilda.

“Something like that,” she agreed, and Eureka gave a nod. 

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

As the children spilled out into the hallway, Eureka reached down for the shell, lifting it by the key ring and holding it up to the light again.

Pretty like me...

Some part of her was too terrified to wonder if he had been thinking that as well. But now was no time to worry about that. He had given her a task--use it to make the place less empty.  She scanned the room quickly, eyes settling on a bare nail sticking out from the wall about a foot above her bed frame. If the whole room was equally featureless, she supposed this spot was as good as any. 

Stepping back to survey her work, Eureka decided that she would have to find other nice things to keep in the room if she wanted it to feel any less empty. Barren as the place remained, she found her eyes drawn to the sparkle on the wall. Renton had been right. Having something there did make it feel a bit more full.

As Eureka turned to leave, she couldn’t help but feel her heart become a little more full as well.

[marie-lamb-b]

The Ink DeMonth. Day 3: Stuck.

Keep your keys at hand…

I know I’m delayed, but I’m still into it until I say so! (And it won’t be soon~)

Alright, taking again these two goofs, I decided to put a bit of pepper (and vinegar and onions and blood and tears) and make a thing a tad angsty. I really enjoyed writing Sammy’s part and his growing suspicions, as oblivious as I think he is he can really get things aside for what he cares~

Tumblr Version under the cut!

(Tag Warnings: Claustrophobia, Religious content)

6.30 PM and most of the JDS employees already left the building. Only the workaholics, the ones that had no sense of time whatsoever, and those in charge of making sure everything’s left shut and closed were the only ones remaining. And between that bunch was Wally Franks.

As the time settled it, now he was holding his closet’s door open while he was checking his last chores in the list. Assuring everything was in order; tools in store, keys at hand –well, actually hanging from the knob but he still was using them to lose them so quickly. Yep, everything in order. Now he just needed to take out his notepad, cross it out from the list and check what else he needed to do before leaving… if only it weren’t for that ludicrous new system installed that made the doors to close shut whenever they were left open. That’s why Wally had to keep it held open.

“Wally, my boy!” Joey came from behind greeting the young janitor.

“Yes Mr. Drew, sir?” He answered peeking his head from over his shoulder.

“I trust you’ll leave everything as pristine as a fine china cup before leaving, won’t you.”

“Absolutely, sir.” He turned around to face him

“And don’t forget to–”

“–Shut off the lights, the heater and the front door locked close.” He completed his sentence as he reached with his free hand to the notepad. “Everythin’ in check to be done as soon as I can.” He assured to his boss.

“Excellent! Then I have nothing to worry about.”

“No, sir. Everythin’ll be a-ok, sir!” He stood straight and saluted him, unaware of releasing he door and it stumbling against him as it started to close itself. “Ouch! Sir, Mr. Drew, can I ask ye something?” He waited for a permissive nod to continue. “I get it that most of the fellas in here agreed about these doors closin’ alone, but we had to put that thing in every door?” He shoved away the door of his own closet to emphasize, with a large pleading look.

“Sorry, my boy. But this measure was taken to improve the productivity of all my crew. And you know I need them to be happy so they work hard.”

“I get it, boss.” He sighed in defeat.

“Good. Now, please don’t forget to add to that list of yours send Sammy to his home. I don’t wanna have him passed out in the break room couch again and have a grumpy music director all day tomorrow.” He requested as he pointed the musician right behind the glass of his office, slouched over his desk and quite probably muttering something.

“Send Mr. Lawrence to home…” He picked up a pen and started to scribble in his notepad, all the while he left the door loose and stumped once again against him and releasing a huff over it. “Right above shuttin’ the heater. Got it sir!”

“Very well, Wally. See ya tomorrow!” He saluted as he walked away, and the janitor granted him goodbye as well.

Alright, time to keep moving. Next thing on list: Sammy’s last cup of his special coffee. It didn’t matter whether Joey have requested it or not; it became an agreement between them two that this very last cup was Sammy’s cue to leave as soon as he emptied it. That, if he wanted Wally to keep preparing that coffee as he liked –with all that little pantry that the janitor fixed inside his closet only for him. Why Wally didn’t ask something more in return of that special treat, he didn’t know but couldn’t care less; all that worried the young janitor was the wellbeing of the oblivious music man and this guaranteed at least a proper night of rest for him.

But if he wanted to prepare his ‘specialty’, he needed to reach the hidden spot over the shelves where he built that secret pantry, and would need both arms to do it. So he glanced to the door, thinking –and quite wishing– for the door to not close as he was on the task. And resolving to hold it open, at least a sliver, he leaned his foot to support it, all the while he stretched to reach in the upper shelf.

Tapping with his bare digits, he came close to almost everything he needed. He got a clean mug, a tiny bag with bean-like stuffing –a coffee portion just for 1–, sugar, sugar, sugar… he found the shaker! Now only left the tiny cup of cream… that thing always rolled further back…

He stretched a tad more, only his middle and ring fingers used as some sort of tongs to try and reach behind. The door was barely hold by the toes of his foot as he tried to get upper. C’mon, c’mon… where’s the cream…? He could feel the little container but was simply out of reach.

He recoiled and stood firmly, crouching a little. Maybe a little quick hop would help. A glance behind; the door was still open and his foot holding it quite well. Alright, he prepared.

1… 2… 3!

A hop. A successful reach! A landing with both his feet.

“Yes!” He cheered way too quickly, as soon he heard the squeak of the hinges and the door slammed closed.

He turned his head back as soon as he heard the shutting door and the darkness consumed every single corner of the space. No light was inside the tiny closet except by the thin sliver that came from below the door’s frame.

“Ok. Ok, just– just calm down, Wally.” He tried to reassure himself as he slowly turned as he could to face the door. “You– you need to… need to use your keys! That’s it!”

Although that spark of hope rapidly faded, as he started to pat around himself, looking where could have put those –again. His patting turned into slapping, and within second his breaths also turned more and more raged. He just had those damn things! He used them to open…! To open the door…

…He left his keys hanging from the door’s knob…

…Oh, no…

Realization hit him like a truck and he barely felt his breathing hitching. His mouth turned into a dreadful wobbling smile as he tried way too hard to not fall in panic.

“Heh… he heh… Alright, this– this is– is– is not so bad! I– I just havetta– to– Sammy will notice I ha– haven’t shown yet! …Yeah! He– he’ll notice me. Right?”

…

“…Right…?”

He kept reassuring himself, feeling each hammering second like excruciatingly. Ignoring the rivulets of tears forming and descending from his eyes, clutching painfully his chest with his nails dug in just where his rosary was hanging and his pocket bible was kept.

He just had to wait and soon he’d be out, right…?

He focused on his breaths; he focused on his surroundings. He closed his eyes, as he rather be in a known darkness before than the one from his very own closet. He heard the pipes flowing, the outside lights buzzing, a voice… singing?

Oh God, no…!

Sammy. Sammy’s voice. Sammy was singing. Sammy was vocalizing out loud and way too into his own mind!

This was bad.

This was bad.

This was bad. This was bad. This was bad. This was bad. This was bad. This was bad. ThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbadThiswasbad!!!!!

“SAMMY!!! SAMMY!!!” Wally started to shout as loud as his panicked voice allowed. He started to bang the door as well, but with how narrow the space was, he couldn’t swing his arm without hitting it with the shelves behind. He didn’t mind. He needed to get his attention somehow. He had to notice him. Anyone had to! “SAMMY!! SAMMY, HELP!! ANYONE!!! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!!”

Nobody.

The only thing he was able to hear was Sammy, still singing, and his very own crying.

He turned again, back facing the door and leaned there, trying to slide down, ever so slowly, bending his knees so he could fit sitting even if he had to press against the shelves. All as he kept crying, distressed, and painfully gripping his chest.

No one heard him. Sammy didn’t hear him.

He let a wild and grieving wail to escape his throat, in hopes to be heard and rescued, but aside of not being heard at all, it only helped to harm his own cords as he kept crying.

And as tired and hurt he was, as hoarse his throat was, as burnt his cheeks were, only one thing he could thing to ever do, even if the desperation consumed him.

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” [Psalm, 56:3]

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven.” He started to pray as he picked out his rosary. “Hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread…”

And he kept praying, faith into that at least his prays would be heard.

*-*-*-*-*

Sammy was singing. He needed to do so. He had to vocalize out loud what he was composing in order to assure his work was spotless. For whenever he noticed a single mistake, call it a misplaced note or wrong length, it would lead into a little fit of rage against himself, muttering profanities only audible for those in the range of, let’s say, the whole hall until reaching the infirmary’s entrance. It would be followed by him tearing apart or crumpling the music sheet, just like he was doing right then. Sure, he could cross out the wrong part, fix it, and then he could transcript what was already done in a new page, but usually that was not his style; was something that Wally has been trying to help him with.

Talking about, where was he anyways? Normally he would appear right before he started to tear the sheet and help him breathing and cooling down his mood…

Huh, probably was down in the toy factory or something…

Sammy took seat and clenched his head, an ache about to grow. Ugh, he needed his coffee.

He picked up his mug and held it against his lips, only to notice that it was empty. That’s weird. Did he already drink his coffee? But he can’t even remember… He clicked his tongue, trying to catch any lingering flavor; nothing.

Wally didn’t refill his coffee?

Now that he thought about as he rubbed his neck, he didn’t even remember his usual kiss when he warned about ‘the last cup and then at home’.

Where’s Wally…?

“WALLY?” He called out loud. Nothing.

He stood up, ready to leave his office and a dreadful feeling tingling all over his chest. He opened the door and peeked out, moving, each step ever so slowly and eyes darting in every single direction.

“FRANKS?” He called out again. Still nothing.

The tingling expanded, taking place now along his arms and until the very tip of his fingers. He started to flex them, ready to attack if something ever got to happen and he needed to act rather quickly.

“C’mon, Wally, where are you?” He muttered, picking on every single buzz around him; the pipes dripping, the boards creaking, the door… sobbing and mumbling?

He shot his gaze towards the janitor’s closet, closed and keys dangling of the knob itself. With slow steps, as delicate as a deer peeking through the woods, he approached to the door. Fearfully tender, he leaned both his hands and an ear pressed against the door, focused, listening.

“…blessed are you among women…” A hoarse voice prayed, sobbing in between. “…And blessed is the fruit of your womb.” Sammy’s eyes widened in realization; it was Wally.

“Oh, God. Wally!” He claimed although voiceless.

He hurried up, picking the keys and turning them albeit clumsily due the desperation. He managed to open it widely, and Wally stumbled back, just in the part about praying for the sinners which was cut off by the huff he released when hitting his back against the floor.

Eyes shut tightly at first, Wally slowly opened them, hit by the lights as he already was customized to the darkness of his closet. First thing on sight was a blurry, backlighted silhouette above him, and seemed to be panting. And although he got used to the light out there, the shape was still blurry; his eyes were too tired and swollen to focus properly.

“Oh, God. Wally, are you okay?!” His voice –Sammy’s voice!– exclaimed with so much concern and anguish. And he couldn’t hold it any longer.

As if there was still water in him to freely pour, Wally started to cry out loud again. And Sammy crouched, lowering to his level so he was able to hold the upset young man between his arms.

“Shh… It’s okay, Wally. I’m here.” Sammy soothed, stroking his hair and holding him close to his chest, as much as to comfort him as to contain himself. “I’m here.” He repeated, burying his face in his neck and muffling a tad his consolations. “I’m here. It’s okay now. I’m here…”

Three and a half loops of his rosary was what it took Wally to be found. But it didn’t matter now, for his prays were heard and now he was out in the arms of the only one he really cared of.

[writingsofwinchesters]

tail lights in a hailstorm

One of my favorite things in my life currently is participating in my church’s high school youth group. For nearly five years, I’ve had the privilege of walking alongside students, watching them grow, learn, and connect with Christ. By grace alone, I get to be a part of a community that works hard to encourage,  to love, and build up these students as they progress through a really hard and transformative season.

It happens to be really freaking fun too.

Every year, the youth group goes on a summer trip. Each time, that week I get to spend in the wilderness is simultaneously the most exhausting and yet the most refreshing experience of my summer. It’s full of community, adventure, and heart work. During that week, I am certain, down in my bones, that this is what I was meant for. There is nothing like it.

For summer 2018, we traveled to a camp just outside of Centennial, Wyoming. Leaders were asked if they wanted to volunteer to drive and I jumped on the opportunity. I like driving and it seemed like a good chance to serve the students and my fellow leaders. I also wouldn’t have to jockey for a spot in the vans throughout the entire trip. I was assigned one of our three 15-passenger vans and we took off on our adventure.

Eight hours of interstate driving, a mini thunderstorm, and one missed turn later (completely my fault), we arrived at the camp in the Wyoming wilderness. The week did not disappoint.

The trip home was much more eventful than the trip out and seemed to take much longer. Instead of staying in our van order, there was a lot of mixing it up, with one of the drivers taking off in the front - so fast the other two of us lost track of him. Then, as we were driving back through western Nebraska, we drove right into a huge summer storm.

Now - I absolutely adore thunderstorms. Remember the storm that cancelled the first Husker football game last season? I was driving back home from Omaha as it was starting and I quite literally cackled the whole way because I couldn’t get over how fantastically gorgeous the clouds and the rain and the lightning were. The power behind a storm is so vividly breathtaking. I see God in them. I’m filled with awe.

So, at first, I was excited. Every chance I had I was gazing at the clouds and the sky. And, for awhile, it was beautiful. 

Then, the traffic slowed to a crawl and the hail started, so thick it blanketed the ground like snow. It mixed with the rain and pounded the windows. I cranked the wipers as high as they would go and gripped the steering wheel tightly, acutely aware that I had fifteen mamas’ babies in the car with me and I needed to get them home safe. A semi barreled down the left lane and threw such a huge and sudden wave of hail across the windshield, I nearly swore aloud. That would have gone over well in a van full of youth group kids.

The wind pushed the van tighter to the white line and I held my position at 10 and 2 and stared at the tail lights ahead of me. All I could think about was how thankful I was that I was not the one leading our little caravan and that I was directly behind the other van. I watched that van’s tail lights for indication - when they lit up, I braked, when they got farther away, I cautiously nudged the gas pedal. When I couldn’t see the white lines on either side, I matched my wheels up to those two little red bulbs.  

It was nearly an hour before we were out of the storm and parked at our lunch stop. I remember stepping out of the van with shaking legs and a pounding heart. I found the driver of that other van as quick as I could and told him, “Thank you so much for leading! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t.”    

I can’t remember when I drew this connection. I don’t know if I was thinking of it while I was driving that day or if it came to me when I was listening to Fix My Eyes by Kings Kaleidoscope a few weeks later or God prompted me when studying His Word. But now, today, it is very clear what God was trying to teach me with that experience. 

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."  -- Hebrews 12:1-2

Just like those tail lights were my guide during the storm, how much more so should Jesus be our focus in daily life? He can see much farther ahead than we can. He adores us and chose us to be His. He sacrificed everything for us, surely we can trust Him to lead us through the storms of life. He has proved over and over again that He can handle it.

I’ll admit the metaphor isn’t perfect. Jesus is not ahead in the distance, untouchable. We don’t have to wait until the end of the road to express our gratitude to Him. He is a personal God. He’s closer than the closest friend, sitting right next to us in the van. He is knowable and wants to know us. And we sure as heck aren’t driving our own life. If we’ve surrendered our lives to Him, He has the steering wheel, and he’s guiding our lives through the storm.

But He is God. And God is infinite. So maybe He’s both. Maybe He’s before us and beside us. Maybe He’s even more and He’s behind us too. So maybe it’s possible to keep our eyes fixed on the Jesus ahead of us, all while holding the hand of the Jesus beside us and remembering the faithfulness of the Jesus behind us.

There will be storms in life. I can promise that. There will be huge semi’s that come by and throw up sheet of hail with such unexpectedness that we react instinctively. Things will get hard and we will tire ourselves out thinking of all that we must do to keep the tires between the white lines and all that is at stake if we don’t. 

Dear friend, hasn’t Jesus made it simple for us? Hasn’t He taken the lead and asked us to follow? Don’t misunderstand me; simple and easy are not the same thing. We have one job, one task to remember - to follow Him - but that doesn’t mean that every day it’ll be easy to pick up our cross and walk. 

Grace upon grace, what does Jesus promise us? 

Perfect peace.

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

- Isaiah 26:3

 An intimate connection with Him. 

Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.

- Psalm 62:8

Refinement. 

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

Eternity. 

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

Yes, He is the first and the last. He is behind and before. He is God with us. Hallelujah!

It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

- Deuteronomy 31:8

And to the angel of the church in Smyrna write: The words of the first and the last, who died and came to life.

- Revelation 2:8

Here’s the tricky part: how do we actually do this? How do we actually fix our eyes on Jesus daily?

Man, I was hoping you’d have the answer to that one. 

It’s hard. I definitely don’t have all the answers. I wish I could give you a three-step process that works all the time. But we’re fickle, fallible humans and I don’t think we’ll ever get it perfect on this side of life. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. So, here’s a few things that have been recommended to me and seem to help.

Connect with God consistently. Think of a time in your life when you felt so connected to God and the closest you’ve ever been to Him. Or even a specific moment. What were you doing? Who did you surround yourself with? What did your life look like that looks different now? If you aren’t sure, ask those you know connect with God frequently and ask how they do it. Then try it out for yourself. For me, it’s nature. I connect deeply with God through His creation, so I spend time in it and I do things to help it.

Think about how you use your free time. What do you do first? Get caught up on Instagram stories? Maybe try talking to God or spending time in His Word during those moments. There are a ton of free bible apps you can download to your phone. His Word can be just as accessible as your social media accounts. Build a discipline of going to Him first. (I’M REALLY BAD AT THIS.) I’m telling this to myself too. 

Put reminders of God everywhere. Physical ones. Sticky notes with encouraging verses on your computer at work or in the doorway as you leave home or on your mirror or in your car or on your fridge. Put them EVERYWHERE. You’ll see them all the time and Jesus will be on your mind that much more.

Focus takes effort and practice. But He is my goal. I want to be watching Him so closely that I imitate His every move. Thanks for joining me on this journey. What do you do to connect with God and keep your mind fixed on Him?

[diaryofafeelingsoul]

FACE SHAME? BODY SHAME? QUIT SHAME!

You keep telling yourself that you are ugly. You constantly look at any mirror or at the reflection of a nearby window searching to see the bags under your eyes, the lizard lips plastered in your face, the unnecessary weight or how visible are your bones in your skin. We all stress more on how we look than basing them on what people think.

Honestly, I find more body shame in our heads than in society's mouth. We constantly think on how ugly our eye or hair color are, on how our stretch marks and wrinkles are starting to turn more visible than before, or on how the outfit we are wearing are not suitable for our curvy or slim to the bones bodies.  

I say that we have more body shame in our heads than in our surrounding, because i could say it through my perspective, my experience. I fight more with myself than with the people's words. I let myself feel insecure by standing in my mirror for long minutes that feels like hours; searching and searching for the worst thing of me. Searching places, looking for answers on why people reject me. Searching places to see if I can improve them because I feel so much shame for the people to see.

I hide in long sleeves and long pants. I hide in skirts that uncover my belly. I hide my face in pictures and videos made by others... We all feel face shame, or body shame, even both at the same time. I always feel insecure of my weird nose, my circle potato face, and the weird belly I have.

People, through my instagram comments and sometimes when they see how I am, tell me beautiful things. But I don't feel like it. I am thankful for their words, but I don't feel them the way I should feel them. I let some people invade my brain. "Bad people" that I crave for their compliments, and they say none. Is rather best for them to avoid me and change of subject, which I don't understand. But writing this and researching the meaning of body shame has let me to think. WHO THE HECK CARES ON HOW I LOOK?

I have let people define me, because I have led my thoughts conquer me and invade me with a plague of insecurities. I am devastated that I constantly look for acceptance and fear for rejection. I should't fear rejection. I should embrace rejection. I should embrace the people who loves me the way I am, that constantly loves me and tells me I look pretty. I should embrace that the only ones who should define my beauty is God, for he created me perfectly and beautifully, and in His own image (Psalm 139:14).

Is not an easy task to get back to those grounds, but everything is at its time (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). Face shame? Body shame? LETS QUIT SHAME! The things that really matter are your successes, the way you treat people, the way you live your life... What matters are the people who accept you as who you are. Beautiful. Handsome. Outstanding. One of a Kind. And so much more on what they see in you... For beauty is not entirely physical. Beauty is selfless. Beauty is hopeful. Beauty is love. Beauty is bulletproof. Beauty is healing from falling. Beauty is inside you, where it never wrinkles, where it makes something that will change the world.

Do me a favor. When you look at your reflection find the things that satisfy you, then find the things that don't and tell it, "You are Beautiful. You are there for a reason. Some day someone out there will not like it, will love it."

Also, to help others. Lets tell them they are beautiful. Bonus, say something specific that you find is really beautiful, inside and/or out. Lets defeat stereotypes of cyberbully, and spread love, spread compassion.

To recap, tell yourself you are beautiful because you define yourself, and God defines you. Not a mirror nor the people around.

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL :) <3

See you, beautiful creature,

The Felling Soul, p.a.p.

#faceshamebodyshamequitshame

#letsquitshame

[dailyaudiobible]

10/16/2019 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 28:1-29:32, 1 Timothy 1:1-20, Psalms 86:1-17, Proverb 25:17

Today is the 16th day of October. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it's great to be here with you as we move through the center of a week, another one of the weeks that make up our year. And we’re working our way through the book of Jeremiah in the Old Testament and then when we reach the New Testament, we will move into another letter from the apostle Paul. This is a personal letter. So, the first time we’ve read a personal letter this year. And we’ll talk about that when we get there. We’re reading from the New Living Translation this week. Jeremiah chapter 28 and 29 today.

Introduction to first Timothy:

Okay. So as we talked about at the beginning today we’re moving into a personal letter from the apostle Paul and this letter was written to a man named Timothy who was a protégé of Paul and this is…this is the first letter of a collection of three different letters, two of them to Timothy and one to a man named Titus. These are personal letters and their known in the Scriptures as the pastoral epistles or the pastoral letters because…because of what they are. So, it's been centuries now, centuries, that biblical scholars have debated about whether the apostle Paul was the author of these letters himself, or if these were pastoral letters that indeed carried the name of Paul that were written in his name. And that debate actually continues vigorously until the present time. So, scholars who favor the view that Paul was not the actual author of these letters do this by observing the structure, the church structure that is in these letters, the polity, the hierarchy, the way that it's run. So, the scholarly speculation is that some of the things that are talked about in these pastoral letters, as far as structure, these were things that were invented later after Paul's lifetime, which would then make the letters…well…later than Paul. And there is a…there's a difference in the language from the other epistles of Paul. And, so, this has also been noticed by scholars. Now the biblical scholars favoring that the tradition is true, Paul was the author of these letters, they do that in part because the letters authenticate themselves, right? So, the author identifies himself as Paul in these letters and the earliest of church fathers made use of these letters. And, so, even…even though scholars know there's a difference in the style of language in these letters, following the traditional view, they would simply say, “that…that's because they’re personal letters.” Like, he wasn't writing to a church, wasn't necessarily planning that the letters were to be passed around among the churches or for that matter even passed around among the pastors. They were personal letters. So, they were meant to be read aloud. And, so, that that would make…that would explain that, which kinda brings up why they're called pastoral letters. They’re personal correspondences to two different pastors, Timothy and Titus, who had been sent to directly care for churches that had been established by the apostle Paul. And, so, these churches needed a strong leader who understood the teachings of the apostle Paul regarding the Christian life and how Christian community and Christian worship should be established. So, Titus, we’ll talk about Titus when we get to the letter written to Titus, but the first of the pastoral letters was written to Timothy who was a young man who grew up in the shadow of the apostle Paul. So, we met Timothy when we were reading the book of Acts. His mother's name was Eunice, his grandmother's name was Lois, and they were early believers from the city of Lystra which is now in modern day Turkey. So, Paul introduced the faith to Timothy and then Timothy became a loyal disciple or follower or companion of Paul. Paul loved him. He called him many times his spiritual son and he directly mentored him in the faith and raised him up in church leadership. So, Timothy traveled pretty extensively with Paul. He’s mentioned by name in six of Paul's other letters and often when Paul wasn't able to travel Timothy was his first choice to go in his place, which means that Timothy was often sent to serve and assist in a pastoral capacity to assist the churches. And, so, when this letter that we’re about to read was written the apostle Paul was nearing the end of his ministry. In fact, he was nearing the end of his life and Timothy had become the pastor of the church in Ephesus and it was written from a spiritual father to his son in the faith so that, as a father, as a spiritual father, Paul could offer guidance and counsel in the task of pastoring a church in Ephesus. And it's a…it's a loving letter. It's full of hope. It gives us clues to what the apostle Paul thought was most important to give to those that he had raised up in leadership, the coming generation. And it's also the letter that teaches us to fight the good fight of faith. And, so, we began. First Timothy chapter 1.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we read in its context one of if not the most famous verses in the Bible, Jeremiah 29:11. It’s funny. As I was growing up this wasn't like the most famous verse in the Bible. That would've been like John 3:16 but like in the last decade or so this has become one of most popular verses in the Bible, “for I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Right? So, like, even as I read that some of you were saying it along with me, you’ve got it memorized. This is a very popular verse. And, so, every year when we pass this territory we have to talk about this very famous verse because it’s so interesting how we read things into the Bible and make them mean things that perhaps they don't mean. So, these words for sure bring comfort into most situations that they’re spoken into, right? Because they offer hope in confusion or in times that we’re just suffering through, but if you’ve quoted this verse to yourself or if you’ve quoted this verse to other people who you see struggling and who…who you want to encourage and you don't have any idea of the context that this verse comes from, then it can be surprising because Jeremiah 29:11 is for sure an affirmation of God's good plans for the future and for a hope but the whole story is way more compelling for our lives and perhaps even more deeply meaningful for our lives than…than the way that we use this verse all the time. So, let's just understand what's going on here. Jeremiah is in Jerusalem, but Jerusalem has been conquered and it's…I mean the inhabitants were in the process of being deported, to a foreign land they had never known. The things that were happening to these people were inconceivable because their God had brought them into this land and put His name on this land and dwelled in this land and His temple was in this land. So, they’re thinking basically, “God's gonna protect his land whether we obey pay God or not.” And, so, the drift had been happening but now Jerusalem has been conquered and people are being deported and the Hebrews had seen the crushing destruction of the lives that they used to know and the destruction of their…their capital city and they were being uprooted and relocated where nothing was familiar, and families had been torn apart. Lots of people had been killed in battle. And, so…so you can only imagine, this is just a time of great unrest, people just longing to go home, although the home that they knew was gone and the people that they loved maybe were gone. And, so, they were just hoping for some sort of restoration. And Jeremiah had been prophesying from Jerusalem’s surrender. Right? And we’ve talked about that before because this is a message that is inconceivable to them. “How can we surrender? We’re God's chosen people. How can we surrender?” And Jeremiah, the prophet of God is saying, but I'm speaking for God, “I am…I am speaking as God to you…this is what God is telling you to do.” So, Jeremiah wrote this letter and he sent it from Jerusalem to Babylon by way of the ambassadors to the exiles who had already been deported to Babylon. And it's in that letter that we find Jeremiah 29:11. So, like, if it wasn’t in a letter, if he was just trying to write a note of encouragement and it only contained Jeremiah 29:11, like only a couple of sentences. Then…then fine. And even Jeremiah would've been fine, but that one verse wasn't the whole contents of the letter. And the letter's instructions were incredibly disruptive. Here are the instructions. “Build homes and plan to stay.” In other words, plan to stay in a foreign land in exile, right? So, “build homes and plan to stay, plant gardens and eat the food they produce, marry and have children and find spouses for your kids so that you can have many grandchildren, multiply, don't dwindle away, and work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile.” Ahhh…this is like tough stuff because it's like, “pray for the peace and work for the peace and prosperity of the people who conquered you.” Right? “Pray to the Lord for it. Pray for its welfare. Its welfare will determine your welfare.” And the letter goes on to tell the exiles that the prophets who are telling them that this is gonna be over quick, there's a resolution coming, God is going to come and rescue you and take you back and it’s gonna be like it used to be. He’s like, “they're not telling…they’re lying to you.” So, we see we have a very, very encouraging couple of sentences encased in a very disruptive letter. “This is what the Lord says” Jeremiah writes, “you will be in Babylon”, in other words, you will be exiled “for 70 years and then I'll come and do for you all the good things I promised and I'll bring you home again. For I know the plans I have for you,” right? that's how we get to this verse. So, even though these prophets were prophesying a speedy resolution, even though obviously the displaced Hebrew people were trying to get information about the rest of their family, like, all of this stuff that's going on, even though they’re hoping God will see that they've learned their lesson quickly and that they can go home, that's not the plan, that's not the plan, it's not the plan He has for them. He told them, “the plan I have is gonna take some time. 70 years to be specific. And rather than them being angry and bitter and obstinate and rebellious and stiff-necked like they had always been when they were enjoying prosperous times, they were supposed to establish roots in this foreign land, in this land that had conquered them. And rather than isolating themselves and resisting the whole time they were supposed to thrive where they were until God brought them back to their homeland. So, we personalize Jeremiah 29:11 because it assures us that God's in control and that He's got a plan and that hHs plan is that we’ll experience hope for the future, but the full context of Jeremiah's letter isn't about the immediate accomplishment of anything or the quick resolution of any kind of difficult season. The message is that they should exhale and thrive where they are because it's going to take some time. And, so, they should thrive while they're waiting. Man, which is essentially the backdrop of life…life on earth expect…expecting the fullness of God's kingdom as it is in heaven. Right? Aren’t we here, doing the same thing? Isn't…isn't it the same message that we are allowed to thrive here while were waiting? So, if you feel like life has basically exiled you and Jeremiah 29:11 is like posted on your refrigerator and on your bathroom mirror and in your car like…so like that you have this word of encouragement to keep going, awesome, perfect. God's promise is of a hope and a future and that is a solid foundation. But rather than expecting that to come instantly and immediately in a way that like that our culture is used to, like instant gratification, maybe…maybe Jeremiah 29:11 gives us permission to come down, to exhale, to…to realize maybe things aren't as we would like them but we have full permission to thrive where we are while we’re waiting for things to change. I mean God hold these exiles in this letter, “do not dwindle away” and “work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it. Its welfare will determine your welfare.” And, so, let's invite the Holy Spirit to begin to reveal what that might look like in our own lives in its context. Like what does this look like in our own lives as it looked like the people who received this letter and not just to sentences of this letter. God has plans for you. He has plans for me. He has plans for all of us. He has plans for our species. We were, after all, created in His image and one day He will restore all things. These are good plans. They are plans for a future and a hope and they're not plans for disaster. It just…it just might look different than you thought. And it might look different than I thought. But if we set aside those expectations, what we think we know and simply hope in God and trust fully in the goodness of our Father, well then, it’s like the apostle Paul said, “I figured it out. I figured out how to be content in whatever’s happening. We have permission to thrive where we are and multiply and not dwindle away and stay in it as long as it takes, endure as long as it takes. In this letter that was gonna be 70 years. That's practically a lifetime. S

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, what does this mean for us? We’re all facing all kinds of different things. And, so, it's not a one-size-fits-all thing and yet I believe that Your word has spoken to each of us in our own way. And, so, we invite Your Holy Spirit into all of the contemplation and all of the consideration that…that comes to mind and heart as we contemplate this letter that contains this famous verse. Show us how to thrive while we wait. Show us how to multiply and not dwindle away even…even when it's very, very disruptive and very difficult. Come Holy Spirit into all of this we pray. In the mighty name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website, it’s where you find out what’s going on around here. So, be sure to stay tuned and stay connected.

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The Daily Audio Bible Shop lives at dailyaudiobible.com where you can find resources for this journey through the Scriptures in a year, including the God of Your Story, which is a brand-new resource that I’ve been sharing about. It was…it was a mountain, a big, big mountain to climb. It took 600 days to try to distill what gets spoken here on the Daily Audio Bible into a cohesive, precise, tight, written form so that there is a daily companion to what we do here each and every day. So, be sure to check out that resource. All of the proceeds from the sale of the God of your story completely go to the support of the Daily Audio Bible in the ongoing ministry that that we are doing here every day. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyausiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage, and I thank you with all humility for those who have clicked that link over the course of this year. We...we wouldn't be here if we didn't do this together as I've often said, because it's always been the truth. So, thank you for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner of the screen or, if you prefer the mail, the mailing address is PO Box 1996, Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942 4253 is the number to dial or you can press the Hotline button in the app, little red button up at the top and just start talking.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

[sugooiii-blog]

Disciple: Expectation vs Reality Are we a disciple of Christ?

 About Me:

I am Johann Triñanes from DLSU-IS. I am a grade 9 student, section E. I love watching anime, read manga and play online games. As a young man, I grew up playing basketball which is my hobby ever since. In this blog, we are tasked to make a reflection paper for all of the reflection we made. To start up with this blog, I would like to start by asking: Do you think of yourself as a responsible person in this world? Are you a disciple?

#Expectationvsreality

 Starting up, the most important key components of my growth is my family because without them I will not be able to reach this kind of place. Other than that, someone also helps me to accomplish my tasks, He is the Lord. Without Him, I won’t be able to step here. Next, She is held up so high because Mary helped Saint John Baptist De La Salle toward his goal and is a great model for us. She also stayed true to Jesus until the very end which shows her faithfulness. “The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” from Luke 1:28. Just like Mary we expect so much to be like her but in reality since we are not perfect we tend to do mistakes.

The best key moments of my life as a student is when I passed many scholarships and was tasked to choose to all of the schools. But since DLSU opened an opportunity, I chose it. I made up my decision because when I started pulling out it helped me gather more knowledge, friends and build confidence, be productive and manage time. As everything was planned by God, his decisions will always lead to a brighter future, whereas despite his anger, all the controversies never grow. This helped him be spiritual and become a fellow Christian Follower. “For I know the plans I have for you, “Declares the LORD,” plans to prosper and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11. Lastly, when I first think of my death I would love to be known as the person who always smile because I want them to remember me with a smile. This doesn’t have any evidence about me at all because that is just the thing I want to be remembered. This doesn’t always come to plan as we think it would be, since it depends on us, whether we will do it or not.

To be an apostle, we should know a lot of bible gospel, has respect for God, knows how to respect and has a positive attitude. With this, this serves as few of the qualities of an apostle. Next, I will commit myself to meet the qualification by not complaining for everything, follow my mission for my future and be a responsible citizen. This is like from the verse of Corinthians which says, “The signs of a true apostle were performed among you with utmost patience, with signs and wonders and mighty works.” Learning it, Apostleship will never be lost because I, a good apostle do everything I can to be better at home, school and the community. As well as one who share the word of the Lord. “If anyone thinks that he is a prophet, or spiritual, he should acknowlege that the things I am writing to you are a command of the Lord.” From 1 Corinthians 14:37. In this world, many are not an apostle because they chose to do what they want to do, which is why we think that apostleship is disappearing.

To help for the community, I always obey and follow the 10 commandments and the Golden Rule and always help as much as possible. These helps me realize the whole world and be a responsible student. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. At the end, to be an apostle means to be a good person and to continue the mission. This verse means a lot because it talks about a good person with the grace in him. “Through whom we have receive grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all of the Gentiles for His name’s sake.” Roman 1:5. Many are not following the 10 commandments because they think that it is the right way possible even if they can obviously avoid it.

As part of a community, everyone has a different mission in life. I, being just a simple student, a loving son to his parents, see his mission as a good and law-abiding citizen. I join in community programs when I need to and I participate in some of the community projects. My mission begins within myself to be a role model and a good follower. “He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.” Proverbs 13:20. This does not always apply to others since not all are a role model or a good follower.

In every situation, we cannot avoid hindrances or problems along the way. Like, there are those people who are not easy to deal with when there are rules to follow, they seem to not interested and just ignore. There are also people who are just passive and just follow what the majority decides. It is hard to do a mission when no one wants to participate, this might result to the lose of interent and the lose of trust issues to anyone. At times, it is also financial difficulties that hinder one’s mission.

As a disciple of Christ, I can help by following his commands, attend mass and love one another. “He said to them, ‘Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.” Mark 16:15. Since it is already mentioned that people are passive and just follow the majority trends, there is no need for me to add a comparing about this.

Starting with who helped me in my life, it is Jesus and my family because I like how the events in my turned out to be fine, and I thought I can’t control it I know there is something good that will come to my life. “Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” John 11:40. I experienced it, because I am different from my past than this day. A lot has changed because I am once a pesky person back then. I play aggresively, I do what everyone else does and I don’t listen very well. Then I passed the scholarship test of this school and the atmosphere here changed my life. "I have set the Lord continually before me. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken." Psalm 16:8.

Next, as much as possible, I find solutions to solve my problems because if this continue I might not solve it. To express love and trust to Him I pray and do what is task. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17. Lastly, One can be a servant of the servant of the Lord if he/she knows how to pray, dedicate and respect God in all matters. “The Lord's bond-servant must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all, able to teach, patient when wronged.” 2 Timothy 2:24.

[seawolvesanddragons]

Writing: When the Angels Fell

The world was quiet on the day the angels fell. It wasn't what the prophets and martyrs and psalms had sang about for ages past. There was no burning hellfire or brimstone, no great rising tide or plagues of destruction set about the earth. There earth didn't flood a second time. The night sky didn't lose its stars as the guardians and heralds of heaven, God's oldest children, fell to the mortal realm in droves. Nothing special marked the day - no natural disaster or wave of premonitions. Most didn't even notice anything had changed. But there was a marked difference in the world after that day. Like something was missing. The air felt thicker. Sunrises' were duller. Hope seemed to fade, just a little bit. The world took a turn for the worse after that, though no one put the pieces together. No one looked at the terror and corruption that spread everywhere, and thought "the angels have fallen." They blamed media. They blamed billionaires and homeless alike. They blamed corrupt politicians and other generations and ethnicities, races and countries that were different from them. Some of them even blamed God. Strange though, how no one thought to blame the devil. 

The mortals had a saying, that the greatest trick the devil played was convincing people he didn't exist. That wasn't his greatest trick. His greatest trick was letting the angels forget who the devil really was. One of them. An angel, God's most beloved. As beautiful, as charming and pure-looking as they all did. His smile was reassuring even as he drove the blade into each of their backs. So God's army fell as their faith in God wavered, and the gates to heaven were locked by the angel who had fallen first from his jealousy. Raviel had been last among those cast out of heaven. That fact alone was what saved them. They had been more prepared when they crashed into earth, able to outwit the followers of Lucifer that had laid in wait for them, and flee. They wandered the earth for months, staying just ahead of their predators, avoiding eye contact with the other fallen angels who moped out earth, hiding in cities and leading lives of drudgery and hunger. Finally, one day, when Raviel found themselves in a sprawling city, with a pull in their soul like a beacon. "Here." It seemed to be saying. "Come Here." Los Angeles. The City of Angels. Whoever it was calling them, they had a very mortal sense of humor. Raviel had learned to appreciate such fatalistic irony the past few months in a way they never had before. The call took them to a monastery, which had once been a synagogue buried underneath the earthquakes, and even further back had been a sacred place of the indigenous people. The door was unlocked, but the pews and rooms empty when Raviel stepped inside. They had been on the move so much they had forgotten what day it was - surely not Sunday, though, the Lord's day. Even mortals still came to church on the Lord's Day. Raviel was nearing the altar when a woman stepped forth from the pulpit. Her eyes burned bright like fire, and they seemed to tear away all the layers of dirt and grime and mortal appearence Raviel had worn as armor since the day they had all fallen from the heavens. "Welcome, Raviel." Her words trembled with multiple voices, her clear cadence mingling with something much older, much more powerful. A prophet than. The mortals had not had one in centuries. "I have a task for you, Raviel." The prophet spoke. "One that your brothers and sisters have shared your burden in doing. You must join their ranks, and complete the work the Lord has asked you to do." Her gaze leveled at them, and they had to look away from the bright intensity of their spirit. The face of God was impossible to gaze at directly, even by angels. "You must kill Lucifer." To kill another angel was taboo among them. They were the nepheliam, God's eldest children, his lieutenants in his army. Even those who had fallen millennia ago were not harmed, instead struck from the record and never spoken of again. That was a fate worst then death. Lucifer had fallen eons ago, the original sin in God's otherwise perfect world, and yet God's chosen soldiers had never sought to punish him beyond closing ranks to him from heaven. They had fought indirectly in the millennia that followed, using humans, God's beloved creations, the very reason Lucifer had fallen, as hosts and pawns in their skirmishes. Raviel had never been a high ranking or popular angel. They had always toed the line between necessity and good, justice and mercy, too capriciously for the archangel's care. They had always viewed the war with the fallen as something that would haunt humanity for eternality if they continue to fight the way they were. Angels were to protect the humans, they argued, yet they fought through them, instead of facing Lucifer themself. In heaven, such words were pathways to wrath, to destruction; the hallmarks of old testament that not even the archangel Michael dare tread. Raviel had been quieted and warned, along with others who share their view, their anger and harsh justice seen as possible signs of a fallen angel. Here, now, when they were all fallen and trapped on this mortal prison, their anger was the tool the archangels wanted to use to strike. There was that fatalistic irony that humans' loved so much, but Raviel couldn't deny the electricity that buzzed inside them at these words. They were being given a mission, a task shared by others of their siblings, to cast a strike in the name of heaven. Their name, spoken by a prophet, delivered to this mission, filled them with more spirit then they had felt in months. They moved on quickly from the City of Angels, the prey turning predator as they tracked leads on Lucifer's whereabouts. They battled with demons and other former angels, those who had supported Lucifer long ago, and their determination grew with each fallen foe. It was with almost religions zeal when they finally tracked down the devil themself. Lucifer was in the desert, a harken back to their olden days, where they had tempted the son of God himself. Raviel was prepared. Here, with their seraphim blade, tasked with this mission, they could feel the righteousness, the power of being a chosen Warrior of God. They could not fail, would not fail, with the glory of God with them. The gates of heaven would be opened once more. They hefted their blade, ready to attack. Lucifer was unaware of them, back turned toward the mountains in the distance. Raviel raised their blade. "Now, now. Raviel." The voice, soft and smooth as honey, stopped Raviel in their tracks. "You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?" The image of Lucifer flickered like a mirage, and Raviel felt a presence at their back, cold and tempting. They struggled to move themselves, picturing turning and plunging the blade right into the heart of God's most loved child and greatest enemy. "Raviel." Lucifer spoke their name again, their voice full of warning, and Raviel found themselves immobilized completely. They tried to speak, but their jaw wouldn't move - as if it were bound by something invisible. "Better." Lucifer said charmingly, as they plucked the knife out of Raviel's hand. They were weaponless. Defenseless and unable to move. Names have power - they always had. And angels name, their true name, had great power when invoked in prayer or deed, as the prophet in Los Angeles had done. To those who knew the power of the names, who had studied and made practice of darker arts, names gave them great power over the angel themself. Raviel had guarded their name carefully all their existence. They had used it sparingly in heaven, had never interacted with an archangel as a result of their rank. They were not a well known angel, and never had their name invoked in prayer. They had gone by aliases since falling over a year ago. All in prevention of this. Lucifer moved around to face Raviel, their handsome face looking at Raviel in amused pity. "Really, Raviel, I expected better of you." They said, shaking their head. "Your siblings, all the others our Father tasked with this impossible goal, of course they didn't know any better, but you?" They spread their fingers wide. "I had heard tales of your before. I expected you to be better prepared. Did you really think I wouldn't know the true names of those tasked to hunt me down?" They laughed, brightly, and the sound of it sent chills down Raviel's spine. "Enough" Lucifer said, and Raviel was no longer rooted to the spot. They could move, and the feeling of invisible gag vanished, yet at the very thought of attacking Lucifer their feet balked once more. "Ah ah ah." Lucifer smiled. "I really can't have you doing that." "The others." Raviel glared with burning hatred. "What did you do to my siblings?" "The others told to hunt me down and kill me? Why, I killed them of course." Lucifer shrugged. "Or, rather, I invoked their name, and they killed themselves. With some suggestions, of course." Bile rose in Raviel's throat at the thought of their murdered siblings, along with the fear of that same awaiting fate. "Oh, don't panic, little one." Lucifer said airly, smoothing Raviel's hair back. "I have no interest of doing the same to you." The air around them shimmered, and suddenly the desert disappeared. In its place was a large room, covered in wood panelings, and paintings of the very worst of humanity opposite the grandiose imaginings of heaven and angels. "No, no, I have a very different idea in mind for you, Raviel." The repetition of their name snaked around Raviel, as if it were bending toward Lucifer. They sat themselves in a chair, though they had no conscious memory of doing so. "You're not the same as the rest of our tedious siblings - you wanted to fight a different way, didn't you. I could use someone of interest like you." "You won't break me." Raviel seethed. Lucifer threw their head back and laughed, settling against the chair. "Break you?" They cusped Raviel's chin, forcing them to look Lucifer in the eyes. Lucifer eyes were black, handsome but cold. "I have no intention of breaking you." "Ah, Raviel." They said, and there was that snaking feeling again, a wave of honey and hellfire binding Raviel where they sat. "Do you think I would take your mind?" Lucifer smiled. "You have a beautiful mind - independent, forward thinking, just as mine is. I value that." They traced the outline of Raviel's jaw with their finger. "I look forward to seeing it writhe when you do whatever I ask of you." Raviel spat. "I swear, I will kill you." They vowed. "Oh Raviel." Lucifer laughed, their black eyes glistening. "I swear, you'll try."

[Credit to The Fake Redhead Writes, who had some prompts years ago that I never got out of my head, and make up Lucifer and Raviel’s last 5-7 lines or so.) 

[thoughshebe-butlittle]

The Truth About Anxiety.

Inexplicable pain in your chest. Nausea. A pounding heart. Shakiness. A sense of terror. Fear that seems to spread throughout your body, paralyzing you. Muscles that ache. 

I can’t begin to number the amount of times I have experienced these sensations, symptoms I believe represent what we call “anxiety.” I can’t count how many times I have said, “Of everything I have ever felt, I hate anxiety the very most.”  

Through the years, I believe the Lord has taught me that there is power in vulnerability, because vulnerability spurs vulnerability. Through the years, I have heard dozens upon dozens of precious friends share that they struggle with anxiety. My prayer and hope in writing this, is that just a little of personal vulnerability, though difficult and even a little scary in the moment, would divinely impact those that need to hear hope in the terror they may be living in. I don’t have all the answers and I wouldn’t dare attempt to try and answer all the questions surrounding anxiety in this post, but I hope that if you read, you walk away encouraged in Jesus.

What is Anxiety?

There are plenty of people in the world that do not live with constant anxiety, and I am so very thankful for that. What a true gift! I want to take a moment to attempt to describe what can feel like such a vague term, anxiety. I want to define what I mean when I use that word in this post.

When we worry, I believe we are constantly racking our brains with “what-ifs” in an attempt to control our little world. Worry is fear over what we cannot control, and I believe this can lead to anxiety. While worry/fear is specific over a certain something, anxiety is not. Anxiety is a generalized fear, a general sense of terror over something that may not seem definable. 

I believe differentiating between these two are important, as especially as a Christian, I have often been told, “Just pray and trust God more” as a cure to anxiety. While prayer and trusting in God are absolutely critical and core to walking in freedom from anxiety, at times those words would feel empty and distant, as I would respond in anger, “But I feel that I am doing those things!!”

For me, one of the most frustrating parts of living with anxiety is not knowing when or why it will appear. Over and over and over again, I would feel all the physical symptoms of anxiety and not have a clue why. For a very long time, I would be asked, “Well, what brought this on? What are you thinking about?” The answer was often, “Nothing. I have no idea. I just feel so very terrible.” It’s a scary thing to feel so out of control over your own body and not understand its cause. While I do believe now that my anxiety had a root cause, I didn’t know what it was for a very long time, and that was frightening.

Living with Anxiety

I believe that I lived in denial over the extent to which anxiety had begun to take over my life. It wasn’t until professionals began to describe it as “severe” and I was told that I suffered from panic attacks that I began to accept that I needed help. As hard as many have tried to rid mental illness of its stigma, there is still some trepidation in accepting (and sharing!) something so stereotyped.

For those who don’t suffer from anxiety, (Praise God for that!) let me share just a bit of insight. While I believe it can take on different forms, this is what it can look like at times for me.

For a stretch of nearly a year, I felt so anxious every morning when I woke up that getting breakfast down felt like the feat of the day. It looked like watching my hair fall out and my weight decrease due to the toll anxiety racked upon my body. It felt like the smallest of tasks feeling absolutely impossible and terrorizing. It felt like I was doing a terrible job of loving others well, because I was too trapped in my own terror to get outside of myself. It felt like self hate and an inability to accept my own mistakes. In the simplest way of putting it, anxiety made normal life just hard.

Every single morning for a very long time I would pray, “Lord, I cannot do today without you. I cannot do a single thing without you. I can’t face today in all of its tasks without You sustaining me through each moment.” And I meant every word. Anxiety made me realize that I am so very helpless without strength and sustainment from the Holy Spirit (Which, by the way, is true with or without anxiety). 

What Causes Anxiety?

In the years I have struggled with anxiety, many times I have been told to repent of my sin. Often, on top of feeling anxious, I would then feel a wave of shame over this struggle. There may be many reading these words right now that feel I should repent of anxiety.

After lots of prayer and reflection, I do believe that the thoughts my heart made a home in for many months were sinful. They were hateful towards myself, and they did not honor the Lord. I did not realize it then, but I believe now that it was those thoughts that would keep me up at night, those thoughts that would follow me everywhere I went, those thoughts that would eventually lead to an anxiety that did not go away. Even after I stopped thinking hurtful things towards myself, I had dwelled in that place long enough that it had made its mark upon me. The roots grew and blossomed a tree. I saw the tree, I saw the tree’s effects upon my life, such as the shade and the leaves falling, but I did not see the roots. I didn’t know from where the tree had grown. It was just there, and its presence sucked all the joy out of life.

This was the time when I needed compassionate and consistent friends the most. I needed people to love me when I felt I had nothing to offer in return. And isn’t that the beauty of the gospel of Jesus Christ? When we were His enemies, when we had absolutely nothing to offer Him but our sin, He loved us deeply and completely and sacrificially.

In short, I believe it was my past thought life that led to my present anxiety. 

Freedom From Anxiety? Is it Possible?

When you suffer intense anxiety for long enough and you don’t know its cause, you start to believe that, “This is just your life now.” I began to wonder - Is this who I’ve become? An anxious, trapped person? Is this who I will always be? I’d been in counseling for what felt like forever and often felt I was not making a bit of progress.  I remember something my counselor said to me in one of those moments. She said, “Nicole, I’m not going to give up on you. You’ve given up on yourself too many times, and I’m not going to do that to you.” I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.

It is with incredible joy in my heart that I can write in honesty that over the course of the last month and a half or so, I have begun to taste sweet freedom over anxiety, something I dreamed of but was afraid to hope would really happen. Every morning I am reminded to praise God that He is doing a good work in me and showing me life without that trapping terror. I’ve started taking anxiety medicine, and I do not separate medicine and God’s work in my life. I see it as part of what He is doing to make me look more like Him. 

This has been such a process, and I believe it will continue to be. I still feel anxious at times, though not to the severity of past years. However, in the moments I do still feel anxious, I remind myself that God is with me. I quote Scripture to my soul and believe that it will be okay, even if it doesn’t feel that way in the moment.

I tell my soul to hope in God, whether I feel anxious or not. He is deserving of the glory, regardless of what I feel. Should I struggle with anxiety the rest of my life, should it be the thorn in my side, I will delight in my weakness because His grace is sufficient for me.

Anything is possible with God. I will pray in faith that He has the power to heal. And if not, He is still good.

You are Not Alone

I am sharing openly today, because it is my prayer more would feel empowered and encouraged to be honest about their struggles. Too many suffer in silence, too many feel ashamed to reach out for help. You are not alone in your struggle. There is Hope, and He is ever patient with you.

Should you need an ear, I am just a message away. I pray that if this be your struggle as well, you would believe you have the freedom to hurt before the Lord and trust in His kindness toward you. And if this isn’t your struggle, I pray that perhaps you know just a little bit better how to care for the loved ones around you that do struggle.

Let’s walk confidently and without fear together, knowing that we are loved fully by an incredible God.

“Be still and know that i am God.” -Psalm 46:10

“Finally, brother and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me- put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” -Philippians 4:8-9

"But He said to me, my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” -2 Corinthians 12:9

[loveofyhwh]

September 5: Job 41–42; 1 Timothy 3; Psalm 62; Proverbs 22:28

New Post has been published on https://loveofyhwh.com/september-5-job-41-42-1-timothy-3-psalm-62-proverbs-2228/

September 5: Job 41–42; 1 Timothy 3; Psalm 62; Proverbs 22:28

Old Testament:

Job 41–42

Job 41–42 (Listen)

41   Ch 40:25 in Hebrew‘>1 “Can you draw out LeviathanA large sea animal, exact identity unknown‘>2 with a fishhook     or press down his tongue with a cord? 2   Can you put a rope in his nose     or pierce his jaw with a hook? 3   Will he make many pleas to you?     Will he speak to you soft words? 4   Will he make a covenant with you     to take him for your servant forever? 5   Will you play with him as with a bird,     or will you put him on a leash for your girls? 6   Will traders bargain over him?     Will they divide him up among the merchants? 7   Can you fill his skin with harpoons     or his head with fishing spears? 8   Lay your hands on him;     remember the battle—you will not do it again! 9   Ch 41:1 in Hebrew‘>3 Behold, the hope of a man is false;     he is laid low even at the sight of him. 10   No one is so fierce that he dares to stir him up.     Who then is he who can stand before me? 11   Who has first given to me, that I should repay him?     Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine. 12   “I will not keep silence concerning his limbs,     or his mighty strength, or his goodly frame. 13   Who can strip off his outer garment?     Who would come near him with a bridle? 14   Who can open the doors of his face?     Around his teeth is terror. 15   His back is made ofOr His pride is in his‘>4 rows of shields,     shut up closely as with a seal. 16   One is so near to another     that no air can come between them. 17   They are joined one to another;     they clasp each other and cannot be separated. 18   His sneezings flash forth light,     and his eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn. 19   Out of his mouth go flaming torches;     sparks of fire leap forth. 20   Out of his nostrils comes forth smoke,     as from a boiling pot and burning rushes. 21   His breath kindles coals,     and a flame comes forth from his mouth. 22   In his neck abides strength,     and terror dances before him. 23   The folds of his flesh stick together,     firmly cast on him and immovable. 24   His heart is hard as a stone,     hard as the lower millstone. 25   When he raises himself up, the mightyOr gods‘>5 are afraid;     at the crashing they are beside themselves. 26   Though the sword reaches him, it does not avail,     nor the spear, the dart, or the javelin. 27   He counts iron as straw,     and bronze as rotten wood. 28   The arrow cannot make him flee;     for him, sling stones are turned to stubble. 29   Clubs are counted as stubble;     he laughs at the rattle of javelins. 30   His underparts are like sharp potsherds;     he spreads himself like a threshing sledge on the mire. 31   He makes the deep boil like a pot;     he makes the sea like a pot of ointment. 32   Behind him he leaves a shining wake;     one would think the deep to be white-haired. 33   On earth there is not his like,     a creature without fear. 34   He sees everything that is high;     he is king over all the sons of pride.”

Job’s Confession and Repentance

42 Then Job answered the LORD and said:

2   “I know that you can do all things,     and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. 3   ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’   Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,     things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. 4   ‘Hear, and I will speak;     I will question you, and you make it known to me.’ 5   I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,     but now my eye sees you; 6   therefore I despise myself,     and repentOr and am comforted‘>6 in dust and ashes.”

The Lord Rebukes Job’s Friends

7 After the LORD had spoken these words to Job, the LORD said to Eliphaz the Temanite: “My anger burns against you and against your two friends, for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has. 8 Now therefore take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and offer up a burnt offering for yourselves. And my servant Job shall pray for you, for I will accept his prayer not to deal with you according to your folly. For you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.” 9 So Eliphaz the Temanite and Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite went and did what the LORD had told them, and the LORD accepted Job’s prayer.

The Lord Restores Job’s Fortunes

10 And the LORD restored the fortunes of Job, when he had prayed for his friends. And the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before. 11 Then came to him all his brothers and sisters and all who had known him before, and ate bread with him in his house. And they showed him sympathy and comforted him for all the evilOr disaster‘>7 that the LORD had brought upon him. And each of them gave him a piece of moneyHebrew a qesitah; a unit of money of unknown value‘>8 and a ring of gold.

12 And the LORD blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning. And he had 14,000 sheep, 6,000 camels, 1,000 yoke of oxen, and 1,000 female donkeys. 13 He had also seven sons and three daughters. 14 And he called the name of the first daughter Jemimah, and the name of the second Keziah, and the name of the third Keren-happuch. 15 And in all the land there were no women so beautiful as Job’s daughters. And their father gave them an inheritance among their brothers. 16 And after this Job lived 140 years, and saw his sons, and his sons’ sons, four generations. 17 And Job died, an old man, and full of days.

Footnotes

[1] 41:1 Ch 40:25 in Hebrew [2] 41:1 A large sea animal, exact identity unknown [3] 41:9 Ch 41:1 in Hebrew [4] 41:15 Or His pride is in his [5] 41:25 Or gods [6] 42:6 Or and am comforted [7] 42:11 Or disaster [8] 42:11 Hebrew a qesitah; a unit of money of unknown value

(ESV)

New Testament:

1 Timothy 3

1 Timothy 3 (Listen)

Qualifications for Overseers

3 The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. 2 Therefore an overseerOr bishop; Greek episkopos; a similar term occurs in verse 1‘>1 must be above reproach, the husband of one wife,Or a man of one woman; also verse 12‘>2 sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, 3 not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. 4 He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, 5 for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God’s church? 6 He must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil. 7 Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.

Qualifications for Deacons

8 Deacons likewise must be dignified, not double-tongued,Or devious in speech‘>3 not addicted to much wine, not greedy for dishonest gain. 9 They must hold the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience. 10 And let them also be tested first; then let them serve as deacons if they prove themselves blameless. 11 Their wives likewiseOr Wives likewise, or Women likewise‘>4 must be dignified, not slanderers, but sober-minded, faithful in all things. 12 Let deacons each be the husband of one wife, managing their children and their own households well. 13 For those who serve well as deacons gain a good standing for themselves and also great confidence in the faith that is in Christ Jesus.

The Mystery of Godliness

14 I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these things to you so that, 15 if I delay, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, a pillar and buttress of the truth. 16 Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness:

  HeGreek Who; some manuscripts God; others Which‘>5 was manifested in the flesh,     vindicatedOr justified‘>6 by the Spirit,Or vindicated in spirit‘>7       seen by angels,   proclaimed among the nations,     believed on in the world,       taken up in glory.

Footnotes

[1] 3:2 Or bishop; Greek episkopos; a similar term occurs in verse 1 [2] 3:2 Or a man of one woman; also verse 12 [3] 3:8 Or devious in speech [4] 3:11 Or Wives likewise, or Women likewise [5] 3:16 Greek Who; some manuscripts God; others Which [6] 3:16 Or justified [7] 3:16 Or vindicated in spirit

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 62

Psalm 62 (Listen)

My Soul Waits for God Alone

To the choirmaster: according to Jeduthun. A Psalm of David.

62   For God alone my soul waits in silence;     from him comes my salvation. 2   He alone is my rock and my salvation,     my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken. 3   How long will all of you attack a man     to batter him,     like a leaning wall, a tottering fence? 4   They only plan to thrust him down from his high position.     They take pleasure in falsehood.   They bless with their mouths,     but inwardly they curse. Selah 5   For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,     for my hope is from him. 6   He only is my rock and my salvation,     my fortress; I shall not be shaken. 7   On God rests my salvation and my glory;     my mighty rock, my refuge is God. 8   Trust in him at all times, O people;     pour out your heart before him;     God is a refuge for us. Selah 9   Those of low estate are but a breath;     those of high estate are a delusion;   in the balances they go up;     they are together lighter than a breath. 10   Put no trust in extortion;     set no vain hopes on robbery;     if riches increase, set not your heart on them. 11   Once God has spoken;     twice have I heard this:   that power belongs to God, 12     and that to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love.   For you will render to a man     according to his work.

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 22:28

Proverbs 22:28 (Listen)

28   Do not move the ancient landmark     that your fathers have set.

(ESV)

[dfroza]

Paul was writing while jailed, wrongfully accused by men.

“But God’s word is not in chains!”

and we as children of Light are meant to fear God in the reverence of Love above that of man.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the Letter of 2nd Timothy:

But as for you, my child, be empowered by the grace that is in Jesus, the Anointed One. Whatever you heard me teach before an audience of witnesses, I want you to pass along to trustworthy people who have the ability to teach others too. As a good soldier of Jesus the Anointed, be ready to suffer with me. Remember that soldiers on active duty don’t get wrapped up in civilian matters because they want to satisfy those who recruited them. Look at it another way: if someone competes as an athlete, he won’t win the race and be crowned with the wreath if he breaks the rules. And the farmer who exhausts himself in the field should be the first to taste his harvest. Think about what I am telling you, and let the Lord give you clarity on all of it.

Remember Jesus the Anointed, raised from the dead, descended from David’s royal line. This is the crux of my good news! This is why I suffer and why I am bound and chained like a lawbreaker. But God’s word is not in chains! That’s why I endure everything for the sake of God’s chosen: so that they might experience salvation with lasting, eternal glory through Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King. Here’s a statement you can trust:

If we died with Him,

we will live with Him.

If we remain with Him,

we will reign alongside Him.

If we deny Him,

we will be denied by Him.

If we are unfaithful,

He remains faithful,

For He is not able to deny Himself.

Remind others about these things that I’m telling you. Warn them before God to stop their useless bickering over words. After all, splitting hairs does no good; it only ruins those forced to listen to their meritless arguments. Timothy, do everything you can to present yourself to God as a man who is fully genuine, a worker unashamed of your mission, a guide capable of leading others along the correct path defined by the word of truth. Stay away from ungodly babbling because it will only lead deeper into a godless lifestyle. Once these empty voices start to speak, Timothy, they infect and spread; and soon the body is consumed with its cancer. Hymenaeus and Philetus fell victim to it, and they walked away from the truth by claiming that the day of resurrection has already arrived. They are clearly disrupting the faith of some who are not well grounded. Regardless of what they do or say, God’s foundation is strong and firmly in place, etched with this seal: “The Lord knows the ones who belong to Him,” and, “Everyone who invokes the name of the Lord ought to stop doing what they know to be wrong.”

Look, in the mansions of the rich and powerful you will find everything from silver and gold serving bowls to wooden containers and clay jars; some are used for special occasions—where honor is important—others are used for more mundane tasks. So tell them, if they will clean up their lives and purify themselves from dishonorable teachings that lead people astray, then they can become honorable vessels, consecrated and useful to the Master, made ready for every good work He has in store.

Timothy, run away from youthful desires. Instead, direct your passion to chasing after righteousness, faithfulness, love, and peace, along with those who call upon the Lord with pure hearts. Excuse yourself from any conversations that turn into foolish and uninformed debates because you know they only provoke fights. As the Lord’s slave, you shouldn’t exhaust yourself in bickering; instead, be gentle—no matter who you are dealing with—ready and able to teach, tolerant without resentment, gently instructing those who stand up against you. Besides, the time may come when God grants them a change of heart so that they can arrive at the full knowledge of truth. And if they come to their senses, they can escape the devil’s snare and walk freed from his captivity and evil bidding.

The Letter of 2nd Timothy, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 34th chapter of the book of Jeremiah where Jeremiah continues with his message from God:

King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon led his army, and all the kingdoms and peoples of his empire, to begin the final assault against Jerusalem and all the towns and villages. One by one they fell. As this dreaded ruler and his vast army drew closer to Jerusalem, the word of the Eternal came to Jeremiah.

Eternal One: The Eternal God of Israel has this to say: Go and deliver this message to Zedekiah, king of Judah: “I, the Eternal, am about to hand this city over to the king of Babylon, and he will burn it to the ground. As for you, you will not escape from him. No, you will be captured and turned over to the king of Babylon. You will have to stand before him and look this powerful ruler in the eyes as you are sentenced to exile in Babylon.

“But hear this promise from the Eternal, O Zedekiah, king of Judah: ‘I declare that if you obey Me now, you will not die in battle, but you will die in peace.’ People will burn spices at your funeral in your honor, just as they did for your ancestors, the kings who ruled before you. Mourners will weep for you saying, ‘O, our king is dead!’ I, the Eternal, promise you this can still happen.”

The prophet Jeremiah faithfully related all of this to Zedekiah, king of Judah, while both were still in Jerusalem. This was when the Babylonian king’s siege of Jerusalem and the rest of Judah’s cities was under way, with Lachish and Azekah the only other fortified cities that had not been conquered.

Now as the siege continued and the conditions became more severe, another message came to Jeremiah from the Eternal after King Zedekiah had made a covenant with the citizens of Jerusalem to free the slaves in the city. The king commanded all those who held Hebrew slaves to release them—both men and women—so that no Jew would hold a fellow Jew in slavery. So all the leaders and people of the city entered this covenant and agreed with the king to free all of their Hebrew slaves.

Not long after the people had freed their slaves, they changed their minds and forced the men and women they released back into slavery. It was then that a word from the Eternal came to Jeremiah regarding the people of Jerusalem:

Eternal One: I, the Eternal God of Israel, am reminding you that I made a covenant with your ancestors when I rescued them from slavery in the land of Egypt. I told them: After six years of service, a fellow Hebrew slave must be freed from slavery in the seventh year. But your ancestors never took My directive seriously or obeyed Me. Not long ago, you changed your mind and did what was right in My eyes: you set your kinsmen free from bondage. You even established a sacred covenant before Me in the house that bears My name. But now you have reversed yourselves, turned around, and broken that covenant! You have defiled My name by forcing these men and women you freed back into slavery.

That is why I proclaim the following: Since you have disobeyed Me and not declared that your fellow countrymen are set free, I will now set you free from My protection. I declare that you will be “free” to die by war, disease, and famine. The destiny I set before You will terrify the watching world. Those who violated this covenant with Me will now be treated like the calf they cut in two and walked between when this promise was made.

Eternal One: The leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the court servants, the priests, and all people in the land who walked between the halves of the calf will suffer a common fate. I will hand them over to their enemies, to those who want them dead. Their corpses will not be buried; they will lie on the ground and become food for the birds and wild animals. I will also hand Zedekiah (king of Judah) and his officials over to their enemies, to those who want them dead. Although King Nebuchadnezzar and his army have pulled back from your city, that is only temporary. I, the Eternal One, will give the order and call them back to Jerusalem. They will fight against this city, capture it, and burn it to the ground. I will use the army of Babylon to destroy the towns of Judah so no one can live there.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 34 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, September 16 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A set of posts by John Parsons about the cleansing of Yom Kippur:

During the afternoon service of Yom Kippur, the Book of Jonah is recited to awaken the heart to "Arise, call out to your God" (1:6). Like Jonah we first must be "swallowed up" in consciousness of our own rebellion before we realize we are undone, that we are without remedy apart from God's direct intervention and deliverance. We start there - in the "belly of the fish" - and later are resurrected to go forth by God's mercy and grace. Likewise we first see ourselves as undone and go to the cross, finding pardon and given the power of the ruach HaKodesh to live unto God according to the truth. But note that the imperatives of the New Testament are directed to the new nature given to us by God, and not to the old nature that has been crucified and done away. We are admonished to live in accordance with the truth of what God has done for us through the Moshia', the Savior. You are a new creation, therefore be who you are in the Messiah!

It is noteworthy that Yeshua mentioned the “sign of Jonah the prophet,” that is, Jonah’s miraculous deliverance after being entombed in the belly of the fish for three days, to authenticate his own claim to be Israel’s Redeemer. "Just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the belly of the earth" (Matt. 12:40). "This is an evil generation. It seeks a sign, and no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet (אוֹת יוֹנָה הַנָּבִיא). For as Jonah became a sign to the Ninevites, so also the Son of Man will be to this generation" (Luke 11:29-30). In other words, the story of Jonah foreshadowed the atoning sacrifice of the Messiah, that is, his death, burial and especially his miraculous resurrection on the third day. Just as God brought Jonah back to life after three days in the belly of the earth, so the resurrection of Yeshua from the dead would vindicate his claim to be the Savior and Redeemer of the world. In this way the "Sign of Jonah" and the sacrificial and atoning work of Yeshua as our High Priest of the new covenant are connected.

"We we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself, yes, we felt that we had received the sentence of death; but that was to make us rely not on ourselves, but on God who raises the dead" (2 Cor 1:8-9). This marks the end of carnal hope, when we realize we are but "dead men walking," and from this extremity of inner desperation and clarity we learn to rely solely on God for what we need. Here we abandon ourselves to God's care, despite the despair, darkness, and fear. We rely on "God who raises the dead," because all other remedies have been vanquished. It is a great gift to be so afflicted, for these "troubles of love" teach us to trust God alone for all we need. The only way out is through. We don't seek an easy way of life, but only that the LORD our God be with us throughout our troubles... [Hebrew for Christians]

The original Passover sacrifice (korban Pesach) was not given to the Levitical priesthood as a sin offering, since it preceded Sinai and the giving of the laws concerning the sacrificial rites. In the same way, Yeshua's sacrifice was directed from Heaven itself by means of the prophetic office of Malki-Tzedek (מַלְכִּי־צֶדֶק) - a higher order of priesthood (Gen. 14:18; Psalm 110:4; Heb. 7). Yeshua both offered Himself up as the “Lamb of God” that causes the wrath of God to (eternally) pass over those who personally trust in Him, and He also offered himself as the “Goat of God” whose blood was sprinkled in the Holy of Holies to cleanse us from sin and give us (everlasting) atonement. (Other metaphors are also given in Scripture, of course. For example, Yeshua offered Himself as the Snake lifted up (John 3:14-15; cp. Num. 21:4-9), as a Red Cow (parah adumah), and so on).

Yeshua as the “Lamb of God” pictures personal redemption from slavery to Satan and freedom from the wrath of God. This is the greater Passover/Exodus connection. By means of Yeshua’s shed blood and broken body, the wrath of God passes over us and we are set free to serve God.... Yeshua as the “Goat of God” pictures both personal cleansing (i.e., “propitiation” or “expiation” for our sins: the Greek word (ἱλαστήριον) is used in the LXX for the kapporet (Mercy Seat) in the Holy of Holies which was sprinkled with the blood of the sacrifice on Yom Kippur) as well as national teshuvah and cleansing for ethnic Israel at the end of the Great Tribulation period. At that time Yeshua will function as Israel’s true High Priest whose sacrifice is applied for Israel’s Atonement. This is the Yom Kippur connection. Moreover, since Yom Kippur points to the removal of the sin-laden goat (representing Satan), the Millennial reign of Messiah will be one unmolested by the powers of evil.

Just as Rosh Hashanah (Teruah) reveals the coming time of Judgment and the rapture of the kehillat Mashiach (Bride of Messiah), Yom Kippur prophetically pictures the Day of the LORD or the Day of Judgment in Acharit HaYamim [the last days]. After the judgment of the nations during the Great Tribulation, national Israel will be fully restored to the LORD and their sins will be purged (see Matthew 24). Indeed, our beloved Mashiach will one day return to Israel, cleanse her Temple, restore her to Himself, and set up His glorious kingdom. And that coming celebration is the Sukkot or “Tabernacles” connection, friend... [Hebrew for Christians]

In post-Temple Judaism (i.e., rabbinical Judaism) it is customary for Jews to wish one another "gemar chatimah tovah" (גְּמַר חַתִימָה טוֹבָה), “a good final sealing” during the Ten Days of Awe (i.e., the ten days running from Rosh Hashanah until Yom Kippur). The reason for this is that according to Jewish tradition the "writing of God’s verdict" (for your life) occurs on Rosh Hashanah, but the "sealing of the verdict" occurs on Yom Kippur. In other words, God in His Mercy gives us another ten days to do "teshuvah" before sealing our fate.... But it’s up to us -- and our teshuvah -- to “save ourselves” from God’s decree of death. Our merits (mitzvot) are the key: וּתְשׁוּבָה וּתְפִלָּה וּצְדָקָה מַעֲבִירִין אֶת רעַ הַגְּזֵרָה / “Teshuvah, prayer, and charity deliver us from the evil decree.”

Those who trust in God’s salvation put no confidence in man's ability to save himself, but look to the Lord for healing and deliverance. Therefore we find permanent “sealing” for good by the grace and love of God given to us in Yeshua our Messiah (Eph. 1:13, 4:30; 2 Cor. 1:21-22). The Torah’s statement that sacrificial blood was offered upon the altar to make atonement (כַּפָּרָה) for our souls (Lev. 17:11) finds its final application in the “blood work” of Yeshua upon the cross at Moriah (Rom. 5:11). The substitutionary shedding of blood, the "life-for-life" principle, is essential to the true "at-one-ment" with God. The ordinances of the Levitical priesthood were just “types and shadows” of the coming Substance that would give us everlasting atonement with God (Heb. 8-10). Because of Yeshua, we have a Kohen Gadol (High Priest) of the better Covenant, based on better promises (Heb. 8:6). For this reason it is entirely appropriate to celebrate Yom Kippur and give thanks to the LORD for the permanent “chatimah tovah” given to us through the salvation of His Son. Indeed, Yom Kippur can be read a 'day like Purim' (i.e., יוֹם, "day" + כְּ, "like" + פֻּרִים, "purim"), suggesting that it is a time to celebrate deliverance from our enemies. And since the guilt of our sins and the judgment of death are our two greatest enemies, the great day on which Yeshua sacrificed Himself on the cross is truly the greatest “Purim” of all, because through His loving intervention we are eternally delivered from condemnation and are given everlasting atonement.

It must always be remembered that Torah (תּוֹרָה) is a "function word" that expresses our responsibility in light of the covenantal acts of God. As the author of the Book of Hebrews makes clear: "When there is a change in the priesthood (הַכְּהוּנָּה), there is necessarily (ἀνάγκη) a change in the Torah as well" (Heb. 7:12). The Levitical priesthood expresses the Torah of the Covenant of Sinai (בְּרִית יְשָׁנָה), just as the greater priesthood of Yeshua expresses the Torah of the New Covenant (בְּרִית חֲדָשָׁה).

Still, for the Messianic Jewish believer there is a bit of ambivalence about this holiday, perhaps more than any other of the Jewish year. Part of this ambivalence comes from the “already-not-yet” aspect of the New Covenant itself. Already Yeshua has come and offered Himself up as kapparah (atonement/propitiation) for our sins; already He has sent the Ruach Hakodesh (Holy Spirit) to write truth upon our hearts; already He is our God and we are His people. However, the New Covenant is not yet entirely fulfilled since we await the return of Yeshua to restore Israel and establish His kingdom upon the earth... Since prophetically speaking Yom Kippur signifies national Israel’s atonement secured through Yeshua’s sacrificial avodah as Israel’s true High Priest and King, there is a sense of longing and affliction connected to this holiday that will not be removed until finally “all Israel is saved.” So, on the one hand we celebrate Yom Kippur because it acknowledges Yeshua as our High Priest of the New Covenant, but on the other hand, we “have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in our hearts” for the redemption of the Jewish people and the atonement of their sins (Rom. 9:1-5; 10:1-4; 11:1-2, 11-15, 25-27). In the meantime, we are in a period of “mysterious grace” (yemot ha-mashiach) wherein we have opportunity to offer the terms of the New Covenant to people of every nation, tribe and tongue. After the "fullness of the Gentiles" is come in, however, God will turn His full attention to fulfilling His promises given to ethnic Israel. That great Day of the LORD is coming soon, chaverim... [Hebrew for Christians]

"God will provide Himself a Lamb - my son" (Gen. 22:8). The cross itself answers the question or whether we find healing by faith or by religious practices. Do we look to the LORD for salvation or to ourselves and our “good works”? Recall that at the time of the crucifixion of the Messiah, man was "shut out" because of the darkness and utter sanctity of the sacrifice of Yeshua as the Lamb of God who bore all the sins of the world... At the time of utmost darkness, man was shut out, put into a “deep sleep” not unlike what Abraham had earlier experienced at the covenant of the parts (Gen. 15:12). Every human being stood helplessly on the other side of the cross; no one else participated to make us right with God: It was all Yeshua and the Father, and the Father and Yeshua alone...

Friend, there is nothing left for you to do other than to open your heart and receive. "It is finished," were Yeshua's last words from the cross, meaning, "It has been perfected - it is complete and present for you; there is nothing left to add." Likewise, the Yom Kippur avodah was performed by the appointed High Priest alone, in the silence and in the midst of the dark cloud in the Sanctuary, placing atoning blood before the Throne of the Most High.

“It is finished.” All that is left is for you to open your heart and believe in God’s love and atonement given in Yeshua. May you find rest and peace in what God has done for you... [Hebrew for Christians]

9.15.21 • Facebook

[Hebrew for Christians]

Erev Yom Kippur 5782

9.16.21 • Facebook

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

September 16, 2021

God Is Love

“And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.” (1 John 4:16)

God is clearly “the Lord, the righteous judge” (2 Timothy 4:8), but He is also “the God of love and peace” (2 Corinthians 13:11). Not only in our text verse but also in another place, we are reminded that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). Of all the attributes of God, His nature of love is the most definitive. God is love!

It was not His omnipotence nor His omniscience that constrained Him to create men and women in His image. It must have been His nature of love, the desire for fellowship with beings like Himself. There is not much revealed on this question—only hints. “I have created him for my glory” (Isaiah 43:7). “The LORD hath made all things for himself” (Proverbs 16:4).

But fellowship is a two-way relationship and requires freedom to choose on the part of both. When man volitionally broke that fellowship, sin came into the world and God’s creation purpose was to all appearances set aside.

But God is love! He had not only a plan of creation but also a plan of salvation already in process. He “saved us,... according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began” (2 Timothy 1:9).

And so “God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

“Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us” (1 John 3:1). God is, indeed, a God of love! HMM

[structureandstyle]

una oración (bruja’s soliloquy)

I arrived one body-part at a time. First, the scalloped middle,

blue-roped torso. Eyes, nose & ears, blood-licked. Then the blur of this electric mouth,

the wet unfolding of my arms, legs & fists. The last, of course—this cauldron of a cunt.

The nurses delivered me to my parents on a dinner plate. Father howled.

Mother thinned down to a milkless shadow. I have always been a god-hammered girl.

Dirty as a turnip, I crawled into the blind center of the earth

a worm built to outlast the swallow. When I was young, I kissed the girls too hard,

riddled my tongue with a father's profanity— I thought this was how to become a boy.

Bent daughter of a six-fisted man, I wanted the safety of a cock. Permission

to roar. Dumb as the moon, I knew nothing of this body

other than the violence it ignited, how my bones reeked of motor oil—

my every opening a socket to blacken every thieving finger.

Who would ever choose to be the damaged house?

Better to be the demolition gender. Cinder block & dog-rotted

I strutted the world. Turned the mirrors & swore off every version of myself.

It wasn't until the third time my body was taken

from me I learned how to love it. Now I walk the streets

forcing men into uncomfortable eye contact: You wanna fuck with me?

I wanna fuck with you. What greater burden, what more

unconquerable revolt is there than that of a resurrected woman?

Ripe with vengeance, I termite. Tomorrow I'll button my blouse

with a dozen kitchen knives & cast your dreamless skulls

into the cemetery soil & that's just breakfast.

I own my blud. What you borrowed I will come back for.

Scratch your name into a coffin nail, bind it in hair & wax

an ungentle ceremony for your ungentle hands.

O captive, my captive! I have coined your suffering song,

have driven you back into your hellish light.

Let the drilling of the worms be your only sermon,

the wasting of your flesh a salvaged psalm.

Listen: anything holy is not reversible.

There isn't a man alive who could undo me.

—Rachel McKibbens, from blud (Copper Canyon Press, 2017)

A few months ago, I first started seeing Rachel McKibbens’ poems circulating among poetry twitter*, and I made a note to get blud, because each new line stunned me. But it wasn’t until a little over a week ago, when I was sitting at a keynote address for a conference, deep in my thoughts about how hard it was to concentrate, and what a ridiculous human being I was, and how embarrassing it is to feel deeply for another person, and how scared I was of my dissertation defense, and how scared I am of my student loans, that I really appreciated blud. I thought I might pass out or scream or do something, and I realized I was having a panic attack, so I went into an adjoining room and opened up blud and read this poem, this witchy goddess poem (for “bruja” means “witch” in Spanish). I read it again and again, pausing on specific lines (like the last couplet). And I felt powerful.

This poem is, in many ways, about taking the circumstances that you have been given--the things that seemingly make you weak--and embracing them, becoming ferocious. The speaker says, “I have always been a god-hammered girl.” (Think about that image. I can’t stop thinking about hammered jewelry, and how it is flattened and shaped into being.) She wanted “the safety of a cock.” She knew “nothing of this body / other than the violence it ignited.” And, she asks, “Who would ever choose to be / the damaged house?” Women are, literally, the things that are inhabited--in heterosexual relationships, by men; in childbirth, by babies. We are the place where others gather and dwell, the emotional house for your needs. I’ve been talking with friends lately about how I perform my gender as an instructor at my university, about how students come to my office hours and look for help--and it’s not just with their papers. I advise them not to get behind, to break their insurmountable tasks and papers into smaller tasks, to visit the campus counselors, to get regular sleep and healthy food, to think about medication if need be. And I don’t mind it, because that is who I am, and I feel for them. I struggled in college, often without much guidance. But this guidance is also a thing that seems to come naturally because I am a woman, and maybe that’s worth pondering.

Anyway, the speaker of the poem follows the line about the damaged house by saying, “Better to be the demolition gender.” I have some questions about this: Is that what men are? Is that what women could be? And is demolition by its very nature a negative thing? This line makes me pause every time I see it.

Anyway, the speaker becomes brave and aggressive after her body has been “taken” a third time (and I can only read violence into these lines). She writes, “Now I walk the streets // forcing men into uncomfortable eye / contact: You wanna fuck with me? // I wanna fuck with you.” I don’t know about you, but my initial response to these lines was cheering, followed by some confusion, for doesn’t this mean that she is acting aggressive, like a man? But no. The speaker rejects this binary of women as nurturers and men as aggressors. Women can both. (Men can be both.) She is merely taking up space in the world, as a man would, no longer avoiding eye contact or moving out of the way of an approaching man. (I’ve read that women are more likely to move out of the way than men, but I don’t have scientific studies at hand, so let’s call this anecdotal evidence. I move out of the way of things, especially men, coming at me.) And thus the speaker is reborn. “What greater burden, what more // unconquerable revolt is there than that / of a resurrected woman?” she asks. “Ripe with vengeance, I termite.” (I swear, that’s probably my favorite line.) She is ready to fight. By the end of the poem, she writes, “There isn’t a man alive / who could undo me.” That’s perfect.

I’ve been thinking about why this particular poem spoke to me so much during the keynote address. It’s not that I was mad that the keynote speaker was male. It’s not that all of my worries and concerns that led to my panic attack were gendered. And yet, as a person, I am always aware of my gender and the ways I perform it. This poem reminds me that to be a woman doesn’t mean just one thing, that it is an open-ended thing. (And witches are powerful.)

Happy National Poetry Month! Go read blud.

-R

*If you are on twitter and are not already following Kaveh Akbar, Paige Lewis, or Danez Smith, you’re missing out on the poems they post--on the daily.