Wednesday, December 12, 2012


Today, I learned two particular traits of my character. One is a simple one that stems from my Christian morality, and the other is very much against it.

After a kind lady accidentally polished the right rear bumper of my father's minivan with her SUV, I found myself unable to say “she did it”. All three of us (the police officer, her and I) knew who was at fault, yet I could not say the words. We left without blame being verbally given to either party.

Later, I asked my mother who the terrible counselor was in middle school. This man's method of counseling my troubled soul was to pressure my until I acted in a way that fit the misbehavior I came there for. He would then deem me “unstable” and consider his work done. He is the main reason Pisgah asked me to leave in sixth grade. My mother told me this man was Bryan Smyth.

Now, for those who don't go to Pisgah, when that school eventually gets a glimmer of intelligence and fires him, please don't hire him on as a counselor. In fact, don't give him any position of authority. The man is a Pharisee. I’m sure most of Pisgah's issues can be traced back to some authoritative decision he made. I can go on for a long time about how worthless he is.

The above paragraph probably tells you everything you need to know about my second trait in character. At this moment, I cannot forgive this man; my memory, although faded, of his abuse of my childhood makes me apt to have this stain his career and life. I’m seriously vindictive for this man.

This man is the first to really hurt me. I don't remember anyone who has damaged, besides him. I’m going to school tomorrow, and if I see him, I will do my best. My goal is not him, anyway; I’m merely going to see a friend. 

Monday, December 10, 2012

A Brimstone Prophecy

I have come to an interesting point in my life, which I am sure will stick with me. It has just hit me that Christ not only raised to life and is now in Heaven, but that He will return. He won't return passively, either – no baby, we're talking a flaming-eyed, white horse-riding, glorious Jesus coming back to Earth as the ultimate conqueror. I can only pray for the world when this happens; if our bodies suffer so under the strain of supporting our souls, what strain when this small world becomes host to the King of the Universe?

This is what causes Christians to stand on a street corner and yell the gospel of a brimstone revival coming. It's tempting for us to do such things, which isn't exactly the best PR statement. This is also, I guess, where intolerance for Christians comes from: we are excited and called to share the message, because this end is coming.

This was a short post today. I’m going to read Revelation now. In future posts, I will be going through all the inconsistencies in the Bible and showing the truth in the perceived lies and errors. 

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Fiction in the Light of God

It is noted that a Christian man, once he has and has been embraced and confirmed in the Holy Spirit, cannot dream of a secular life. Even fiction, the realm of the imagination without the bounds of physics, reality, and super-reality, becomes invaded by this Greater Truth. For me, I cannot dream nor create great epics spanning universes, realities, cultures, and humanities without inserting a God which wouldn't allow for such fantasies. This is not to say that God is prohibiting me from dreaming these fictions – much in the same way that the misconception of Christianity's being a limiting ideal, this thought is simply a misconception, requiring another perception of the same issue.

As a Christian, God makes me cheerful. Nothing makes me more ecstatic than making Him proud. Unfortunately, it is this love for Him that poisons my fiction. I cannot write a humanist piece without a God that follows His example. Furthermore, there's no radical fiction I can formulate about Him, because He already created it. I feel at times when I attempt to create fiction, I come to three blockages:

God: I need to insert Him into all my pieces. I feel awful writing secular pieces, because I have a God who gives me the ability to write it. If you had a wealthy benefactor who gives you every second of your life, everything you own, everything you are, wouldn't you mention an archetype of Him in your pieces? There's a book series out, starting with Dragon Spell, which contains a character who follows God's archetype. He is a Jesus character who is all-powerful, yet unboastful in his power. The first book ends with his victory, and the book tries to set up a sequel. Yet as soon as his character entered the story, I knew the story was doomed. How can there be suspense when there's a God character? I never read the other books, because I knew the God archetype had to be nullified in order to create suspense, and that though made a bad feeling in my gut. God's omniscience and omnipotence instantly ruins a suspenseful dialogue.

“But Blancs,” you may say, “The gospels were a horror story before Christ resurrected!” Yes, they were. But then He was raised to life. There's no suspense in that story now because the end of the story is known before you understand the build up. Any story with God, now, ruins itself on the entrance of Him, because we all expect Him to be victorious instantly. I could kill God, but then that would be slapping my benefactor in the face. I’m not bout to insult my God like that.

Pride: my fictions have me as the protagonist, because I know myself, and I can easily explain my character. The problem with this is when I make myself exalted, thus pre-empting God in my imagination. It's a problem I’ve had in life, and it's transferring to my fiction.

God vs. Secularism: God's love is an amazing story. Writing about anything less seems anticlimactic.

I’d do everything in my power to rephrase this, but I see no other conclusion: my love relationship with God is poisoning my imagination. I cannot think of anything but Him. I want to, I have so many amazing stories dreamt in my youth, though I cannot recreate those in lieu of the Glory I recognize now. My poetry is excelling, though I am still excited for my old fictions. The Lost Lord of Cutre'ton, an old fiction of mine, is considered my greatest work in my eyes.

I pray for a reconciliation with my God, so that I may write these fictions to His glory.  

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Why Keep the Law?

In recent weeks, I have become quite irritated with Reddit. Many people, time and time again, scholarly and non-scholarly, have questioned Grace in the light of, “Why aren't we following the laws in the Bible?” To this, I give them the rough account of the gospel. I then say, “But the laws are still good for us to follow,” to which they scoff, and then either denounce me for being double-minded or express confusion at what is perceived to be a lack of understanding on the subject.

I have complete assurance on the subject. Whereas I may be a man who I subject to change, the Bible is not, nor is the God who wrote it. The subject of the Old Law is well-spelled out. Let me dust off my Bible...

6 Jesus told him, I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.”

This still leaves ambiguity in the air; how does one come to Jesus?

17 Don’t assume that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill.”

Okay, so we can rule out “through the law”, because nary fifty words later, Jesus destroys that thought:

20 “For I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

This is where one would start biting their nails. At this point, people lost their Law. Several points elsewhere in the gospel, Jesus personally denounces the scribes and Pharisees. But that's just it: The Old Law had failed. That's the most uncomfortable sentence I’ve typed in a very long time. I like my laws; American law keeps me somewhat safe. International laws keep us safer. I look back in the Old Law, where it calls homosexuality a sin worthy of stoning, and this statement seems not to reconcile itself with wisdom, justice, and love.

God spoke to Moses, who then went back to his people and, amongst other things, says those exact words. Yet a few thousand years later, Grace shows us that all sins are equal (one sin in your lifetime is worthy of damnation; I have sinned much more than that). The Lost Son an the son who stayed with his father all that time were shown the same amount of love by the Prodigal Father.

I think I have an answer (from this point on, I am speculating. I cannot say that I have any authority to say what God intends, as I am not a scholar and only opinionate on God after much thought), which takes us to the beginning. God started with two people (I will tackle evolutionary theory later. For the sake of Biblical accuracy, I will assert two people), who He gave one rule to. For crying out loud, God walked in the garden. He had a relationship with Adam and Eve.

Then the first two fell. Sin wasn't even a word yet, and yet we humans did it. God stayed with His Creation, though, through the flood. God knew that humans weren't ready for Grace, but He needed this to prove to future generations. The flood came and went, and we fast forward a bit to Moses. Moses stayed on the mountain for forty or so days, and I think this is what happened between Moses and God up there (Note: This is only comedic. I know it didn't happen like this, but I’m just showing how humans weren't ready for Grace):

God: <Grace>
Moses: huh?
God: <Shows Moses how Grace works>
Moses: huh?
God: <Fills Moses' head with Grace>
Moses: Wait, wait... what do we do in <this case>?
God: <Still showing Moses the glory of Grace>
Moses: Let me grab a pen, I’ll need to write some rules down. I’m not gonna remember this “Grace” thing
God: <Ten Commandments>

Moses goes down, sees the idol worship, breaks the tablets over his knee, stomps back up to the mountain top.

Moses: Yeah... We're gonna need more rules.
God: <Slaps hand on head in frustration, tells Moses exactly what a human needs to do to be saved>
Moses: Okay... Got that... Talk a little slower, please... Got that... how many lambs? Okay... What about this kind of person? Okay...

Then Moses went down and God took some Prozac, and listened to Moses giving the law to the people. He knew full well that the laws weren't going to work, but human weren't ready for Grace. They would, however, be ready for Laws, which would build humans up to a sophistication enough to understand why grace was better. Furthermore, why the laws failed. Jesus came at the exact right time; the scribes and pharisees were unrighteously pious, and the people were becoming paralyzed trying to get to Heaven. The relationship God had with His people had all but died. Furthermore, thanks to the stability of the Roman Empire (amongst other factors with I think God alone has a license to understanding), humans were ready for Grace.

Grace is like the theory of relativity, or even something simpler, like gravity, or magnetism. These theories were only recently understood, because we have only recently reached the level of sophistication to understand them. God couldn't give us grace, because we haven't mastered other aspects of life. You need to understand the structure of the atom before unraveling the mysteries thereof. In a much different sense, computers weren't even thought of back in Jesus' time. Now, I’m typing on a computer while it is scanning itself for specific malicious programs, playing music, and checking several times a second for Twitter, Facebook, and Reddit updates. We are much more sophisticated in the sense that we have built on our past.

Much like ourselves now, we needed to see that the Old Ways weren't working as well as the New Way back when Jesus came. We can now no longer say “why not just tell us Grace from the beginning”, or “Why not just gives us laws and be done with this 'interpreting scripture' thing?” for God did that. And He proved the Old Law failed. For, laws let us find ways to circumvent them. Grace is impassable. It is no longer about rules, it is about the intent of following them.

So, why still follow these rules? I don't recommend following the Old Law, as those laws were written to a culture over two-thousand years past. They're still somewhat applicable, but I would suggest ascribing to the laws of the current land. I would take that instead of anarchism, any day. Also, Jesus did come to fulfill the purpose of the Law (making yourself worthy in God's eye), so if you follow Jesus' teachings, then no law should go against you. 

Monday, November 19, 2012


I am somewhat pained today, as I have lost something which has been with me for as long as I can remember. I've always found joy in this world. I've always found love. I've always seen God, heard Him and enjoyed His presence.

Ever since my recent stance of abstinence from pornography (which I pray daily to Him to give me the strength to prolong), I've been weak. An eight hour sleep leaves me restless, and today's by far the worst. I woke up aching, went to class aching, and now I am tired. Yesterday I was on the parking team at Passion city (love those guys), and my tiredness graciously softened while I was there.

I had hoped that strength would continue with me. It frightens me that this addiction was my strength for so long, and now I am weak without it. It worries me that I put so much of my life into this addiction, without realizing it. It panics me that even now, today, as I open the Bible, I cannot see the truth in it, only words. My eyes gloss over the beautiful lyrics of this immortal song, its glorious joy translating to apathy in my head.

Similarly, my poetry has suffered. It disgusts me to think that my inspiration came from God, while my strength came from pornography, for I know that is not the case. I think this is something like a heroin addiction, where a natural chemical your body needs is replaced by the drug, and if you take away the unnatural chemical, your body either dies or goes through a horrific recovery. Thankfully, this is a calmer recovery.

I’ll need your prayers that my poetic inspiration returns. I don't want for a quicker or lighter recovery, for I deserve much worse for the damage I have wrought on myself. I do ask for the inspiration - the songs of God - to return to me and ignite my passion again, for those are not my own. I can only humbly ask for the Almighty to deem me worthy to borrow His words. If people can see that God chooses this man who was so enslaved by pornography, pride and lust to the point that his recovery physically and mentally harms him... if God can choose a chief of sinners such as myself to bring the world His Song, then people who have been hurt much more than I can see that there's a place in His Heaven for them.

For, Jesus did not come to His Creation for the saved, He came for the sinners.

Thursday, November 15, 2012


I’ve got a personal post for today. For the past seven months, I have written half of this post, then scrapped it in shame. I would write it again, only to despise the way I wrote it. The subject is one that has plagued me for years, since I was much too young to know the damage it would do. The world glorifies it, and I was pulled in by its allure. I am a porn addict.

 There is not much else to say, besides that I am quite embarrassed by the fact. Time and time again I have attempted to change it. I could not ask forgiveness from God, for I knew I would just commit the sin again – greedily and pridefully so – and I am much too grounded in honor to ask forgiveness for a sin I will repeat. I have had many, many deviances in real life based on this basest of degradations, and I have yet to ask for forgiveness for the lives I have wrecked. This is because, for the longest time, I knew for a fact – a cold, solid fact – that, given the chance, I would wreck someone else's life, for those minutes of prideful satisfaction. This kind of degradation has been my life for my entire teenage life.

Almost a month ago, I took a change. I came to terms with my inability to change my life alone, and found a painful way to overcome the addiction. There is accountability software – the fact that the only source that feeds my addiction comes from the internet makes it very easy to stifle. I have been free of the addiction for a little over two weeks now, and it is still a painful thing to endure.

A word on the nature of addiction: I rejected that I was addicted, for I could stop myself after only committing the sin for a small time. Addiction works with Satan. It is a coping mechanism for troubles, usurping the Godly Throne of admitting your mistakes and taking the blame and problems. It is a roost for the ones who come to it first looking for escape. After that first time, Addiction calls them back, saying always “one more time”. Then, addiction becomes the friend the likes of which you'll never need an enemy, nor see any. Any time you come under confrontation, Addiction calms you and detaches you.

You never see the desensitization to the world you live in, no. Addiction makes sure of that. You are never brought to awareness of the degradation in your life, under Addiction's spell. You simply don't observe it, for as soon as you think on the subject, Addiction simply turns you to it again. And you sin.

I feel I can say with confidence, after many, many years of flying under Addiction's banners, that I have finally risen from the depths of Addiction. I’ve burned the banners an replaced them with God's. I thank the people responsible for helping me to this change (my parents especially), and I am ashamed I did not post this sooner.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Matthew 9:37-38

Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.” Psalm 84:10
This is the scripture that Door Holders at Passion City Church use to explain their role. A Door Holder sees the glory inside, and chooses to hold the door open for others to experience it. This seems to be the mantra that PCC works by.

Today, I was with several Christian friends at a Steak n Shake, and we started talking about various churches. Passion City came up in conversation, and a very condemning thing was said about my home church: it doesn't really serve. It is a brand. It is the experience of worship. The church asks for my money, and for amazing things, and it deals with massive, weighty issues – but I attend the church, and I have not one time served the needy in the area.

Passion City is “for God, for People, for the City, for the World.” I feel the church as a whole narrows on the onerous “world” problems, while neglecting the people around it. Either that, or I haven't been queued into the monthly service events that PCC serves the community in. PCC has a periodic free dinner for their college-aged attendees – no! PCC has special gatherings for its collegiates – NO!

Passion City Church has such a large congregation of people that we only ask to come for one service a week. There are smaller events that aren't run directly by Passion that bear its name – fan-groups, if you will – but for the most part I feel that people attend this church because it is an unparalleled worship experience. Because they are not told of opportunities to serve there, they go home thinking there aren't any. Instead of asking them to find these opportunities on their own, why not find them?

I would rather go out with my Passion family to the tents of the wicked. I get the feeling this verse silently continues,

Though Your courts are open to all, and I will spend a thousand days in the tents of the wicked, and be the doorkeeper to them when they come to Your courts.”(Non Scriptura)

Passion City Church is a force for God in this world, and I want the best for it. To do this, I will direct more of my energies to helping the city around me, and telling them about Passion. While doing this, I will lobby for Passion to do the same. Matthew 9:37-38 depicts this beautifully:

Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field." Matthew 9:37-38

I will leave on this. This last passage is my aim in life. I wan to be that worker. If you know a way for this message to get to Louie or anyone working on Passion's staff, please send this to them. I do not want to send it myself, for I feel it would be an affront to the humble nature I strive to attain in this world of pride. I will stay late next Sunday, asking for an ear. 

Monday, November 12, 2012

Grace Series Finale: God's Grace

I touched on the heights off human grace two posts ago, and I feel again the urge to extrapolate: how could forgiveness be the height of grace? Grace is an intensely complex thing. There is grace everyday (the mindset of grace) and the act of grace (one-time events), and many people find it difficult to find something as simple as forgiveness to be the height of something as complex as grace. Grace is something simple, actually – though, as it is incredibly difficult to grasp, people wish to cloud it with complexities, much like how a math textbook answers the simplest problems in its examples while the prompts are much, much more difficult. Grace is inherently a simple concept; no matter the complexities intrinsic to the problem, the solution always includes forgiveness.

A lifestyle of grace is one of constant forgiveness.

Here's why I believe this grace is in our lives. God Almighty (I will include God in this theory) created the world, because a spirit of love enjoys something to love. At the spark of humanity (whether you believe in evolution or creationism makes no difference to this), two humans emerged. They were both told not to eat from a tree, but did anyway. Pause.

Now, what would you have done, in such a circumstance? If you as a programmer ordered the first two beings in the world you created (that had their own souls) not to do X, yet they do it anyway, what would you do? God chose to allow this. Satan (who knows nothing of grace, only pride) was allowed by God to be in that garden. Two beings with no knowledge of the notion of good nor evil both chose evil. But God, being Love, decided to go on with it. He knew this would happen, and He would like it to. He would like people to come to Him of their own accord; to have people who choose Him over the lusts (or, Pride) in the world.

The flood occurred because God wasn't going to wipe the world and start over. Humanity would have just fallen again. Thus, He simply cuts the parts that rejected Him, just like one would brush away eraser dust. For a spirit of Love, this is unbearable; it would have been immeasurably worse to remove the entire race. When the flood waters recede, the world becomes God's for the time that Noah and his family leave the ark. Soon after, sin enters the world again, and God allows it to.

The next untold millennia, God watches over the world, sending messenger after messenger. Some messengers fall short of God's will, whilst others adhere to it too much; either way, humanity is still depraved, unwilling to hear God's voice. God allows His word to be twisted, for humans have the divinely inspired choice to do so.

The people used to feel Him everywhere, until humans decided that they could only feel his presence in a tent. It wasn't too long after that they needed a temple. Then they needed a king. God complied, confused as to why they needed this when they had Him already.

He, a purely Good Spirit, sends sign after sign of His power, and yet humanity still fails Him. Just before the zero point of the calendar, He decides to send Himself into the world, to experience mortality and understand first-hand why humans go against Him.

By the way, God is a terrible sinner. He can't sin to save His life. We even stuck him to a tree and he didn't sin.

Oh, and God sent Himself to Earth, and we still killed him in thirty years flat. Humanity killed God on Earth in thirty years. Let that sink in.

Fast forward to today, and we're still pretty depraved. But we're here. God could not have sent a flood, but I’m pretty sure He didn't rule out meteor strikes or coronal ejections, volcanoes, or any other incredibly violent extinction event. This doesn't mean that God has a panic button he keeps with Him at all times; this spirit of Love would never kill off humanity, doing it once was bad enough. The panic button for Him is like having the nuclear arm key for the president implanted in his chest; you could use it, but only if you really wanted to feel the pain.

No, God is of Grace. He forgives not once, but several trillion times a day; every human commits hundreds of sins a day, and God still looks down at the end of the day loving the world that reeks of Sin. I find His Grace and Love, and indeed our pidgin attempts at them, are interlinked, indeed practically the same.
He gives forgiveness like a flood, hitting you as soon as you ask.
He loves you more than any human could ever achieve over a lifetime of serving and love.
He is the pinnacle of grace, love, and the High Road that humanity strives and fails every second to achieve.
He is the reason we can reject the uselessness of life, instead reaching for a small bit of that Love.
If He is not the image of Grace, I have no idea what is. 

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Passion City Church: For His Renown.

In life, one needs a community of like-minded people to commune, engage in activities, and share ideas with. When I went to Passion City Church, while wondering if I should go to their annual Passion conference, I came expecting a mega-church. I expected their volunteers to be saying hello because the volunteer sign-in sheet suggested they do so. I expected several small, tight-knit groups, walking in tandem yet oblivious to each other, walking to the sanctuary, where a classic moving worship experience could be had. I was expecting to get doped up on the spirit, alone in the crowd, and leave high on the spirit. I had no idea how far I was from the truth.

My first experience there showed me as mistaken. Each person I passed on the parking crew seemed so cheerful and upbringing, letting me know there was a spot inside. The building was a whitewashed rectangle with the words “515 Garson Drive” up front. The Touch Team inside made sure I was welcome, one person dedicating herself to finding me a chair as close to the stage as possible. On my way to the chair, three or four random people asked how I was. By the time I sat down, I met and remembered those four people's names. The gathering was intense, yet I felt we worshiped as one. The pastor preached on the book of John, chapter... three or seven, I believe. I left wondering whether I had imagined the connection, and I was just going there for the high. Later, I made the distinction perfectly clear to myself: it was not Passion City I was thrilled by, it was that I heard God stating His love for me in that building, every time I go to a gathering.

Last month, I decided to join the Passion movement, and bring glory to Christ through my actions. I am now on the parking crew. I am a Door Holder. I have seen the glory that Christ shows inside the building, and I hold the door open outside to let people who haven't seen the glory, see the glory and amazement inside. I have been repeatedly blessed in the short time I have participated, and am thrilled to have the chance to do this again today. More on this later, including the culture of Passion City.  

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Grace Series: Superior and Lesser Grace

Today I’ll share a thought on the topic of grace, though not the final one. People find grace to be a commodity, as something that they expect in return, if one should be “kind” enough to give it. In this current generation, we observe the glories of capitalism and the philanthropy of the rich – both great things in an of themselves – and we inadvertently attribute grace to some sort of “money system”. Grace, far from being a gift that expects nothing in return, becomes something given to people close to the giver, a friend or family member; grace given to strangers is grace “wasted”.

Now, whether you are of faith or not, the Bible is still a source of great knowledge, and can shed some light on perfect grace.
'There is a story where two sons live under a wealthy, wealthy father. The younger son gets the idea that he is ready for living on his own, that he can make a name for himself without his father's shadow. Thus, father lets his son disown him and takes off for a far-off land, where he spends it like a child eats sweets. When he spent it all, he became very low, and was forced to feed pigs to make a wage. He earned so little, and was so hungry, that he wanted to eat the pods that the pigs fed on. Thus, he decided to beg his father to take him back – not as a son, for he destroyed that bridge when he called his father dead – as a farm-hand. Even while the younger son was far away, he saw his father running to him. His father would not hear his excuses, his plea... all he needed to hear was “Father, I have sinned I am not longer worthy to be called your son-” before he embraced his son, and brought him back into glory. '

In my eyes, this is the most graceful thing a person can do. Of course, much like a perfect gas, there can never be this occurrence. There will always be, since we are human, and thus so attached to this world, some pent-up rage in the father (or sadness, rejection, refusal, etc.) is to be expected. Most earthly fathers would, at the instant the son left, pronounce the son dead and lost. At best, I would expect myself to be like the man who gave the younger son the job of feeding pigs; being the owner of pigs doesn't make the man very rich, but he could tell this young man needed help more than he did, so he took him in. Whether he knows the man or not matters little. But the father in this story, now estranged by his son, rebuilt the bond that was broken.
Again, I’m doing everything in my power to refrain from putting the Christian ideal of the personal God into this post. This above paragraph should resonate with anyone who reads it as a message of ultimate grace – a perfection which humanity can seldom achieve, but still strives for. Grace that doesn't ask for anything in return, even the love of the person embraced by grace. In every case of grace I have heard, it's something to do with forgiveness. In this complex world we live in, that forgiveness always comes at an expectation that the forgiven party brings something in return, or continues to be penitent, or working off the damage done. Could Grace simply be, Forgiveness minus the mute or vocal expectation of the work to repair the damage?
Could the younger son have come back to the father, asking for a lesser kind of grace?
Could the father be giving the son pure forgiveness, grace without impurity?

In my next post, I will bring God into this equation of Grace, and talk about why I feel this “Superior Grace” is necessary.  

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Immortal Souls

In our lives, we make choices that damage other people. No matter whether these choices are intentionally harmful, the damage comes as an unintended side-effect, or the choice damages one person less than another, the damage done has damaged someone else. At this point, I believe everyone who draws breath agrees with me. The next step is to decide how to approach the damage done.

This is where I become quite religious. I believe that, if we are merely “it” (as it were), then damage on another is quite frivolous; another effect of a rise to greatness – one must step on the shoulders (and sometimes forcefully) of others to achieve greatness in this world. Your insults, threats, and inconsideration of another has very little impact on the world; you could be a genuinely awful person, and the world would reward you if you were financially successful. On the flip-side, you could be the kindest person in the world, and statistically make no mark on it. One could be kind “for the sake of it”, simply because it is right.

As my post “In Defense of Significance” showed, I feel pulled to a higher calling. The most difficult thing for me in Christianity is that I cannot look at the world as being inhabited by people. Flesh and blood automatons are too simplistic. As a Christian, I see every person as their soul. As a man after God's own heart, I try to see people as God would – the immortal soul who passes on after the vessel of flesh cannot support it.

Our bodies' mortality is caused by the oppressive nature of a soul on its container. After many, many years, it finally succumbs to the pull of gravity, and can no longer bear the burden inside. That's when we pass on from half-nature, half-spirit, and become a full spirit, with all the memories that it shared with its vessel. These blessed vessels then return to nature.

Thus, if one deals with immortal souls, one must also deal with the damaging of said beings. I will bring forth examples, then answer them all in kind:
Recently, a friend of mine was separated from the one she loved (no, this isn't you). Even a week after the occurrence, she is still not in a mental state fit enough to attend classes.
Equally recently, I was left alone when a friend of mine (who has done this before(no, this isn't you)) left early and had an incredible, memorable time with other friends of mine.
Much longer ago, I went to an event with friends, and I spent much, much more time with one friend that another. It turns out she was somewhat put off by my somewhat desertion of her.
Even longer ago, I had to choose between two people who were equally unloved by the group I was with.

In all these cases, souls were damaged. I cannot begin to demand that humanity as a whole becomes better, not because it is futile, but because we are such young souls. Individually, we have a miniscule amount of experience – less than a paltry hundred years for most – and history has shown that, although humanity is several millenia old, it is still continuing the same mistakes of the past. Our souls – even the wisest, strongest, and most respected amongst us – are still quite young. Our bleeding edge of discovery is Heaven's Stone Age. We are such young souls, we have still not grasped what we should and should not do.

From my limited experience, I have come to agree with a verse from the Bible, long before I heard of it.
“ justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8b)
Mercy is written all over the Bible, and I find myself most pleased when I exercise it. Even when someone else offends you, be complacent and approach them with kindness and mercy.
Justice is a thing reserved for people with more figures in their paychecks, generally. But, as with mercy, it is written all over the Bible, and painted on this Earth. When a misdeed is being carried out (modern slavery, for example), people who see it take steps to end it. Justice is not a thing to be reserved for people with more responsibility; God himself put a soul into your mother's womb, and had that soul be reared from birth to where you are, reading this post. He gives you and I the responsibility of a soul, which is much more than I would expect of him. Seeing as you are simply one soul, ask others for input; this is misdeed as terrible as I see it as? Will you help me end it? Then, multiple souls tied together for a common cause, you can take authority.
What is to keep you from abusing this authority? Look above to when I touched on God's rearing up of our souls. God makes several souls a second, cares for seven million constantly, and still has enough time left to have made you, shaping you, forming you. He is much above anything else in the world. For me, it is a thin line between taking a stand against perceived injustices and arrogating the throne of judgment and wielding the sword of God without His approval. Walking humbly through life is also written all through the Bible, and in this world. In all this, remember you are still one person.

So, in conclusion, I would ask that, if you are reading this, remember that with the mantle of Christianity comes the responsibility to treat everyone, not as people, but as immortal souls. Every scar you make doesn't go away, it is simply covered, plastered over by other events in the souls' existence. Upon mortal death, the past experiences of the soul burst away from its shell; it remembers its first thoughts, what it ate for dinner on the last day of middle school, when Jimmy broke its pencil in high school, when the calculator failed during that exam.
This may sound morbid, especially for those who have lost loved ones. Here's where it gets amazing. (If you are a Secular Humanist, I am no longer speaking to you). Since Jesus died for our sins, those damages can be forgiven, in this world or the next. Much moreso, souls are much tougher than anything in this world; the slings and arrows of a sharp tongue merely scrape. People under this assault can be rescued. A small scrape can be covered. Sometimes, one must peel away layers to get at a thorn in the shell, and in this case, the soul assisting the one in distress learns much more than it bargained for about the damaged soul. This dynamic makes life a miracle.
We are all damaged souls; I’ll be the first to say that my cracks are deep and rip open from time to time. Caverns of memories years deep spew horrid memories from darker times in my life, and it takes time for these to die down again. After my grandparents on my mother's side passed away, I began having spells of speculation on my mental state once my father passed away. I would get caught on the memory, and I would come to on the floor, racking with anguish. Not because I would lose him, but because I would miss him while I wait to join him.
I feel that I have touched on enough of this subject for this post, though there is most certainly more to touch on later.
More to come. 

Friday, October 12, 2012

Poet Searching for a Stage

I have been given an incredible gift in my life, one which has a degree of uniqueness that I find incredible. This gift has no large following (that I know of) that many of its contemporaries enjoy, but I feel that this can be used to just as great an effect as said contemporaries. If you are one of the few people I am blessed to know, you can name this gift easily.

The art of Spoken Word, I believe, is something that God hand-picked for me. He put Ms. Ruth is my life at the ripe young age of eleven, to reveal my skill to me and the world. Even though I reeled at this new-found art in my life, he did not stop there, going on to throw inspiration in my life from everywhere; a pattern of the wall or something the teacher said in a lecture. It was only later, when I bought my poem book, that I realized the degree of skill I was given in this field.

Years later, I learned the value of being humble with this gift, though no fault of mine caused the epiphany. I found that, if I put myself as the creator of this poetry, I would be usurping the throne of God in my arrogance. It would be as if I, a man with a decent singing voice, were to sing a song by Chris Tomlin as if I sang as well as he can, when he was in the car with me barreling down the highway. God made birds, and their voices are much greater than mine. I assure you, I do my best to refrain from calling this poetry “mine”.

After an entire book is filled (I have ten pages left of my original journal), I finally feel I have a wide enough variety of topics to be of use to a wide variety of audiences. This is inspired by a verse I was reading yesterday, prompted by a prior mentor and persisting friend of mine, Bobby Musil. In asking him where God wanted me to go in my life, he responded with three passages from the Bible, one of which was the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5-7. Chapter 7 verse 7 reads:

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

(by the way, Bobby, I have read through these passages multiple times, but I need to read through them more)
I will begin knocking here. Even if you are not a leader in your ministry, church, or organization, please pass this along to them. I will speak before a variety of audiences, from school gatherings (my alma mater happens to be a Christian private school), to church services, to business meetings. I only have two requirements:

-The purpose of the function be glorifying Jesus Christ, whether directly or simply a Christian function.
-I am not glorified over Christ.

The service will be free (as a college student, I am obligated to accept donations). If you are interested, my email is

Email me, or pass my email along to someone who will. And thank you, for giving me the opportunity to share this inspiration. Here is one of my pieces (Note: I need to record this again; this audio did not please me)

subjects of poetry:
the spirit of giving/serving
The Prodigal Father
the High Road
Others soon to come

Friday, October 5, 2012


Today, i have a poem, inspired by God's Word, spoken through a man after His own heart.
This is based off of the Story of the Lost Son - Luke ch.15: 11-32

The enemy I have listened to,
Whispered me a gilded sick lie,
Cropped out all of its truth,
I was sold on a lie that looks good to the eye.

In the house, (not free from sin),
I fell prey to the lies of if & when,
Took my inheritance,
My Father thought erased,
And left to far away to waste my grace.

I spent it all, and famine came,
Once so strong, I became so lame.
Mistakes made real through unforeseen,
Through trial, from the lie, I was weaned!

This incredible letdown of a lifetime,
Let me go astray,
Twas inconceivable at the time,
That this is where I’d be!

I came to my senses at my lowest ebb,
Was feeding pigs when I set my thoughts straight,
Thought to extricate myself from this web,
And how much food Father's servants ate.

And so I made a speech for Him,
Twenty-seven letters long,
I’d beg retribution for my sin,
Through punishment, I’d atone the wrong!

As I was still far away,
I saw a figure run to me,
My Father! I know He hates,
I prepare my speech, my plea:

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and in Your sight-
I am no longer worthy to be called Your son--”
Your embrace muted me, in Your love I calmed my plight,
You held me as You threw a party for Your found son.

All along, I thought:
“O Great Father, I don't deserve the gift!
I've taken Your inheritance and squandered it!
What I’d done to deserve Your love I can't think of,
But let me work in Your fields till the kingdom come!

Why do You kill the fatted calf for me?
After all I've done – I've made You weep!
Is it this strong, my Father – Your Love??
This is the love of the One Above!”

But what of my brother? Where is he?
You leave my side to go out to him,
He hears not Your call, ignores Your plea,
His anger boils over at the brim:

“Why revel for this son of Yours?
He spoiled your will – HAVE YOU FORGOT?
No party given for my constant work,
Though this party shows his punishment is naught!”

The rage consumed him, with one word You calmed -
“Teknon – child – loved one – be calm.
There is a place in My House for you;
But my son was lost – is found! - joy so true!”

These brothers are us -
One far away, one thinks he's close,
One wastes grace, the other works for more -
BOTH equally loved, both thought not,
Such grace was not easily bought

It took the Teller of this story true,
To let Himself die for us – and you,

The story of the Prodigal Father –
Lavish in every grace and way,
I, a proud man, as it were,
Am humbled by the power of His Word!

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Pulpit Freedom Sunday

This Sunday, dubbed “Pulpit Freedom Sunday”, several thousand pastors are going to state their political beliefs in front of their congregations. I have mixed feelings on the subject, as I will delineate below. For the purposes of this delineation, I will make myself falsely superior to all, so that I can avoid claims of pride. I do not need my conscious intruding on a topic such as this.

I am pleased that Christian people are fighting an injustice they feel is present, rather than (for many years) relying on simply passively allowing the will of God to work. (Note: this is a rather harsh statement, though I mean this for the Church in general, not any specific congregation, nor even a region of congregations. Rather, the direction the Body itself has taken.)

On the other hand, I am angered at the direction these pastors take. God doesn't need our petty human alliances preached from a pulpit, and he surely doesn't want them. If a pastor wishes to endorse a political party, then I would think he should then preach the values the candidate or party holds, and have the people come to the party themselves. Separation of Church and State, I believe, should hold true both ways. These two friends should remain apart, though you'd think they never do.

Personally, I feel the government should remain secular, without any religious influence, while the people operating it carry their religious views. Thus, preaching politicos at the pulpit make me shudder for their faith. I must be missing something, for thousands of men of faith much stronger in their faith than I have decided that this is okay. But, if these men preach to the masses, that gives them the impression that God allows such things, and that God has a stake in human government. With this flawed view of God, these masses would then challenge many other things, and attempt to make the government of this nation Christian.

This may sound amazing to a Christian, until you take into account the rest of the people of America. Suddenly, a Christian government is more harsh to the other religious opinions, and the American Experiment suffers. Furthermore, I feel Christianity is something best to be spread on a one-to-one basis; a government of Christianity would drown people in the scripture, and we'd lose many, many people sue to the unavoidable nature of the gospel in this nightmare scenario. It's as if you turn the lights on in a room of sleepers; the light harms them so much. 

This is simply a cautionary warning for my fellow Christians: Leave your political views on the sanctuary doorstep. If you must talk about politics, talk about the people themselves, not their party or affiliations. Keep the debate about ideals, not people. For all people are flawed; if it were a judgment call based on the merits of any candidate (of any race), I would be hard-pressed to judge. God cares not for the politics of humankind, thus you should try to follow in his example. Note the word, try. 

Simply the hastily-written report from a flawed man.  

Monday, October 1, 2012

A Fictitious Theory on Godhood

Note: The theories explained in this post have no weight on my perceptions of reality, but are merely as fictitious in my mind as the stories of dragons and magic I am equally enamored with

A long time ago, I read half of The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, wherein I was introduced to an exciting theory, and this is an abstract of the writing: thinking from a nonbeliever's perspective, the listening to our every thought of, responding to said thoughts of, and manipulations of a higher power as recorded in the Bible would point to the existence of technology so advanced, so incredible. The fact that we have yet to find a single tangible piece of evidence toward this power points further to its omnipotence. But, because the term of technology was used, it impregnates the mind with a thought that humans can achieve this ability.

Then, I began to delve into the realm of fiction further, melding this theory with the theory of multiple universes, or that this universe is a cycle of collapse and re-expansion. The result is that in a past expansion, mortals developed the technology of gods, and survived the collapse. Then, they honed this, and became higher powers, entities, giving up their “humanity”, their “mortality”, to become god(s). could not these “gods” develop technology to produce separate creations, as I did in my blog post earlier?

Thus, a new area of fiction erupts in my mind. Demons could be the angels of another demigod, and our demigod could be the first to make a perfect species, hiding his creation from the others, for he knows of their jealousy. Could the constellations then be other demigods, searching for us while they take their laboratories with us? Could not a black hole be the garbage pile of the gods, where one would find the best materials?

As you can see, this is the fiction I dabble in. In the future, I will produce a novel based on the idea. I've always wanted to make a “sensible” notion for magic to occur, and technology of such an advanced degree as to allow for such “magic” would make for an interesting twist.

Stay Tuned. 

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Saving Our Bacon

The last time I had a strip of bacon was August 13, the day before I left for college for my last year there. It was then that my parents could afford to let me have a strip. I can't remember when the bacon famine began, but it was hitting everyone hard. My entire family sat on the floor around a cardboard box that was all we had, once we sold the table, chairs, silverware, and microwave to buy the single pigslice. The single fluorescent light swung gently above use, casting its glow, which the strip on the box reflected with effulgence. To our family, this strip of bacon was passed down from the Father, brought down on the wings of angels, giving a chorus of praise and worship to this almighty fragment of swine.

Indeed, it was a glorious piece of bacon: the red parts seemed rigid enough to be crunchy, the pale slivers cutting a path through the valleys of gracious, rolling red. The entire swine slice glistened under the fluorescent light, adding another layer of holiness to the awe-inspiring cut.

The next door neighbors were bound in the living room; after hearing of our acquisition of the package, they attempted to steal it. However, my father put a stop to that before it began, hanging their patriarch out front. Horrid place we live in where one must murder to keep this treasure.

After fortifying the front entrance, we turned from the stalkers on the road. The bacon strip called to me, and I knew it was time. The family looking on, I picked up the slice, broke off a piece, and put it in my mouth. The flavor hit me immediately, dizzying me. The pure elation of flavors in my mouth paralyzed me, with the rest of my strip in hand.

The slice took a half hour for me to eat fully. Once I ate it, my father went out front with a shotgun, firing off a single shot. I remember back late in the year 2012, when this epidemic was simply a “shortage”, a curiosity, a farming mishap. Nobody expected the pigs were dying, but they were. In order to damage their masters, and thus lessen the damage done to them, they committed suicide en masse. This led to the “Great Bacon Race of '13”, where people rushed to Texas to grab the bacon before it became scarce. After the bacon baked away, the economy collapsed, hope vacant from the capitalist system. Now, in the fifth year of the Bacon Crisis, synthetic bacon is top dollar, and the true bacon piece I ate legally doesn't exist.

Please, 2012. Don't let this happen. This is just the beginning. We must unite, for our lives and livelihoods! We need to save our bacon, both literally and in a figurative sense! We must continue eating, keeping the pigs away from cliffs or sharp objects. The future is in us. The future is in bacon. The future is now.

Paid for by the Organization to Save Our Bacon.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

My God is an Initiator.

This post was inspired by the image below, and both describes my feelings about my religion and inspires this post.

I once drew during class. It was a tessellation, and it was one of the most detailed things I ever put onto paper in a fifty-minute setting. It was a simple pinwheel, but I expanded it, using a set length increment to increase its size, I very meticulously worked at it, getting the lines perfect. I added more and more complexity, finding that the patterns I added to it synthesized with the old ones, becoming a more intense pattern, which expanded and contracted multiple times, before finding its happy end in the middle, where I started.

Inspired by this, I went home and expanded further, going into the third dimension. I no longer have this, as it was made with Lego sticks, but upon completion, I had a retractable ovular third-sphere, which, due to the seemingly random color choices I made, looked like an eye – black pupil, green iris (with many blue and red imperfections), and white background. The extra dimension was unintentional, but the physical pieces, unhindered by the second dimension I drew in class, stretched to make this amazing creation. Intrigued, I reversed the pattern near the corners of the eye, using other sticks I colored myself, now intending a plan for this.

In short, I made a face, it was quite large, and very flimsy. Sadly, the thing disintegrated, and I forgot the patterns I used. But, for that brief moment in time, I was god over something; I used an intentional pattern to make something I found satisfying. It was only much later, staring at the pile of Legos pulled apart by gravity's lure, that I made the connection of an overarching Creator. For I, with my limited means, made a beautiful thing within a single day, and which didn't last very long. I ignored it, and it went into shambles. But my God (I would go further into explaining this God, but that's not the purpose of this blog post) made the world, and did not leave it alone.

For, true perfection is something which is added to constantly. I could have added more structural stability to my creation, but the stability would have damaged the face of my creation, and would not have made it beautiful in my eye. I also could have stayed with my creation, not only maintaining, but expanding further, using my patterns to make the rest of the body; my God did, and so much more.

He made not only me, but he made every single person on Earth, every fleck of dust in space, and every phenomenon. All of it is by his hand; every eruption, every downpour, every birth is observed and maintained by Him, and it all follows patterns of such unimaginable complexity that, using human words and terms, I would shame myself by attempting to describe it (though I will indeed attempt to).

Not only did he create it but, through a combination of the most complex algorithms and structures, he put forth patterns that replicate themselves, that increase in complexity, all by themselves. He is not only the Creator, but the Ultimate Initiator; Creation sometimes starts as a simple, small pattern, which expands exponentially by itself. But the Creator, the Initiator, stays with it, until the Creation is mature enough to give praise to its creation; at that time, the Creator, gracious and pleased by His Creation's praise, continues to expand, adding his signature to multiple parts of this new sub-reality. Eventually, this Creation becomes so complex that it meets the Creator's complexity, and melds with it. Even still, the Creation understands its subservience to its Creator.

My God happened to allow certain parts of this Creation to partake in His reality directly, upon their expiration in the sub-reality. If I join him when my tenure in this world expires, I will thakn him directly, for creating a Creation of such complexity as to allow for sub-realities to spawn within themselves; to allow a child such as myself, half asleep in a morning class, to build a miniature reality in fifty minutes, then to take that reality and expand it within a day to become something I didn't even imagine possible, which I could passively expand by simply letting the patterns I created take hold.

This is my God, who guides His Creation's creations.  

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Fifty Stars Are Stripped?

A short message today,and a quick dip into the political schemata.

The Presidential Race has been throwing mud for over a year now, and I mostly felt it was even, and that I wasn't bought on either of the candidates. Recently, though, one of the major candidates' campaign replaced the stars in the American Flag with their campaign logo. This show of absolute and total arrogance, removing the individual states and bastardizing the flag with your own logo, your own ideal, is so against the original intention of the flag, that I fear your campaign has descended into Socialism.

First, a disclaimer on the matter: I would say the same for anyone. If Chuck Norris were to replace the stars with his face, I would speak out against him. If anyone does such a damning thing to my flag, I will never support such a jaded campaign.

The American Flag has fifty stars to symbolize the fact that we may be a unified State, but we are fifty separate States under one banner. Each state is different, and THAT is diversity on a map. The stars are an integral part of the flag, and if the two-hundred-forty-someodd-year old stars are replaced by such a fatuous, temporal symbol of your own over-blown importance, I will rip your logo off and place the shining glories back on.

This Flag will not stand for your arrogance. I will not stand for this, and I would love to hear somebody try to rationalize this offensive mockery of the flag.   

Sunday, September 16, 2012

My Two Cents on Hell

Outside of my campus' most famous eatery, I enjoyed a snow cone, courtesy of the Baptist Collegiate Ministry. Whilst gnawing through the solid, brick-like portion of the cone, I partook in evangelism. An older gentleman was questioning younger one on his standing on salvation. In the end, the younger one left with much to think about.

I had two responses, which I relayed to the older gentleman. The first is a question of the effect the speech had on the younger one's soul. Many people are quite against the Christian ideal of Hell. The arbitrary “pit of fire” seems like a threat to many people, Christians included. I would like to share my two cents on the subject.

First, to the non-religious crowd: I’m sorry, I don't have much of a witty remark here. Hell ain't rosy at all. I wish I could say something more kind on this matter, but I honestly cannot. Hell sucks. But it is not necessarily a pit of fire. Let me describe it like this. Many people understand drowning. Most of the world has seen water, and felt the need to hold one's breath when submerged. Though, when one drowns, it is not a climatic event; when one begins drowning in earnest, they just float there, nearly paralyzed. I’m not sure why, they simply do. It looks almost calm.

Burning alive, on the other hand, is different. Many people have not been set on fire; it is a terrifying mystery. What we know is that, when we put our hand on the hot stove, it burns. Thus, a pit of fire is seen as quite an excruciating eternity. Thus, it is a common image of Hell.

In reality, Hell is ultimate separation from God. To a religious man, it is a fate literally worse than death. For my idea on how one gets to this place, see below.

To the religious crowd: I’m not about to get on a high horse and order you, so I’m going to simply state my own opinion on the subject. I believe that, by default, I am going to Hell. In lieu of the actions I have done, and the man I am, I deserve and expect it. Now, if it turns out that God would like me to be with Him for eternity, then I will be eternally grateful and undeserving. That's for God to decide.

This is simply my view on the matter, as I have not studied enough of this subject to make a statement that concerns everyone. I would love to learn more, for, as a Christian and a human being, Hell excites and terrifies me. I offer these two stanzas of an as-of-now unfinished song as my closing:

O great father, I don't deserve the gift,
I’ve taken your inheritance and squandered it,
What I’ve done to deserve your love, I can't think of,
But let me work in your fields til the kingdom come!

Why do you kill the fatted calf for me?
After all I’ve done- I made you weep!
Is your love really this strong?
Tis the inspiration of this song!

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

In Defense of Miracles

A short paraphrase from C. S. Lewis' Miracles, in my own words:

The nature of miracles is confused. People hold the belief, and for sound-albeit narrow-reason, that no perfect God would intrude upon this world and alter it in such a way that the bible tells. A perfect God would never need to add to his masterpiece. There's a similar camp which suggests that the “Natural World” does not need intrusion by a deity, and in fact rejects such intrusion. Now, I will answer these two claims, the second simply (and first), the first in a more complex way later.

The Natural World cannot reject an intrusion from the supernatural, much in the same way a “chair” cannot keep “someone” from sitting in it when said “someone” chooses, so long as this “someone” created the “chair” to be sturdy enough to support said “someone” (for, this “someone” is a very large, and powerful “person”. It takes a strong world to support Him). In fact, this “chair” oftentimes benefits from this “someone” sitting it it; its purpose is being fulfilled. In fact, this “someone” who made this “chair” is so skilled that the “chair” is, in a whole sense, invulnerable to any degradation or rot. A leg may break, but “someone” always fixes it to make it whole. The “chair” enjoys the creator's sitting, and fixing.

Secondly, this gets more difficult to explain (and that chair metaphor was tough to fill in the holes (i.e., “invulnerable chair”)). After all, I simply explained that Nature won't reject nor can reject God's “interference” or “intrusion” (indeed, it's more like a good King checking in on his serfs(constantly); they run out and greet him). It gets more convoluted attempting to explain the reason behind God's need to “intrude”, and I bring you to my friend. He's read through the first book in a series, and enjoyed the political intrigue. He assumed the other books would be full of the same machinations as the first one, an indeed it seemed the first book's ending fed directly into those assumptions. Though the author was much more interested in the first book leading into what he described as a book with “too much magic, not enough political intrigue”. Apparently, the gloriously famous book was more unlike the rest of the series, and this turned off many a fan.

Throwing another example into the mix, pick any outrageously famous poet, author, or artist you heard about in grade school. Remember how you noticed that they disobeyed rules that you were sure were set in stone, the most basic rules of the skill? Robert Frost was made an enemy for the longest time in my eyes with his piece, Mending Wall. Frost, in my eyes, ignored all functions of common poetry, writing a badly metered jumble of words (which I later came to recognize the beauty and flow of) that I could not stand. I complained to the teacher, asking how he could pass off the piece as poetry. In another case, I was infuriated at Shakespeare – how dare he make lines that make no sense; how dare he throw words of his own in the mix! In both cases, the artist had proven himself far superior, and was able to have more leniency in their pieces. In fact, these pieces became some of the most memorable pieces in their careers, and in my childhood.

Let's go back to the book series. My same friend went through the entire series (he is apparently a Masochist), muddling through all the magic fluff. He went back to me later, and praised the series. He said that the series turned around, that the magic actually led back into politics, and the two synthesized to make the story more massive than he believed. It was in reading further into the complexities that he understood that the author of this series, this creation, was using an entirely different storyline, using different rules than my friend has presumed. This mirrors many people's thoughts on miracles all too well, though they sadly do not take the extra step and read more deeply.

Last point, and I’ll close. The skepticism due miracles is because we view them as superfluous, with no goal, simply “a fluffy good deed”. Much like my friend above, they read into the first small bit of the creation they see, and use the rules viewed—the perspectives seen—to write their limits on God. But we are not the main story, and miracles are not aimless. If miracles do exist, then they are the heralds of every new chapter in the Book of Life. They are momentous occasions, which have been set forth from the Most High. Miracles are God's creative license, and, much like grade school children, we only see them as breaks from the norm (much like Frost's poems) and berate them for the author's “lack of ingenuity”, or “lack of skill” in the “blunder”. But, much (much, much) more than Shakespeare and Frost, God's poetic licenses are what make Him unique, inspirational, memorable, and ingenious. 

Sunday, August 26, 2012

In Defense of Significance

Many people adopt the Atheist view of life because they perceive a folly in belief. Understandably, they reject the burden of a higher power, preferring the freedom Atheism bestows. I am not here to debate this point to others; I merely give my testimony I recently came to realize, and to request a difficult thing from people.

I’ve become increasingly annoyed at non-Christian radio, and I could never put my finger on it. Adding to this angst was that fact that Christian radio is painfully repetitive, and usually very outdated. But I stayed with it, not knowing why. A few weeks ago, I went to a good friend, who inquired on my anger.
Put this on the shelf for a while, I’ll get back to it.

That same friend observed that I tended to be very forgiving to other people, and not forgiving to myself. At the time, I had no response. Time, though, has bestowed its gift on me these last few weeks, and given me closure. I went back to him yesterday, and responded with this. Forgiveness is something you give to others more than yourself. If you forgive yourself, you give yourself the power to absolve yourself of all wrongs – and you think you play God with your wrongs. You delude yourself to thinking you attain the High Road when really you fall short. But I digress, let me get back on topic (I will cover this in more depth later).

The personal reason I do not forgive myself is that, with every fault of mine, I give a wrong image of the Christian. For, as a man of God, if I allow my faults to go unhindered, then I show the world a hated image of a Christian, one they expect. That I cannot allow (though it happens many times). If I have the power to change my ways, and I do not, I have done my God wrong. I’d rather be more of the older son than the prodigal, where self-forgiveness is concerned. Then again, a strong argument could be made that all Christians are the prodigal, and that I put too much pressure on myself. After all, it is in our nature to be sinners. Again, I’d rather be more harsh on myself than too lenient.

My friend then asked, why stay with Christianity? To that, I answered that Christianity gave me purpose and significance. Atheism seemed to me to be completely aimless, the definition of irrelevance. From the beginning, I despised that word. Recently I went to a Eagle Scout Court of Honor. The man being honored was a good friend of mine, but I couldn't find the courage to stay. I left scouting a while ago, long before my trail was finished, though I could not name why. Now I know: It was too significant. I was overwhelmed by it, disillusioned, I doubted and despised it. I didn't give it the time it needed to show it's power on me, and I chose insignificance over its counterpart. This was, is, and will be one of the regrets of my life.

Let's bring the topic of the music off the shelves from four paragraphs ago, and tie it in to the current topics in a clumsy transition. In all three of these cases, I struggle to find significance. In my life, I’ve realized recently, more than Grace, more than Forgiveness, I strive for Significance. My reason for belief is not only Grace, but the thing that keeps me thriving in my faith is the significance of faith. I have been given the charge to tell people about a supernatural power, a supreme, overriding God. The Significance imbued in me by this commission pushes me to awaken in the morning, breathes life into my poetry, inspires my words, and ignites my passions.

As I lost my significance by quitting the Boy Scouts, I face the same problem when observing Atheism. I would lose much of my inspiration, many of my weekly activities, if I were to shed the armor of my faith. I would find myself without aim. And I cannot let that happen. Atheism is my antithesis. It fascinates me, but only as a Chia Pet would. I would want to know more about it, though I would never want to own one. It would sit, idle, wondering aimlessly why it exists, until its green fronds die out. Then, it simply passes on.

Again, this applies to me alone. I am not trying to subvert anyone's beliefs and replace them with my own. But, when one experiences the thrill of learning, for the first time in eighteen years, what drives him or her, it is incredibly difficult to keep that inspiration hidden. For, if one keeps his or her beliefs hidden, then they do not have conviction to share them. I charge you, the reader, to find Significance in your life. When you stay significant, you stay alive.

And that truly is a remarkable endeavor.  

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

In Defense of Bigotry

I feel I must expound upon my previous topic, my view of homosexuality. I will take a step back, and approach the topic of bigotry in general. Bigotry is the belittling and shaming of one idea, lifestyle, or opinion. Whether or not this shaming and belittling is based on fact or not is of no concern to the definition, though in recent years, the word has been skewed to the state where one is assured that there is no backing to said shaming. Thus, bigotry is a word used to describe the worst of oppression. Personally, I feel this word has been used too much in society (much in the same way as the “racist” card would be pulled, though this card is more flexible).

In recent days, anyone who feels their position is just can simply pull out this “bigotry card” and instantly turn the population against their rivals. Examples include homosexual rights, “class warfare”, and racism. In all three cases, in today's day and age, I feel this card is used in many more cases to vilify the opposition than is just. I have not traveled the world much, but my experience has shown me that people of this age are generally open and accepting. My experience has also shown me that there are things so vile to some that they will not approach others engaging in the act. I, upon encountering a Pepsi drinker, usually scream, throw my hands up in the air, and run into the nearest forest, where I recover from my harrowing experience. This would describe about the most violent reaction I have towards any group.

My point is, if you are the minority in any given opinion, then going on a personal vendetta against the paradigm will not win you any awards. There is such a thing as bigotry against bigotry (or, “anti-bigotry”), and it can be just as narrow-minded and nonsensical as the original bigotry. People are entitled to their beliefs, and hating them for it will do you no good. Hate will be answered by further hate, and the vicious cycle escalates. I propose grace. If you have a man who hates you because your sexuality, then be kind. Feeding hate with kindness starves it of its gusto, and effectively kills it. This may take several years, though I have seen firsthand the effect it has, much like the tide (slowly moving sand until there's a completely new shoreline)

On another note, the person on the other side of the debate also is entitled to their opinion. In the land of the free, the culture sets the norms. These norms are becoming more and more amorphous, and eventually, your rights will be given. Wage a war of peace, and it'll come sooner. You must prove to the world that your movement is mature and responsible. Much like a human's maturation, the world will not take the movement seriously unless it proves it can be taken seriously. With this recent event with Chick-fil-a, the homosexual community showed that it cannot accept anyone who differs from their opinion, much like an immature entity. Add to this the fact that the anti-bigotry was much more harsh than the bigotry itself, and the homosexual community came out seeming very immature and selfish.

My opinion is that the homosexual community should be given equality in the eyes of the law, as we are built on equality. The culture, though, should decide what the norms are and what they aren't, and that opinion is based off of millions of differing views, with a very, very wide average. It's very difficult to gauge the average of millions of opinion, though it has been done by pushing the average's change (Martin Luther King Jr., can attest to this). I simply ask that, when you do push, be gentle. The minds of millions cannot easily be swayed, and they all shut against hate.  

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