The Flame of Hope

"I'm not who I was.

I've lost focus on You, the only One Whom I need to focus on. I've been swallowed in pride and other worldly things, and I haven't been putting You first. I can't do this on my own. I need Your hand to lift me back up and pull me closer to You. I've been lost, but instead of calling for You, I've tried to find my way back on my own. But I only wandered in different directions and became more lost. So I'll stop moving. I'll stop searching. I'm calling out for you. And I'll wait here so You can come find me. Rescue me. Pick me up. Hold me close to You. And carry me home. Because I can't walk on my own any longer."

I wrote these words in my journal a few months ago.

This past weekend I had the great privilege to participate in a youth conference. I was moved and inspired during the conference, but a pinnacle time for me was actually the night before.

My brother and I stayed the night with the youth organizers of the event. That night, we all gathered in the chapel for praise and worship. I can't put that into words. No earthly words can describe feeling the presence of the Holy Spirit. (I know He is always with us, but we don't always reach out for Him, or notice He is there.) But I will say with outstretched arms He did pick me up. After listening to an inspirational transformation story from one of the teens, we all took a small candle which bore the word "hope" and lit it from a main candle.

We all have a flame. Sometimes it burns bright, other times it is dim. Then there are periods in our life where our flame has been blown out- either by ourselves or by others. But, they pointed out, all it takes is one spark. One spark to reignite that light. In that moment, I realized- relighting my candle was not something I could do on my own. I was wandering in the dark. While searching for light, I kept bumping into things- I couldn't see since my light was so dim. But that night, His light was shining so bright- spiritually and physically- that I could see it like a lighthouse beaming through all the spiritual fog which clouded my vision.

The teens there carried the light of Christ to me, and re-lit my candle of hope.

Revenge.

Revenge.
Revenge takes purpose out of suffering. It only travels in reverse. It gets you no where.
There is always reward through suffering. Some do not endure the suffering, and by trying to escape it, may lose their reward, yet they still served a purpose because others are affected by that suffering.

If someone were to be caused great hardship, and upon leaving the suffering is given a great reward, they may either-
1. take the reward, and benefit others
or
2. use their reward to quench their vengeance against those who did them wrong.

But what a waste! What a waste of life, of suffering, and of a reward! This person has been wronged, but then by using the gifts which came out of their suffering, to get their revenge on their wrongdoers- what has been accomplished? For someone's sole purpose in life to be to hurt those who hurt them..."an eye for an eye"...what has changed? We all still have an eye- except now we've all been wounded, and our eyes- mine in your hand, and yours in mine- serve no purpose since they aren't in our sockets...but, oh sure- we're "even."

A man, betrayed and unjustly imprisoned, upon escape is blessed with unfathomable wealth. Instead of taking this wealth, giving back in gratitude towards those who did good to him (which he does to a degree), sharing it with those he loved, and focusing on assisting others less fortunate (such as he once was, dying in prison), he uses it to take revenge on those who betrayed him. With this wealth given by providence, he wants only to play providence. He spends majority of his after-escaped life and fortune dealing out his vengeance. Once all who had in his eyes destroyed him had been destroyed BY him, what has he achieved? What is left? What purpose does he have? If these people had never betrayed him- yes he would not have suffered as he did- but even more he would not have received the wealth and power which he did. His betrayers were not only responsible for his suffering, but for his wealth. He then takes that wealth to unleash his revenge against them, claiming that only death can stop him from this. If these people had not done wrong to him, the ill-fortune caused by the man's revenge would not have happened to them.
He does not succeed in triumph, but only allows his life to be ended and wasted by these actions of theirs.
A person thirsting for revenge allows himself to be conquered by those who did wrong to him. They do not live their life, but focus and remain on this hurt. They are given a gift and purpose through their suffering, but they then choose to spend it on those who caused them to suffer.

(I'm referring to a book...you get a cookie if you know to which one I am referring.)
And oh yes. Hello there. Long time no post.

We Are Created Perfect.

We are all created perfectly. And why wouldn't we be? We have been created by a Perfect Creator, so why do we struggle with understanding we are just that- perfect? We are made in the likeness and image of our Maker- and He is definitely perfect- so we must be made perfect as well. Just to clarify, I don't mean our souls, or our choices…no, those aren't perfect. Those decisions, actions, and pasts are all made by us- not by a Perfect Maker. But those things we are given by the Creator- our bodies, our intelligence and minds…are made perfect. You may challenge this. Perhaps you or someone you love is coping with an illness. Maybe it's cancer, maybe it's a trauma that caused some drastic change in life, maybe it's a daily struggle to keep up or a lack of an ability. Society tells us that these are flaws, or that we are 'damaged' but this is so untrue. How could a Perfect Creator create something damaged or flawed? He can't.
Therefore- We are created perfect for our purpose.

 

The Night Before America Changes

It is the night before the election. The fate of America comes down to tomorrow. This may be a moment I recall in the future to my children. Sitting on my couch, feeling the vibrations of my cat's pur through my legs as she lies on my lap- without the slightest understanding of this moment. I'm typing on my open blogger page, not really knowing what to write...or even think. It is the night before America changes- REALLY changes. For better? For worse? Funny that although I am pretty involved and passionate about politics justice, freedom, and this Nation under God...I have no motivation to write some big poilitcal piece promoting the canidate I hope wins...I guess I'm just sick. Sick of all the politics. It's all I have heard about and discussed about for the last six months. Some of what I heard made my heart pound with enthusiasm, while seemingly more often making my heart twist with frustration and at times- yes, I'll admit- anger. Some of those discussions were of an agreeing irritation- others made me want to slam my head into a wall...to prevent myself from slamming theirs into a wall. Why am I not writing anything political? Why am I sitting here writing about what to write? Maybe I'm just too tired to dig up information and articles and evidence, and too tired to raise my blood pressure. Maybe I've realized that after all the arguing, fighting, debating, being exasperated from biased media coverage, trying to get through the thick-skulls of some selfish idiots, and worrying about what's to come...is just a waste of time. God is in control. He has plans which we don't know. While I'm praying for a president who will keep this one nation- one nation under God, He may have a different plan. Who knows. This may be the night before the begining of the next great persecution.

I have not lost hope, but I am no longer relying on it.
I now rely on trust.

In God We Trust.

 

Black Ice

I wrote this on a long car ride during a blizzard. Cars were flipped over in the ditches about every ten yards. It was scary, but I know God was watching over us. Because of our destination, it was an emotional journey for me. And as I saw the wrecked cars pass by through my window, this is what I thought.

I’m driving on an icy road

In the dark, cold night.

Cars upside-down and in ditches

To my left and to my right.

I must drive cautiously and slowly

So I do not pay the price

For not being aware

Of the misleading black ice.

And these other cars,

I have no doubt,

Will be much more careful

After being saved from their spin-out.



This road is my life,

My temptations

-the ice.

Others are not careful

And lose control,

And into the ditches and depression

They roll.

They have to sit there

Until they call

On the One Who can save them

When they fall.

I must focus on the road

And not go too fast,

Because I never know

When I’ll be driving for my last.

12/25/10

NEVER FORGET

[This was supposed to be posted on Tuesday, but I was having internet problems.]
--


Where we were on that day eleven years ago, is something we shall NEVER FORGET.

I was standing below the phone, facing the wall, which bore the poster of the Pledge of Allegiance. I tried to say the words as my brother did- though I was a syllable behind- and I concentrated on the letters of that page, trying to match the words I heard with the symbols I saw, all while wondering why we were "invisible" under God.

*BRRRIIIING* The phone rang.

"Hello?" Mom answered.
-silence-

I can't recall her vocal response, but I do remember her face. It was stiff. Her hands trembled as she held the phone. My brother and I stood looking up at her, anticipating what the other half of the conversation could possibly be.

She eventually hung up the phone and turned to look down at us.
"Two airplanes crashed into the Twin Towers intentionally."
She shook.
I didn't quite understand. But what I did understand was that my mom and dad were frightened. My protectors-who weren't even afraid of monsters or robbers-were afraid now. They were afraid of this.
I may not have known exactly why- but I knew that I was scared too.

 

I See His Blood upon the Rose

I see his blood upon the rose,

and in the stars the glory of his eyes,

His body gleams amid eternal snows,

His tears fall from the skies.

I see his face in every flower;

The thunder and the singing of the birds

Are but his voice-and carven by his power

Rocks are his written words.

All pathways by his feet are worn

His strong heart stirs the ever-beating see,

His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,

His cross is every tree.

~Joseph Mary Plunkett

 How I wish I could be more like the author of this poem. Too often do I pass by a rose, ignore the sky, unappreciate the snow, get frustrated by rain...we should see the Author, the Artist, the Creator...in all His work. Everyday, we are given enough to remind us of His passion and sacrifice.

The precious red rose, should remind us of His precious red blood. The stars shine like His eyes, and His body radiates, full of purity, like the pure white snow.

The rain...the tears of God.

The faces of flowers, the new life they bring every spring, is like the face of Christ. Two very different sounds, "thunder and singing of the birds/ Are but His voice" He is all-powerful, yet gentle- He is meek.

"and carven by His power/ Rocks are His written words."

He is the solid Rock upon which we aim to build our house, our foundation for our Church. His ten commandments are carved into stone.

"All pathways by His feet are worn"

Jesus has traveled every road, and has been on every journey. We carry Him with us, He walks beside us. He is our Guide, the One Who never gets lost. He knows where each path leads, He knows what lies ahead. Lord, you know the path on which I walk...please guide my feet.

"His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea"

The power of God keeps the universe in motion. The rythym of collapsing waves is like His strong heart beat. His strong beat shakes the earth, and stirs the sea.

"His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn"

This line goes beyond merely being reminded of his crown when seeing thorns. Every hardship and thorn we suffer, is twined with His thorns. His crown of thorns is twined and weaved of our thorns and pain, which He bears upon His sacred head.

"His cross is every tree"