The Veil

On this Resurrection Sunday, I have been contemplating the veil of the temple. Matthew 27:50, 51 says, "And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom...."

What was the significance of the veil being rent in two pieces? And why from top to bottom? What is the veil in the first place?

The veil in the temple separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple. The Holy of Holies was the dwelling-place of God's presence on earth. Only the high priest was allowed to enter and even then, only once a year to atone for Israel's sins. The veil was symbolic of man being separated from God by his sin. According to the historian Josephus, the veil was around 60 feet high and four inches thick. Josephus goes on to say that two horses pulling in opposite directions could not tear the material that constructed the temple veil.

It's significant that the veil was torn from top to bottom, so that no one could claim that human hands had perpetrated a fraudulent miracle. We know that horses couldn't tear the four-inch-thick fabric--therefore, how could this material be rent in a natural explanation? And in case someone might conceive that it could be accomplished, surely no human could tear a 60 foot veil from the top. As this is recorded specifically in Scripture and elsewhere by historians, we must conclude that this event had witnesses.

So, if the veil was torn by God and not man, why did He do it? There are a couple of theories about this. It could have symbolized God coming down to man. Charles Spurgeon said, "In the East men express their sorrow by rending their garments; and the temple, when it beheld its Master die, seemed struck with horror, and rent its veil. Shocked at the sin of man, indignant at the murder of its Lord, in its sympathy with Him who is the true temple of God, the outward symbol tore its holy vestment from the top to the bottom."

However, the most important significance of the veil being ripped was to signal the end of the old covenant. The old system was done away with. The sacrificial system had ended as Christ once and for all paid the price for sin. There was now no need to continue with ritual or to pay the interest on our sin debt--it was now fully paid! There was now no separation between God and man. Jesus' death made it possible for us to boldly come before God. Jesus is our high priest, who made atonement for our sin, not yearly as the human high priest had done, but once for all. Hebrews has a lot to say about this. In chapter ten, we read, "And every priest stands ministering daily and offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God, from that time waiting till His enemies are made His footstool. For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.... Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water." Also, in chapter four, it is written, "Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess....Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

How awesome that we now have access to the throne room of God, through Christ's shed blood!

I had heard about a billboard that was up on the highway near where I live, advertising a church. It was controversial because of some of the things written on the billboard. I finally saw the sign this week and was struck by one of the beliefs of this "church." When I looked up their website, I found: "We do not, however, believe that Jesus is the only way to know God’s presence and experience God’s salvation. That same God or spirit of life and love is present in many religions around the world." For calling themselves a "Church of CHRIST," their belief about Jesus was pretty fishy: "We are not a “liberal” church that says whatever way works for you is fine, we simply recognize that Christianity is our way into the life of God but do not confuse that as being the only way into God who will not be defined by human barriers." Their list of beliefs seemed more like a political or social club, as opposed to a church. Very little of their beliefs had anything whatsoever to do with the Bible.

In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that I find it a travesty when humans dictate to God what is right or wrong, what is sin or acceptable, or even how you can get into heaven. How dare we? Who on earth do we think we are? Living in bodies God created, living on a planet that God made, breathing the very air that God brought into being. And yet, we think we can tell God how to run the universe He created? Can we honestly tell HIM under what circumstances that we will be coming to HIS heaven? Do we seriously tell the Creator of everything what we think the rules should be? How arrogant! Can you imagine your child telling you what the rules will be in your house, telling you what they will do, how they will do it, demanding money, etc. from you? Or if a peon in a huge corporation went to the CEO and told him how much salary he demanded to make, the benefits he required, and as long as he was at it, he would rather the company manufacture something different because he wasn't really "feeling" the product? Can you imagine clay on a potter's wheel standing up and telling the potter how he should mold the clay? Of course not! It's ludicrous! God does not run a democracy, folks. It's a theocracy and you better figure out what Theos' requirements are and get in line! Yes, God is loving, but he is God and we are not.

John 3:16 (a short story by Robin Lynn Davidson

Take Two: the following is a second version of a short story I wrote in an earlier blog.

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Emily opened her eyes reluctantly. She blinked in the early morning light slanting through the slats of the blinds. She lay there for a moment, then sighed, shoving back the covers. She reached for the clanging alarm, then pushed herself up to a sitting position and swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor. She stumbled to her laundry basket and fumbled through the jumbled up clean laundry. She silently berated herself for not folding it last night, but she'd been so tired. She pulled on a t-shirt and yanked up her sweats. Walking into the living room, she was suddenly aware how quiet the morning was. It was early, but still, the noise of the Bohemian neighborhood could always be heard plainly in her one bedroom, third-floor apartment. She ate her customary morning yogurt (always strawberry flavored) and laced up her shoes. She tucked her key and her cell phone in her pocket and skipped down the stairs. Pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she sat on the front stoop to stretch. Then she looked around. No cars. No people. No noise signaling the beginning of the day. Odd, she thought, but didn’t dwell on it long, as she concentrated on stretching her hamstrings. Then she began to run.

Emily was not a morning person by nature. Oh, but how she loved to run! Between her job at the office, her volunteer work at the library, and her large and slightly clingy family, who expected to see her daily, not to mention her mother and sisters constantly setting her up on blind dates, the mornings were all she had left. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was running from something when she jogged. Even so, when the wind whipped through her hair and her muscles burned and the only sound in her ears was her breathing and footfalls, she felt free and in control. She felt like she could be herself and think clearly. When she felt the sun on her face, she could imagine she was flying.

Somewhere around the sixth block, Emily thought again about the peculiar quietness this morning. She looked around and couldn’t recall seeing a single person since she’d left her apartment or even a single car passing her as she ran. As endorphins gradually charged up her sleepy mind, puzzlement replaced her morning reverie. Block after block she glanced from side to side. She looked down each crossroad. She looked up at balconies and peered into store windows. All was quiet and dark. There were no people waiting at the bus stop, no paperboys delivering stacks of newspapers, not even a dog barking. She took a turn off her usual route and headed for the market district. There was always lots of activity there, at any time of day. As she rounded the last corner, she stopped short. There was no hustle, no bustle. She panted, not from exertion, but from the beginnings of fear and shock. She pulled out her cell phone and called her mother. Her phone beeped and ended the call. She called her sister. Another beep. She checked her signal--she had five bars. She tried her other sister, her best friend, her dad, everyone in her contact list but not one call went through.

Emily strode towards one of her favorite restaurants and pulled on the door. Locked. She turned and went across the street to the boutique that her friend’s mom owned. The door was locked, but she went around to the back and let herself in with a hidden spare key. She walked through the store, aware of silence and loneliness pressing in on her as blank-faced mannequins stared. Maybe a landline would work. She went to the phone on the counter and dialed her mother, but a beep welcomed her and the phone went dead. Suddenly, relief washed over her as she decided that this must be some sort of prank her loved ones were pulling on her. But, how would they make the streets deserted? Maybe she was on a TV show, like Candid Camera. Or maybe today was a holiday and there was a parade somewhere and everyone had gone to watch. She glanced at the calendar next to the cash register and decided it wasn’t any holiday that she was aware of. Maybe I'm still asleep. Maybe this is a really vivid dream. Emily pinched herself to check. Nope, she was awake. Did I miss the memo? she wondered. Where is everyone? She dialed 911, but to no avail. Panic swept over every inch of her body and she felt an anxiety attack looming in her near future.

The urge to run was strong. Emily dashed out the back door without bothering to lock it behind her. As she ran, she passed her empty office, the vacant library, a park devoid of any activity. She ran all the way to her best friend’s apartment, but found it the same as the entire city seemed to be--deserted. Emily ran and thought and struggled to put it all together. She gradually became aware that somewhere along the way, the landscape around her had changed.

She was on a dusty dirt road and as she turned in a circle, she could see sand and rocky terrain over most of the horizon. She saw mountains: a confusing sight, considering she lived in the plains. Where had the city gone? Where was she? This nightmare was getting more and more bizarre. She walked towards some buildings that she assumed was a city. It looked like something out of a history book. Or at the very least, something from a middle eastern country. The buildings were squared off and made of stone. It looked ancient. She wandered the streets, wondering where she was. Or when she was, for that matter. I've jogged far before, but this is ridiculous, she tried to joke to herself, ignoring the tremor in her voice. After cautiously walking down several streets and seeing no one, she thought she heard a noise. She followed the sound down several more streets. It grew louder and louder until she was sure it was the clamor of a whole crowd of people. Finally! She started to cry in relief. She broke into a trot and followed the sound. As she reached a hill on the other side of the city, the noise stopped and there was no crowd anywhere to be seen. The only thing she saw was a wooden cross and a man hanging on it.

She saw the man and he saw her. Really saw her. He was dying, but she could see comfort in his eyes, as though he were comforting her. There was something else there too. She felt as if he knew her. She could tell he knew everything that she had ever done. She could almost see all of her actions played out in the air between them, as though on a movie screen. Her eyes dropped to the ground in a shame she did not comprehend.

"Daughter," said a strong, yet gentle voice. "Do not look away."

Emily reluctantly looked up to the man again. This time, when she looked into his eyes, she saw a love there that she had never seen before. But, the love wasn't just spelled out in his eyes. It was also written in the blood that was spilling from his body, from the crown of thorns on his head, from the nails that were piercing his hands and feet, holding him to a cross. No, that was wrong--the nails didn't hold him to the cross--love did. She gasped.

"Who is he?" she whispered, in awe.

"He is my beloved son, in whom I am well-pleased."

Emily had been to church once or twice and was sure that this man must be Jesus. Was the voice God? There was so much she didn’t understand, but all she could think to ask was, "But...why is he...dying?"

"Because I loved the world so much that I gave my one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. My prophet Isaiah wrote that he is pierced for the world's transgressions, crushed for their sins, the punishment that brings them peace is upon him and by his wounds they are healed."

"But, where is the world? I mean, where is everybody? I have looked all day and I can’t find anyone. And…where and when am I?"

"Today, my child, you are the world. You mean the world to me. I brought you here to show you that my son came to die for YOU."

Emily thought about her life. She wasn’t a bad person, she didn’t think, but she was far from worthy. She thought of the many mistakes she had made. She saw flashes of lies and pain and selfishness in her mind’s eye. Tears of regret slid out from underneath her lashes.

"No, no, no! I am not worth it! My life is not worth your life! How can you love me so much that you would die for me? Don't you know that I am nothing?"

"Of course I know you, child. I made you. I created your inmost being and knit you together in your mother's womb. I have watched you grow. I have a purpose for your life. And you are worth it to me. I love you enough to send my son to die for you. Not just the whole world, but you alone. You individually. If you were the only person on earth, he would still die for only you."

"But why? Who am I to deserve this?” Emily's throat and heart ached with tears and sorrow for the cost that this man Jesus was willing to pay.

"Because without his taking the punishment for your sins, we would be separated forever, my child, and that's not something that I can live with. I want you with me. For all eternity. This is my gift to you. Will you accept my gift?"

Emily's heart suddenly soared at the sound of the voice and the love she felt enveloping her completely. She felt a warmth pulse through her veins. She had never felt love like this before and was sure that she never would again. Yet, she was sure that this love that was being offered to her would carry her through her life and beyond the grave. She looked up into the face of the man dying for her alone, her face still wet with tears, but gratitude written on every inch of her expression, and whispered, "Yes!"

My Dichotomy

You know, there is a raging battle that goes on inside of me. On the one hand, I have always wanted to be liked. I would feel utter despair if anyone did not like me. It seemed a failure on my part. I wanted to please and be liked. I am a people-pleaser. Yes, I had self-esteem issues. I have been known to become physically sick to my stomach if there was a disagreement between myself and someone else. But, on the other hand, I am very opinionated. These two traits do not go together. To be a people-pleaser, you must do what everyone else wants you to do and deny yourself. And vice versa, to express your opinions, you will inevitably tick some people off who disagree. Which brings in my third wretched trait...I cannot deal with confrontation. This is why I have a blog! I can say what I want. I can rant, rave, express my opinions and yet never have to deal with any confrontation. Even on the off-chance that someone makes a negative comment on my blog, I have the ability to ignore the comment and try to make myself believe it never happened. But, you know that the people-pleaser in me will fester and stew over what that person said.

Which brings me to my revelation, my mantra. I do not care what other people think. There is only One that I seek to please. Galatians 1:10 "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ." And while I am not perfect and do not always please Christ, his is and always will be the approval I seek to gain.

You Either Love Me or You Will Hate This Blog...Just Warning Ya

Maybe I am crazy for posting about this, but as it's MY blog, I'll write what I want! If you don't like it, don't read it. Or go write your own blog to debate my position.

Tonight I saw a link to an article written in the newspaper of my alma mater. It was embroiled in controversy, touted as anti-LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, for those of you are aren't hip to acronyms--and if you aren't, hello?!? This is AMERICA and everything is referred to in acronyms, making the English language so much harder for foreigners to navigate, ha, ha). I read through the article, expecting to be as shocked and outraged as the article about it suggested I should be. I was sadly disappointed. I was more outraged at the fallout the article has created. And that the article ABOUT the article claimed it contained things that it clearly did not say.

First off, let me say that the article was not well-written. It is really unclear. At the beginning of the article, the writer seems to be on the side of LGBT students, but by the end, seems to have made an 180° turn to the right-wing. Of course, it was written by a high school student and perhaps his writing will improve over time. However, now I am thinking that if this is the standard for writing on my high school's newspaper, maybe I should have applied twenty years ago, been a star, and set myself on a different career path! But, I digress....

Before I go further, I must strive not to pigeonhole myself as anti-gay or prejudicial. I have friends of many races, nationalities, ethnicities, religions, sexual orientation, etc. I have a couple of lesbian friends whom I love (purely platonically, that is). One has read this blog before and if she does again, I hope she will not disown me as a friend! I have black friends, Vietnamese friends, Korean friends, Catholic friends, Atheist friends, etc., etc., etc. We may not look the same or agree on everything, but they are my friends; I do not see skin color or an "ism" when I look at my friends. However, I have my beliefs, which are based on the Word of God, which I believe to be true and eternal and unchangeable. That is the law that I base my life upon. As for the rest, they are my soapbox preferences and rantings. I hope that you are able to tell the difference between the two. God's Word is clear on prejudices: Galatians 3 says, "for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise."

What irked me the most about this article was that the LGBT community and supporters were so outraged about the printing of this story. I loved the response from the paper's editors: "(Student's name) has rights protected by the Kansas Student Publications Act, which states that 'Material shall not be suppressed solely because it involves political or controversial subject matter.' Although his editorial was interpreted by many as distasteful, he has a legal right to publish his beliefs. An unwillingness to enforce those rights would be destructive to the freedom of press in its entirety and make it hypocritical for the 'Messenger' to allow students to publish material in favor of LGBT relationships in the future." Since when does freedom of speech only apply to certain groups? They are right. How completely hypocritical to want to publish pro-whatever your affiliation and then get mad when someone publishes something anti-whatever your affiliation. The response goes on to say that many pro-LGBT articles had been published in the past. Now, if those had been squelched, the LGBT community would be screaming discrimination and infringement of their first amendment rights to free speech and freedom of the press. The same should be afforded the opposite viewpoint. Freedom is a two-edged sword. You have the freedom to worship and believe as you choose, but you must allow others who disagree with you to do the same. To be honest, I no longer think that we have freedom of speech in this country. Anything said anti-whatever renders the speaker guilty of being close-minded, a bigot, prejudiced, or accused of hate crimes.

My husband made a good point this evening. He told me about an episode of the TV show Southpark, which I never watch. In it, they discussed the opinion that there shouldn't be any hate crimes because ALL crimes stem from hate. If you murder someone, do you not hate them? If you beat someone up, isn't it out of hatred? Why does the color of someone's skin or their beliefs make it a hate crime?

I get highly offended by reverse racism. When I was ready to go to college, I began to look for scholarships to help with the cost of school. I couldn't find any! I found scholarships if I was black, Hispanic, lesbian, blind, handicapped, etc. But nothing for a white girl who made good grades and graduated 4th in her class of around 250. Seriously. I considered applying for the Hispanic one since I was married to a Mexican-American and had the Hispanic last name. I even considered applying for the lesbian one--I mean, how could they prove that one, one way or another?! But, you know that if there was a scholarship out there for whites or straights, there would be a huge controversy about how racist that was. I think having scholarships that exclude whites or straights is just as racist.

Granted, I know that slavery was very, very wrong. I am 100% opposed to it and feel sorrow that the practice ever existed. However, to use affirmative action to promote an individual people group smacks of "two wrongs don't make a right." According to Wikipedia, "Affirmative action refers to policies that take factors including 'race, color, religion, sex, or national origin' into consideration in order to benefit an underrepresented group, usually as a means to counter the effects of a history of discrimination." In other words, reward people who have done nothing to merit reward, based on what their ancestors may have suffered in history. Okay, let's take a look at history. Were blacks the only ones who were ever used as slaves? No. The Bible talks about the Israelites being slaves of the Egyptians. The U.S. still has cases of farm workers being enslaved, which are usually illegal immigrants and primarily Hispanic. China still has slavery in many regions, even though it is outlawed. The Middle East is another area that is still dealing with slavery. There are an estimated 40 million people in India that are living as slaves. Brazil's government recently freed thousands of slaves. According to statistics of the U.S. State Department, 80% of slaves trafficked across national borders in 2006 were women and girls and 50% were minors. Slavery, or human trafficking, is not contained to one country or continent or ethnic group. It is a tragedy worldwide for all mankind. Are white people to blame for slavery? Certainly whites participate in human trafficking. However, there are also many whites who have and still do fight against slavery. And whites were not and are not the only people group to participate in the slave trade. I have read that in previous centuries, the way slave traders obtained their victims was from African tribal leaders. They sold their own people into slavery! Wikipedia states that, "Victims are typically recruited through deceit or trickery (such as a false job offer, false migration offer, or false marriage offer), sale by family members, recruitment by former slaves, or outright abduction." Sale by family members or recruitment by former slaves. In Africa today, pygmies are enslaved by the Bantu people. Black on black crime? As the victims of human trafficking are a veritable who's who of the world's people groups, so are perpetrators of this heinous act also a catalog of the planet's ethnic groups. Why, therefore, does it seem that whites only are to blame for enslaving blacks? Why, in America, are whites to stand back as this country makes up for past wrongs that we personally didn't even commit and those who benefit from it didn't even suffer? Why can't I get a scholarship? I know that blacks and various other ethnic groups still face the sting of prejudice from idiots that think being different is a crime. But, I hate when we all have to pay for some morons that don't know how to act like human beings.

I am a student of ancestry--one of my ancestors was of royal lineage in England and was disowned. Can I get some restitution on that injustice? One of my ancestors was American Indian and they were treated even worse in this country than blacks were, so she hid her heritage. Can I get reparations for that? I can dig farther.... I am sure every family has some injustice somewhere in their history. You can't make all past wrongs right. And to say that all whites must pay because all blacks have suffered is not only an untrue statement, it's stereotypical.

Okay, so I got off-course from my primary subject, which was LGBT. Sorry, sometimes I step from soapbox to soapbox.

The article that the high school student published contained some Bible verses from the book of Leviticus. Quoted was Leviticus 18:22 "Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable." as well as Leviticus 20:13 "If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads." In another passage, God commands that someone who has committed adultery should be stoned to death. This shows how strongly God feels about the sin of adultery. And anyone who has suffered at the hand of an adulterous spouse knows how damaging that act is. I speak from experience. I was reading last night about Sylvia Plath's suicide. I believe, from what I read, that her depression leading her to put her head in her own oven was caused primarily from her husband's infidelity, which, incidentally, also caused his mistress to commit suicide in similar fashion. God felt so strongly about adultery that he made the commission of it a crime worthy of capital punishment and made it the only condition under which divorce would be acceptable. I believe these passages in Leviticus tell us likewise how strongly God feels about homosexuality. These were not the laws of men, but laws given to men by God. In Genesis 19, Lot receives angelic visitors in Sodom. The men of the city urge him to bring out the men he is entertaining so that they may have sex with them. Lot offers them his two daughters instead of allowing them to abuse his guests. While this is repugnant to think that Lot would offer his daughters up to be molested, I think it shows how much more repugnant are the homosexual acts that the men wanted to perform. Where do you think the term "sodomy" comes from?

I know there are churches that welcome gay and lesbian lifestyles, and even pastors that are gay. I am always puzzled by this. How do they get past the passages in the Bible that blatantly state that homosexuality is a sin? Do they pick and choose what to believe? How can you do that? How can you trust any of the Bible if parts of it are not true? It's either all true or none of it is true. If you can't trust what's sin and what's not, how can you believe that there is a heaven or that Jesus died and rose again? Is God not God? How can individuals dictate what is and is not sin? How do you presume to say that God is wrong and we are going to decide for ourselves what is right and what's wrong? In First Corinthians 15, there is a passage where the biblical claim of Christ's resurrection was questioned: "And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead....And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.... If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied." If parts of the Bible are not true, how can you be sure that any of it is? And if it is questionable, why would you follow it? And if it's doubtful, what hope have you for any life after death?

And lest you think that the Old Testament is old and out of date, which it is not, the New Testament also speaks against homosexuality. Romans 1 has a passage on the subject. In First Timothy 1, homosexuals, as well as other purveyors of sin, are called, "lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious." There's no mistaking what the Bible says about homosexuality. It is sin, it is wrong.

When I hear about churches that embrace the LGBT lifestyle, it reminds me of another church that I disagree with and wrote about not that long ago. At the risk of offending and enraging some, in my mind, they are similar to Fred Phelps' "church." I know that would burn Fred Phelps up to be likened to an LGBT church, as it probably sickens LGBT church-goers to be equated with a parasite like Fred Phelps. However, the trait that links them inconceivably together is that they create their own truth. They believe what they want to believe. They pick and choose what parts of the Bible are important and what can be discarded as old-fashioned or negligible, inconsequential, insignificant.

However, the law in Leviticus had a purpose, which the high school writer either did not know or did not discuss. It was meant to show mankind that it can never be good enough. Mankind can never be perfect enough to reach God. Homosexuality is only one sin. There are many. And ALL violations of the law are equally sin. The law is meant to show that there is only one way to God and that is through accepting the sacrifice of His Son Jesus. But, in accepting Jesus as Savior, we are to see our sin as He sees our sin and turn from it, repent. That means leaving it behind. If the sin is homosexuality (or whatever your sin of choice), it means leaving it behind, not sitting in a church that condones it and thinking you're right with God. It doesn't mean perfection, but it means a change in direction, turning and going God's way, not your way, not the world's way. It is possible! I know a woman who was once a lesbian, but now walks with Jesus and left that lifestyle behind!

I do not hate LGBTs. Like I said early in this post, I love my friends who are lesbians the same way I love any of my friends that don't agree with me. If I surrounded myself only with friends that agreed with me 100%, I'd be a lonely woman. In my previous post about Fred Phelps, I mentioned the church that I used to attend that was picketed by his "church" because our pastor taught that we love the sinner, but hate the sin. In other words, we love people of all shapes and sizes, colors, and walks of life. But, we do not always love the things that they do. We condemn behavior, not people. That's what I believe. I love people, but I disagree with the things that they do. Because, as Christians, that's what we are called to do. We are called to be Christ-like and Jesus loved the world enough to give his life for it, while we were yet sinners, not after we cleaned up our act and were worthy of him. But, he also hated sin. That's Jesus' purpose, to save us from our sins, to take them away so that we can be with him who loves us. When we refuse to leave our sin, and wallow in it, I am reminded of a Ray Boltz song, which is ironic since he decided that he is gay: "Do you still feel the nails every time I fail? Have I crucified you Jesus with my sins? Oh I'm tired of playing games, I really want to change. I never want to hurt you again." To think that that one sin, whatever it is...that we insist on holding on to...cost Jesus his life. Is it really worth that?

I must admit that I am proud of my old alma mater in at least one respect. When I was a student there, I wrote a research paper from a Christian world view. I was personally castigated by my English teacher for my viewpoint. He had asked for controversial topics and when he didn't like my position, he very bluntly let me know about it, in a most unprofessional way. He made a half-hearted, nearly unrecognizable apology after the principal forced him to. Therefore, I am somewhat surprised that the school not only allowed a conservative article to be published, but defended its right to publish it as well. So, in opposition to many, I have to say that I am glad for the publishing of that article...even if I could have written a better one.

And to all that I may have offended, I am truly sorry. It is not meant to offend. I love you. But, in America, we have the freedom to disagree.

On Death and Faith

Yesterday at church, I heard the testimony of a man who had grown up in church, just like me. He spoke about how when his devout father died, it shook his faith and caused him to be angry with God and run away from His calling. I had the opposite happen to me when my father died.

As you know, my father died suddenly about four and a half years ago, at the age of 61. To say that his death was unexpected is both true and untrue. He had been not well for a long time, though you never really expect for that to happen. I had tried to prepare myself, somewhat, for his death, but when it happened, it was quite shocking. I won't go into the details because I did that in an earlier post, but I will say that the circumstances of his death were very devastating to me.

My dad was not "devout". He was a Christian and loved the Lord, but he didn't attend church very often. Later in life, this was due to difficulty in getting around, his feet hurt and swelled because of the diabetes. He still sent in his tithe to the church, though, and he read his Bible daily, prayed often, and listened to gospel music frequently. My dad was not a perfect man. When I lived at home, I absolutely hated him. He suffered from depression and was often not a very nice man. We got along much better when we were both older.

The night I found dad dead, I remember lifting my face to the sky and whispering, "I'm sorry, daddy." I knew then that he was in heaven. But, as time went on, I had to really examine this belief. Did I really believe that my dad still existed in some form, somewhere? My brother believed that what was left of him was lowered in the ground at his funeral and that's all there was. My heart broke that my brother had no hope. But, did I? I really searched my heart and soul to determine what I believed. It's easy to say that you believe in God, heaven, Jesus, but do you really when it's put to the test? When someone dies, can you trust them to God until you see them again? I finally decided that I could. I remember standing in church and longing for heaven and home because it now felt like home to me, with someone I loved there.

I still had struggles, of course. I had a sick feeling, thinking of my dad dying alone, choking for breath, struggling. But, my then-husband's foster dad, a missionary who happened to be in town at the time and performed the funeral for me, gave me a wonderful gift. He talked to me about other deaths he had been witnessed. He assured me that in cases of believers, they had all died peacefully and some had even spoke about seeing someone there in the room. He said he believed that either an angel had been in the room or Jesus himself. He told me that he believed that my dad had not been alone. That gave me peace.

I also had struggled with the question of why did my dad die at that particular time? I was doped on medication and forgot to call him. Why did God choose to take him at THAT time? That is a question that I still have and will not have answered until I am in heaven myself. But, that's okay. I have been able to let that question lie dormant. I trust that God had a reason and it does not affect my faith. I am not angry, I trust Him.

The guilt I struggled with for a long time. Sometimes I still feel it, but it's something that I can deal with. The sermon at church yesterday was about guilt. Guilt is something that the devil causes. When we have done wrong, God brings conviction so that we may confess and turn from our wrongdoing. But when guilt comes over something that has been forgiven already or was not our wrongdoing in the first place, it is Satan, trying to bring us down.

None of my struggles over my dad's death ever caused me to doubt my faith. I learned recently that one of my spiritual gifts is faith. I have seen God do too much in my life NOT to believe Him and trust Him. My faith is very strong. And I think it was only strengthened through the fiery furnace I went through when my dad died.

Christmas, Xmas, or Happy Holidays

About a month ago, on Facebook, I saw evidence of the predictable annual debate: Christmas or Xmas, Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. None of these expressions have ever bothered me. I believe that Christmas is the celebration of Jesus being born as a man, in order to die on the cross for our sins. That said, I will explain why I don't insist on the term "Christmas" or become highly incensed if anyone dares to call it anything different.

According to Wikipedia, "The term 'Xmas', a popular shortened form of the word Christmas... originates from the use of the Greek letter chi to represent 'Christ' (Χριστός)." This abbreviation for Christ has been documented since 1021 AD, in chronicles, dictionaries, new testament manuscripts, ancient art, and churches. If you know about the "Ichthus" symbol, you know that symbols are common and the "X" standing for "Christ" was a part of that symbol as well. Ichthus (or Ichthys), written ΙΧΘΥΣ in Greek, is the word for fish. It was an acrostic for "Jesus Christ God's son Savior" as shown in the following:

• Iota (i) is the first letter of Iēsous (Ἰησοῦς), Greek for "Jesus".
• Chi (ch) is the first letter of Christos (Χριστός), Greek for "anointed".
• Theta (th) is the first letter of Theou (Θεοῦ), Greek for "God's", the genitive case of Θεóς, Theos, Greek for "God".
• Upsilon (u) is the first letter of huios (Υἱός), Greek for "Son".
• Sigma (s) is the first letter of sōtēr (Σωτήρ), Greek for "Savior".

Aside from the Xmas debate, many people become offended by hearing the phrase "Happy Holidays." They contend that the only holiday worth mentioning is Christmas. First off, this is insensitive to people who celebrate other holidays. Granted that Kwanzaa's creator initially intended the celebration to be an alternative to Christmas and spoke derogatorily about Jesus and the Christian faith. However, many who celebrate Kwanzaa today also celebrate Christmas. Kwanzaa celebrates heritage and history and its principles are not contrary to Christian faith, such as unity, community, family, helping one another, etc. In addition, Jewish people celebrate Hannukah. While most Jews do not believe that Jesus is the promised Messiah, Messianic Jews do. Some celebrate Christmas, but from what I have read, many do not. It's not because they do not wish to honor Christ, but because they believe that many of the practices of Christmas stem from pagan rituals, such as decorating a Christmas tree (Jeremiah 10). I also read that the eating of a Christmas ham on December 25th commemorates the Abomination of Desolation that was committed by Antiochus when he burned a pig on the temple altar. Add those things to the knowledge that many pagan religions already celebrated the births of their deities at that time of the year and you understand why many Jewish believers would want little to do with the Christmas holiday. They believe that all the feasts that God ordained for his people present a picture of Christ and that there are parallels between Hannukah and Jesus and that they can best honor Christ by observing the feasts which God set forth, as opposed to one that is man-made and contains echos of pagan tradition (for that matter, I am nearly convinced to give up Christmas!). Thanksgiving was generally celebrated the last Thursday of November, until 1941 when Roosevelt signed a bill which changed it to the fourth Thursday. When scores of people are celebrating Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and New Year's in a short span of time, is it any wonder that stores wish their customers a "Happy Holidays" instead of trying to wish them a happy Thanksgiving/Hannukah/Christmas/Kwanzaa/NewYear's? Or trying to determine which holiday a particular person celebrates? Or risk offending someone? Yes, "Happy Holidays" may be a generic greeting, but how else is the average person to navigate the waters of the ethnic melting pot of the U.S.?

As for an etymology lesson, Wikipedia states that "the word 'holiday' originally referred only to special religious days. The word derived from the notion of 'Holy Day'." Webster's Dictionary's first definition listed under "holiday" is "holy day." Is it that offensive to wish someone a "Happy Holy Day?"

I've heard people stirring up the masses about "taking Christ out of Christmas" and declaring "war" against Christian holidays. I read that Franklin Graham, Billy Graham's son is such a one and he should know better. It saddens me that a lot of Christians are willing to get sucked into a silly argument. They are just words. I think some people are so divisive, that they just go around looking for something to be upset about and cause strife. There are plenty of REAL problems in the world, we shouldn't be arguing semantics. Christmas is about Christ coming to earth to give himself for us. And we should, in turn, show his love to those around us, instead of getting worked up about silly abbreviations. I don't think that Jesus would care which way it's expressed if we are not doing what we should or our hearts are not right. Whatever words we choose to use, God knows our heart. You can say Christmas all you want and still not be righteous in God's eyes. And vice versa, you can say Xmas or Happy Holidays and be godly and giving, in love with Jesus. They are just words.

I read a post by a Christian band on Facebook, discussing this debate. Many people understood the truth and tried to enlighten others about where the term Xmas came from. However, there were many posts afterward that showed that many people did not care about the truth. It was as if they stopped up their ears and said, "La la la la la! I can't hear you!" They didn't want to be set straight. Maybe they heard someone who they believed they should be able to trust--someone of prominence, a public figure or a pastor, that spoke out against these issues and they trust that they must know what they are talking about. So they get incensed, by proxy. Long entrenched beliefs are hard to shake.

It bothers me that this issue is so hotly debated and that non-Christians are exposed to the squabbling within the family of God. I saw a poll online about whether Christians thought that the debate would turn people off to Christianity. The majority didn't care, they were stuck on the word "Christmas." I was appalled that so many would choose a mere word over the possibility of souls coming to Christ.

I was upset that so many people seem so averse to learning the truth. However, a still small voice reminded me of Paul's teaching in Romans 14. That passage even talks about special days. The gist of the passage is that if something offends your brother or sister, you should refrain from it. What you think is right to eat or celebrate, etc., is second to the importance of not causing your brother to stumble. Esteem your brother higher than that of your own liberty. Therefore, knowing the truth, we should still be sensitive to others and I myself vow to use the phrase "Merry Christmas" so as not to offend others.

Am I the Only Person Who Dislikes Skulls?

One of the great joys of sharing children with an ex is the Christmas and birthday gift conundrum. For one, if they don't consult you, then you sometimes end up getting the same thing. For example, for my son's 5th birthday, my ex-husband called to criticize me for not consulting him and buying the same cake, decorations, piñata that they had planned on having. It apparently didn't occur to him to check to see what we were doing or that our son picked it out himself, that we were trying to give him a theme birthday, according to his interests, or that we had gotten ours first. Or, how about that it doesn't even matter that Billy had the same cake, piñata, and decor for two parties? Did Billy mind? No!

Second, there's the argument of where these gifts should stay. Should they remain at dad's house, or do they go home to mom's with the kids? Thirdly, which ties in to the second problem, he and his girlfriend or wife sometimes buy gifts that we don't like or approve of, such as loud, noisy gifts (a guitar, kazoos, etc.), a remote controlled snake (Scott doesn't like snakes of any sort in this house), or clothing that you would never allow your 8 and 10-year-old daughters to wear (padded bras, shorty shorts, pants with words across the rear, drawing attention to your little girl's butt, or used underwear--yes...i said used).

Yes, all these things I have mentioned have happened in our situation. I am sure there are worse things that they could receive and maybe will in the future. My solution to the problem: donate any clothes that are inappropriate and ask him to keep all gifts that he buys at his house. However, though I have discussed this with him a couple of times, this past Christmas, the kids were preparing to bring home their gifts, saying dad told them they could. I said absolutely not, becoming the bad guy and it was obvious that he was very unhappy with my refusal. While I choose my battles, this time I stood my ground, not willing to allow the walking over me to turn into an Olympic decathlon. He sent them with just a few items that were non-toy. Even that was an issue because Kimberly got two calendars from his mom and another calendar from my husband's mother. Now, where is she going to put three calendars? What does an 8-year-old need with three calendars? Or a 5-year-old, because Billy got three, as well.

The other item that I didn't like was a purse that they got for Arrena, my 10-year-old. It's a Monster High brand and features a skull on the side of it, with a bow on its "head." Even though I don't like it, I can't take it away from her without being the bad guy again. She adores this purse and takes it everywhere and shows it to everyone.

There are worse things that she could have and this is really just my own personal issue with it. Likely few will understand my aversion. I see skulls everywhere. And not just as a tattoo on a big hairy scary-looking man's bicep. I see women wearing skull shirts, earrings, etc. as well. Just the other day, I heard about someone that wanted skulls decorating their baby's blanket. My problem is that it is a symbol of death. Most would be appalled if someone were to walk around with a severed head as a decoration. However, this is the same thing, only more decayed--minus the skin, blood, and tissue. That is disturbing to me. I see a skull and a severed head as the same thing. It is disgusting to me to decorate with a human body part. I also wonder if it desensitizes people to death and gore. And the cute little bow on top of the skull on my daughter's purse makes me shake my head. Yeah, let's make it better by decorating the severed head with a pink bow. O...kay. Totally my opinion and others obviously do not share it. So, I am currently stuck with a skull purse in my house. Guess it's slightly better than the other purse she likes to carry around--a photo tote, which she decided to fill with an old family picture from when my ex and I were still married as well as a family picture taken at my wedding to my new husband. (It's a little weird...)

Westboro "Baptist Church"

The Westboro "Baptist Church" has long infuriated and sickened me. Today I was even more disgusted as I heard that they are planning to protest the funeral of the nine-year-old girl that died in the Tucson, Arizona shooting. It's bad enough when they protest at soldiers' funerals, but when they protest at a little girl's funeral, it shows how truly sick and hateful they really are.

These people once picketed a church I was attending. This puzzled me, at first. Our pastor was very well-known for being outspoken about homosexual marriages and abortion. What could they possibly have against our church? They held signs that said, "Your pastor is lying to you," and "This way to hell," and "Fag lovers." Their problem with us was that our pastor taught that we should hate the sin, yet love the sinner, as Christ teaches in the Scriptures. Our pastor spoke about people he called friends that were gay. He did not agree with their choices, but cared about them, in spite of their lifestyle. The Westboro people did not agree with that. One of the women that I knew from choir went outside to speak with them. She was upset that they were dragging an American flag around on the ground, disrespecting our country's flag. When she confronted them, they cussed at her. Very Christ-like behavior, I must say.

What angers me the most about the Westboro bunch is that they reflect badly on Christ and on other Christians. We all get lumped into the same category. However, they are nothing like those of us who are TRUE followers of Jesus Christ. It's not mine to judge, but I don't believe that they are Christians at all. I don't know where they get their agenda of hate--they didn't get it from God's Word. I attend a Baptist church and have for most of my life and the things that they believe and practice have nothing to do with the Baptist denomination.

Some of their protest signs state that "God hates America." John 3:16 says that "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." I John 4:7-16 explains that God IS love: "Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. This is how we know that we live in him and he in us: He has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in them and they in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them." If you want to know what God does hate, it's written in Proverbs 6: "There are six things the LORD hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community." Wow. Does any of that list strike you as applicable to the Westboro people? Maybe God hates what THEY do. Hmmm....

They are outspoken about homosexuality, claiming that God hates gays. However, the Bible is full of God's love for sinners. The story of the woman at the well in John, chapter four, tells of Jesus' encounter with a woman who was living a sinful lifestyle, yet he did not speak words of hate to her. In John 8, a woman was brought to Jesus who had been caught in the very act of adultery. Jesus said, "let him who is without sin cast the first stone." When they all left, he told the woman that he didn't condemn her either. Are any of these Westboro people without sin themselves? Do they believe that any sin is worse than another? James 2:10 says whoever keeps the whole law, but stumbles at one point is guilty of breaking all of it. There is a message to them in Matthew 7: “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye."

As for their obvious hatred of anyone and everyone, that is absolutely not found in Scripture. I John 3:15 says, "Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life residing in him." I John 4:20 tells us that, "Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen." Matthew 5 says we are to love our enemies as well as our brothers. In Luke 10, Jesus explains to a lawyer that we are to love our neighbor as ourself and that EVERYONE is our neighbor.

While I believe that Jesus shed his blood for anyone who wishes to receive, even people from the Westboro cult, I don't believe that they are Christians. The Bible tells how to know if someone is truly of God. John 13 says that everyone will know that we are Christ's disciples, if we have love for one another. Again, I look to Matthew 7: “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them." James 3:9-12 says "With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water." I John 4 says to test spirits to see if they are of God. If what someone says does not measure up with what the Scripture says, they cannot speak for God. Matthew 7:21-23 says, " “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’"

I have read comments by others online who have vowed to picket Fred Phelps' (the leader of the Westboro group) funeral when he dies. I cannot say that is something I would desire to do. For one, the man does not deserve that much attention. He should be ignored. For two, I believe that while others are gathered around his grave, Jesus will be setting him straight in a way that no one on earth ever could. And third, I believe that we should do what he and his people refuse to do: love. When the Bible says to love our enemies, it isn't written only to them. It's for us as well. As much as we hate all that they stand for, we must love them as well. And so, as I close this blog out, I pray, not only for the victims of the Arizona shooting, but also for the Westboro people, that their eyes may be opened to the truth of God's Word and they will repent of their wicked ways.

Walking a Mile in Someone's Shoes

Okay, here is my pet peeve for the day. I read a post on Facebook about someone abandoning their friendship with someone because she would not leave her abusive boyfriend/husband. She didn't agree with her choices and did not deem her worthy of being her friend. I was angry. In possibly the lowest time in this person's life...and her "friend" abandoned her. Way to kick someone while they are down. I find it very despicable when a person judges when they have never been in that situation. I used to be that person. I swore I would never let a man hit me or cheat on me. If he did, it would immediately be over. I couldn't understand women that put up with that. They were idiots and I judged them just as harshly as this person on Facebook. But, then I walked a mile in their shoes and found that things look awfully different when you are on the other side. My ex hit me once during our marriage and I stayed. He cheated on me so many times, I don't even know how many girlfriends he had. But I stayed. I had a million reasons why I did too. Some of them made sense, some did not. One of the best friends I had through the hard years was a friend that accepted my decisions no matter what they were, no matter if she agreed with them or not. She would ask, "what do you want to do?" And she would back me up and support me no matter what my answer was. The only reason she asked was so she could know how to help me. THAT is a true friend. I had plenty that were exasperated because I defied all common logic in staying. But, the friend that I was able to lean on no matter what was the one that respected that the decisions were MINE and mine alone and that I would be the one living with the consequences. Yes, I eventually divorced my husband, but only after 7 years of a hellish nightmare. If you are a friend, do not judge someone until you have walked a mile in their shoes. And remember: "but for the grace of God go I."

John 3:16 (a short story by Robin Lynn Davidson)

Mary opened her eyes, but remained completely motionless. Something felt wrong. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but it was there in the air, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She listened intently for any sound that might give away what it might be, but there were no sounds. Maybe that was it--the lack of sound, the heavy stillness in the air. She looked around and saw only darkness. She couldn't even tell if the room she was in was familiar or not. Memory eluded her. It was that moment of grogginess after waking, when you aren't sure of anything--where you are, what time it is, or even who you are. Yet that moment seemed to stretch on indeterminately.

Mary rolled to her side and tried to blink away the feeling of unease and peer through the gloom. She determined she was laying on a mat on an earthen floor. She decided that lying there was cowardly, so she pushed herself up to a sitting position and then struggled to stand up. She tripped over an oil lamp, so she trimmed and lit it. She explored the house she found herself in and found it to be deserted, save for a mouse in the corner, who was cleaning his whiskers, making her glad she had decided to get up. She found some bread on the table and ate a little before venturing from the stone house. She found a crude pitcher near the door, so she assumed there must be a well somewhere. She started down the dusty street, looking for another woman to point her in the right direction, but there was no one about. The sky was becoming lighter and lighter so surely people would be up and about before the sun's unforgiving rays would begin to beat down upon them. Before long, she found a well in what appeared to be a town square of a rather large city. She drew out some water and started back the way that she had come.

Mary was becoming more and more alarmed at the absence of sound and human sightings in such a large metropolis. Where was everyone? She was beginning to feel as though everyone were in on a joke that she had been left out of. Could they all be around a corner, laughing at her? She had been the butt of jokes before, but surely the whole city could not be involved in such a prank! Was it a Sabbath day? No, as near as she could figure, it was a Friday. A feast day? No, she had a brief recollection of Passover being celebrated yesterday. Had the entire town gone somewhere? No, she couldn't recall any logical reason why no one should be about.

When she reached the small house, she set about with some chores to keep her mind busy and the panic at bay. She fed the chickens, gathered eggs, milked the goat, swept out the house, tidied up, and did some baking.

As the day wore on, the alarm welled up inside of her. She walked out of the house and no longer cared if she looked silly or if anyone laughed. She marched to the neighbor's house and called at the door. No answer. She walked in and saw no one. She searched every nook and cranny and still found no trace of any neighbors. She went to the next house and the next house, finding no one and still no one. The further she went, the more afraid she became until she was terrified. She ran through the empty, still streets, sobbing and calling out for anyone who might hear her. But there were no returning answers. She wandered aimlessly for a long while and eventually returned to the little cottage and sat, not knowing what else to do. She buried her face in her hands and wept softly.

"Jehovah-Shammah," Mary whispered. "Do not leave me alone in this world. Do not abandon your daughter. Please, El-Roi."

Who am I kidding? Mary thought to herself. Jehovah-Jireh has probably sent his promised Messiah in the night and left me behind. I am no one. A poor, ignorant young girl with nothing to offer his kingdom. Elohim loves his people but I am just one among many, easily forgotten.

Suddenly Mary heard a noise, like a great crowd of people shouting. She jumped in surprise, then recovered quickly and took off running towards the direction of the noise. She ran so long and so hard she thought her lungs would burst. She ran to the other side of the city, to a hill, and then she stopped. That was where the noise had been coming from, but there was no crowd. All she saw there was one man. And he could not have been making that noise.

She sank to the ground in weakness and sorrow. Mary's shoulders sunk and her head drooped. The sight of the man had drained all of the energy out of her body. He was obviously being punished for something. Even if he deserved some sort of punishment, Mary couldn't think of anything the man could have done that would have warranted the treatment he was receiving. But, just by looking at him, she could tell that the man had done nothing wrong. She could see it in his eyes. One glance and she could bear it no more--her gaze fell away from his and she covered her face with her hands. In that glance, she felt as if he had really SEEN her and knew her.

"Daughter," said a gentle, yet strong voice. "Do not look away."

Mary reluctantly looked up to the man again. This time, when she looked into his eyes, she saw a love there that she had never seen before. But, the love wasn't just spelled out in his eyes. It was also written in the blood that was spilling from his body, from the crown of thorns on his head, from the nails that were piercing his hands and feet, holding him to a cross. She gasped.

"Who is he?" she whispered, in awe.

"He is my beloved son, in whom I am well-pleased."

"Jehovah-Yahweh..." Mary's voice was barely audible. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was dry. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "But...why is he...dying?"

"Because I loved the world so much that I gave my one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Have you not learned the prophet Isaiah? He is pierced for the world's transgressions, crushed for their sins, the punishment that brings them peace is upon him and by his wounds they are healed."

"But, where is the world? I mean, where is everybody? I have looked all day and I can find no one."

"Today, my child, you are the world. You mean the world to me. My son came to die for you."

Mary thought she might faint. The knowledge of that was too much to wrap her mind around. Before she had time to think, she was on her feet and running. She found herself at the foot of the cross, sobbing.

"No, no, no! I am not worth it! My life is not worth your life! How can you love me so much that you would die for me? Don't you know that I am nothing?"

"Of course I know you, child. I made you. I created your inmost being and knit you together in your mother's womb. I have watched you grow. I have a purpose for your life. And you are worth it to me. I love you enough to send my son to die for you. Not just the whole world, but you alone. You individually. If you were the only person on earth, he would still die for only you."

"Why?" Mary nearly screeched wretchedly.

"Because without his taking the punishment for your sins, we would be separated forever, my child, and that's not something that I can live with. I want you with me. For all eternity. This is my gift to you. Will you accept my gift?"

Mary's heart suddenly soared at the sound of the voice and the love she felt enveloping her completely. She felt a warmth permeating her entire body and would not have been surprised to have found herself glowing. She had never felt love like this before and was sure that she never would again. Yet, she was sure that this love that was being offered to her would carry her through her life and beyond the grave. She looked up into the face of the man dying for her alone, her face still wet with tears, but gratitude written on every inch of her expression, and whispered, "Yes!"

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This is a work in progress. I am debating about how to write this story. Another option would be to nix the confusion that Mary starts off the day with and make her just go through her normal day, except for the weird fact that everyone is missing. She might think more about her missing family, which would, in a round about way, incorporate other characters. My other idea for this story is that the "Mary" is a modern day girl who wakes up in Israel at the time of the crucifixion with no knowledge of how she got there or why or where anyone else is. The reason that I am thinking about writing the story that way is to make it easier to relate to the character because this story is about everyone. Jesus did die for the world personally, not corporately. If you have any comment about it one way or another, please share.

Family Reunion 2010

This year's Cooper Family Reunion was really fun. I had hoped that this camping trip would be quite simple, but it turned out to be more complicated than I had planned. The kids were supposed to be at their dad's, so packing and cooking for two is much easier. However, their dad never called, so I had to pack for all five of us. It takes a lot to entertain the three kids. And much more to feed them. And my husband decided he didn't want to live on hotdogs and hamburgers for the weekend either, so he devised all sorts of meals, which made packing food and supplies a little more difficult. And I had forgotten about our dog Jesse. So, we decided to rent a U-Haul trailer to haul all of our stuff out there.

Scott had gotten his vacation time during Labor Day weekend, so we took the children out of school and headed down to Oklahoma on Thursday. We left later than we had planned to (which is always the case). It is a five hour drive from Kansas City to Heyburn Lake. As we got nearer to our destination, we saw lightning and dark clouds. We arrived just before dark and began to set up our campsite. Our rented site was next to the nice bathrooms/shower house, in front of the swimming beach, but the bathrooms were locked, which made us angry since that was the whole reason we rented that spot. We were clear on the other side of the camp from my family and quite a way from the other, smaller bathrooms. Kimmy and Billy had both been throwing up prior to our coming to the reunion. As we were furiously putting up our campsite, my mom and my Aunt Janie drove over and Janie offered us her campsite since they had played musical campsites. We hurriedly took down what we'd done and drove over to the other side and put everything up by them. It was dark by then, but we had help from my cousins Jill and Jimmy. There was lightning on both sides of us, but still no rain. We got everything set up and got the kids in their tent and in bed. We finished up and went to bed ourselves. We had been in our tent about five minutes when the storm started. The thunder and rain was deafening. My mom texted that if the kids were scared, they could come over and stay in the camper they were in, but I said we would get soaked just going the few feet from our tent to theirs, let alone across the street to their camper and that I hoped the kids were asleep. Somehow through the roar, Scott heard one of the kids say "mom". We tried to look through the window and saw flashlights on in their tent, but couldn't hear anything. I yelled, "I can't hear you! Lay down and go to sleep!" The seams on our tent were leaking a little and we had a couple of puddles and my blanket got a little damp.

The next day, we visited with family and Scott, Janie, and I went to the store to get groceries and supplies for the family reunion, while my mom stayed with the kids. The kids swam in the blow up pool we had at the campsite. I liked being on the family side of the camp this time because the kids could run around and visit and play and not get into too much trouble. Everyone watched out for everyone else. My great-uncle Gary and great-aunt Bessie came and brought their grand-daughter Courtney and she and Arrena really hit it off. After that, those girls were off on bikes around the camp the rest of the weekend. The problem started when the kids' dad's mom called me and said she was coming to pick up the kids. Chris and I had discussed this weekend the last time we talked and he said he would call me and arrange picking up the kids. He had not called and now here they were, looking forward to the weekend with us. They had hoped that he wouldn't call because they wanted to go to the family reunion. They were furious when their grandma called and they thought they would have to leave. They called their grandma back and asked to talk to their dad. He called them back and Arrena told him that they didn't want to go. He asked to speak to me and I told him that they had thought they were staying at the family reunion since he hadn't called like he said he would and hadn't shown up for his last weekend like he was supposed to. He backed off and said they could stay and the kids were happy. Janie and us combined forces and made up hamburgers and hotdogs to feed everyone that was coming in and setting up camp that night. We sat around a campfire and made s'mores.

Saturday was the family reunion. After breakfast and the morning visits, playtime, etc., we went up to the pavilion and started setting up. Family that hadn't camped started trickling in. It was nice to see lots of cousins I haven't seen in a couple of years. First we had lunch, then the kids got their toys. Then the annual auction started. We brought home a horse clock for the girls' room and some blue champagne glasses that my aunt is etching our names on. After that, the guys had their horseshoe tournament and the women did their "cake" walk. I thought Scott was going to win the horseshoe tournament for a minute--he made it to the final round and was ahead for a while, but my cousin Tammy's husband Randy beat him in the end. I won the second cake walk and got a kitchen prize basket. My mom and my brother left before I knew it. I thought I had longer with them and was disappointed that they had to leave so soon. I had brought an angel food cake and watermelon for my mama and hadn't gotten it out yet! Family started to leave and we started to head back to our campsites.

Sunday, we hung around, visiting. The kids went to pet a horse. They are putting in an equestrian trail behind where we were camping and we talked to a lady that is a part of it quite a bit, so she let the kids pet her horse. We learned from her that the bathroom problems we have had for years were because of the old caretakers and there is a new caretaker that just came in about six weeks ago and has already started changing things around there. He would have had the bathrooms fixed, but the plumber that came out to do didn't have the right licensing and had to come back later. I got my baby "fix", holding a cousin's baby girl named Eland. Then we took the kids down the the lake to swim. Arrena and Courtney were broken-hearted when Courtney had to go home. They had become good chums in three short days. We had another combined dinner with tacos and chicken chili and more fussing over Eland. Then we had an unwelcome visitor. A tarantula walked into my aunt's campsite. Not a good camp to visit, as she is deathly afraid of spiders of any sort. I have to admit that I am not too fond of spiders after that one unknown spider bit me and made me very unwell several years back. A large fuzzy tarantula doesn't appeal to me either. My great-aunt Ruthann said, "Jill, look out." My cousin Jill stood up from the picnic table she had been sitting at and I looked and there was a tarantula on the ground crawling towards her. Jill shrieked and jumped up on the bench of the table. She said that she would have run or jumped up on the table, but she was holding her dog Alexis, who was on a chain, hooked to something and she couldn't go far. In her hurry to get away from the tarantula, she nearly wrung Alexis' neck off! Janie jumped up and stood at a distance, I think trying to judge which was was the best direction to run. I laughed because she had been trying to convince me to look for one out on the road to poke with a stick because she had heard that they jump ten feet. I said, "Hey, don't you want to see if they jump ten feet?" Well, when someone started poking at it, it ceased being funny and I decided that was my cue to leave my chair, in case they DO jump ten feet. The poking was meant to get it to go back the other way and leave, but the stupid thing went the wrong way and came TOWARD us. It ran under the picnic table, causing a wave of panic and then went up the picnic table. That caused Jill to bolt. Somehow she got Alexis loose and managed to get away. Scott asked her later if she would have sacrificed her dog to the tarantula and she said most definitely. Janie, in the meanwhile, hightailed it into the trailer and stood peering out of the window. Jennifer and Jimmy managed to corral and scoop up the tarantula and took him out to the street and released him. I wish I had thought sooner and gotten the whole episode on video. Whether it was the same one or a different one, I don't know, but about an hour or so later, a tarantula returned to Janie's campsite and was again scooped up by my cousin Jimmy and taken back to the street and released. In the twenty-three years we have been out there, we have never seen a tarantula out there before.

Monday, we spent the morning visiting and packing up our campsite. Everyone was leaving, so we were all saying our good-byes. We finally left around lunch time and got home about dinner time. The weather was so beautiful the whole time we were there. The high temperatures were only in the 80s and with the breeze off the lake, it was lovely. It was even chilly early in the morning and in the evenings. I wish I had checked the forecast for the lows and packed the kids some jackets at least. We couldn't have asked for better weather. It was getting a little warm on Monday, I think in the 90s, but the wind was so strong, we hardly noticed.

I am beginning to think that I am allergic to camping at Heyburn Lake...or my family. I have camped down there twice and both times ended up with a migraine. The last one I got while I was down there, this one I got two days after I got back and has lasted five days so far. Wonder if I got bit by a migraine bug. Is there a repellent for that?

It's Spanish

Billy’s mouth gets him into more trouble than he can handle. His mouth writes checks his rear end can’t cash, so to speak. He has picked up some bad words along the way. One of the words he gets in trouble for the most is the three-letter word that also means donkey. The other day, my husband told Billy, “muchas gracias.” Billy heard the end of the second word and said, “Ooooooh, you said a bad word!” No matter how many times Scott tried to convince him, Billy was sure that he had just violated the rules. Scott insisted, “It’s Spanish! It means, ‘thank you very much’!” Billy would not be persuaded. Yesterday, Billy called me a ‘dumbo.’ We told him that wasn’t a nice thing to say, to which he replied, “It’s Spanish.... It means ‘flower’!” Well, we know he's not a dumbo!

God Bless the Broken Road That Led Me Straight to You

No clue how many times I have heard this song, but as I was listening to it this week, I was thinking how much it applied to my life and to my relationship with my husband. I was going to copy the lyrics into an email to my husband, but he reads my blog anyway, so here you go, honey, this one's for you! (italicized portions, courtesy of me!)

"Bless The Broken Road" (Rascal Flatts)

I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Now I'm just rolling home
Into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.

Depression: a Cure and a Cause?

I love my husband...he gently reminds me that I haven't written on my blog in a while. So glad that he is supportive and encouraging of my writing!

Well, update from my last post.... I had thought that was all there was to my little breakdown, but apparently that wasn't it. If you remember my blog from last year, I was finally on some antidepressants that actually helped with no weird side effects or personality changes. But, I lost my insurance and wasn't able to afford them or my doctor anymore. I had hoped that my depression was situational and that once my situation had improved, I would be fine. However, even after I thought I had things figured out and Scott and I had talked about my feelings, I didn't feel better. I would start crying while fixing dinner, for no apparent reason. I felt paranoid and desperate. I have felt sadness too much of my life and I certainly didn't want to waste any more of my life like that. I felt guilty for feeling depressed when I have everything I ever wanted and in all respects, am happy and blessed and content. Maybe my depression is chemical, genetic, or clinical, not just situational. So, I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and he gave me a new prescription for my old antidepressants. I am feeling more normal now. The paranoia and desperation are gone, I haven't cried since, and I am enjoying my life much more now. Guess it will be a fact of my life--may have to take the meds for the rest of my life. If that's what it takes to avoid feeling that way...then that's what I will do.

On another note, the kids have been struggling with the selfishness of their dad. He hadn't called or showed up for visitation in over a month. His mother had spoken to me and told me that he had taken off on his girlfriend Mandy that he said he was going to marry last month and that he was with another girlfriend Sarah. He had been telling me that he had been paying child support, but that for some reason it wasn't reaching me. His mom confirmed he was lying and paid a fraction of it (along with his bike payment) to keep him out of jail and collections a while longer. Well, tonight, he finally called the kids. Apparently, he married Sarah and now wants to resume seeing the kids.

I am frustrated on so many levels. It disturbs me that the kids so easily accept that he was going to marry Mandy in April, but married Sarah in May. It is appalling to learn that the kids knew about her and other girlfriends while their dad was living with Mandy. What kind of example does this set for them? How do I combat all of the things they have seen and know and continue to learn at his hands?

There's a deeper ache at how he can blow them off for a month, not so much as a phone call and doesn't bother to give us his phone number so his kids could call him, that they twice expectantly went to the meeting place believing that their dad would show up to pick them up yet leave angry that he cares so little that he not only doesn't show up, but doesn't even have the decency to call and tell them that he can't come this time. And yet, when he calls, all that seems to fade away from their memories and they get excited and exclaim, "Daddy!" or "I love you!" It hurts me (selfish jealousy, I am sure) to be the parent that is always there, doing everything for them, loving them day in and day out, not just when it suits, but to hear on a regular basis that I am a mean mom or "I hate you" or "You are ruining my life," yet he gets, "I love you, daddy! When are you coming to pick me up?" If I feel that way, I wonder how my husband feels, who is daily much more of a dad to my kids than their biological father is. He hugs them at bedtime and tells them he loves them; he provides for their every need (without the help of child support) and many of their wants; he spends his days off eating lunch with them at school, helping out on field trips, or helping me finish decorating their new room; he is there to pick up the pieces when their dad doesn't show up, scooping them into his lap and turning their anger to laughter. I once read a book that had a line in it so profound that I wrote it down: "Kids chase the love that eludes them...Why do kids assume so much from one parent and hold the other to a lower or looser standard? Maybe it's like my old man said, 'You can be a mommy's boy or a daddy's boy, but you can't be both.' So you cling to the one you think you might lose." I believe that was from "For One More Day" by Mitch Albom. I know my kids are smart and that eventually they will see which parent they can trust. But that brings me to my deeper pain. I can deal with the wounds of being mom, but what hurts my heart the most is when they are hurt. I am sure that this will not be the last time that their dad is selfish or blows them off. So, I have to watch them be hurt over and over again and I can't do anything to stop it. A mom's instinct is to protect her children, but when courts get involved, they dictate what is right and wrong for your children. And for courts, it is a black and white, antiseptic, across-the-board decision. Keep on subjecting the abused to the abuser and the children to being rejected by their own father. Oh yes, that's certainly going to be better for their self-esteem than to never have contact with their birth father. The court system has a long way to go before it can claim it operates under "justice".

So, as mom, all I can do is accept the situation and be there for the kids when they need me. Truly, isn't that what all mothers do anyway?

WARNING: Very Personal and Highly Emotional

I almost didn't publish this as it is soooo personal. But, I feel better when I write. I am able to express things much better and I usually feel better once I have worked it out and gotten it out. And maybe my struggles are not unique to me. Maybe someone else feels the same and needs the encouragement.

My heart has been calloused. Out of self-preservation, I fought to make my heart stony, so that I wouldn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t always work so well, as I still felt pain occasionally, but I believe I am still here today because I taught myself not to care. If you have read my earlier posts, you know that I went through a divorce last year. My ex-husband hurt me continually. Sometimes, when I would feel it getting to me and the tears would start to well up and I felt my heart breaking, I would steel myself against it. I would fight hard, telling myself over and over again, like a mantra that I did NOT care. I would fight back the tears so much that for a long time, I didn’t think that I was capable of crying anymore. What resulted was this calloused feeling that little mattered to me. Sounds harsh, and in some ways, I hated that feeling, but in others, I knew I couldn’t live without that wall that I could hide behind when I was scared. I COULD make it on my own. What’s the worst he could do to me? Leave me? I don’t care. Hurt me? I don’t care. Say mean things? I don’t care. Cheat on me? I don’t care. Even kill me? Well, then that just makes you my new best friend since you are sending me home, to a place where there is no more pain. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

Problem. What happens when you get remarried? Callous is still there. On one hand you want to let that someone in your heart and life, but on the other hand, you are TERRIFIED that if you open yourself up, trust, expose your tender underbelly, that he will hurt you too and it will hurt worse the next time. And the statistics on divorce for subsequent marriages bears that out. My new husband is wonderful. From the beginning, he made it clear that it didn’t matter to him how I felt (I’m sure to a certain extent). He believed that if he treated me the way he was supposed to, I couldn’t help but love him back. My love for him has come in stages or bursts. I loved him early on, but I held a lot of myself back. I was afraid to care too much, lest he hurt me too. Yes, of course, I knew he wasn’t my ex-husband and I wasn’t comparing them, but part of it was fear that all men were the same and part of it was fear that it was me. Maybe it didn’t matter who I was married to, maybe the problem was me and then it wouldn’t matter who I married, they would all leave me once they knew me. Regardless of the reason, I held out—and Scott knew this and accepted it.

Sometimes out of the blue, I have discovered that God has peeled back a part of the callous that encircled my heart and I felt more love for my husband and trusted him more. Those times have not been easy. Part of me wants to fight it because I am afraid. In my head, I know that Scott will not hurt me and wants only to protect me, but in my heart, I can’t accept it. I have all sorts of reasons why, which make sense to me and keep me resisting. The last couple of weeks, God has managed to remove a very large chunk of the callous—so much so that I think there isn’t much left to protect myself with. Ouch.

Satan hates us and wants to destroy us and our marriages. He wants to rob of us of our joy. He wants to wreck our families. He is out for our blood. I have felt him attacking me the last few weeks. At first, I couldn’t figure out what was bothering me. I had a general sense of unease and discontent. I felt tense and I couldn’t sleep at night. A few months ago, we had a Sunday school teacher that told us when she couldn’t sleep at night, she knew it was God keeping her awake because He wanted to talk with her and she would use that time to pray. My husband reminded me of that several times when I couldn’t sleep, so when this bout of insomnia hit, I began to pray. But, I guess I was praying about the wrong things. I prayed for others because I didn’t think anything was wrong. But, gradually, little things started to come up where Satan was undermining me and making me doubt. He started with small things. Insignificant, niggling little things that don’t seem to amount to much on their own. Nothing was really WRONG, but something didn’t FEEL right. These things piled up until I collapsed under the weight of them this morning as I sat in the floor of the shower, sobbing and praying. If my husband had come in at that point (thankfully he was at work), I couldn’t have articulated what was wrong: nothing…everything…a bunch of little, stupid stuff that would make me sound like a hysterical, raving lunatic! I would have been totally embarrassed at that point to verbalize the thoughts in my head that had me reduced to bawling in the shower.

God helped me to understand that the pain I was feeling was this large chunk of callous being removed. I felt exposed and unprotected, vulnerable, totally at the mercy of my husband. Previously, I knew I loved my husband, but I felt like I had held back enough of myself that if I lost him for any reason, I could survive it. Wouldn’t like it, but I could hold it together. Now, I am not so sure I could handle it. The pain of the callous being sloughed off my heart is, I believe, equal to the pain I was originally protecting myself from! So, what was the point of hardening my heart at all? It wasn’t even worth it because the softening of my heart is just as painful! It feels like a strange recipe: “to soften the heart, marinate in tears…”

God taught me today that even though I have this fear of my husband hurting me or leaving me, a fear so great that it leaves me sobbing in the shower, I have no control over the situation. I can’t control my husband and what he says and does. I can’t protect my marriage or hold it together by myself, which is something I learned from my last marriage. And worrying about it won’t change anything either. All that will do is make me miserable, as illustrated by the shower sorrow.

What can I do with that? I could live miserably scared and neurotic. I could harden my heart up again. Or, I can control the one thing that it is within my power to control: myself. First, I have to trust God. He is the only One that can protect my heart and my husband and my marriage and my family and my kids. He is the ONLY one that is 100% worthy of my trust and the One that loves me more than anyone else. I learned last year, as evidenced by previous song lyrics I posted on my blog, that when the entire world fails me, He is the One that is there to catch me when I fall. Men will surely let you down, but God will not. If I invest my trust in Him, it is safe. I can trust Him to protect my heart. I saw a play many years ago in which a young man offered his heart to God, but when a girl came around, he asked for it back. But she broke it. He picked up his heart and handed it back to God who fixed it up, but it wasn’t long before he asked for it back to give to another girl. The moral of the story was that his heart was only safe when he left it with God. If He feels it is necessary to soften my heart, He must have a reason. I have to follow Him first, no matter what anyone else is doing or if my life is falling apart around me. He has proven to me already that He can hold me up and get me through it. Second, I have to be what I should be. I need to strive to be a good wife and mother and Christian, not for anyone else, but “as to the Lord and not unto men.” Third, I have to follow the advice of 2 Corinthians 10:5: “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” Regardless of what Satan tries to tempt me with, which gets me all twisted up and confused and depressed, I have to take every thought captive and test it against the knowledge of God. Don’t let my mind run away with me and get me into all kinds of trouble. Fourth, I have to let go. In Romans 12:1, it says, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” Many years ago, I learned that I have nothing on my own. I say “my” husband and “my” kids, but they aren’t mine. I didn’t die for them, I didn’t pay for them with my blood. Only He can protect them and take care of them. They have been lent to me. And God can take away loved ones at any time. That’s His right, as they are HIS. So, I offer myself, my life, my family on the altar. They are Yours, Lord. Problem with a living sacrifice is that it keeps crawling off the altar, though, so I must continually offer everything I have to the Lord. Things change, people change, but Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. That’s what I have to hold onto when I feel like it’s falling apart and I can’t control anything.

I feel like I have been dropped in the middle of a fairy tale. Prince Charming came and rescued me and provided me with everything I need to live happily ever after. But, the problem is that I can’t enjoy it. I sit here, waiting for the dream to turn to a nightmare. I can’t live my life like this. I have to enjoy what I have and the beautiful life that God created out of a messy wreck. I have to stop living in fear so I can enjoy my life. It is truly a blessed life.

Rough day I’ve had. It’s funny how God can teach you and really work you over spiritually and emotionally while you go on about your day. I was so worn out when it was all over. I count myself not to have apprehended though. I know this isn’t something that I can grasp overnight. It’s a learning process, a marathon. I pray God gives me the strength to open my heart and my husband patience for when I lose my way. Lord, help me listen to the Voice of Truth.

“Oh what I would do to have
The kind of faith it takes
To climb out of this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves

To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown where Jesus is
And He's holding out His hand

But the waves are calling out my name
And they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times
I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me
Time and time again. "Boy, you'll never win!"
"You'll never win!"

But the voice of truth tells me a different story
The voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!"
The voice of truth says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth”