"Woe To You"

This is on my personal blog as opposed to my more Bible-based one, despite it being based in Scriptures. The reason is because it is on a more "me" level than most of what would be on the other.
Call it anger, call it frustration, call it indignation, i don't care. When it comes to this, i'm mad. I'm furious about this kind of thing.

Let's start with how Jesus treated those who worked, served, and taught in the temples and synagogues.
Look at Matthew 23; there are seven times in this chapter where He says "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!"
The entire chapter, Jesus is exclaiming His discernment against them, and even goes so far as to call them snakes and a brood of vipers.
"Righteous indignation" is what we call Jesus' anger. And it's often directed at the leaders of the temples, not those who worshiped there and brought forth offerings. He was angry at the elders, pastors, preachers, deacons, ushers, etc. Those who "direct" the places of worship.

Yet in 1 Timothy, we read that "The elders who direct the affairs of the church well are worthy of double honor, especially those whose work is preaching and teaching."

This is far from a contradiction. The wording most consistent through all the translations i've looked at has been this; "well". Not those who serve, but those who serve well. The ones who don't serve well, who serve crookedly . . . "Beware of the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely."
Luke 20:46-47.
Let me repeat that, "These men will be punished most severely."

My point in all of this is to urge you to not settle for a church that is merely "decent" or "acceptable."
Find a church based in the Bible.
Find one where those who are chosen to serve there are held to ideals fitting for a temple.
Find one where the sick come to be healed. And i'll tell you right now, i've a list of maladies that could fill a book. But that's why i go; it's to be a hospital anyways.
Find one where the leaders are not a "brood of vipers."
In reading this, i'm brought back to a couple songs by a rather bold band called We As Human, specifically the song "Burning Satellites." He talks about tv preachers, then asks "How do you sleep at night, you filthy dogs, you sons of men?" and goes on to tell them they can change, and asks God to "help the scales fall from their eyes."
There's a lesson in that; if you find yourself in a church where those serving/working are loyal to self and tradition instead of God, pray that God helps the "scales" be removed. But make sure you don't have a plank in your own eye first.

I'm thankful there's a Godly church filled with sick people just like me, as well as healthy people who offer to help the sick, and where the preacher is genuine.

"Framed Like A Picture" Flash Fiction

 Every story has a happy ending.

 That's what I'm told, at least. I'm not so sure that's a universal fact so much as a literary tool to make people think they're happy, when the truth is they're miserably incomplete from their first breath to their last. Winners die, losers live. Losers die, winners live. Which of these is the more tragic? The loss of greatness and prevalence of the mourning, or the perishing of those who know no joy? It's a matter of the “decrease [of] the surplus population”, or greatness being torn from someone. We're left with the age-old question, is it better to have loved and lost, or to have never loved at all?

 To have never loved; where's the happy ending in you?

 To have loved and lost, what elation rests in this?

 No, I'm convinced that neither is worthy of jubilation. Only the perfect, idealistic tales of love that end in “happily ever after” are the ones worth having. Yet even these are of mediocrity and generic nothingness. Love is not two who are happy with everything; that's ignorance and bliss. Love is two who fight through torrents and come out exhausted, but also stronger than before.

 Ours should have been lasting. Instead, it led to binding; chafing the wrists with coarse sisal.

 Love is pain. Whether lost, absent, or enduring, it is pain. Why should we strive for such a torment? What's there to gain in love, anyways?

 That may be the wrong question; what's there to maintain in the void of love? What's there to not lose in the perseverance of it?

 The answer is life. The answer is faith. The answer is truth. The answer is hope. The answer is everything.

 Even the most tragic of love, so long as it's true, is more triumphant than the most fulfilling lack of it.

 The voice beyond what I can see informs the gathered of my crimes.

 The rope around my neck tells me I die in vain.

 The heart in my chest says I lived in love.

 And no institution of man can diminish the hope in that.

 Framed like a picture, I'm waiting to fall and shatter.

 They have the wrong man.

 I loved her.

 I lo--

[Shameless Plug]

So, i've recently published another short story online.
It's free, and available in formats supported by a computer, Kindle, Nook, and other 'readers'.
Enjoy! =)

An Open Letter To Fellow Men Guys

It's time to step it up a little.
I'm thankful to be from a state where common courtesy is uncommonly common. Not to say Texas is better than anywhere else (though it sort of is . . .), because i have much disdain for numerous aspects of it.

1 Peter 3:7 "Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered."

Now, this is directed not just at men, but rather married men. Still, parts of this can be applied to unwed men, namely the part where it says "showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel."
Here lies some controversy, as this could be seen as a male supremacist quote. How many male manual/heavy laborers are there for each female one? How many male bodybuilders are there for each female one? There are women stronger than me, and more physically capable than me. But on average, men are stronger than women, and that's fact. Deal with it.

Now on to the point of this post.
Guys, we really need to work on our manhood. In the verses leading up to this one, it speaks of the conduct of wives; how they should act and why. It tells them to be, essentially, not just women but ladies. There is a difference in the two terms; a woman is a person of the female sex. A lady is a woman who is noble and true. She is an upright, moral, intelligent woman. She is not one to fall in with any crowd, to appease for the sake of appeasing but rather for the sake of setting an example, and she is respectable in her respect for others.
And guys, with what is asked of women in this chapter, we are asked merely to show honor to them as the weaker vessel.
Our gender-role is quite simple, really.
Yet we still fail at it.
It's time we fixed that, yeah?

I'm not saying we should all become gentlemen overnight (though we should try). Let's start by becoming men. Let's work on the gentle part after we have mastered the way of being a man.

In this, i'm challenging any man that would accept.
Let's start simple, like opening doors for women, or offering to help load groceries. If we see a woman carrying something heavy or trying to lift something strenuously, it's our duty to show honor to them by offering assistance. Not to flex our muscles, but to use them so that they aren't required to.
We're not flirting, we're not trying to win hearts, we're not trying to impress, we're not even trying to be gentlemen; we're just being men.

And yes, i'm trying to add contrast between the genders with this, to repaint the line between our natures.
Not for the sake of friction or to say one sex is greater than the other. No, neither is greater; we're both required, we're both capable, we're both equal. Our natural tendencies and capabilities are different--not better or worse, just different.
But we need lines. We need contrast. We need character. We need God-given roles in our lives.
A brain and a heart are both required for life, so which is greater? The heart for pumping the blood to the brain so that the brain can tell the heart to pump blood? No, they're different, mandatory, and equal.

Without these gender-roles, society's heart will stop pumping blood to the brain, or else the brain will stop telling it to . . . Society will lose both its heart and its brain if we continue diminishing the contrast between the two.

Excogitation: The Escape

This is an excerpt from a story i've put off for some time. Recently, i've figured out the proper ending and, therefore, am ready to pick it back up. This is where the two main characters, Liam and Ari, share a dream through mechanized telepathy (neural implant).

 The sky became blue, and later turned black, eliminating all light except that which radiated from the fire. She had fallen asleep, but he sat with knees brought up to his chest, and stared at the orange-red glow, sometimes watching shadows dance upon the wall of the cliff or over the figure of Ari as she lay unconscious. His eyes became heavy. He'd never grown tired and wanted to fight off the urge to sleep. Slumber had always been an escape. Now he lived the escape and staved off sleep.

 Images began flooding his consciousness, overpowering his ability to focus to where all he could see was what his mind was showing him.

Walking through a meadow. Soft dirt, moist air, warm sunlight, clear skies, still water. Content. Peaceful. Green.

 He managed to regain his concentration, seeing a soft smile cross her face before the rush of imagination filled his senses once more. And he didn't fight it anymore.

 Their thoughts mingled as they lay across the fire from one another, their dreams merging, feeding off one another's subconscious. Gray turned to color, pallid to vibrant, monochrome to a rainbow array, coarse to smooth, sharp to soft, dark to light, futile to hopeful.

 The clouds floated away, leaving a blue expanse in the void. The Spires regained a measure of saturation about their heights, their branches sprouted limbs and leaves, blotting out the blinding ring in the sky, creating a soft, cool shade. Wire-like strands of plant-life rose out of the ground, wrapping around the trunks of the trees, twisting and writhing as they pulled themselves up the bark. The facility crumbled, falling into a lake where creatures with strange arms -wings, he felt they were called- glided slowly in from the sky, coming to rest on the water. The air moved without a door being opened; a chilling, comforting rush of wind made its way over his skin. Soft, green shards sprouted out of the ground, circular shapes of various colors and patterns reached skyward: grass and flowers.

 The smell was far from the acrid, stale aroma he'd always known. The scents of the grass, flowers, trees, and water all fused into an amalgamation on the breeze. There was something bright about the olfactory response; it was sweet and light, uplifting and joyous. He inhaled deeply just to get another breath of the subtle harmony of scents.

 And there she stood, the most beautiful sight of the entire view, seeming to bring life to the plain in her wake as she walked. Each Spire caressed became a tree, grass grew in her footsteps, budding flowers where the beads of her dress draped along the dirt.

 She looked towards him. As their eyes met, he felt a similar life rise and flourish inside of himself.

 The two minds became one as the light flickered about the motionless bodies containing them.

 The world was alive.

 He was home.

Trust . . .

My parents . . . Are perfect.
Now, they both have flaws, just as we all do. They don't always agree with me, nor i with them, but we never have any real 'spats'. We communicate openly; if they have a problem with something i'm doing, they talk to me about it and, vice-versa, i am encouraged to confront them if i find issue requiring attention regarding their behavior. They don't always act like i want them to, just as i don't always act like they want me to.
So it may seem hard to understand how, when they have flaws like everyone else does, i see them as perfect. That's the thing; they're perfect for me.
Some people living with their parents require restriction, others demand freedoms. Through them, i've a perfect blend of both for me.

But here's the thing . . . They trust me.
Children are, essentially, a fruit of one's works by faith. And i am the result of their parenting, example, leadership, etc., and they trust me to do what's right and to follow God in every decision.
I have a harder time trusting people who don't trust their grown children, and that's precisely why. If they don't trust the results of what they've done, they don't trust their own example, so how are they to be trusted? Sometimes, though, people are just unfortunate; they sometimes just have stubborn or rebellious offspring. I am genuinely sorry for them.
But i trust my parents because they trust me. They trust their faith, their work, their influence. And if they can, i can. If they couldn't trust me . . . How could i trust them?

As said before, my parents are perfect . . . For me.

Technology/Communication Issues . . .

I realized this after talking with a deacon from the local First Baptist church; technology is our downfall. I'm the biggest hypocrite for saying that, i know, since i almost need my mp3 player at work, can't leave my cell phone at the house, i spend much time on the computer, etc.

But i'm told technology brings us closer together. I mean, i can talk face-to-face with people on the opposite side of the world if i wanted (the desire has yet to arise, but it's possible). I can post my mood or thoughts for many of my friends and family to see instantly. We post "statuses", and anyone who is on our "friends list" can see it immediately. I've family in other states, and technology makes it much easier to connect with them and actually be family with them over the distance.
But there's an issue with all this blessing . . . A cancer that outweighs the good . . .
When we're close to everyone, we're intimate with no one. When everyone knows everything about you, what is left for your close friendships? When we give ourselves one small piece at a time to hundreds or thousands, what's left for those meant to be close to us?
We lose intimacy.
The closer we let strangers become, the more distant we force those we love to go
The more we communicate to everyone, the less we share with our true friends and our family.