Isaiah 48:22

“There is no peace,” says the Lord, “for the wicked.”

-Isaiah 48:22

 A woman in her mid 30's in the back alley of the bank, the one with the brown jacket and black pants. The long scarf that looks like it fell in a dirty puddle, shoes that don't match and look way to thick for summer. Then again, in the winter she'll need them so I guess they're worth wearing in the summer heat. She's always digging through the dumpster, always talking to someone who isn't there. yeah, the wicked. Her name is homeless women, squatter, poor person, nuisance, beggar, crazy, insane... or, Rose. That's what her mom called her before she was beaten and raped in front of her when she was 13. Since then, she's run the streets, prostitution, begging, moving from one empty building to the next hiding from "them". Apparently they're always watching. She's picked up a few friends, one she got the night her mom died. In America we call him Anxiety. Another she got the night she was raped by a gang initiation while she was trying to get to a bus stop and head to the homeless shelter on 23rd street. His name, schizophrenia. He brought a few others as well just to spice things up a bit. She's there, every day in the dumpster. No rest, no joy, no peace. She spits on street preachers because they've been known to tell her she's gonna burn in eternal damnation so repent you seeker of iniquity. She doesn't go to the relief bus because they try and take her to a hospital, she can't go there they'll take away her only friends with drugs that only mean she can't tell when they're watching her. She's what we in the church call "heathen", "hell-bound", "wicked". 

I see her everyday walking to work, shaking, talking to the air, sometimes yelling, sometimes asleep on the bags. But, it's like she's another piece of trash in the sidewalk. She'll never change, plus if I go and talk to her she'll probably bite me and who knows what kind of disease I'll get. No, keep walking to work, I have responsibilities and priorities. The day is beautiful, the birds are singing, the street noise is at an all time low, it's such a peaceful walk. "Thank you Jesus for this peace that surpasses all understanding, and wonderful day you've blessed me with! Ahhh such peace." Then I walked passed that alley on 23rd, I saw her there, crying. I told myself no, just go to work, you don't have time. I just couldn't shake it, that image of her sitting alone crying, while I am full of joy walking in His peace. So, sigh. I turned around and walked slowly to her I stopped right before the opening and peeked around the wall to see if she was still there. She was bawling sitting in the garbage, so after what felt like the longest 30 seconds of my life. I walked around the corner, she didn't even notice me. Sheepishly I said, "ma'am, are you ok?" Then she looked up at me, with tears running down her face she said "Are you one of them!? No! Get away!! Don't take me!"

I was what you call "normal" at one time in my life, before my mom was gone, and before I was out here on the streets. I loved barbies, purple was my favorite color and when I saw butterflies my whole world felt right. We lived in a house. Me, my mom and Nini, my grandmother. When I was 12 Nini died cause some guy trying to steal her purse knocked her into the road and broke her hip. Then some tractor trailer sped by and ... After the funeral my mom wouldn't get out of bed. Then it had been 3 months and my mom still hadn't gotten up, aside from the few times I could convince her to take a bath. I would feed her breakfast, go to school, walk home and feed her dinner. We were running out of money and she had lost her job. I was trying to sell some of our stuff and one of the people knew my mom and invited us both to her church service on Thursday. So, somehow and I don't know how but my mom decided to go. She got dressed and we went. Then she went again, and again and again. She was always there, making people meals, cleaning, she went back to work. I didn't care, she was working and I could go back to my life. 

What do you do with that? How do you respond. I went to bible college for a year, I know basic discipleship and how to evangelize and preach and everything. I grew up in the church. So, I said the only thing that came to mind, "ok, I won't take you." She just stopped her shaking and mumbling and looked at me. With those black eyes piercing into mine. Shly I said, "Are you OK?" As she looked down, I don't know what came over me. This burning sensation and need to just tell her, tell her that someone loves her. "Do you know Jesus?" She snarled, "NO! Not Him. Not again." Then she started the shaking, and mumbling again. "well, even though you don't know Him yet, He knows you. And he loves you so much. Have a good day. I hope I see you again." Then I walked away. I walked away from a snarling dog of a woman and went to work. I left, but this never left me. All day I thought about it, the emotional feelings, the burning I felt on the inside. I couldn't shake it. I dreamt about it, sweat about it. The whole weekend, my family noticed the change in me. They thought I was sick. I'm not sick, I just can't get this woman out of my head. 

I loved those few months of "normal" aside from my mom being at some church every night. But she was up, happy, and I could go back to being a teenager. But, one night I heard a crash in the living room and a lot of yelling. I thought my mom had just had another break down, but when I walked into the door way of the living room a man from the church was there. I knew he was from the church because his face was on all those dang papers my mom brings home from the church. He had my mom by the hair and was screaming at her. He didn't know I was there yet, then he beat her. I was frozen. I thought I was in a bad dream and would wake up soon. I didn't know what to do. So I watched my mother be beaten bloody, and raped. My knees were so weak, I dropped. He saw me, hit me in the back of the head with something and I woke up 3 days later. My mother was still lying there in a puddle of dried blood. Her eyes were gray and her motionless body cold. I didn't know what to do. So I ran. I ran and ran and ran. 

Monday morning I left for work early, walked straight to the alley to see if she was there. She looked like she hadn't moved from that spot all weekend. I walked up to her slowly, my heart was racing out of my chest. I had so many things I wanted to tell her, so many emotions flying through me, but No words came to mind. I literally could not speak. She was very still and looking down at her feet. Those boots that were too heavy for summer, those pants that were tattered and worn. Those hands that were rough like a carpenters. The my mouth just spoke out "Hi" She looked up at me and I said, "How are you?". No reply. I poked around the bush asking more unimportant ineffective questions then finally just asked her "Umm, Do you remember when I told you that Jesus loves you? He forgets everything you've done if you want to know Him. It's like you become new again, and get to start over. Would you like to know Him?" She looked up at me, with tears in her eyes said "yes." She wasn't shaking, she wasn't mumbling. For the first time since I've seen her, she looked at peace. I helped her up, called in to work and took her to breakfast.

Daddy God

I have always struggled when people call God daddy, or dad. When Ric Pino wrote the song "We have the best dad in the whole world, in the whole world." I sang it, had our youth band sing it, jumped up in down to it but never understood fully what it meant. I knew in my head, but in my heart I had no clue as to what it felt like to know the Almighty God Creator of the universe as my father. I think it is said a lot, and prayed a lot but what does it mean. Guess what! People write books about it :) So you can know, and you can hear it on youtube, and read about it in peoples blogs. But you will never know until you sit down with God and in whatever way he speaks to you, listen and come to know in your heart that God is indeed your father. I did a study in the word of what it means to have God as your father. There are plenty of verses on the subject but for the sake of repeating myself we will use Psalm 103:13. 

"As a father pities his children
So the Lord pities those who fear him" 

-Psalm 103:13

The preface to this specific verse is David proclaiming who God is and blessing Him. "Bless the lord all my soul, and all that is within me. Bless His holy name!" The whole chapter is full of who God is and how stunning He is. 


Pities in the american dictionary of this age in time means: 

Pities - The feelings of sorrow or compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others. 

Pity in the Hebrew according to Strongs means: 

Pity - Racham (ra-kham') Verb
to love, love deeply, have mercy, be compassionate, have tender affection, have compassion, 
(a) Qal - to love 
(b) Piel - to have compassion, be compassionate
    (a) of God, man
(c) paul - to be shown compassion, be compassionate

"who fear Him" in the hebrew according to Strongs: 

"who fear Him" - Yare - Adj
1. fearing, reverent, afraid

So after understanding what some of the terms in this verse means we come to this conclusion: 

(1) Father - Trait of God

1. He has tender affection for you, He is compassionate towards you and loves you deeply. 

Meaning- He wants to help you in your time of need. He loves you. 

Relevant Application- Mother Theresa, always accepted someone. No matter their belief, nationality, or ailment. She always took care of those around her. 

*I am not feminizing God. He is neither sex. He is the essence of both because He created man (meaning both men and women) in his image. (Genesis 1:26-27) That's why when you become married the two can become one. (Genesis 2:24)

Mother Theresa was human, so she could only have life changing influence on a limited number of people. Only a small number of people could feel accepted by her. She couldn't tell everyone in the world that she accepted them. God is omnipresent, meaning He is everywhere, all the time. So if God takes care of those around Him and has compassion on you and deeply loves you. He accepts you. No matter where you are, what you are doing or who you are with YOU are accepted by God. 

What does this mean to you- He loves you so much, with such a pure love that He would do anything to help you if you would just let Him. A good father doesn't force his child to play basketball if their passion is singing. A good father suggests basketball knowing it is good for the child but lets them pursue their passion because although he is their father he knows you won't enjoy all the aspects of basket ball if you are forced. It will become a duty and never become a passion. God wants you to come to Him because He is your passion. 

Jesus had compassion on the sick and they were healed. You have compassion on, those who need justice, those who need healing, those who need love, those who need deliverance, whatever you have compassion on God moves through that and your faith. God, having compassion on you, means those things that you need. He moves through compassion and faith. You are healed, you have justice, you have freedom ect. But if you won't accept that He has accepted you and loves you and has compassion on you, then you cannot receive the effects of Gods compassion on you. 

Mental Block- You have all of those promises and more (you can find  them in the bible. :D) but you won't accept them because IF you do and THEN they don't happen (or you they don't happen like you wanted or as quickly as you wanted) you feel rejected. For myself I tend to have this cycle, I don't want to go up for prayer because if I do what if they skip me, or nothing happens. The cycle is Rejection resulting in Humiliation, then resulting in Inferiority which cycles back into feeling abandoned and rejected. This is an endless cycle that needs to be taken care of. The problem is knowing how. 

My father once said in a sermon: 

"If you poke at a scar and it still hurts, it's not healed" - Pastor Sam McKinney

The reality of this is astounding. For example; If I cut my hand whittling on a stick, that will hurt for a few days. I need to bandage it, put medicine on it and let it heal. The day after if I bump it or poke it. The wound is still bruised and it hurts. The next day it will hurt but not as bad and so on until a week later it doesn't hurt at all and a few weeks down the road you would have never known there was a cut there. That's a small wound. Then there are surgeries, which take months to heal and then the incision hurts for years. The scar is there and you know something happened there but two years after the surgery the incision is bumped and you feel that pain, it is nothing compared to the morphine you had to take in the beginning to stop the pain but it is just a little reminder of what happened there. 

So, some scars you can see, some you can't, some heal quickly, and some take a long time. 

If you go through something that hits those core fears in your life, rejection, inferiority, abandonment, ect. That hurts, and it hurts for a while. You go to God and want him to take it away quickly, like it was a small wound. But you can't fix major issues with small wound tactics. If you do you could lose a limb, or be in terrible health for a long time. Let God operate on you, Let your father wrap you in His arms and love on you. Sit in his presence and feel his security. A child lays in their fathers chest because his heart beat is a sense of being safe. They run to their father to have him kiss a boo boo because that will fix it. But when they need surgery, or go through a terrible illness, they just want the father to be in the room because although a kiss won't fix this boo boo, and a hug won't take all the pain away. His presence is security that everything is going to be ok, and they are going to make it. A father will sit in the hospital room for hours when a child is ill. They may not say a word to each other but they are together. 

Sometimes just sitting in the presence of God can heal  those wounds. Not the first or second time, maybe the third or 17th but whether for hours or minutes sitting with God heals all wounds. 

Sometimes the father and child get more time together during that time of pain or illness than they ever got before. So while the healing is happening intimacy and growth happens as well. You get closer and deeper with each other than ever before. You will get closer to God in the times where you can just sit in his presence and feel Him than you would in your regular routine of prayer time. 

Who God is and His roles in our live sometimes overlap. In the case of the original verse (Psalm 103:13) He is father. In the application that applied greatly to my life, and yours, He was Father, Great Physician, and through that healing and intimacy with the Father He is also lover. He is your Father and you His son. Speak what the word says about Sonship over yourself, this and if you would like reading the book Spiritual slavery to spiritual sonship by Jack Frost will help you know who God is and who you are in Him. 

References: 
BlueLetterBible.com
Pastor Samuel McKinney
Spiritual Slavery to Spiritual Sonship - Jack Frost
Fathers.com - national center for fathering
Alisson Alexander 

[Insert creative name here]

An alluring field, carpeted with the engaging rich purple, which deceives the eye to believe it, is starlight blue. Which is a travesty of scenery since it is of course noonday. The smell is irrepressible, a mix of floret and Blitheness. Laying against a venerable oak, deep into the planet and disposition of the publication in hand. The light breeze floats across the pages with such fragile force the world having just been in shifted into the nonfictional earth in which life truly dwells. Ah! That burst back into reality that thrust into the dismal actuality no matter how beautiful still jeopardizes the joy from the world you were once in, the one without obstruction, without desolation. 

Hello! Since I’ve distracted you from the previous scene we might as well have a chat. Lets ask a question; mind you this is a heavy question. Since I have forewarned you from continuing this read as it may stir up emotions you’ve hidden away in the dark chasm you call your "heart". Full of secret hallways and doors you have only begun to realize are there. Then, as every good boy and girl finds, right when you think you've given you're whole self up to be an open book to the creator of all. You find another door and once again become lost in this great abyss, stumbling upon more and more locked, barricaded portals. 

So what is this question that would evoke such emotions? Simple. What is your true motivation? This is a broad question and there are hundreds of directions to travel, the primary focus being 'why do you want to be successful?' Is it to get earthly praise, get a position of high authority, be recognized by the kingdom of Gods finest, and be recognized by the world? I'll let you think on this one while I continue where I left off, in the field. 

If you are wondering why we stopped in the middle of this detailed prologue, to ask such somber question? I happen to be slightly ADD. Answer is simple enough! 

Sitting in the field blah blah blah, big words, the use of a thesaurus, adjectives, and 30 minutes later we're again under the tree out of the book and into reality. Looking around the beauty is cloaked by the creative power behind the book and true beauty and perfection isn't good enough anymore. So seeking for that perfection, that minds eye appeal, a stroll seems to be the best retort for such a sudden jolt into nonfiction life dwelt in. 

On a side note, describing the scene for you I have decided I wouldn't mind sitting under a tree with a book. Seems to me like a fantastic place to be, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life (as cliché as that phrase is it fits just right) and the worries of tomorrow are light-years away. This person is a bit unsettled if you ask me. But that is not for me to judge so we're back to the story. 

Dawdling along the path, worn by habitual travel from innumerable subjects trudging along as this barren being. Plagued with thoughts and emotions even the loveliest scene can't distract. What will please this burdened soul? What happiness is missing from the heart, what hole is bellowing out 'I need something more! I need the next step!' Discontent with ones surroundings, searching for the next adventure, the next mountain to climb. 

Oh! but then once reached, discontent turns to "mal", Malcontent. Yearning for peace, now knows what was and the realization of the marvelous life before. Alas the mountain is here, there is nothing to do but climb it. The next question is were their preparations made for this adventure? What supplies are there to draw from? I hope you brought your bear repellent. 

Squirrel! Another distraction, still the question posed before is up for another examination. ' Hey batta batta batta swang swang' and a miss. I don't think you've even given the question a thought! Thank God that he gave me grace so I can give you grace and I'll finish the story where I left off. Just promise you'll think about the question don't fret I'll digress again. 

Looking down from the midst of this mountain in this lofty position it is easy to give up and go back to the oak, lost in the world dissembled by another. Simulating the paragon fooling oneself that, this is in fact the adequate way that we should strive to achieve. Alas, being half way there looking forward towards the goal it seems as though going this far has to be worth something so finishing the task is the only option. 

Climbing a mountain is no small task, you can't just grab a rock and go. You must make sure you plan ahead. asking the question ' will this step be theta best path to the top' or 'how sturdy is this ledge, can i rest on it for a stretch?' In reality the process of climbing a mountain is an excellent juxtaposition of life. Asking the same questions in respect to the path of life has the potential to prevent conscious self torment and mutilation. 

Such words are so fervent, is this such a necessary commentary. No, not really but the words, when used correctly, identify analogously to the story. I feel as my native tongue being english that it is only proper to use the language to my advantage in describing a scene. The words are there for a reason, most feeling left out due to lack of use by the common Englishmen. Again, I digress. 

The hardest part of climbing a mountain is lifting up to the safety of the top. Seems simple enough, but keep in mind the distance just traveled climbing, not to mention the wear and tear on the body. In pure exhaustion gathering the strength to finally complete the task is a stimulating position. Deep breath one. Deep breath two. Deep breath three. Deep breath four. Deep breath, slight pause, five! 

Oh the pain! The worn muscles giving their last effort, the mental excitement being too much to bear! Fingers callused and blistered from the rugged terrain. Breathless and panting from the adrenaline rush a moment ago, you breath a huge sigh of relief. Finite! How that revelation is fulfilling, the emotional roller coaster that just slowed is a peaceful feeling. From potential death at one wrong move to safety is a relief and the breath taken breaths out all fears and tension. 

But, I know this sounds cliche, this story has been told one million times. The road of restless, struggle, accomplished, tragedy, ending unknown being either or joyous or glum. But is a huge word. the word itself is a conjunction, connecting two sentences or ideas giving somewhat of a condition to the previously stated emotion, event, idea or plan. Making this word a very bothersome word. In the words of Winnie the pooh himself, "oh, bother." 

As sad as it is this quest does have a "but" in it. You see once the initial facade fades and all there is left to do is stand up and continue the journey. Standing on top is a magnificent sight. The tree line has a ravishing, alluring, soporific affect on the eyes. The hardships were worth it for this scenery, What is next? Where is shelter? Food? Companionship? But. it took a while to get back to this "but" (no pun intended) alas we have to detour once again. 

What is your true motivation. Got ya, You have to answer yourself this time. Take a few moments and think about what your true motivation is. Are you trying to become someone? Are you trying to teach people something? Have you tasted leadership and yearn for more? Remember that the whole purpose of this life is "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." (NIV 1984) Love people. That is how you become a leader. Be servant leader and you will be fulfilled. It is not about a position, it is not about numbers, it is not about quantity. It is about Serving people out of love and devotion to seeing personal growth in yourself and individuals you influence. .. [TBC]

Washing Machine

You are not my friend. 

You are broken.

You Sell yourself for money.

You steal my money.

People use you as they please.

You have no self respect. 

You decide how long to take regardless of my time. 

You are loud and obnoxious. 

People steal you from me and then you laugh.

You have sold your soul to the dryer to:

Take as long as possible

only half work

maintain a constant batch of clothes when i need to borrow your time

take turns working and breaking

setting me on fire. 

ok so the last one i made up but i pretty much want to constantly set you on fire. 

so..

Dear Washing Machine, 

You're fired, i'm going to a laundry mat. sure it is more expensive and potentially dangerous. But they work, my clothes get clean. and i do it all much faster. thank you for your time. but you need to go. 

sincerely, 

your friendly CFNI student. :) 

P.S. I wouldn't put me down for a reference. You wouldn't like the results.