Advantages of Suffering

When my father died the world turned ugly shades of dirty grainy grey. He wasn't the perfect dad, but I liked and loved him, and wasn't done with him yet. That was my first hellish experience with unrelenting anguish. The sorrow squeezed my heart, and I finally understood the meaning of the word wretched. We are wretched when we cannot bare the loss of a future without someone we never anticipated losing. We are wretched when we suffer and can not stop weeping and wailing. In the suffering, the loss, the incapacitation and acknowledgment of helplessness, we are brought to our knees, or at least, I am. 

Some wounds never heal

I read in a book recently, that some wounds are never healed. Have you been injured to the point of painful spirit scarring, dear one? I know many that have been, and it makes sense that some cuts are so deep that it is hard to escape the memories and sorrow of how they got there. While discussing this topic with my son yesterday, he said, If an arm is amputated, you have to live with one arm: wise words from a young one. Dear reader, when a soul has been slashed, hammered, battered, bruised, is it any wonder that perhaps, a part of the person will always ache over the loss of innocence or a sense of well-being?

Compassion is priceless

I love that Jesus wept. Just the thought of God grieving makes me weak in the knees with gratitude. When someone cries for themselves, for us, with us, isn't that the most tender time of sharing sorrow? Compassion is priceless and invaluable. Suffering is inescapable: you and I both know this. What we do, who we turn to, what we believe about the suffering, who we are during and after, is up to each person. Careful thought is required, not to make sense of the why part of suffering, but of what is redeemable while in the throes of sometimes devastating circumstances. 

Yancey & Hellwig

While reading Philip Yancey's book: Where Is God When It Hurts?, I savoured a list, adapted by Yancey, from the writings of a now deceased Catholic nun, Monica Hellwig, that highlights what can be oddly (odd by secular standards, since so many are fiercely independent and believe they are in charge of their own destiny financially and physically) called "advantages" to being poor. Yancey directs us to the "advantages" of suffering, and I do believe we are witnessing broad swatches of suffering across the earth. Here is the list ... what do you think?

NOTE: I added my thoughts in brackets

1. Suffering, the great equalizer, brings us to a point where we may realize our urgent need for redemption. (Everyone suffers and feels urgency about their existence at one point or another)

2. Those who suffer know not only their dependence on God and on healthy people but also their dependence on one another. (We are all dependent)

3. Those who suffer rest their security not on things, which often cannot be enjoyed and may soon be taken away, but rather on people. (People matter, not things)

4. Those who suffer have no exaggerated sense of their own importance, and no exaggerated need of privacy. Suffering humbles the proud. (Suffering humbles)

5. Those who suffer expect little from competition and much from cooperation. (Winning no longer matters, working together does)

6. Suffering helps us distinguish between necessities and luxuries. (Desiring bigger/better disappears replaced with appreciating simplicity)

7. Suffering teaches patience, often a kind of dogged patience born of acknowledged dependence. (Patience and endurance develop)

8. Suffering teaches the difference between valid fears and exaggerated fears. (Life or death becomes real)

9. To suffering people, the gospel sounds like good news and not like a threat or a scolding. It offers hope and comfort. (Knowing we die has us thinking about eternity)

10. Those who suffer can respond to the call of the gospel with a certain abandonment and uncomplicated totality because they have so little to lose and are ready for anything. (Nothing to lose, everything to gain)

Help me

If I attribute any one great mover that had me change more rapidly than any other, it would be suffering. It has been in my suffering that I have called out to God to make the pain go away, help me become more like Him during it, help me become more compassionate for others because of it ... talk about dependency! 

Badge of bravery

When my father died I was strong, an emotionally independent island, still in charge of my self, despite the feeling of broken helplessness. I called out to God but before men, before others, I was a rock of confidence. My suffering was solo, and no one else's business. I took pride in not showing my sorrow, wearing it as a badge of bravery, not trusting anyone with my broken heart. When someone we love dies, we don't always hear the words that can soothe the soul, sometimes we are told things that heighten our need to hide from prying eyes ...

In my middle years when life took a turn and I didn't have control of the steering, I learned vulnerability and humility in ways I didn't appreciate at the time, but would not give up for anything now. In my sorrow and suffering, I am not brave, I am honest. In my hurt and anguish, I weep without withholding ...

People need people

As sister Hellwig and brother Yancey have pointed out, poverty and suffering bring us to the knowledge that all that matters is people ... people, people who need people, are the luckiest people ... in the world ... Do you know this song, dear reader?

I leave you now to consider your own suffering, with this little hint of a direction you might want to take ...

From what I am learning, the people that perpetually ask, Why God, Why Me, don't get the piece/peace that transforms ... they endlessly chase their tails with regret, and wishing that does not change a thing. It is the "to what end" question that helps us become the kind of people God wants us to be, the kind of people others call on for support, comfort, encouragement, a shoulder to cry on, and a person to celebrate with too! 

To what end?

To what end? How can this suffering be redeemed Lord ... dodging pain doesn't work, but acknowledging the hurt and heartache that drives us to humbly admit that we cannot control our circumstances sometimes, enables a holy dependence on the loving and merciful God that created us to serve Him, and one another. 

I leave you to your pain, and pray for your healing in the hands of the Comforter and Great Physician

But the God of all grace, who hath called us into his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you (1 Peter 5:10)

After Shot Hangover

I recall the headaches accompanied by that sick feeling of my stomach revolting. How could you do this to us? said my brain and body in unison. My head throbbed, my guts rebelled, and my thoughts swirled repetitiously:

🔥 What did I say last night?

🔥 Oh nooooooo, I can't believe I did THAT! (throw up)

⁉️ Never again, I will NEVER do that again

❤️‍🩹 Sorry God, I am so sorry

🔥 Serves me right (barf)

🖤 When will I learn?

🤢 Please make it stop

😕 How old do I need to be before I grow up? (dry heave) 

💔 Please forgive me God (barf, retch, barf)

When I had a hangover, I slept without rest, awoke early, started throwing up at around 7 a.m, and continued to do so every twenty-minutes until about 5 p.m. I couldn't be an alcoholic if I tried, because too much of the "spirit" had me losing an entire day of my life in the post drunken state, when my brain sent signals to my body that I had mistreated it, and my body did all it could to let me know that it was not pleased with the abuse I had administered. Self-abuse, dear reader ... I don't actually believe in alcohol, drug, or any other type of "addiction". I believe we have to want addiction to make it work, because our bodies are designed to reject the bad and embrace the good, but alas, this is learned behaviour, and so is drinking, doing drugs, or having sex in access. Each action requires effort to make it habitual, and this truth points to choice and self-indulgence, with a massively large invisible price tag attached. 

One of the things that rescued me from stupidity is shame. A good dose of regret, remorse and abashment, help a person be more reticent and resistant to repeating certain behaviours. I always knew when I was going to "let loose" and drink a little too much too fast but I had an, I don't care attitude, on those occasions: funny how the attitude was radically different the very next green gilled day.

I recall the word conscientious used to describe students in yesteryear. Consciousness, awareness, eagerness to do a job well, is what we want to observe in others, or at least, it used to be? My day after the fun night before had me feeling loathsome of self, embarrassed for my lack of temperance and elegance. Drunk people are idiots, dear reader. I thought I was more clever when intoxicated, more philosophical and ever so slightly more sophisticated than the people that were imbibing along side me. Alas, it is a fools game of pretend, because "spirits" invade the mind, soaking it to the point of nonsensicality. Simply put, drunk and high people act like big dummies, no matter how smart and sharp they think they are when inebriated. 

Still with me? If so, know that the above was a prelude, an introduction to my main topic: After Shot Hangover.

Millions of people, and from the looks of it, perhaps billions of people? have taken multiple shots. They are experiencing hangover type after effects from poisoning their bodies. I cannot change the last sentence, as much as I want to do so. The shots are poison, people willingly (not children, some elderly, or the incapacitated from making sound choices) made the decision and the effort, to get injected. Did they know they were poisoning themselves? I suspect most didn't; some rolled the dice believing they might get sick, might not, and took the chance; and some believed that whatever was in those vile's was going to cure their ills mentally, physically, and perhaps even spiritually. 

Spirt ... spiritually ... spirt ... spirits

And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit (Ephesians 5:18)

It is the spirit, or Spirit, that moves us dear reader. We make choices that align with one world leader, or the One that created all. I make no apologies for being this cut and dried. Liquor stores sell spirits: in Canada the word spirits used to describe alcohol, and has been sanitized to dull the senses of the potentially soulfully attuned. When consuming alcohol, we agree to have our mind altered in some fashion each time we take in more than our bodies can process: shots are meant to get a person drunk, and no one with good sense, would argue with me on this point. 

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise (Proverbs 20:1)

As I continue the comparison between strong drink and injections taken by the masses, I hope you are tracking with me: we are being sober minded together about the days, the weeks, the months and years, that are impacted in the aftermath of choosing shots that cause toxicity. 

I have admitted repeated stupidity to you dear reader. I was a terrible drinker, in the sense that the stuff didn't agree with me, especially when I willfully overrode the Holy Spirit in favour of spirits of the demonic variety via imbibing, and allowing them to think and speak on my behalf. Those days are long gone, and so is the company I kept that saw nothing wrong with regular intoxication:

But now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such an one no not to eat (1 Corinthians 5:11) 

I had to choose to accept the hangover reality as truth, that doing what God tells me not to do, brings self-induced harm physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I could lie to myself and pretend I had a good excuse for getting drunk, but I didn't have one, and never will! I didn't pretend either, that I had some kind of flu bug making me barf (loudly). Not the image of a pretty woman, that is for sure! 

Shots taken are meant to cause a type of drunkenness, with mental fog, malfunctioning of the brain, immune and neuromuscular systems, and injury to all tissues and structures within the body. The administrators of the injections knew the hang over after effects that many would suffer long term following the acceptance of internalizing the poison concoction designed to maim and murder. 

Some, dear souls, see the connection and recognize the after effects. They have regret, remorse and repentance, and repeat these refrains:

💔 Please forgive me God (barf, retch, barf)

🤢 Please make it stop

Conversely, others simply refuse to see the error of their ways, the deviant path they have taken, and the self-destructive choices they are responsible for. Consequences don't have feelings, sympathy, compassion. The refrains of those that lie perpetually to themselves, sound more like this:

😕 Why am I always sick?

✅ I did everything right

🤬🦠 Stupid anti vaxxers gave me this

😇 I am glad I got vaxxxinated, it could be a lot worse

😍 I am still alive

Consequences can be short lived or agonizingly suffered for a life time. BUT, dear one, there is always and forever this: CHOICE!

Choosing to live according to God's will and God's way, can give us freedom from habits that harm. Freedom from the spirits that suggest we indulge what is unholy, unsavoury, unspeakable to God. Freedom to live as though we are going to die, but without fear, because we know God has a plan that is beyond our imaginings. 

One of my favourite things to repeat is about Jesus: The truth shall make you free ... 

And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free (John 8:32)

You know the truth, dear reader, but do you know the Truth? Do you know Jesus?

He never lied, never sinned, never disobeyed the Father. He taught morals and values and principles for good and wholesome living that save the soul, and is the King of kings, Lord of lords. The voice of Truth is trustworthy and deserving of our attention and affiliation. The voices that suggested shots intentionally mislead, lie, and want you and I to do what we ought never do. 

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour (1 Peter 5:8)

Devour ... people are being devoured, swallowed up by the grave with lies on their lips. I pray this is not you, dear one. I pray you know today, that you can choose differently, with different outcomes, now and forever. 

I pray you know Jesus as your Saviour, this very day. 

Living With A Killer

Last Wednesday my little dog was viciously attacked by a much larger dog. She didn't stand a chance, it happened quickly, and she died in my arms in short order. 

Flash back images have played in my mind of those brutal moments, but also all the ones that are playful and fun too. That is the hard part, isn't it dear reader, recalling the beloved alive, while reconciling with them being no more, inaccessible, somewhere out there in the ether of memory but untouchable in the flesh. Dead, is dead.

I wrote about the killing of my dog last week, and in my sorrow I was greatly comforted by many. They wrote notes, checked in, called, checked in some more ... emails and consolation messages keep coming, and I am ever so grateful for the kindness. I have also had some say, in their love, that they want the dog that killed mine, put down, the owner held responsible for what happened ... I see their point, I really do, but there is this, dear one: The owner of that beautiful dog, lives with a killer.

The confused and displaced woman that could not control her half blind dog, also could not control her tongue. She was a swearing and accusatory person: she didn't like my son holding her dog down to release ours from its jaws, nor did she like him picking her dog up and throwing it away from me and Dot (our little Yorkie). The words coming from her were vile, and she kept saying, You hurt my dog (it was fine by the way, sitting patiently near by, unaware that her doggie ways caused human suffering). Alas, ours was dead, she could not cope with the situation or what she had just experienced, nor could she see the permanent damage that was done, because she loved her dog more than she cared for our loss, our pain, our suffering.

I paint a picture, of our last moments with Dot ... we tried to tell the woman it wasn't her fault, we didn't blame her, and I watched while my son offered his hand to her, telling her he was sorry, because while she verbally attacked and screamed at him, he had knocked her hat off her head. Nothing stopped her though, her vicious attack continued, just like nothing stopped her dog from going after ours. (Matthew told me later that he restrained himself; he said he had wanted to kill her dog, but in those moments decided he didn't want to hurt the canine). The woman did, at one point, when he and I stated our dog was dead, say she was crying for both of them, and then she resumed with the accusations, including that her dog was, Already half blind, and, I can't control her. She loves dogs, and we too, love dogs. Now imagine each set of us, me and my son, going home to bury our little bit of limp fluff, her going home with a killer. 

She lives with a killer, and no matter how she tells the story, no matter what lies she tells herself, her dog killed another dog before her eyes, and she can never again, walk the woods, or the pathways, without a sense of fear, of trepidation, that it may very well happen again, but perhaps, to a small child? 

Many have said the dog ought to be put down. I can see their point ... a killer in our midst is untrustworthy, dangerous, thirsty for blood and eager to destroy. Perhaps we can extrapolate together from here, dear reader: 

🔥 People who say things like, We are coming after your children, may be the type of dogs that need to be put down 

🔥 People that want to control the human population via increased access to contraception, family planning (abortions), wealth redistribution, and one-child policies ... may also be the type of dogs that need to be put down 

🔥 People that want to eliminate, say, seven billion humans from the earth via the various and obvious, spoken and repeated out loud nefarious plans they plot, may be the type of dogs that need to be put down

Don't let me play this game all alone, dear reader. What other dogs in human form, may be the type that need to be put down? Can you list at least three with me?

Let's play life, not pretend, together. Imagine being married to a mass murderer. Imagine your father being a public figure that speaks vile hatred to a populace he has been selected to mislead. Imagine knowing that at any given moment, the one you live with, can turn on you, lips drawn back and fangs bared, ready to sink into your neck, drawing blood, while shaking you senseless. Killers are indiscriminate. They do what they do because they like it, and while they may kill someone else's family members as a general rule, they aren't exactly reticent about killing their own if they happen to get in their way while on the hunt. 

Killers, like the dog that took my little dogs life, don't feel remorse, don't feel any pain or compassion for their victims. They live to kill another day, unless, of course, they are capitally punished, and put down. 

Cain, killer ... Abel, pleasing to God

Devil, killer ... Jesus, Saviour of the world

We are descendants. We each have a father, or Father. We belong to a family, and we act like our brethren, our others, our kin. If, dear reader, you cannot see that the veil between the fleshly realm and the spiritual, is thin and currently dissolving, then you may want to pick up your Bible and start praying and reading to educate yourself. 

One last thing. Just as the Bible is predicative or prophetic, meaning it tells us what is to come and in times gone by, was a way of foreshadowing the future (which we now live), for the ancient believers, so too, there is demonic predicative programming, that is being actuated. The Simpsons has for many years done fortune telling in cartoon fashion, which is witchcraft. There are many movies that capture in one and a half hour stints, exactly what is happening in parts of the world, attesting to the fact that satanic power is potent, as humans that do the devil's bidding fulfil their murderous purposes, sometimes completely unaware of the role they play.

This is why we say many are sleeping, while others are so, AWAKE

Type this into your search bar, Satan Roams The Earth Seeking To Destroy, and find there the Scripture listed below (there was more, but I had to stop somewhere in my itemizing!)

1 Peter 5:8

James 4:7

Job 1:7

John 8:44

Ephesians 6:12

1 Peter 5:8-9

Revelation 12:9

John 10:10

Hebrews 2:14

2 Corinthians 11:14

Job 1:6

1 John 5:19

1 John 3:8

2 Corinthians 2:11

John 14:30

2 Corinthians 4:4

John 12:31

Ephesians 6:11

Matthew 4:1

Revelation 12:10

Genesis 3:1-24

Revelation 12:1-17

Isaiah 14:12

Revelation 20:10

1 John 4:1

Ephesians 2:2

John 16:11

Jude 1:6

Ephesians 4:27

2 Peter 2:4

Romans 12:2

Genesis 3:15

Genesis 3:1

But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtilty, so your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ (2 Corinthians 11:3)

I can lead a man to the Bible, but I cannot make him read, I cannot make him abide, I cannot convert him from fleshly to soulful, just as fat cannot be converted to muscle ... one must shrink while the other grows.

I can make all the suggestions in the world and each one, must make up his own mind. But do so at your own peril, if you choose to dismiss the Christ, because, dear one, that puts you in the world with the fallen angels, and makes you a human follower of the anti christ, the one that hates you, hates me, hates children and little dogs, and loves death. 

We are beings unto death. You can make some fantastical summer plans, and then learn that a loved one has been removed suddenly, unexpectedly, from your life, destroying the joy you had during merry making. While I have grieved the loss of my dog, and rightly so, I have been reminded to never be cavalier about death ... evil people, are indeed, callously cavalier about the death of innocence, the death of their victims, and the suffering in the aftermath for those left behind. 

Let us not be so casually comfortable with our current state of being. Let us be prayerfully mindful, that souls hang in the balance always, until they leave this earth and go in one of only two directions: to God, or far far removed from Him. Once a spirit leaves the body, it is game over. 

Dead, is dead.

Adoring Eyes

Have you ever had another being look at you with pure adoration? Wouldn't it be wonderful if every time you turn in someones direction, you were met with eyes of love?

My little dog Dot looked at me that way. She was always tracking me, she was my shadow. On my left arm she sat, sometimes with right front paw balancing on my pinky, and we would move synergistically, here there and everywhere. If I got up, she sat up. If I left the room, she often followed. Before settling in for a nap, she made sure I wasn't going anyway, then she would curl into a tight ball, watch me, and then shut her eyes. 

I used to call her my attack Yorkie. She barked when someone was at the door, and nipped at heels without ever taking a bite. She was fierce, until she knew a person wasn't a threat, and then she would approach slowly, ears down, to meet and greet whoever it was that had entered her domain. I always found it fascinating that such a cute tiny thing, that looked more like a rat or cat, could and would, act just like a dog, sometimes like a big dog. 

Today I am forlorn and at a great loss. I type, I write, because it is my solace, my heart leaking into my fingertips; my heart longing to be held and comforted. My arms are empty, and have phantom limb like sentiments ... Something is missing, they say ... we look for that slight weight, that fury texture. Where has it gone?

Sometimes I would talk to Dot while she sat up on my left forearm. That is when she would turn her head slowly and we would make eye contact. We made a lot of eye contact, she was my little ever present friend and confidante. She adored me in that extraordinary way that perhaps, only an indiscriminate animal can? I mean she saw me in all my glory and in all of my failings, and loved me always, and wanted to be with me always and everywhere. 

We all have glory, we all have failings ... to be loved deeply as we are is what we all want most, isn't that so?

Yesterday a dog grabbed hold of Dot and while she was in its mouth, it shook her. I picked her up from the forest ground, and in a daze she looked me in the eyes, one last time, and I saw confusion there and a question of, What just happened, was conveyed. What just happened ... I know what happened, but I don't want it to be so. 

Today I recall yesterday, holding her on my forearms, as she snuggled into my inner elbow one last time. I felt her heart beat under my finger tips, and then that stopped. She was happy and perky, and then she was limp and lifeless. 

I hear the birds singing, they too, seem happy in their chirping. I think of all the parents that have lost a child and the heart break they must have or even do still feel. Having a life ripped away from you is a cruelty that cannot be reconciled, ever. 

I have asked God to give me wisdom and understanding. I know that I can be refined in the fire of sorrow. The fact that I could not stop the attack, could not prevent it, can not bring her back has me humbled beyond ... well, beyond.

My Saviour was spit upon, cursed at, mocked, beaten, crucified. His mother watched helplessly, and could not stop it. Jesus could have stopped it, but alas, He knew what the cross meant for mankind's future. He knew it was the only Way. God could have prevented Dot's death. He could have given her another day, or seven more years. He could have, but then again, we could have done some things differently too, not just yesterday, but perhaps every day of our lives, dear reader?

I think about adoring eyes, God's eyes of love. He watches us, as we go here there and everywhere, and wonders why He isn't invited to go along? God's creatures are replicas of Him, aren't they, dear one? I can understand why many love their dogs more than they love people ... the eyes of love are irresistibly kind, even when humans are not so kind. 

I don't really know what to do with myself, dear reader. My thoughts keep going to memories ... and I think of those that have survived tragic losses. I see how someone might die from a broken heart, my aunt did, when her toddler son went out for a walk with a cousin, and ten minutes later was returned to her, dead from drowning in the town fountain. It happened suddenly, tragically, and could not be undone.

I miss my dog and want her back: we all do, want her back. I know you, dear reader, there are people, perhaps pets too, you want back and simply cannot have ... there is only One giver and taker of life, and He does not have to consult with us regarding what happens in the world, in our lives, in our homes and relationships. He wants us to consult with Him though, dear one ... that makes all the difference, I know this to be true from experience. God is the balm for a cut and bruised soul.

Dot left a paw print on my heart. She impressed me with her steadfast loyalty and love. I have an ache that endures, because of the violence with which she was snatched away. I cannot comprehend a family member being murdered and having to reconcile with it ... how, how? God is how, He is our only how in dealing with horrifying situations. 

When the other dog had Dot by the throat ... that was so odd, and vicious. 

It occurred to me that is exactly how humans behave, just like wild animals, when they kill their own kind. How, how? Satan is how, only he can instil the blood lust required for a man to kill another person, or persons by the millions. 

I am not mad at the dog that killed my dog ... I am sad I don't have Dot with me anymore. It just isn't right, you know?

Last year Dot and I had our picture taken ... she sat on my forearm, right paw on my pinky. I would love to have that day back, I would love to have yesterday back, before she was stolen away ...

I love you Dottie, dot com ... I love you binky ... I miss you and love you ... I am sorry you were attacked, you sweet happy little thing ... 

I am sad

Koi Coin

Notwithstanding, lest we should offend them, go thou to the sea, and cast an hook, and take up the fish that first cometh up; and when thou hast opened his mouth, thou shalt find a piece of money: that take, and give unto them for me and thee (Matthew 17:27)

When the world went topsy turvy, so too my work, tipped this way then that, spilling my clients out of my life. I loved my clients and had worked closely with many of them for years. When one by one then backed away from our training or coaching relationship, I was left wondering who they had become, and had I known them at all?

Fear oddly snuck them off to some nether nether land. They willingly retired their lives, hung up their running shoes, closeted their need to be seen and heard for their own betterment, and "sheltered at home". Such an odd thing to type, "sheltered at home"... 

I wonder about them sometimes. A friend of mine that died young, used to use the expression, "A fig newton of my imagination". Did I imagine having THAT many clients? Did I ever really get up early enough to train people for 6:30 a.m? All that time I spent in traffic to get to a clients house, was it real? All the intimate conversations, the sharing of bits and pieces of ourselves with one another, what was all that? 

To answer my own question, I do believe I knew them, perhaps in ways they did not know themselves. They, the clients that evaporated one by one in rapid succession, were and are still, I assume, worldling's; people that prefer to preserve themselves here on earth, rather than look to eternity, with heaven as their final destination and home. The worldling's pulled back from relating, next they shamefully masked themselves from one another, followed soon after, with willingly getting needled, sometimes to death. The progression of sin was rapid fire, machine gun like execution of relationships with concomitant consequences for choosing badly, wrongfully, wickedly. 

When I was in Home Sense last week, I found a Koi fish, crafted by human hands. I really liked the fella, and brought him home. As I type, he sits on my desk, eye balling me, mouth agape, fins flexed and tail poised for swooshing. The scripture above, of Jesus' instructions to His disciple Peter, came to mind the other day, and it delighted me to place a two dollar coin in my koi's open for business mouth. 

Imagine the delight Peter experienced when he went to the sea, cast a hook, took up the first fish that presented itself, and found a piece of money there, to be used for paying taxes for both of them? God has a wonderful wooing way of letting us know that earthly things do not impede the heavenly King. For humans like you and me, the message is clear: God provides if and when and where and how HE LIKES, and while Peter didn't earn the cash, and he still had to pay his expenses, God gave him exactly what he needed when he needed it, to be a responsible citizen in the world. 

Imagine if Peter had scoffed at Jesus, mocking Him by saying, Don't be ridiculous Jesus, you sound like a fool. Fish ain't no bank account, just like money don't grow on trees! Imagine that ... I feel like I am tiptoeing on spring ice that might crack beneath my feet in a moment just by typing this suggestion. Peter, knowing Who Jesus was, wouldn't have dared to breath out these words because he knew better. He had witnessed miracles and clearly, knew nothing was impossible for God in the flesh.

Nothing, dear reader, is impossible, for God in the flesh

Nothing, dear reader, is impossible for God

You live in your fleshly garment, a here today, gone tomorrow tent that houses your soul. If nothing is impossible for God, and you have the faith of a disciple, does it not stand to reason, that you fearlessly believe every word ushered from the Saviours mouth? 

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? (Matthew 6:25)

Shifted

My business is different now, with my ratio of working as a coach vs personal trainer having shifted. People are looking for help in what has become a weird and wonky world. More than ever before, the lost and lonely are experiencing existential crisis, and are turning to God and the Bible for understanding, wisdom, guidance, and a spiritual view of the circumstances they are encountering. What God's children are learning is how great, marvellous, wonderful He is as Father, provider, strength and courage when we feel unsure, unsettled and shaky. 

I could have done what many did: I typed this knowing it is a lie ... 

I could not do what many have done. I could not keep my distance, cover my face, get injected, walk away from relationship for fear of being made sick enough to actually die: I couldn't, refused to, and am glad I did none of these things. Doing any or all of them, dear reader, would have killed me bit by bit, and perhaps this is what is happening to those that complied with the orders from the evil ones? 

I could not would not do these things for money, safety, a high five, or a baritone low bit of praise, because none of it was righteous, holy, helpful, kind, worthy of dignified human conduct. So, dear one, I found me a koi, and recalled the words of my Saviour. I placed a coin in its open mouth as a reminder, that what seems miraculous to me, is just plain old fun for God as He displays His power and might over all things living and dead. 

God is fun, and He made us with wonder, we are wonderfully made! Isn't that astounding?

I will end here, with a suggestion and a challenge:

Suggestion: If you went along with any or all of the government funded (really, tax payers dollars misappropriated by hand picked puppets that seek to maim, kill and destroy when they follow the orders of the devil) and pushed propaganda, call out to God, ask for forgiveness and in your repentance, ask to be made new in the image of Christ, our Lord and Saviour. Jesus modelled obedience to His Father, and we can be just like Him. 

Challenge: The next time someone insists on how you are to conduct yourself, consider the source, consider the consequences and the costs involved. Consider the impact you will have on the people in your life, and the far reaching impact each choice you make has on our mutual future while we walk God's green earth. 

Fortunately for me, I love my work, but I count on God as my provider, not my clients, that come and go, for whatever reason. You can rely on Him too, not just for funding your life, but for your every need ... 

Ask, and ye shall receive, when you ask for His will to be done, not yours 💖

PS: Don't strain your eyes in an attempt to read the text in the picture, just below the koi ... it is the scripture quoted at the beginning of this piece of writing. For more of the same, go to the Bible, authored by God Almighty, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost Company

She It

Today I am on a tear ... I cannot help but wonder, WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU DONE?

When I see a female that pretends to be a Christian, identifying herself as She/Her, my stomach does a nauseous flip. How could she turn herself into an It, a thing to be labelled when clearly, she has all the makings and markings of a woman, stamped with God's image. My initial reaction is repulsion, followed closely by a quick assessment: she fell for it ... namely, the lies that she believes she must keep company, in order to keep herself current and on course as a professional in a wicked world. She being an It, makes her out of step, out of synch with God. Her yea to the game that is being played, is contrary to God's instructions, and comes from evil:

But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil (Matthew 5:37)

Bible believing Christians do not accommodate wickedness, no matter the century or decade we happen to live. Keeping with the times, the traffic, the flow, suggests a modern approach, and indeed it is, an anciently modern repetitious way of life, with each generation repeating what the last one did: going with their own natural inclinations to sin freely and frequently. But, dear reader, I am not to judge those living outside Biblical precepts and commandments, I am to love those outside the family circle unto Christ.  

For what have I to do to judge them also that are without? do not ye judge them that are within? (1 Corinthians 5:12)

I can and must, judge them that are within, challenging a purported sister or brother in Christ Jesus, when they publicly go against God's clearly stated commands, that include all the weirdness that healthy normal people are gagging over with the gender blah blah blah idiocy. 

Now, here is the thing that I must focus on lest I lose the thread I am tugging to unravel the nonsense: all these people that spinelessly did as others have done, meaning using pronouns next to their male or female names; wearing rainbows on their heads and asses, floating on them and flagging them with all the Satan lovers that blatantly thumb their noses at God ... they have made utter fools of themselves because the tide is turning, and as in the days of Noah, believers will be safe inside the protective confines of the arc, while the colluders, pretenders, fakes and frauds, pound outside the door wanting entry when the flood of wrathful judgment comes, despite their betrayal and disobedience toward God Almighty. 

For shame, on all those that deemed it acceptable to act like fools in front of their peers, colleagues, friends, relatives, and more pointedly, family of God. I pray that hearts are pierced by this piece of writing. I pray people feel conviction for their colluding in any and all of the evil we have all been subjected to senselessly and mindlessly for the past several years. 

I pray people beg God for forgiveness for playing a small or large role, in making this world a dangerous place for our children. 

Backgammon Blood Lust

When I was a child we had a backgammon set. Some of the pieces were missing, and a coin and one time, an almond in its shell, acted as replacements for the beige and black discs. Recently I resumed playing the game online, and it didn't take me long to discover that I am really bad at backgammon. 

If you haven't ever played, this may not be of interest to you, but like most games, opponents play to win. Losing isn't fun, but worse than losing, being trounced causes some irritability. What I noticed about myself when I resumed playing, was a bit of backgammon blood lust ... when rolling the dice, my hope was to get the perfect number to kill my opponent if one or more of their playing pieces were unprotected: but killing isn't the object of the game, getting all of the little men home safe, and then removing them from the board before the opponent does, makes one person a victor and one person a loser. In the online game I have been playing, opponents can chat using the limited options available: Hello!; Hurry Up!; Sorry; Well Played, Ha Ha; Thank-You ... 

What has me returning to the game again and again, is my fascination with my own reactions to my opponents. My lose/win rate is forty-seven to fifty-three, meaning I lose 53 percent of the time: and sometimes I lose my cool ... perhaps in the same ratio .. Ha Ha ...

Here is a brief list of my reactions:

Humour, irritation, delight, amazement, incensed, playful and polite

While I feel and observe my reactions, it is rarely about the roll of the dice, it is generally about the feel of the opponent. Do you believe you can sense and feel what someone is like without eye contact, without reading facial expressions, without hearing another's voice? I do ... 

There are players that have amassed large pretend fortunes in the online backgammon world. I have to rely on free coins to accumulate to get in on the game, or purchase some, which I refuse to do, since Hello!, buying into a fake reality makes me a fraud (yes yes, you can extrapolate as much as you like as I hint at humanities inclinations to fakery and feigning, pretending what isn't, really is?!). 

As I study myself, I am studying the people I briefly encounter as opponents. One fella absolutely refused to be safe, got himself killed repeated, placing himself continuously in my camp, ruthlessly killing my men along the way, and to my amazement, he won. It was a fascination, I tell you, and I could see him in my minds eye, determined, at all costs, risking life and limb, to get to where he wanted to be. Another player refused to kill my men, despite many opportunities ... I felt a sense of peace about him or her, a kindness, a desire to engage without causing injury or harm: I won the game, but just barely. The soft feeling afterward had lightly and gently touched my heart. Other players cruise across the board as though no one else is present ... the dice roll in their favour, they select the perfect landing places, and one might get the impression the game is fixed, that the dice like the opponent more somehow, and that there was a predetermination of who would be the winner, and who would feel as though they simply did not have a chance. Lastly, at least for this piece of writing, there are the obnoxious players that for some reason agree to a match but use an exorbitant amount of time to make their moves and when they do kill or trap the opponents men, they gleefully send the message, Ha Ha ... this is when the immature side of me comes out, I start killing even when it doesn't make sense, since the object of the game is to win, and then, when the tables turn, I send the Ha Ha, Hurry Up messages too.  

Sigh ... humans are interesting, aren't they, dear reader? 

Today I decided to be a pacifist, recalling how it felt to be safe when playing that one game with the kind opponent that refused to kill. I wanted to see what my win loss record would be. I played six games, managing to kill once, only because I didn't have a choice, and had to get back onto the board: my win/loss ration improved, to 50/50. Since I was being clinical about the experience, I had absolutely no feelings at all, except a strange sense of detachment and slight superiority, feeling a little clever that I had stepped out of the game, was logical and pragmatic, and prepared to win, or lose, without any attachment to the outcome. 

But dear reader, I was still, and always am, playing to win. I don't like losing, I like the satisfaction of getting to the finish line first, but I have to say, I prefer a photo finish, especially when I am playing someone that I sense is kind, someone that says Thank You and Sorry, or Well Played and Hello, during our brief board time together. In fact, when someone that is decent wins, I feel some joy on their behalf ... 

But again, dear reader, when the vicious, the mean spirited, the kill at all costs players present themselves, my hackles activate and my determination to win increases ... and this is usually, when I lose my cool, Ha Ha!

Let us round out this metaphorical convo with some sound scripture:

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12)

I will end with complete transparency. We are emotional beings and can sense and feel one another, including intentions. We can override our knowing, pretend wickedness does not exist and that our senses are off base, silly or nonsensical, but they aren't dear one, they aren't. Good and evil exist, we live in a wicked world, and we can choose to be aggressors, pacifists, and without exhausting the list, we can choose to be somewhere in-between. 

Checking our own intentions before engaging with others is what I am driving at. We leave an imprint on each other, a soft soul brushing or finger print indents ... soothing or savage ...

Which, dear reader are you? 

Soothing or savage? 

God wants none to be lost, each soul belongs to Him, and our ministry is one of reconciliation. We are to run the race to win, knowing we gave our all as God's Salvation Army, here on earth: to do this well, we must at all costs, do no harm as we speak Truth in Love. 

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation; To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:17-19)

Salvation is God's salve for the soul, soothing the savage in us. If you don't know this yet, perhaps today is the day, dear one, that you go down on your knees and have a heart to heart with your Creator 💖, the God of the Bible. 

I pray you are reconciled today