How you speak to me: Tinkerbell

Its the the tip tapping

of your claws on the hardwood

Signaling alarm:

Your flare in the dark

The whisper before you bark

How you speak to me. 

Who I want to be

 One day I'll be

cleaner

nicer

professional organizer

retired

empty nester

nest egg

investor 

Mother

Mee maw

Wife

Hee haw

rodeo

bangkok

Manhattan

Heaven

Good times

Bad times

funny times

good living.

Habits

Once upon a time,

I was a writer

an online apologist fighter

worshipper 

church goer

Now I'm a chronically online

brain rot

loner. 

Where did you go?

Jimmy—the late night chats about nothing at all! We're married with children, we've got it all. One day it's perfect, the next day you're gone. 

David—a beautiful voice. a beautiful soul. a friend who was with me in the lowest of lows. Then one fateful call to tell me you're sick. Then never again. You were gone. That was it. 

Stephen—childhood together. Adulthood apart. connected through socials; I thought you had it all. Then all on your own, you took it all away. And it rips me inside, to this very day. 

Arthur—A downward spiral, I never saw coming. Potential and worthiness that flowed like a fountain. Bad relationships, one after another. An accident that took you away forever. 

Emily—Sweet and gentle, you were one of a kind. A love, a marriage, a tumor, good bye.

Wiwi—An angel on earth. That's the only way to put it. You were my world. You were mine, but I didn't deserve it. An angel in heaven, a saint you should be. The most perfect woman to live, my abuelita, Wiwi.

Stillness

Sometimes I sit 

Still and Alone; silent and forlorn 

with only my memories to keep me warm. 

Why I write...

My heart pounds in my sleep

Anxious even while I dream

The shortness of breath 

Startles me awake

This is how I start the day. 

The Vast Empty

There’s a vast emptiness within my soul-

My mind a sieve of creative control. 

Long gone are the words and the scenes it would mold

Into works of art and stories untold. 

I used to burst with colors and sounds

Yearning for music, and companionship, and crowds.

But today it is only loneliness that surrounds

My waking moments, where even my dreams are bound. 

Forever Wounds

 Its been a while since I wrote to you,

Felt ashamed and guilty, even though what I said was true.

Let the words hang in the air and wither there

Like a noose around my neck with my heart laid bare.

I'd come back every now and again to check if they were still there

Wishing there scars instead of the open wounds that we share. 

But like I expected, we are still bleeding

The cuts will remain while our hearts are still beating.

An Update

There's very little left of me
Very hollow and alone
No boredom or excitement
No God, no family, no home

Just an empty mind
With empty thoughts
An empty heart
With empty slots
Empty shelves
Collecting dust
A once shiny locket
turned to rust.

"shallow" conversation

This video popped up on my youtube suggested videos and I was reminded of the many conversations I've had with my introverted friends about their hate of small talk and shallow conversations. As an extrovert, I'm not always comfortable talking about my darkest fears and deepest desires right when I first meet someone and use small talk as a way to make small connections that can help me get to know someone before moving on to deeper topics. Something as simple as commenting on your shoes is a way for me to know more about you. Like the video says, it's best if you not answer every question literally: Hey are those new shoes? Yes. [end chat] 

Honestly the other day someone mentioned my black on black converses, which led me to talking about how I bought them during my first trip to New York and a concert I attended at Citi Field. After which, he shared his own NY experiences. 

This video was so fascinating because it explained the intentions behind these seemingly "shallow" questions. 

Far from home

I live a 1000 miles from home. No family except for those I’ve grown- Fostered relationships built on not wanting to be alone. Far from the streets filled music & mayhem, And plenty of Jazz and Booze to erase any memories that plague ‘em.

Soul Search: truth talk

I hide away my sins and shame--
Hoping I can keep living how I'm living for just one more day.
Tomorrow will be different.
Tomorrow I will change.
Then add a 1 and tomorrow becomes today.
The wish remains the same
In an endless circle,
Tomorrow fades away.

GAD?

My mind goes in and out sometimes--
Like an old VCR tape,
It pauses.
It rewinds.
It skips.
And lunges forward,
But unfortunately
My body rarely follows.
Then suddenly it comes crashing back toward me--
Usually knocking me over.
And I'm scared.
And I'm sad.
And I'm hollowed.

words, words, words

It feels like just yesterday
I was sitting all alone
In a crowded room
Full of strangers
And really far from home.

I remember all the words
Slowly but smoothly flowing forth
And the subtle relief of seeing you
After having feared the worst.

Then not again until today
Did I stop long enough to see
If you would come to me again
Or simply abandon me.

Love Letters

Always, XXX
Yours, XXX
That's how you would say goodbye
In the letters you wrote to me
In those memories I left behind.

When you left

I had some time to sit today
Quietly outside,
Though the voices and the noises
Trickled from inside.

And in the noisy silence
My tears began to fall
As thoughts of who you were to me
I suddenly recalled.

There was a time when I believed
You were my only friend,
And because of that friendship
I would stick it out till the end.
-Until it were all over
-Until Jesus came again

When I felt attacked and betrayed
You were the one I called.
I said if it were only us two
I knew we could withstand it all.

Into the gates of Hell
I'd follow right behind you.
My trusted leader and friend,
I thought I'd never be without you.

You can't imagine the pain I felt
When you threw the towel in.
The abandonment, the anger,
The fear I felt within.

I see you every now and then.
We run into each other once in a while.
It's hard to even look at you.
It's hard to fake a smile.

I wish I didn't feel this way.
I've kept this all inside for years.
So maybe this is my way of letting go--
My words to help me heal.

Dimminy

I find myself in constant pain because of you.
My heart breaking with thoughts of you.
To know what you're feeling and going through
Would either ease my suffering or it renew.

With both hands he turned M's entire body around and pushed his shoulders against the wall. "GOD DAMNIT! ENOUGH!" Hitting the wall beside M's face with his open hand causing a loud slap to echo throughout the room--startling them both. And with that the tears welled in his eyes. The anger that he felt toward M transformed into fear and despair, and collapsing on his knees he whispered, "Stop. Stop being like this. Stop being so cold."

She fell down. Well kind of. She sort of tripped down the stairs making a series of loud booms as the heel of her right foot slipped off the edge of each of the stairs. Thankfully there were only 3 or so, and she landed safely on the floor with both feet.

But it was the sound that caught his attention. Mid sentence, he snapped his head toward that sound, toward her. His eyes searching her face and her body for a sign that she was hurt, but he couldn't catch her eyes. So he called out as he rushed toward her--unthoughtful of those with whom he was chatting with a moment before. "Are you okay?" Arm stretched out, reaching. "Are you okay?" He repeated softer, closer. "I'm okay." she sighed, slightly embarrassed but more surprised by his attention.

Then just like that, laughter from friends near by, a girlfriend grabs her hand, and they walk away together. They giggle, and she tells the story of how she tripped down the stairs. They had all heard the booms. Plenty of jokes about her clumsiness ensue.

He turns away after a moment-laughing to himself and walking back to talk once more with those he had abandoned. They barely noticed the intermission. There was nothing remarkable about the exchange. Just a brief pause in an otherwise normal and forgettable day.

bright

turning on and off the lights
like lightening strikes
in an inky sky

Palabras

Ah! There you are! I'd been wondering where you'd gone. Tried calling for you, but finding you was way too hard. I thought maybe you had vanished, into a space of time gone by, and that I'd never see you again, and it suited me just fine. A past life. A talent long forgotten. A helpless wandering of a fondness abandoned. Yet here you are, when I need you the least-- a perpetual companion of my mental disease. Search for them, will you? When you see me slipping away. My thoughts come lazily, but my words soar and stray. They betray, the turmoil. They betray the peace. They betray the laughter that serves as a fleece. A covering. A mask, a guide to pretending. All while mending an inside that's writhing and wrenching.

I'm Nobody -- Response

"I'm Nobody -- Who are you?"
I'm somebody who's wholly consumed--
Who's neglected her soul all the way through--
A shell of the woman you once knew.

Unhealthy Obsessions

The more I want you
The more I can't get enough of you
The less I can breath without
It's hard to go on without you.

The more that I have you
The emptier I get when I hold you
The deeper I sink once I see you
The darker I feel when I'm around you.

Empty

I remember when you were all that I wanted-
To experience you for real,
But your subtle presence
Was too soft for me to feel.
So I went out searching
For something to stir my soul.
When I left you, I was starving
Yet I ended up devoured whole.

There was pain on the inside--
A darkness so deep
That the light you exuded
served to keep
others from seeing what was really inside
so we all sat around quietly while you died.

chimchim

Caught in a lie,
its all so clear
that no one believes
you're being sincere.

Round and Round

Its all been said before--
probably by me
Just a brief search, and I'd find it all--
This endless cycle of health and disease.

It Ain't Perfect

I've been listening to a lot of speech
Listening while they speak
Wondering whether its them or me
Who's got it all together
Whether we're bond or free
Whether we'll ever agree
Tired of pretending
So I let 'em be.

Wondering which one is wrong
All the while knowing that it Ain't me.
Knowing and searching deep in my soul
For an ounce of compassion; there's none that I see.

Who will I be
When its all said and done?
denying myself
Yet yearning for fun
Missing my people
Then wanna be alone
Ain't talk to no one
Won't pick up the phone.

Pentecost

It's dark in here. And very cold. A hollow sort of cold. An empty cold. With no refreshment or joyful exhilaration that makes you want to run around to stay warm. No. This is a dead cold.

There are too many of us packed together in this room- we're packed together tightly and very afraid. Yet I'm lonelier than I've ever been. Like there's a void or a tear within the earth itself and all that was light, and good, and comforting is being sucked into it.

He left so suddenly, and with him he took all my peace. It's not just me. And it's not just us. I think the whole world can feel this emptiness... because there is no sound. There is no movement. There is only stillness and waiting.

I can hear them all breathing and occasionally someone shifts in his seat on the floor and the shallow scratch of his sandal rubbing across the clay distracts and annoys me.

I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed anymore-the darkness is so complete. And every now and again there are little pinpricks of light that dart across my vision- like when one rubs his eyes too hard and causes that dull pressure in his skull to protest and send bursts of light to the back of his eye lids.

There's a sound. There's a sound like the howling of a mighty wind cutting through the branches and needles of a pine forest. And it is growing louder. Unbearably loud. It's overwhelming.

I keep expecting to be caught up in the storm and tossed about, but everything remains still. Except that now all of our eyes are open, and I can see their eyes because there is light. Real light. Like fire bursting upon the heads of all those around me. Flames dancing and growing- stretching and lifting toward the ceiling.

We're standing now with our heads cocked back staring up at these tongues of fire that are bursting from the tops of each of our heads and uniting into one big flame. It grows brighter, grows whiter, until I'm certain we will all go blind.

When our bodies are so cocked back that we are in danger of falling over backwards, the flame consumes us completely, and blasts from out the room. Surely the entire earth is engulfed in flame. Surely the whole world is consumed in fire. How long we stood there, shuddering in the light!

Then the light draws back. We can feel it rushing back toward us. The wind! The howling wind! And with no sign of slowing the light enters us. Through our mouths and eyes and ears. Through our skin and our beating hearts, the light infuses us so that there are beams of light erupting from our bodies. We are glowing.

Then we begin to speak. And we haven't stopped speaking. We are consumed. We are compelled.

See my only relief from the fire within is to share it with you- to have you bear it along with me. For it to consume us both. For it to consume us all.

A moment

It took her a while to finally look down at her hand. She'd been so preoccupied she didn't even notice the blood pooling underneath her fingernail. Now that she thinks about it, her finger does smart a bit.
She has a bad habit of picking at the skin around her nail--searching for a loose end that she can tear off. And once she's done it, she wonders why and vows never to do it again.

She will no doubt do it again.

Confession

I believe the fire is reserved for me
No way around it
It's hard to break free
From the terrible truth
That I'm not who I seem
And the life that I live is not all
Peaches and Cream,
But anger and lies
Both big and small
And cravings that contrast
My Heavenly call,
and there's no way for me
to accomplish it all:
To be faithful and gentle and truthful and calm
To be kind and be generous and patient and strong.
And I sink with the pressure
that I feel from above.
So instead I confess it,
And hope for the best
that when it's all over
that I pass the test
And all of the worrying
And all of the striving
Was a very good effort
But unnecessary writhing
cause all that I needed was to confess with my lips
And believe with my heart that I'm a piece of shit
And that I needed a Savior who could clean up my mess
And that he would accept me and love me
And take care of the rest.
(Funny enough I know this to be untrue
because Jesus himself said,
"I don't know you.
If you don't do the things I say to do,
you're a stranger to me,
And I to you.")

Forever this way--
Anxious and afraid.
This is my new normal
This is my day to day.

Compulsion

It tears from my throat
like a hand with steel claws
is dragging my voice and my soul
out from my mouth.

There's no rest
from the clenching of my muscles,
like a spasm with no sign of relief.

My body is trapped-
painfully still
head tilted back
and mouth open wide.

"Holy holy holy
is the Lord God Almighty,"
never ceasing
never waning.

The only movement
is the flapping of my wings.
A reflex from the pain,
they tear through the air.

I'm not alone.
There are millions of us
lined up and down
this golden room

And at the center He sits
and watches
and its been this way
since forever
and will be this way
till forever more.

I am the Suburban Mom

I am the Suburban Mom
Always chipper and running around
From practice to tutoring
I'm the best mom in town.
And every so often
When I flip completely out
And lose my cool,
And act like a clown,
My lawn is still manicured
With long green fescue,
And my 2.5 kids
Pose perfectly for our family pictures.
And when I am dying inside,
Feeling helpless and totally alone,
My smile shines brightly
In selfies I took on my new iPhone.
I am the Suburban Mom
Making my life look perfect
Like its my job.

I was inspired to write this as I was reading a completely unrelated book. I scribbled it quickly on the back cover and now its here. Forever. 

You may not know this

There was a time when I knew so many people in this space. We would read each other's writing and comment and share and critique. For years. I think there are still communities like that. I just fell out. And now when I look back to find those friends, they're no where to be found. They've stopped writing or they've cancelled their pages. And yet here I am.

There was a time when I would have hundreds of posts every year. Now I average about 1/mo. Isn't that something? Have the words all dried up? Has my life become so stagnant that there's nothing left to write?

Anyway back to the part that you may not know. There's a hidden menu to the right of this page and when you hover over it, a little file cabinet pops out labeled "remember," and then you see a list of years filled with posts dating back to 2005.

2005. 12 years of writing. I mean I've been writing longer than that, but those writings are mostly lost. I'd kept them in notebooks that I'd decorated with magazine cut-outs and puff paint. They're probably decomposing somewhere. But here on this page are 12 years of recorded writings, posts, rants, memories, jokes...

I was 19 years old. In college. A party girl with a 4.0 living in New Orleans.

Now I'm 31. Mother of 2. I've been married 11 years and have been living in Raleigh for 7 years.

Its a lot.

I was reading through my writing last night. Reading through the years.

Its a lot.

So many drafts.

lots of words to say
to express how I feel
In my day to day
But I refuse to hit publish
For fear that its rubbish
So instead I hit save
Close my laptop
And walk away.

Panic

It's come back-
That empty feeling
That's not empty at all,
But hollow and tumultuous
Like something's stirring
More like something's emerging
And banging on your sanity's walls.

It rises
To just about the top of your lungs
right about when you're going to scream
or choke
Can't breath
Tears jerk
And you use all your strength
To keep it in check
And most of the time it works.

Then,
At least for me,
Right about when I forget to breathe
And my panic makes it hard to see
Reality
I call on words to make sense of it all
To help me stamp it all
Brand it all
With something that I can understand
Then I write it out for y'all,
My foes and my friends,
To glance at when you've got a sec
And think, hmm it doesn't make much sense
and you quickly move on to the next.

Impulse

It bubbles up inside
Like the fizzy carbonation
of a soda pop bottle
Shaken and tipped
On its side.
Ready to explode
But kept inside
by a small cap
Screwed on tight.

Still still.

I have found it increasingly hard
To think as of late.
And because of this ennui that I hate
I sit and impatiently wait
fidget
flutter
and flail
I implore of my muse
inspiration
And motivation
to no avail
So here I sit still
For the truth to slowly unveil.

Echoes

A tiny sound that stretches across vast spaces

Filling them with vibrations and waves 

Overwhelming them with reverberations 

Is now taking place in my brain. 

Prayer Mantra

Today when the anguish and anxiety was rising up inside of me, I instinctually blurted out (in my mind) “worry about nothing, pray about everything,” and then immediately started praying. It just made me realize that because of my formal Christian education since childhood until graduating college, I was instilled with prayer mantras that I could call upon instinctively because they had been engrained into my mind. I need to provide that for my girls--scripture so engrained in their minds that they can call upon it even in the most desperate of times! 

Sharp Turns

My steady breathing
Belies the unsteady beating
Of my anxious heart.

Unclear Path--Poets United

Its hard to see on days like this
Days when all the world's haze
Is spent up in one silent hiss
In one giant mist
Left standing and wondering
Where you went amiss
Or perhaps you're right where you're meant to be
Only its so hard to see
On days like this.

LeeHern (August 2008)

The compliments I barely pay
the "I love you's" I forget to say
day-
in
day-out
on the roof-tops
I should shout
how much you mean to me,
but instead
I say things I don't mean
just to be mean
scream
plain not nice
blame you for my vice
when truth is you've been
nothing but
twice
the spouse I wish I could be.
I love you for who you are
I love you for what you're not.
and if I could change you
I wouldn't trade one
spot,
or trait.
God made you--
perfect.
You're my fate.
I've done things
to make it hard
to keep going,
but we're gunna
keep on flowing.
I'm gunna keep on showing
second to minute
minute to hour
that a family can get better
even one like ours. 

Spiritual Gifts

Today I took a spiritual gifts test. It was like 105 questions long, but I got through it. Here are my top 3 Spiritual gifts:

Discernment

The Holy Spirit gives the gift of discernment to enable certain Christians to clearly recognize and distinguish between the influence of God, Satan, the world, and the flesh in a given situation. The church needs those with this gift to warn believers in times of danger or keep them from being led astray by false teaching.  See also I Corinthians 12:10, Acts 5:3-6; 16:16-18; 1 John 4:1. 

Teaching

The Holy Spirit gives certain people the spiritual gift of teaching so that they would help the church fulfill her ministry as “a pillar and buttress of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15).  Without this gift, the church would quickly fall into error and sin.  Teachers are there to make sure that doesn’t happen.  They hate when Scripture is abused and used out of context or with ill intent.  They love the truth and speak the truth in love.  They will never hide or withhold it.  On the contrary, they desire to follow in the footsteps of Jesus who taught in the synagogues and in the Temple as well as anywhere the people were gathered.  They are called to demonstrate God’s love while revealing His truth to the world without fear.  The effect of their ministry is the upholding of God’s Word and the growth and maturity of His Bride until the day of His return.  See also Ephesians 4:11; 1 Corinthians 12:28; Romans 12:7; James 3:1

Knowledge

The Holy Spirit gives this spiritual gift to some believers to bring about understanding and to inform the church or individual believers.  The person with this gift is usually well-versed in the Scriptures and often has much committed to memory.  They can retain the truth and communicate it effectively at the appropriate times.  The gift of knowledge allows a believer to relate the Scriptures, and particularly the Gospel of Jesus Christ, to all aspects of life in this world.  They can see how it connects to every situation and circumstance and how the reality and truth of the Gospel is to inform every decision a Christian makes.

courtesy of spiritualgifttest.com

Underwhelmed

I'm learning
That I'm lacking
And yet I've no yearning
Or desire
To correct my failures
Nor am I inspired
To find what it requires
To be a slightly better
Version
Of the person
I was hoping
Would be the person
I'd turn out to be.

New Creation

She lies.
She lies in a pool of viscus blue.
Her hair strangely billowing, slightly matted, slowly waving in the goo.
She's being made new.
Slowly transformed, reality askew.
But way back when,
Before she Knew
She would breathe in sex and cheap booze.
She would breathe in sin and daisy dukes.
She ate nothing but lust and lies
And spat out anyone in sight.
Out with the old.
In with the new
She's sprouting gills.
And she's seeing true
Who knew
That this day would come
But this is only day one.
Many more to come
Painful shifts
And setbacks
And slow drifts
And comebacks
Praying hoping that her good side has won
Then sometimes wishing she were back
Behind the sun
Back in the darkness
Back in the fun
Back in the shadows
Cutting to run
To where
And to who
She hasn't a clue
But until then
She lies in the blue
Being made new

It hurts more this way

Seeing the pain on your face

Watching your hope fade away

Hearing you insulted day after day. 

Calling

Once in a while
I'm sitting back
Looking at myself
Look at the world.

Ps 46:10

Be still and know that I am God. 

Barking

At this point the dog has been barking for 70 minutes...straight.

**Update**

The dog has stopped barking after 85 hell-on-earth minutes.

Axiomatic

7But when [John the Baptist] saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming to watch him baptize, he denounced them. “You brood of snakes!” he exclaimed. “Who warned you to flee God’s coming wrath? 8Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. 9Don’t just say to each other, ‘We’re safe, for we are descendants of Abraham.’ That means nothing, for I tell you, God can create children of Abraham from these very stones. (Matt 3:7-9 emphasis added)

You say you have faith, for you believe that there is one God. Good for you! Even the demons believe this, and they tremble in terror. (James 2:19)

"[He] walked in a divine sense of rest..."

'[He] walked in a divine sense of rest. Like, 'You know what? Everything is going to be okay. The Lord is still on the throne. We're gunna make it." Larry Stockstill on his recently departed father of 97 years, Pastor Roy Stockstill.


Below is a memorial of a holy man, who lived a long and blessed life. It is inspirational for me to hear of his joy and rest. You may not know him, I didn't either, but I have experienced the legacy that his obedience to God has created.

How safe is too safe?

Jesus' words were bold. They were brave. They were true. Jesus himself was the Word of God--the word God used to create the universe--made man. And our Heavenly Father entrusted to us that very same Word to be proclaimed to all the nations of the Earth.

In Matthew 28, often referred to The Great Commission, Jesus spoke to his 11 disciples and commanded them:

 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.

As Christians, we are vessels of the Word of God.  We have to believe that the same saving power that God's word had for us, it will also have for others. We don't need anything else. Therefore, we do not need to sugarcoat, pussyfoot, elaborate, apologize for or defend it. All we need to do is "testify" to it.

But how can we make disciples if we ourselves aren't disciples? How can we proclaim the Word of God when we don't even know the Word of God.

God wants us to have hearts as pure as children's hearts, but an intellect of an adult--he wants us to have a mature understanding of Him. Therefore in order to make disciples, in order for us to become new creations "we must cultivate a hunger for the Word of God."1 We have got to read his Word, and Thanks be to God, His word is free to us! (Of course there are places where the bible is not accessible, but in most of the world, we can access 100 different translations of the bible just by using our smart phones.)

I'm being challenged in this area of my life. I want to be transformed and yet I'm not allowing the transformational power of the Word of God to enter my life. I'm not saturated with his Word. If God created Light and Sky and Water and the entire UNIVERSE by using his words, how transformative can that Word be when its full creative power is unleashed within me?

Filling the Void

Its has only been 2 weeks since Lent began, and I feel desperate when I see how much time I have left. I also thought that by breaking my addiction to social media and other media, that I would have been a healthier person, but I'm not. Maybe I've not given it enough time, but I find myself replacing social media with other just as unhealthy things.

See Lent is not a time just to abstain but also to take up. You remove something and fill the void with Christ.

That's what I've been missing.

I'm realizing now that when you remove something from a crowded space, that space doesn't remain empty. Something else comes in to fill it (even if it is just air molecules). This happens in our lives. If you take something out, you have to be intentional about putting something healthy and good back in. Because the space does not remain a void. It will be filled.

Repentance

I'm reading Bonhoeffer in my spare time at home, and listening to C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity on Audible in the car. Funny enough both were recently touching on the theme of Repentance.

Enjoy!

"Now what was the sort of "hole" man had got himself into? He had tried to set up on his own, to behave as if he belonged to himself. In other words, fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms. Laying down your arms, surrendering, saying you are sorry, realising that you have been on the wrong track and getting ready to start life over again from the ground floor-- that is the only way out of a 'hole.' This process of surrender--this movement full speed astern--is what Christians call repentance. Now repentance is no fun at all. It is something much harder than merely eating humble pie. It means unlearning all the self-conceit and self-will that we have been training ourselves into for thousands of years. It means killing part of yourself, undergoing a kind of death... Remember, this repentance, this willing submission to humiliation and a kind of death, is not something God demands of you before He will take you back and which He could let you off if He chose: it is simply a description of what going back to Him is like. If you ask God to take you back without it, you are really asking Him to let you go back without going back. It cannot happen. "C.S.Lewis, Mere Christianity Ch4 pg 59-60

"The Gospel is protected by the preaching of repentance which calls sin sin and declares the sinner guilty.  The key to loose is protected by the key to bind.  The preaching of grace can only be protected by the preaching of repentance." Bonhoeffer


Bonus Bonhoeffer quote (page 272) that relates to my recent post, which you can read by clicking here.

"We must be able to speak about our faith so that hands will be stretched out toward us faster than we can fill them... Do not try to make the Bible relevant. Its relevance is axiomatic... Do not defend God's Word, but testify to it... Trust to the Word. It is a ship loaded to the very limits of its capacity!"

Metaxas continues, "He wished to impress upon his ordinands that when one truly presented the Word of God, it would undo people because it had the innate power to help them see their own need and would give the answer to that need in a way that was not larded over with 'religion' or false piety. The grace of God, without filter or explanation, would touch people."

page 361

Charles H. Jr.,

You checked out a book back in June of 2014. I found your bookmarker today. A little piece of your forgotten past has amalgamated with my present. 

I wonder did you ever finish? Or did you stop on page 361? Did you stick the hold receipt somewhere in the book when you checked it out, then never getting around to reading the almost 600 page Bonhoeffer, simply return the book to the library without so much as flipping through its pages? 

Anyway, it was cool running into you today on page 361. Maybe I'll catch you again later?