The evening was the fourteenth of December. The year was 1873. It was bitterly cold outside, yet I sat comfortable inside, warmed by a fire, and content and happy. But I could have been outside, chilled by the frosty fingers of the wind, and been just as content and happy. How could anyone not be who was in my place? God had blessed me, immensely. I was not yet twenty-three years of age and I had more than I could ask for.
We take happiness for granted. It's like we think we deserve it. But we don't. Ultimately we deserve hell. Christ changed that by suffering the wrath of God in our place so that we can experience the joy of eternal life.
Happiness is temporal but joy is found in the eternal.
So we should be joyful...when? Only when we remember what lies ahead (in heaven)? Or how about when things are going our way? Rejoice in the Lord every-once-in-a-while? No. "Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice." (Phil. 4:4)
I pulled into the drive and found a spot to park my car. I took the key out of the ignition and put it in my purse. I looked at my hands, palms up. They were shaking and sweating like crazy. I clenched them into fists to steady them and gritted my teeth.
"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "It'll be better this way."
he tries to touch me
but I shrink away
his eyes are watching
accosting me
my skin shudders
as he spits rhymes
and sweet words to the girl
on my left
she’s laughing
but she doesn’t know
what he did
last night
he does not have
good intentions
I don’t know
how to tell him
to back off
When life is rough it's hard to be tough,
But we must carry on.
We must remember that He is enough;
So we can carry on.
He has given the strength that we need
To bravely carry on.
So we will run and joyfully speed
Our cross to carry on.
[this has been redacted for possible publication. I will repost if it doesn't get into the college lit mag.]
A bitter wind blows its warning breath,
thunder rolls in angry protest,
I taste the dread; the tempest that is to come.
It feels like a meeting,
a date if you will, with the doomed sky.
Clouds suddenly are torn asunder,
grey visages weeping,
keeping unsteady time with their tears.
Lightning strikes and all is hushed;
for a moment, time stands still.
The clouds begin weeping again,
a silent lament to the inevitable,
waiting for the sun to once again
dry their tears.
June 3rd, 2009
Dear Journal,
I know you likely read that title and thought that it could be read multiple ways. That, my friends, is a deliberate choice in ambiguity. Many would read that title and think I am going to talk about how it is so difficult to be a Christian. I am instead going to pose the question the other way: Why does everyone else think it is so hard to be a Christian? This is part 1. I am going to focus on the topic of sacrifice.
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A few years ago, I had a radical meeting with Jesus which ended in a marriage proposal. It was achingly beautiful, and wholly moving. I could not resist the tug on my heart or the meaning of His words whispered into the depths of my spirit. "Be my bride my beloved, I will love you no matter what." I said yes of course, tears flowing down my face. I was in complete disbelief, but from the deepest part of my soul, I wanted what He offered. The next day I woke up, looked down at my ring, and realized wow, that really happened! Now I’m married!