Soap for Jesus

I was...and probably am going to attempt...a blog post called, Dismantling the Princess View today. Last night, I was...once again reminded of my very frail humanity and my great propensity to fall. I've asked God's forgiveness but am very uncertain as to whether I will be able to stop myself next time. In fact, I won't, but the question is whether I will lean on God's grace implicitly or ignore what I know I should do for the sensual pleasure of the moment. (And knowing what's coming up on Thursday, I'm terrified). It's kind'a strange...ever since God brought me back to Him, He's taken on one issue after another. I haven't even dealt with one and there's another staring in my face. Started off with idolatry...I have a major battle with not switching my computer on before spending time with God each day. Then Sunday events and the row with my dad constantly over them...I want to end up surrendering from a Christian point of view, not because

Hee. I'm going to spend one of those lovely random moments sitting here thinking out loud to a screen. You don't have to read if you don't like random. Logical people rarely like random, and I pick up a lot of logical people. Hang on...that doesn't make sense. If they're logical and don't like random, why do they like me? True, I'm not as random as I could be, and as other people are...did I REALLY say that...? Hm. Anyway. You really, really don't have to read this. Cause I'm just wondering about me and humans in general. Nothing inspiring. Nothing intellectually burning. I can see one or two people switching off and going to something worthwhile right now...and one or two others grimly setting their teeth and ploughing through my verbosity, simply cause it's me that's writing it. Another nonsensical thing. You're ploughing through the very stuff that makes me me. Come out of your head and enjoy mine a minute. :P Well. That was what one c

I am confused. I have three deep desires, longings, dreams, whatever, within my heart. And they appear to be completely incompatible. The first is the remnant from what I used to be before my last backslide. I had and have still a passionate desire to serve God and my country. I love my country with all the patriotic fire I possess and I would willingly die to serve her. As an Air Cadet Corporal, growing and developing within the Air Training Corps organisation, my passion, interest in the Royal Air Force and the strong stand God enabled me to make at my Squadron for His glory seemed to point to one thing. I was and am aware it will be an extremely hard life, that my desire to serve Christ and my passion for my country may sometimes seem at odds; my antipathy to men, attitude towards marriage, and the result of my first serious backslide left me convinced that singleness was for me – as well as the fact that it is a higher calling than marriage and I wanted – and want – to reach

WARNING: EXTREME ADULT CONTENT AHEAD. IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 16, IT IS ADVISED THAT YOU DO NOT READ FURTHER. This shot into my head earlier. I don't really know why, but after a nightmare last night, followed by a hint from the co-authored book Raraavis/Shayna and I are doing with the problems I am working on with several friends right now, I think that's probably the reason. Those titles in the headline must have caught your attention. I confess, they were rather a strain to think of. Because the original title in my mind was "Stripper". Shocking, ja? Yeah, instant recoil off all of you. I can see it right now. Don't judge yet. My story idea is as follows. A young and pretty Jewish girl gets arrested and carted off to the camps. During the selection process, she is taken by the officers to serve as a whore for them. She fights to survive physically, although dead within. After the war, she is treated as an outcast by all of her people, and, refused a job, resort

I typed out so long a comment to my sister Samills's post, "My Kind of Modesty" , that I decided to put it into a blog. :) *faint smile* 1 - I understand this type of view too well. 2 - ....how stereotypical of the modern Christian's viewpoint that old ways won't change the world. 3 - How in the world is the world supposed to tell that you're any different if you look, talk and act their fashion? Isn't that called...compromise? Or worse...being a chameleon Christian? W: "So what's your name?" MC: "Ellie." W: "You're pretty cute. You free on Sunday?" MC: "Na, actually I go to church. Free afterwards though." W: "Oh right, you a Christian or something?" MC: "Yeah." *slight pause* MC: "Say, you know the latest song out? I think it really hits the mark." Umm. Okay. Before I'm judged (for being judgmental, pardon me). That might not be exactly the kind of conversation, but I'm

Ignoring combats*, which I hate because 1- they aren’t smart and 2 – they are army clothes, there is one piece of my uniform which I hate. Not with a passion, as I do camos*, but I really don’t like my RAF jumper. It’s one of the biggest ones on the Squadron, about four sizes too big, with a neck that gapes around my collarbone, sleeves that need to be doubled up, and a hem that also has to be tucked under as it reaches to my knees. It’s a good, thick blue grey wool, with a pocket on the sleeve for a pen as well as having the blue-grey shoulder patches with epaulettes for brassard and rank slides/flight tapes. In the icy blasts of winter, it provides a wonderful warmth. But for all of its serviceable self, most 196 girls – definitely myself, any rate, and my mother – hate our jumpers. Why? Because they literally hang like feed sacks. They don’t give a hint of a shape or a figure, and when you’re used to walking round in a smart blue shirt with sleeves rolled up, a belt around your

I know this isn’t a usual way to regard sisters. :P The average are considered to be pains in the neck. But as usual for me, washing my hair this morning provoked an idea, inspired as it was by my story that I started once – ‘A Bouquet of Flowers’ – and my thoughts dwelling on my sweet sister Kiehl. I have had many sisters over the years I’ve been on OYAN as well as one in real life. I haven’t compared them all to flowers, and my apologies to those I haven’t mentioned. Seriously, this is not detrimental to you in any fashion, and I love you dearly ~ Steph, Samii, Janae, Lindi and Lydsie. I need to learn my flowers a little more before I compare you. ;) However, the ones who I have got to know very well recently – personalities and otherwise – this is my tribute to one of the sweetest gifts God has ever given me – my own bouquet of flowers. Kiehl is a violet. Sweet, shy and retiring, giving admiration and tribute to others but not seeing her own beauty and worth in the eyes of God

I told Jay I was going to blog up on this. *crossly* In the past week, three people have said that I am readable. An open book. Predictable. Or blatantly obvious through my behaviour patterns of what I say or think. Eeep. Have you any idea how sad that is? It basically means that a person is boring. I have flattered myself – wrongly – that I can actually hide some of what I say or think. That part of the real me, the me that makes me me, isn’t obvious to the open world. Of course, as with most things, there must be some plus sides as well as down ones. This could be one of the reasons that people learn to trust me fairly quickly. They know who I am, what I am and that there’s no darker side to me that could turn on them sooner or later – unless they turn on me. (I won’t deny that I can be very nasty if I have been betrayed in any way – even childishly so.) But it is incredibly annoying and disturbing to find that people can predict me easily. And that I am open. And what’s even worse

WARNING: I'm not sure about the appropriateness of this for guys...so if you think it's bad, stop reading. Okay? I read Jay Lauser’s excellent post on A New Kind of Modesty (which you really, really, really should read, though I won’t post it up seven times like my big sister C’rissie :P) yesterday, and thought I would like to blog my struggle and weakness in that area for...encouragement? General opinion? Not quite sure, although it certainly wasn’t out of self consideration. :P Then I read C’rissie’s post connected with Jay’s, A Rant on Modesty ;), which you can read here . And decided that I felt too embarrassed after reading that, because they were both so good and covered the ground enough, so I wouldn’t. Well, this morning, I changed my mind. (Although after rereading it again just, with all the comments, I feel quite small about posting this...*hits send before I rethink*) It’s not too often that I gain a victory over my worldliness to be happy in the clothes I’m weari

Women I admire. This has long been a subject I wanted to cover, but I haven’t done it ‘cause I’m scared of missing one. :P There are women who I admire simply for their singing talent. Like Julie Andrews, Charlotte Church, Susan Boyle, Celtic Woman (music group), Barbra Streisand. And there are women I admire for their dedicated single purpose of mind and devotion to God and/or a cause, even to the sacrifice of the opinions and regard of family and friends, and that of their heart’s dearest wish. My list so far comprises not only of dead women, but one fictional. I will blog more on her later. Florence Nightingale: A high society girl, Florence did not use her influence in society to become an empty-headed doll looking for an advantageous marriage, but went totally against the accepted rules of her class after her heart turned towards God, forsaking the comforts of her well-to-do life, training herself and other women as nurses and serving British troops in the Crimea. She never marrie

I first read this poem in Joshua Harris's brilliant book, "I Kissed Dating Goodbye". Having fallen in love with it then, I simply want to share it with you now. A WOMAN'S ANSWER TO A MAN'S QUESTION. [Written in reply to a man's poetic unfolding of what he conceived to be a woman's duty.] Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing Ever made by the hand above— A woman's heart, and a woman's life And a woman's wonderful love? Do you know you have asked for this priceless thing As a child might ask for a toy, Demanding what others have died to win, With the reckless dash of a boy? You have written my lesson of duty out, Man-like you have questioned me; Now stand at the bar of my woman's soul Until I shall question thee. You require your mutton shall always be hot, Your socks and your shirt be whole; I require your heart to be true as God's stars,

What exactly IS fellowship? Last night I stood in church next to my dad, who was sadly saying that my sister was lacking fellowship. I turned away and walked over to the window, to think that I would like to blog that comment. My sister is not deliberately not coming to church; she holds down two jobs to her husband's irregular one, is heavily pregnant, and has to deal with his verbal abuse when drunk, too. She still reads the Scriptures and listens to sermons, and there is still a marked change in her life. My mother is also heavily depressed over the fact that she feels she has failed my twin brother at the minute. She is sick and tired of people and their condemning judgements and well-meant, bad-timed advice. She is not coming to church, but also still reads her Bible, seeks after God, prays... My dad makes a marked effort to attend church on Sundays...to the point of condemning me if I do church parades with the Air Cadets or even if I don't go. The whole idea of going to

Two encouraging pieces from two books I am working through at present...I believe they will bless both my followers and my teammates. Evidence Not Seen ~ Darlene Deibler Rose Darlene Deibler was a remarkable American missionary, who God granted the strength to "be a good soldier for Jesus Christ" throughout the hell of WWII, locked into a Japanese concentration camp in New Guinea. At this particular time, she was in the headquarters of the Japanese secret police on death row. Here is some of her story in her own words. "...Though grateful to God for my deliverance, the terror of the night and the gravity of the watchman's situation were too critical to allow sleep. The burden of my intercession was on behalf of the watchman, that God would protect him and obliterate from the memory of those lecherous, malevolent reprobates all recollection of the events of that night. Thank God, Saartje and the others from death row had returned to Kampili, for their sakes as well

I have no objection to text slang in moderation. However. It gets pathetic when almost the whole part of a conversation is carried on in txt slg. Half of the time spent with that person is in trying to figure out what they have just said. I don't know about you, but if I'm talking to a person who I wish to put off talking to me, or who I do not wish to talk to, then I will use text slang in the thickest abundance. What does that say about the use of text slang? Should I be taking the same understanding of the usage in relation to everyone else? Per example: M is Me. P is Person. P: Hlo M: Hiii P: Wuu2? M: Nm, wbu? P: Same. M: How ya doin? P: Fine ta, u? M: Ok ta. M: Had a gd day? P: yh u? M: Yup ta. P: lol That is a typical example. I'm giving myself less credit than due, though; I rarely use that amount of text slang in one given conversation. I just wished to demonstrate the abominableness* of "txt slg". It seems to be that any vowels in a word can be chopped to