Soap for Jesus

I came home thoroughly discouraged today. I really get that doctors want to work normal hours too. But when you leave work late after a very bad day, practically run to the train on a wrenched ankle, have to buy a ticket only to miss the darn thing by twenty seconds, run back upstairs to the tram, have to work out which one is fastest, head back down to the train which will get you to the station right at your appointment time, have to upset your mom’s evening plans to request a lift so you can get there as fast as possible, upset your husband, and call the doctors to tell them you’ll be five minutes late for them to tell you they’ll leave a note for the nurse but you might have to rebook, they could be a little more forgiving. Also. They could allow you to buy tickets at the gate instead of having to rush halfway up the station. Also. The train was late by ten minutes and my poor Mom, who had to be in Newcastle-under-Lyme for 7:30, was delayed by a good twenty minutes without a w...

When I rededicated my life to the Lord in my late teens, I began what seemed to be a lesson a year. First it was love - God began to teach me how to love with His love, to see with His eyes, as I prayed for it. The next year was faith, and the following faith and trust. It wasn't like I picked these to work on - love was what brought me back to Him - a breakthrough from my friend Taylor W. - and faith and trust have always been struggles, partly because I like to understand things, and partly because I've never learnt to trust deeply, easily. Faith, as you know if you live by it, is a walk in trust. The two, though different, are deeply and intimately connected. To walk by faith is to walk in trust, and to trust fully means utter and complete faith. One of the joys of following Jesus has been to see His love through different aspects of my life - as I like to say, "God's love is of the same beauty and diversity as a many faceted diamond." First, I learned His...

I was thinking about some of the people I've bumped into over the years who struggle with depression, anxiety and/or suicidal tendencies. As I've been going through the counselling process with C., I've also come to realise that while it might trigger the "growing up" bit I missed, and is definitely help me link things together and providing coping techniques to override my body's now-natural patterns of worry, freak out, withdraw, not deal with issues, invert anger and stress until overload, it probably never will cure my depression spells completely. My man tries to reduce all stress levels for me wherever he can and says he thinks it can be healed, but I don't know. Whether it is a "mental illness", (which, while I am coming to accept the term, is one I dislike due to its connotations of limited capability and inferiority) or whether it's some switch tripped by the years on the rough path, as I subconsciously recognise the symptoms o...

I just finished reading an encouraging note sent to me by Sarah Beth regarding a question I'd asked about From Self-harm to Victory earlier in the day. I don't know about you, but messages of encouragement always make me cry. And feel guilty. As much as I publicise my weakness so that people see who I am and who Christ is, I still feel like a fraud. That I'm blazoning myself for glory and my actions as good works. That people still can't see the real me. They're suspicious of me, and so am I. And it's hard to carry on being me and showing so much weakness. Do you know how hard it is to be openly weak? To listen to others discourage you and to despise yourself for it? She praised me for humility and I could only cry knowing how much I fight with pride. Then I stopped and listened. Because Someone was telling me to let go of my guilt and shame and accept what she said. Not as praise for me, but as praise for Him in me. Praise from Him to me. No, I...

*grins* That's a Black Country term, so most of y'all probably won't know that. ;) So here's me, in sweatshirt, fancy necklace and Mediæval bodice fresh from work, earbuds dangling and still distantly playing Mandisa's "What If We Were Real" album, pj trousers on and perched on a chair, typing this while gobbling up some pumpkin soup - WITH CHEESE. Scrummicking round the house, getting fed and watered before settling down to work at home for the evening. Y'know, it's impossible to explain the joy and peace that's been here the last few days. The period I've just gone through has been the blackest, spiritually, I remember walking through in the past four years, since my backslide when I was 17. I don't remember what jolted me to actually fighting again. I was convinced God wasn't going to fight for me anymore, and on being told that He was waiting for me to say no to doing wrong in the weakest area of my life and wasn't go...

"A Twist in Time" "You want me to be evil? Fine, I'll be evil." I raised my hands towards them, the pink sepphalite now flickering visibly between my fingers, revelling in the release of the power I had chained back for so long. "No, we don't want you to be evil! We just want you to be good, to give you a second chance. Why lie to us?" Snow asked me, tears rimming her lids. "You know what your problem is?" I watched the light grow stronger. "It's not that you want me to heal. It's that you want me to follow your kind of healing. No matter how hard I try to be good, it will never be good enough for you, because there is a certain route you won't be happy unless I take. You want me to kowtow and bend, to grovel and you want to see your final victory - good vanquishing evil. The knight slaying the dragon. You want me to be completely destroyed, humbled on the ground, because that's the way every good fairytale e...

Note: The way I live out my faith is...somewhat radical, because I believe in an intimate relationship with Jesus. So be prepared. :P I felt sticky, and ugghy, and grotty and bleh as I stepped outside of the office building where I work. It was another dragging high pressure day, and as much as I love my job, the atmosphere (and the worry) sometimes gets to me. Pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket as I began the twenty(ish) minute walk to the train station, I tried to catch up on a few people's posts, shielding the phone from the glare of the sun. A dear friend and sister posted about how some cruel people had laughed and called her fat before running off, and how broken she was feeling. Couldn't do much, but posted a quick note and walked off praying for her. It's been a beautiful day, in the between. And the between is what counts, isn't it? For right now, I'm in the brightness, the sun shining bright and the world glowing with colour and hope and beau...

Games are addictive. Some of them. I love games that make you think - games like chess, Tetris, Articulate. Mind challenging games. But then there's the wonderful world of Facebook that adds more addictive games than you can imagine. About four months ago, now, I went back to playing Farmville on Facebook after a couple of years ranting against games like these. Admittedly, it saved my bacon at the time. It's quite a simple little game - you plant plots of dirt, grow crops, raise animals, cook and sell food on the market, water trees, visit neighbours. It's fun, and relaxing. Especially with the wind and bird noises. Recently I started monitoring my time spent during a day. Since my life is God's, I want to use it to the best of my ability to His glory. I have only one life to live, and when I'm called to account for it, I want to have used it wisely. As previously said, I used to play online games a lot, then turned against them. I was asked to blog about ...

Believe it or not, this was actually a planned post over the last couple of days. Because I tend to preach things when I'm struggling with them; post encouragement when I'm in desperate need of it; write words that I know are true to make myself believe them, as well as you. I can't remember the original substance of this post, as hard as I'm trying to recall it and wind it in with what I'm writing now. I write a lot on Twitter; in fact, I'm more open on Twitter than on Facebook because I feel safer. My tweets get lost in millions of others, and only two specific people watch my tweets to see how I am. So I thought. I've received rebukes off people before for being too open, being too depressing. Watching my kids recently turn away from God and to despair added into the fact that I'm getting left behind by many of my friends as they enter college/leave college and-or get married was just part of the unconscious building up of "hard evidence...

Plaits. Jumper. Jeans. Trainers. MP3 player. Yep, about to do something I haven't done in years, since I started to go for runs with Gemma as a prelude to training for the RAF. (I never did train.) Go for a quick jog around the block, down the lane, shortcut across the fields, down the road, right wheel down another road and then back to the house. Started playing Battle Scars and fast paced down the road. I have psychological problems with running in front of visible people (got teased about running when I was about 6/7) so waited til I'd got a bit down the country path past the people before I began to run. I had a few issues. :P Not the least of which was, of course, being a lot out of condition. The problem, ignoring the breathing and the body heat, was the muscle pain. A lot of muscle pain. Which would normally involve limping and favouring my game leg. Buuuut...what was the point in running for three minutes and then giving up? Maybe I couldn't run, (th...

The lovely Katie Comstock posted this on her blog recently and sent me a link. Now I share it with you, and pray that those who need to read it will read - and listen to - it. This is an anthem for the homesick, for the beaten, The lost and broke, the defeated - A song for the heartsick, for the standbys, Living life in the shadow of a goodbye. Do you remember when we learned how to fly? We'd play make-believe we were young and had time on our side. You're stuck on the ground; got lost, can't be found. Just remember that you're still alive. I'll carry you home; no, you're not alone. Keep marching on - this is worth fighting for. You know, we've all got battle scars. You've had enough. But just don't give up. Stick to your guns; you are worth fighting for. You know, we've all got battle scars. Keep marching on. This is a call to the soldiers, the fighters, The young, the innocent and righteous. We've got a little room...

“Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free-wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself.” “We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” “We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it's there for emergencies but he hopes he'll never have to use it.” “We want not so much a Father but a grandfather in heaven, a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, 'What does it matter so long as they are contented?” “The human spirit will not even begin to try to surrender self-will as long as all seems to be well with it. Now error and sin both have this property, that the deeper they are the less their victim suspects their existence; they are masked evil. Pain is unmasked, unmistakable evil; every man knows that something is wrong when ...

This past weekend, I attended a Youth Conference (along with one of my UK besties, Stephanie, and my twin, Joseph) at Bethel Free Baptist Church in Birmingham. What I was expecting ran something along the lines of: 1) Listen to preaching and be fed 2) Sit awkwardly on the sidelines and fail miserably at interacting 3) Spend the weekend watching and listening What actually happened was totally different. God moved this weekend. I watched young people recommit their lives to the Lord. I recommitted my life to the Lord. I gave Him the burden of my broken heart and prayed for release. It's still broken, but He's got the burden of it now and the joy is...unspeakable. I watched my Stephie change from a girl who is shy and self-controlled, though happy, start singing in public - something she would never do even if I begged, though she'd do anything else. I watched as she stepped out on the streets to witness - which she was scared sick of. I watched her cry, and go to ...

When you're patrolling the daily pattern... And no one seems to be bothered about your plans... Life moves on for everyone else... You feel forgotten and put on the shelf... Like everyone's left you behind and judged you into a box of useless... You think God's finished with you... When you start to let yourself believe that your life is done and you've served God's purpose... Has He finished with me now? God bless, ~Siân

Oh my gosh. I'm actually going. That was pretty much my reaction Wednesday night when Mom, oh so casually, directed George to also casually place an envelope containing the exact amount of money I needed to pay for my flight to America. Of course, it shouldn't have been any more than a little nice surprise, but it was. Because all the jigsaw pieces had to fall into the right place at exactly the right time. I think it started back at the beginning of this year/end of last year. Mom promised me that because of my helping out with some of the bills, she would gift me a trip to America when the money came through. I had two choices - the OYAN Winter Workshop, or Laura and Daniel's wedding. I chose the wedding. Which meant that when the date was set, the money would have to be through. I plotted out the trip, and asked Mom if I could take an extra trip - yes, all okay. Then the money didn't come through. Because the solicitors had to sort it out. Etc, etc. Poor Mom, ...

There are two things I have learned through this long and painful walk; that God does not fill all voids and God does not heal all wounds. I wonder why? I think He made us deliberately to have voids He doesn't fill. Which will of course be filled when we reach Heaven - the same as we cannot be sinless now, but will be when we reach Heaven... Voids to be surrendered to Him and for Him to give us peace over, but not necessarily to fill... Carissa: *thinks* I have felt that, too. I am not sure exactly how to put this, though.... one thing is that I think He does heal all our wounds--but that doesn't mean the scars are gone, or that it stops hurting, only that He brings redemption. It still hurts, and honestly I don't think it will stop completely till heaven. About the voids... I don't know. I think maybe it's more that we don't realize how sufficient He is... that He is there, and He is enough. Yet... there is still the longing for human friendships that He...

I got off the bus, both ear pieces in, and began to quickly stride across town towards my second bus to work. A dark-skinned lady who got off the bus with me, paused next to me. "Don't you come from T-?" I stopped, puzzled. "Sorry?" "Don't you come on the bus from T-?" Me: "Oh! Yes...?" Strange Lady: "My husband and I used to live in T- area and we used to see you reading your Bible on the bus in the mornings and it really encouraged us. I just wanted to tell you, don't stop!" I blinked back tears and gave her a hug. It's the little things in your day to day living, that testify. My Bible reading had dropped again recently, schedule packed, sleeping on the bus because I was tired, etc. Her comment both encouraged and shamed me. It's funny...how much you fail to realise...even the tiny things can bless someone...just an effort to read a few verses, where and when you can, and chew them over and th...