Soap for Jesus

As we near the end of 2014, I once more pick up my pen...or more literally, tap at my keyboard, and attempt to search out a pattern of meaning in the old and mark a set number of steps in the new. And after such a long beginning sentence, I don't blame you if you've hit X. ;) It's 22:38, 10:38pm, on December 21st, 2014. Not sure about you, but I'm still having trouble typing 2014 instead of 2013. Maybe I left my brain as well as my heart in what is still, right now, last year. This year has been a year of new beginnings. Of false starts and many stops. Of broken hearts and despair. Of fresh hope and failed hope. Of a lost family and a new purpose. It's been, in short, a year. I started 2014 with the determination to keep an A4 sized diary, filled with the markings of how I spent every day, determined to use time wisely. That lasted til May. I was going to keep a jar full of the books I'd read. I lost the jar before I started. My journeys to and fr...

"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...

Demon eyes, demon child. What's inside that makes you wild? What's the thing that they all see? That evil twisted part of me. Freaky face with mouth of lies - Demon child with demon eyes. "Don't defile God's handiwork! Stop claiming that there's only mirk." Am I really? How can I be When that's all you claim to see in me? Forget the fight to try for good. Apparently that's only crud. All you see is Demon child, Perhaps it wakes all your 'defiled'. I hate this twisted poetry. It only comes out in agony. But what do they care? They laugh and scorn - Other hearts will bleed and mourn. It's near impossible to tell Who's from heaven with their echoes of hell. Gossip-grieve, they bury the corpse Of Demon child they killed with thoughts. When sin is birthed, then it is death. I was slain on their whispered breath. Their 'loving concern' behind my back - So like the Master, isn't that? Forget the goo...

Staring blankly at the screen, or out the window, coming back to myself with the realisation that the words are pounding through my head; "He's gone. He lied. Like all the others. And he's never coming back. He's gone. Forever." Biting down on my lip to escape the moan as the tears well up in my eyes again. I grab the mouse and click onto the next comment, head held proudly, not going to let the row of colleagues sitting facing me see my grief. Too late. The tears splash down my face, making sharp cracky sounds as they hit the paper I'm working from. Ash, my colleague next to me, laughs a bit uneasily. "You were crying yesterday. Isn't that enough now?" He's half teasing, I know. I answer with a half smile, "For a broken heart? Na. I'll be crying for many days yet." "Many days...?" He let his voice trail off. Yeah, not many people are getting this. "It's just normal boy/girl stuff," they say. "...

DO. NOT. LOOK. AT. THAT. FLOWER. Do not admire it. Do not appreciate it. Do not even compliment it. After all, it was designed by a Creator. And we should only thank the Creator for making the flower. "That flower is pretty!" is NOT an acceptable comment. "What a beautiful scent!" is also totally wrong. Does that sound acceptable, or do I sound like an idiot? ;) Would you agree that most of the time, the acceptable way to appreciate natural beauty is to praise it AND praise God for it? Oookay. So let's move from the third day of creation to the sixth. And...not to the animals. To humans! Recently, there's been an argument put forward that it is wrong for a guy to compliment a girl. It is that subject I'm attempting to address in a fashion today. Okay, so maybe the flowers don't have feelings that can be affected by such comments. If they did hear them, in association with praise to the Creator for them, do you think they would feel p...

I have several dear Muslim friends, including my former manager who I totally adore, and as people, I get along great with them. But the religion itself, as more and more immigrants come into the country, this is what I fear, and this is what is becoming reality on the streets of our capital: MUSLIM "MODESTY PATROL" STALKING STREETS OF LONDON [Excerpts] Earlier this month, a group who had claimed [that] an area in East London was a "Muslim area" had told people that alcohol was banned, or that they were dressed inappropriately. Borough officials, community leaders and police condemned a group of self-proclaimed vigilantes who took it upon themselves to patrol the streets of London confronting people they deemed as indulging in "non-Muslim" behavior. The group, who dubbed itself a "Muslim patrol," filmed the incidents and posted the footage on YouTube. In one video, which was published by the UK news portal The Commentator, the group co...

Hands cradling a tall, slim mug of hot chocolate, I leaned back in the red leathery chair and stared at the patterned white ceiling. Music from John Waller - "While I'm Waiting" played low in the background. I'm waiting, Lord. But peaceful? Oh yeah...painful. And not easy? Boy, that's an understatement. I hate my hurting heart. Still trying to figure out how pain like that can be so bad that it physically hurts. Raising my left hand, I stared, blank, at the wedding ring on the fourth finger. Using my knees to hold the mug, I twisted the ring, as usual, looking for the join, but it's never there. Why? Because it's a perfect circle. No beginning; no ending. It's endless. Love endures everything. I'm blinking back more tears as I'm writing this. Apparently it is possible to cry for two days. This is God's love for us. And this is how we should love one another. Love is patient . Love is kind. Love is not jealous . Love does...

One of the best songs about love is in the film "Fireproof". It's written by Warren Barfield. "Love is a shelter In a raging storm. Love is peace In the middle of a war. If we try to leave, May God send angels to guard the door. No, love - it's not a fight But it's something worth fighting for." To be honest, love feels like anything but a shelter. And right now, it feels like the raging battle. I guess the key word there is "feels". Those of you who follow me on Facebook will notice in the last few days I changed my relationship status back to single. (Because as we all know, nothing is official unless done on Facebook. *wry grin*) I kinda caused a fight with Mr. C (remember, from In Love With Two Guys?), except he never fights. We're like the proverbial cat and dog. I yowl and scratch and leap and claw and he's like your faithful old Labrador...he sits there and is calm and takes it. *another wry grin* It was a pret...

I read a quote from my fav aeroplane brother Miguel Flores once. It struck a chord, and I and I think, others, asked him to write more. As you know, love has a big meaning for me. Been struggling with a few things today and this really struck me again as I re-read it. Without further ado, I give you: Miguel Flores. You are walking down a grocery isle and you pick up a new product on the shelf called “love.” It appears to be a special kind, with the subtext saying that it’s specifically for romantic love. Turning it over to read the label, you see that it has a wide variety of ingredients in it--things like patience, affection, selflessness, and other hard-to-swallow things. You put it in your basket, thinking it might help you with your relationship problems. Little did you realize that you skipped over the disclaimer’s tag, saying that some side effects of “love” might include “pain, hurt, loneliness, suffering, and even hate” if used inappropriately. And, ironically enough...

There's four projects currently running in the call centre. Two of those are the People First project, which most of the guys are working on - an intensely pressured job on which the target is 5 a day and you must get at least 4 a day or run the risk of being laid off; and Women in Leeds, another highly stressful task because of how boring it is. Most of the responses are no replies or answer phones (now we have cleared out the horrible unobtainables and withheld numbers which shrill piercingly down your ear and one after another are torturous) as most women are out at work during the day. When people actually do answer, there is an incredible amount of refusals, men answering to say their wife/partner isn't there and won't be until gone six pm, or people hanging up in the first sentence (which is quite emotionally knocking, for me anyway). I'm sitting here writing this as I'm dialling in an attempt to keep my poor brain occupied. I'm an outdoor person, stim...

Kristin D and I have a unique friendship. It began at OYAN Summer Workshop, 2012, when I looked into her eyes and said the words she's never forgotten. "(God has given me the gift so) I can read eyes." One of the closest sisters and friends I have, we have a special relationship. She's one of those people, the ones that you can bring God smack dab into a conversation without feeling awkward - or where you don't even realise He's in it, but He is. She's been one of the greatest encouragements and lifesavers in my life. God is very much in our friendship. September 13th, several days after one of the greatest sins in my life. I was talking to Kristin. In her words: [3:35:47 PM] Kristin D: Okay I had read Psalm 3... and then musing over it... Something with you had blown up that day... and I was writing about you, and about me... "We're both weak, and both near the edge. I'm asking God for miracles at this point. We're both brok...

I'd like to point out a fact. There's parenthood. And there's parents. Parenthood is a God-ordained authority at the head of the family, where husband (leading authority figure) co-joins with wife to provide a supportive guidance network to care for physical, emotional and spiritual needs, requiring implicit trust and obedience when the child is not of an age to make informed decisions for themselves and is still learning about the world. This institution is, as all institutions should be, submitted to Divine guidance and treated with humble fear and trembling by husband and wife, as they (as one) represent the relationship between God as Father and men as His children (when born again). Parents are the people in that institution, and should be fully aware of their responsibilities to the next generation and before Almighty God before ever taking on the role of making babies. While parenthood is a God institution and should be respected as such, some parents trea...

Dearest Lord, *coughs and looks up, blinking hard* I guess this has been coming for a while. I'm listening to a song that says all You want is me. And it's true... I've been feeling so down and depressed recently...I know You forgave me...but every time You do, even though I'm fully aware of Your forgiveness, and start smiling and singing again, I make no move to get close to You. And that's where the problem lies...if we don't move to get closer to You, we start moving backwards, because life with You can never BE at a standstill. It's like a love relationship. It IS a love relationship. If you don't work at it, it starts to collapse. It's not I haven't wanted You...it's I wanted other things more than You. I was angry...and hating...and lonely...and numb...and...I'm sorry... I need to forgive myself for what I've done...which I can't...but to forgive myself, I need to completely accept Your forgiveness and realise that...

We cheered on the Olympians, and still more the Paralympians, with pride in our countries and awe at their amazing achievements. Those guys (and gals) sacrificed years and time and money and strength and purpose to one goal - to compete here. As Christians, we have our own Olympics to run. Our goal - which is Heaven, our struggle - which is life. And we are commanded to run in such a way as to win the prize - the prize of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus. I went to the opening of the Baptist Bible College in Telford area today. The guy who preached was Pastor David More. He talked on running the race. But not so much the beginning, as the ending. We need to end well. Many people, he said, start off enthusiastically and with zeal. But not so many end up finishing well, because they didn't run with dedication and purpose. We need to set our sights on Christ and following Him. That must be our goal. We may change immediate goals and our lives turn around in the me...