Soap for Jesus

Once I thought I was going to do something big, not change the world, but make a mark on it for the good. Then I mucked up. Then I struggled back with the marks and the stains and the scars. Then I got married. Then I realised that my life was going to consist of losing/distancing friends, working incessantly, budgeting like crazy, a few hard-clung-to times with my new husband while realising more and more that family and parents are getting older, bigger, growing, moving on. There are new goals in life - saving money, buying a house, having kids. Social life reduces down to a few shared news articles, playing a few e-games people tag you in, and sharing other people's posts. Any significant news in your life may not want to be shared by another person, so you leave it in the quiet. People 'like' or 'read' your news in decreasing numbers. Your impact on life is minimal. And your days march on. I like change. Within a controlled or known measure. I don...

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...

Thoughts taken from a Facebook post, written by guest blogger Gabriel Hudelson: On the objectification of women... I recently read a blog post about how, in short and brutal summation, girls should feel free from the legalisms of the modesty movement and guys need to get their thoughts under control and stop blaming and objectifying women. And I agree. Sort of. Guys, we do need to take responsibility for our eyes and our thoughts. We don't have the freedom to blame Eve here. Jesus didn't say "if any man looks at a woman to lust after her then she really should have put more clothes on." The truth of the matter is, brothers, that a lustful heart and mind *will lust*. Regardless of the attire (or lack thereof) of the object of lust, "the eyes of man are never satisfied." (Pr. 27:20) Furthermore, we have no right to take our opinion and preach it as Gospel. "Thou shalt not wear pants." "Thou shalt not wear sleeveless shirts." ...

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...

Sometimes I think the world has a clearer grasp of right and wrong than we as Christians do, although they try to explain it wrongly. Christians tend to blur up the Bible in an attempt to accept everything they see around them. "Oh, God can't have said. God didn't mean." Well, maybe He did and you just don't want to accept it because you're putting your little code of what you think is right and wrong before His. While our faith is based on historical facts and logical processes, most of the day to day living is a sheer walk of faith. After all, isn't that why it's called our "faith"? Faith like a child. Trusting. Simple. Daddy loves me enough to catch me when I jump. Mommy loves me enough to keep me away from the hot iron and the cars on the road. Faith that while we don't understand and maybe never will understand God's ways or reasoning, He is right and just. Faith means grasping the simplicity of life and leaving the conf...

Standing in the cold, hands in my pockets with cars splashing past, I gaze up at the inky blue sky. No stars are out, for it's heavy with clouds. Kinda hard to believe that the shortest day has come and gone. Soon, though, the difference will start to show. Six long months of waiting, and light will come again. Light will always come again...until the Light of the World comes to outshine it forever. It's a night like any other. The X51 is late. It's always late recently, and my skin is a grey-purply-white shade when it arrives at the bus stop, 20 minutes after me. I'm in jeans and a jumper, like I would be any other dress down day before Christmas. "Days of Elijah" is on repeat and I'm having a hard time not singing aloud. Thoughts are busy romping in my head though. Cause this is the last night I shall ever travel home on the X51 from work. I glance up the street as I board the bus. Emotions are mixed as I prepare not only to change my travel, but...

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. "...

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, ...

IT'S PAINFUL! Oh, God, it's so painful. Why should I suffer like this? What have I ever done to deserve it? I've tried to follow You. Tried to do what You say. I've gone through my memories and I can't think of any sin I haven't repented of. So why am I going through this? Those cries sound so familiar, echoed in the cries of those not born again..."If God was good, why do good people suffer?" And through the story of Job. Maybe you've cried them. I know I have, guiltily. And you know all the usual defending comments; that we are all sinners, that God grieves with us but that this is part of the curse. Yes, He could stop it. Do you know why He doesn't? Because when you're living the easy life, how often do you turn to Him? How often do you seek His face, to grow closer to Him and learn of Him? How much is the value of earthly things to you, when you are in pain? Because, to quote one tweet I read earlier: "The t...

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...

If you've been in love, and stuff happened. I think...I hope...we pray...this might help. Which is the only reason we're sharing. Because God allows things to happen for a reason. And a lot of the time, it's so what we've gone through can minister to others. Apparently love cannot break down all walls. But prayer does. 1 Corinthians 13. It breaks your heart. Live it. It brings you to the heart of love. God. You won't be shielded from the pain. Pain is born to expand your heart. To love ever deeper. And thus know His heart. Carissa: *hugs* I'm sorry, dear... I am praying. Keep close to God. Me: *hugs back* Thank you. I'm trying, but my physical health is starting to fail now. I...found...something...out..accidentally. It hurts... Praying... He's not talking to me and I don't know why. Trusting God and keeping refocusing...but it's very. Crushingish. Even though I'm at peace. If that makes sense. Carissa: *sighs* That i...

Lady. As a little girl, the word conjured up images of aristocratic society women with high piled hair, dainty hats and pretty Victorian-y dresses, complete with parasols and fans with refined accents. I was a very girlish girl, and deep inside had a longing to be like that. At the same time, strangely, there arose the wild me, the one with the crazy urges to do daring things, but that sat on them and hid behind long hair and long skirts. Then I joined cadets. I realised that the world of wild and daring antics didn't just belong to boys. And the tomboy in me jumped up and down on the girlishness as I backslid, sneering it for weakness. With backsliding and hardening as I hit the world full pelt came jeering at womanly things. I didn't need to be some man's meek little wife and everlasting baby factory. I was _me_. Individual. Strong. Able to face the world on her own. I was a woman. No lady. My actions degraded me from the Queen of Purity and Virtue to a tag-al...

People have posted and I meant to the night after OYAN ended, but stuff happened. Y'know, like stuff does. And now I'm curled up for half an hour, trying to think exactly how to say the stuff in my heart. Friday night, June 21st, ended OYAN Summer Workshop 2013. I'd gone back to my dorm to put some stuff down before coming back, and missed the prayer over Mr S. As I wandered back around the outskirts of the group praying and singing, eyes closed and tears streaming, Jonny came over to me, pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. I crumbled against him and started crying. When I finally looked up as the crush of bodies increased, the OYAN people were three deep around me. I was nose to nose with Marybeth, also weeping, with Kristin's expressive chocolate eyes fixed on me with a sad, trembly smile on her lips. This place isn't just any place. This place is our home because we are all there. No, not even that. We could all be there and have no bond...

I laughed half of the way home. It had been a completely rubbish day. I should've been expecting it after the G+ Hangout OYAN prayer group starting up the night before, but somehow I keep forgetting that Satan attacks whenever we unite in spirit to draw close to the Lord, and usually (for me) in that way. I woke up at 6am to see my Mom off, went back upstairs, set my mobile phone alarm in CASE I fell asleep, sat down and picked my laptop up. Looked up at the clock; 8:30am. I have to leave the house at 7:30 to reach my two connecting buses. OUCH. I begin work at 9, in a city twenty to thirty minutes away by car. ....yeah. I threw clothes on at lightning speed, brushed my teeth in ten seconds, bolted down the stairs, tried to push the dog outside for the toilet but he didn't want to go, grabbed my handbag (Mom had done my lunch the night before), the nearest pair of shoes and my birthday money to buy a ticket with, locked the door and headed for the train station. Mom...

Father's Day. Used to be a day when I'd go out and find a card and a present. Heh...dads. Men. They're so difficult to buy for. We'd usually buy him a tie. Socks. A shirt. Then this "Best Dad in the World" mug. Blue and white thick stripes with a "Forever Friends" bear face on the front with this blue bow tie. Then I grew older. I realised that my Mom had a lot of truth in what she said to my dad. I realised a lot of Dad's faults - and they weren't "general weak" faults. It grew harder to find a card for a man that wasn't...a real good daddy. But that showed caring and respect without eulogising him above the stars. Then everything exploded three years ago. I wasn't buying cards any more. I wasn't buying presents any more. Suddenly, I didn't even have a daddy any more. My flight lieutenant was the closest father figure I had and was very supportive during that time. But I had to handle Dad's birt...

Do you know the feeling of carrying the weight of knowledge that every single person you try to help is being let down by you to a small degree because of the amount of people you try to help while living? I pray you don't. But you might. Do you know the feeling of putting your arm around someone and snuggling them close in their anger and pain and tears, and your heart wanting to explode with the message of God's love and hope, and you're powerless to express it? I pray you don't. Maybe you do. Do you know the feeling of sitting next to your best friend and hearing them say they just want to be happy, and you know WHY they're lacking it, but you're painfully unable to open their eyes to their need of Christ? Do you ever stand and absorb the pain of those nearest to you, using your mind to understand their struggles, why they are where they are and realise you are standing knowing, but unable to do? Do you know what it's like to feel them lash out at ...

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...

It's almost funny, really. I so wanted to write this blog post yesterday, but as much as I tried, it wasn't ready to come. This wasn't the way I dreamed of writing it; slumped in a pool of despondency. But it's now I believe I'm s'posed to try and write it. It's almost funny. But I'm depressed. So it's not. So Lord, do Your best with this. Cause it's not going to be mine. And maybe that's why You wanted me to wait until now. Prayer and Bible reading are meant to be a way of life for a Christian. But they aren't an instantaneous desire, springing up and flowering as soon as you become a Christian. They're called a discipline for a good reason. It's hard to create and maintain a discipline - particularly for disorganised, spontaneous people like me. Recovering from the blow in February through to the beginning of April has taken me until now to start a degree of healing on, but God has been wonderfully sweet and close and started...