Soap for Jesus

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...

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...

“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 ...

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. "...

Currently, I'm feeling slightly triumphant, because my earphones are working in the plane socket and I have Katherine Jenkins' beautiful voice singing Time to Say Goodbye down my ears and getting goosebumps as usual. (The Sound of Katherine Jenkins is a CD I have to get.) I must be getting old! I slept some last night, but I was sitting in the airport with yawns splitting my face, and as soon as I got in the plane and settled down, I fell asleep, only arousing at take-off and then for lunch at around 10:30 GMT - oh, and once for pretzels. I totally missed the headphones which is why I'm feeling all clever about using my own. :P So delighted to get a window seat on this flight. The cloud formations, the varying shades of blue and the icicles forming on the window which I can both watch and hear - these are a delight to my camera and me! :P Unfortunately, this is the only time out of the three flights that I will actually be getting either a meal or a window seat. :P Bu...

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, ...

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...

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...

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...

For the third time, this year, God willing, I hope to set foot on American soil. A place where my kinsmen emigrated, my ancestors fought, and my friends live. Each time has been a miracle - the kindness shown me by friends who both gave and anonymously sent money and my boss Lisa who invented jobs to pay me so I could go in 2011, and by American friends who took me in and also paid for me as I went across the States. The gracious miracle when my wages were higher than expected last year, 2012, figuring just enough money to go to both Ireland and America and cover our rent while I was gone. Now I'd like to share with you the miracle of 2013. :) God. Is. Amazing. And He provides. Like, when you don't expect Him to. This year's trip to OYAN was a lot weirder than expected... My colleague Jess Phelps (we are starting to interact a lot outside of work - she and Stephen are my two best friends at work) and I started kidding around about me taking her with me to Ame...