One unfortunate result of tragedy and turmoil is the emotional fallout. They spew venom from the pits of their own personal lake of torment, and we get dumped on. Then we turn around and judge this person solely on a single action, such as flipping us off in traffic, or not replying as happily as we felt they should've in the drive-thru. But we can't see the torment their weary eyes have veiled. We are fully unaware of the agony they have endured. They might've felt they were going mad last night, yet, having been awakened by the coming dawn, decided to give life just one more shot.
There are days my pain is so relentless I don’t even want to get outta bed. For many of us, there’s no escaping our prison of pain. So what do we do? The answers to that are many-fold, but one thing I DO know: We cannot EMBRACE our misery; we must rage against it!
One dark day, in pain and ticked off at the Devil, I put on one of my favorite Christian heavy metal bands, Impending Doom, put my earphones in, turned the music up as loud as I could stand it, closed my eyes and started banging away at the keyboard. What you'll read in this blog was knocked out in about 10 minutes. I present it to you unedited, unrevised. It is the warcry of a tortured and angry soldier, resolving himself to never give up, never give in, never surrender.
In today’s angry world, the very people who spit in His face are the very ones Jesus loved the most. He delighted in hanging out with them so much, the religious leaders of the day deemed Him a loser, lunatic and liar. Isaiah said Jesus was no one of consequence. No physical beauty. Despised and forsaken. A man of suffering; grief’s patient friend. As if he was a person to avoid. Despised, forsaken, nobody taking notice of him. That may not jive with the opinion you have of Jesus, but that’s what the Bible says. Now THAT Jesus I can relate to.
This art piece, based on the painting, “Forgiven,” by Thomas Blackshear II, has always got to me. The man has a large nail (more like a spike, really) in his left hand and a hammer in his right hand, and the nail-scarred hands of Christ can be seen. Translation: even though the man’s wrongdoings were what nailed Jesus to the cross, the Lord still forgave him.
I've never posted another author's work on my blog, but felt this portion of an article by Bonnie Gray was important enough to share.
I was once lost and now I'm found. There was a point in my life when I was terrified, like I was in this dream, wandering aimlessly through life and not finding anyone to help me. Trudging through the darkness, with no ray of hope, and finding no friendly faces.
We can’t change “the” world, but we can change “our” world. We can choose to be kind to each other. We can choose to be loving. We can choose to be patient. We can seek out those who make us laugh, instead of our old “gossip pals.” I say we give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen?
It's my goal to be as good a grandparent as my grandparents were to me. Oh sure, they were human and prone to mistakes, just like me, but were such a blessing. Even when I told a lie so elaborate my Grandma Weddle had to call the police...
The remains of the old cathedral in Coventry stand not as a hollow testament to England’s defeat, but rather, as a glorious tribute to their victory over Nazi tyranny. In the same way, we must look to our scars as reminders of victory, not defeat. Your wounds are tokens of your strength in the face of darkness.