Between the Lines

I tend to write cryptically, either in a literal or metaphorical code. It's a girl thing, apparently, or so I'm told. I reference song lyrics so that someone who knows the song will recognize it. Usually, the lyrics I'm relating to aren't the ones I reference. It's the ones right before or right after. Or I'm referencing the entire song, the feelings behind it. If I make a personal statement, like the letters I write here and elsewhere, they're for those who understand. Specific people. I write for those who care enough to try to understand. For those who read between the lines. For those who've felt the same things and find something between the lines to grab on to.
I write for the dreamers.
For the poets.
For the lost.
For me.

And occasionally, like now, I'll write for other people, too, to give them a glimpse inside this inner world I'm archiving.

Revising

I'm having to revise my thoughts on all of you. Because as much as I'd like to rely on the stories I tell myself, I keep wondering whether or not they're true. I'd like to keep the thoughts I made at the time, and maybe it's better if I do, but they say hindsight is 20/20 and while I'm not sure I believe that's true (things are always foggier with distance), it's the least I can do to try.
One: I don't regret you, but it wouldn't have worked. You were a savior, an idol, and I worshiped you. I don't know why I walked away. It killed me when I did. I wish we could have been friends, but you have your own life now and I imagine I hold no special place in your mind. So while I apologize, allow me to fade into the distance. I'll try to allow you to do the same.
Two: You were the first pressure in making me the person I am, so congratulations. I don't remember much of you, except that I was too Christian, too innocent. Or stubborn. Who knows.
Three: I want to say you were abusive, but I believe I allowed it. I didn't know how to moderate my giving, how to be my own person. It was an infatuation at best and I don't believe you had anything but lust for me. I don't believe you knew what you were doing. I don't believe you meant to do the damage you did. But you were the one to break me. I don't think I hold that against you, partially because it was my own fault. Still, I have no desire to return to that life. And a piece of me resents that I've ever known it.
Four: I don't know whether or not to consider you, actually. I'm not sure our feelings were mutual, only that I knew how to reciprocate. It was awkward and self-conscious and I remember later telling you no, that it wouldn't work out. That there was barely a "before" and there wouldn't be an "again." You were the first one I rejected. Or... rejected for my own sake. But I believe you're fine.
Five: We're entering more serious territory. I didn't mean to lead you on, but the entire time, I felt like I was doing exactly that. You gave so much and I'm sure you would have been and maybe are great for someone else, but I never actually knew you. I cannot fathom someone allowed in such a close position without the same level of knowledge. I don't know whether or not I should have believed your words. I was scared of hurting you, but I was also hurt by pretending, and I know pretending like that isn't fair to you. Wasn't fair to you. I wish you luck and joy with another.
Six: I'd like to say I gave you everything. I gave you a lot. Probably more than I should have. We bordered on very dangerous territory. I know that because I remember having to hide my phone from my boyfriend's view while he took me to a poetry slam, or maybe I was just friends with him at the time, but I don't think so. Was that the first time you said you loved me? Or maybe it was when you admitted your feelings. I don't know. When it finally did happen, I loved you deeply. I don't know that I've loved the same way since then. I regret our breaking and I wish I could have stepped in sooner to fix the fractures. I want to believe there was more I could have done. But I also remember how tired I was, how broken, and I'm not sure I could have lasted. You treated me well even after and I'm sorry for the pain I left you in. You're more cynical now. More abrasive. I'm not the only one to notice. And while I'm not conceited and egotistical enough to believe it was all my fault, I can't help but wonder whether or not I played a role. If I did, I'm sorry. I miss you. I miss what we used to have. But I don't think I could ever return to you.
Seven: I am sorry. Maybe it's only that this wound is freshest, but I truly believe I did you wrong. And for that, I'm sorry. I know I was worn and hurt and tired, but I'm wondering now if I let a few difficult weeks poison nearly a year of goodness. I miss you deeply and I believe you treated me well. I'm learning to move past it, but I know I mistreated you in other ways - the ones that led to alcohol. You hate that vice. I hope you didn't hate yourself for it. I hope you're happier now than you were then, that things are better, that you got help or are managing or I don't know. I'm glad we still talk. I'll see you soon and the thought leaves me both with joy and with tears in my eyes. I hope things are okay. I hope you are okay. I don't know whether or not I gave up on you, but I'm hoping I didn't. I'm sorry if I did. I know you're strong. Keep growing stronger.
Eight: I don't know what to think about you. Those initial things never should have happened and I'm sorry I didn't stop them. I hold you equally accountable. I want to believe your words, but I'm not sure if I can. Even if I do, I can't accept them and I think you know that. I feel like I've complicated your life. I feel like you resent the fact that I want to treat you well. But how is that fair to me? I want what's best for us both and I'm sorry if that hurts, but I'm doing everything I can. Or I'm trying to.
Nine: I'm doing everything I can. Or I'm trying to. I want what's best for both of us, whatever that is. We both know what it is. I get frustrated at you because you won't cooperate, because you resist it, because you insist on being just a little closer than you should be. I'm running out of options, but I don't want to push you away. I care for you, but I don't believe either of us could legitimately call our feelings love. You need to learn to be strong for yourself, to become a whole rather than pieces. I can't help with that. I'm doing all I can. But I need you to do the same.
Ten: Please don't try to be them. Don't try to be better than them. Don't look at me the way I look at myself for looking at the number of them. They're more than numbers. They're also more than scars. Some are dearer than others and I'm sorry if that hurts, but could you care beyond it? Could you look at the core, beyond the scarring and masks, and call it beautiful anyway? I know they say I won't accept it, but I want to. I believe I would if the love didn't involve so much pain. Could it be a new beginning? Could it be safe? Could it be healthy and holy and a place where I can grow? Can we start strong and keep it going? Can you keep from filling the gaps you shouldn't? Can you be the last one?

Minor Cross-Promotion

I've been writing a little more recently. There's a lot going on, a lot that needs processing, and a lot of old processing that needs to be typed out. That said, I'll probably be posting more often. Check out these other sites of mine for different content:

Poet Hearts (Poetry)
Novel Narratives (Short Stories)
Emotional Sideshow -- Coming Soon

The War Zone

You've been invading my dreams again. And I doubt you'll ever read this, but for the sake of honesty, it's kinda nice to put this out there somewhere. It feels better than keeping it in my head. You never talk to me. If I'm lucky you mutter something in my direction under your breath. But it's always as cold as your stare is and leaves me wondering what I did wrong. I don't believe I'll ever know. And I'm not sure it's fair of you to withhold that from me, but I feel like asking now would only draw up old blood and make things worse again.

Maybe it was just the timing. Or something that wasn't me at all. Or living in your head too much, but you've already claimed that's not the truth. It's fine to dream, darling, just not to make monsters out of people when they sleep. You end up terrified or indignant or hurt and they're left wondering when they became so hideous.

I listen fairly often to things that remind me of you. That song in Wicked when you nudged me and I believed we could still be friends. That things would be okay. But that was the day before the war began. The anger still hurts a little when I let the memories of it surface. I still believe you almost hit me, and maybe I shouldn't have tried to stop you like I did, but I couldn't let you wander off alone. What was I supposed to do?

What was I supposed to do with any of it? How does a nation react when war is declared against it not for purpose of land or power seizure but for some fault of which it is unaware? When it gazes out across a wasteland it never intended and wonders if things could ever grow back? When it realizes that it won't? When it finally discovers the desert is smaller than it seemed at first, that the rest of the country will survive, but that the land will still lie dormant forever? At best, all this is a broken piece in a complicated machine. And I'll never know what broke it.

It may not be fair to me, but there's nothing I can do now. I'm not sure I can say I miss you, although a part of me does, because to invite you back within my borders is to risk a more devastating destruction for us both.

I see only anger in the dreams. But maybe someday I'll be able to see life there again instead.

Pages of Life

Immensity, I think, is one of the most impressive things to me. The number of stars, the size of a mountain, the vastness of space, the amount of work and information that your brain processes at the speed it does. All things incomprehensible and not entirely obtainable. I think I live in the land of theories, somewhere between reality and imagination. I think it's a place of mystery and not knowing for sure is one of the best parts. That's why I get so excited with new thought lines. It's like a new toy to puzzle over. I can twist it and turn it and look at every side I can think of. Then when I show someone else, they can point out new sides or new views on ones I've already found. Or, even more often, I find a string attached that leads to another toy, or maybe a different limb of the same one. It's hard to tell sometimes. But I can look at the connections and see all these new things and it's exciting because I think I know I have someone to share it with. I can give somebody something important. Thinking about how clouds are really just water and wouldn't look so white if you were in them. It'd just be like fog. Or thinking about how your body is made of parts made of tissues of cells of chemicals of atoms of subatomic particles that we can't even see. Particles that could be infinitely small. Or thinking about how really, there's no one normal. It's a collection of "normals" that's a little different for everyone. But I think we express and understand individual sides of "normal" enough to know what's communally accepted. And from that branches culture and religion and stereotypes and rules and laws. What is accepted by the masses? That is what begins to define us as people. Certain people have an idea, something that would benefit them, and they act on it. They advertise it. And they are the ones that change our culture. They determine what is accepted because they hold power over people. Simply put, they are the influential. Not only that, but they're idealized to the point that we mere mortals feel we have no right to question or challenge them. Scientists, singers, actors, pastors, even the founding fathers. No one seems willing to ask if Washington could have done a better job as a president or if Einstein could be mistaken about one of his formulas. I'm not saying these weren't great or iconic men. They were. But they were still men. Human. They messed up. They were mistaken. They had problems. Celebrities are in a bit of an inverse situation. Their faults are exposed, blown up, made to look as if no one else on earth has ever had a divorce. EVER. There's just something about drama, about people having specific roles, that we don't dare question.... and I'm not sure it's so good for us....

Never, Ever, Ever Die

Never, ever, ever die. I swear if you do, I will fall apart. Do you know how much you mean to me? I certainly don't tell you enough. I love you with a deeper, fiercer love than you could know. I can't stand the thought of being alone. Of being without you.

I will be a still-breathing ghost, you know. A shadow of who I was, a memory of a dream some time ago forgotten. It's not a matter of if's or might's. My spirit leaves with you and our deaths are intertwined. My fate is yours and your fate is mine. I couldn't change that if I wanted to. And I wouldn't want to if I could.

So never, ever, ever die because I will collapse, disintegrate, disappear if you do. I wish more than anything that I could escape first, but I wonder what it would do to you. If you would feel the same. And if that is the case, if it's even a possibility, I would rather bear the pain than give it all to you. I'd rather take the pain of your life and that of your death than hand you either of mine. After all, you have your own and who am I to impose my struggles onto you? As long as you're alive, so am I. As long as you're happy, I'm going to be fine. Still I can't help but think what'll happen through time. More than anything, I don't want anyone to die.

I hate it, you know. I hate death and yet it haunts me. Everything I do: my thoughts, my friends, my family. What's worst is that I can't escape it and so I must run. Run and run, little child, and never look back. I can't look back. If I do, I'll have to face Death. He's the same Death I've always felt I created, the same creature I made with my hands. I formed him. I fed him. I nurtured him and gave up so much to keep him alive, to keep him beside me. And this is what he's become. If I look behind me, I'll have to face the Reaper. I will see him bearing down on my friends, bearing down on you. His jaws are always so close behind, taunting and teasing and waiting for us to trip just once. I can smell his sulfur breath, feel the hot air chasing after me as his hollow laughter rings out. And so I run.

Please, I'm begging you, run with me. Run even when you're tired and don't want to run any more. Please. Just keep running for me. Run with me. I can't bear to see you swallowed up. I can't stand to leave you behind. Please, my dear friend, run. Run and never, ever, ever die.

Written under the influence of Looking For Alaska
Leaena Tigris <3

One thought...

Some days I wish I could go into the past and erase all the things that brought me here.

"Love Until it Hurts..."

That's what somebody told me once, quite a while ago. The problem is, it seems like I already do...

Have you ever cared about someone a lot? The way that when they hurt it hurts you and it makes you happy to see them smile? Have you ever had someone like that, only to find that they don't seem like they care about you? I'm not just talking about a romantic interest. I'm talking about day to day people. You get excited because you're going to see them again and they just kind of walk by with a "hi" for formality's sake. If even that. By now, if you've experienced what I'm talking about, you probably know. I'm hoping someone out there can relate. So back to my question, have you ever really cared about someone who doesn't seem to notice or care about you? It is one of the most defeating feelings there is. There are people in my classes at school that I love that way and to them, I'm just another kid. They know I exist, but don't know much about me. Last year, I spent two weeks looking forward to seeing a kid I'd known from a different school. He was coming to shadow where I was and I got so excited. When I finally got to say hi, we had a very brief and formal conversation. The type of thing you do to say "I remember you, but I'm gonna stay over here. Waaaay over here. Away from you." The rest of that day was spent in a mood that can only be described by defeat.

The sadness that comes from something like that, or from a time someone you love is hurting, is relentless. It can take days to remove. The pain of prolonged silence, of constant suppression. It's not something that leaves easily. And, honestly, I wonder whether or not that's a good thing.

What I have decided, at least so far, is that whether or not the pain is good, it is worth it. The love that it requires of you, the effort, the care... THAT is life changing. In your life and in the lives of those who experience it, whether they recognize it or not. That kind of extraordinary love is the same breed of love that compelled Christ to the cross. It comes from the same breed of compassion that drew Him to forgive His betrayer. It is the same kind of love that continues to wake us up every morning. It is unconditional, it is fierce, and it is a the kind of love I once posted about that says we are worth dying for. No matter what the cost is, never stop loving others with everything you are. Out of your love for God let overflow your love for His people. Love until it hurts. And maybe even then some.

"I'm tired of fighting battles that I may never win. But I fight for you." -- Joel and Luke (for KING & COUNTRY)

Exciting News, Guys!

NANOWRIMO IS HERE, EVERYONE!!!!

Do you know what that means? No? Well, shame on you. National Novel Writing Month is a challenge for writers everywhere to join together in a quest for awesomeness. People all over the world enlist in this wonderful journey. Our goal? To write a 50,000 word novel in one month. Difficult? Yes. Time consuming? Of course. Dangerous? Very likely so. Worth it? Always.

So, as you may have guessed, I'm in. I've grabbed my coffee, pen, laptop, and creativity and I'm ready to go. My novel is called Ashen Lion. It's a semi-philosophical story based on what could have been true events. It's my first time trying out realistic fiction, so I'm apprehensive, but it'll be a good experience. And guess what I couldn't do it without? That's write (hehe, that's a pun). Nanowrimo.

In honor of this great program, and the month of November, I'm changing my font to this. And I'm fundraising. Nano is run by a nonprofit called The Office of Letters and Light. They rely on donations to keep NaNoWriMo running, and I've decided to help them out. For more information about my fundraising and goals or to donate, go to stayclassy.com/nanoashenlion. I'll also have updates on my novel progress there, a link to my official Nanowrimo page, and other stuff. If you don't go, don't worry. You'll probably just crush my spirits and make me cry. And I'll probably never write ever again. So no pressure.

Thanks guys! I'm super excited about this month. Ima rock this thing!!!

Leaena Tigris

From the Mouth of the Tigress

These words are not mine. They are the words of an incredible friend who, at this point and probably to this day, understands more than I ever have.

No one said friendship was easy (and if they did, they were lying through their teeth). It can hurt like heck. But there's something important in hurt: you know that if you're hurting, you still care about something. Sometimes hurt means purpose, or maybe a need for change. Life's full of hurt because we're changing all the time. Life's full of apathy because sometimes we forget who we are. Never forget who or what is important to you. In any relationship, with your parents... with anybody.

There are a lot of mean people out there. There are a few nice people out there. And there's a small, slight flicker of GREAT people out there. Don't let the good people-- and especially the great people-- you've got, go. 

It's okay to feel negative emotions. 
Read that again, please. 
It's okay to feel negative emotions. People act like it's not but it is, because the world is full of bad things to react to. Anger's okay, and fear's okay, and frustration's okay, and sadness is okay. But anger and fear and frustration and sadness ruling you is not okay. At all.

God's not standing outside the ring. He's in the ring, moving me. He's my Dad. And my Dad's gonna fight with me and for me and through me until I fall over dead, and then my eternal spirit's gonna fight with him and through him and for him. And we'll fight together and rest together and cry together because it's a relationship of Spirit and spirit together, not Spirit and body separate. You are never alone.   It's a heck of a ride when you live without somebody on hand to care about you. But it's worse when you give up caring about everybody else. Fear is a good sign here. It means you haven't given up. You're born and forged to fight your way to the top of your dreams. Hold on like heck.

Two Worlds Away

It seems like there are two ways to look at the world. Black or white. "No," you say. "There are all sorts of greys, all sorts of middle grounds. It isn't just black or white. It can't be that." But it is.

You can see the degeneration, the corruption, working its way through society. You can see the side of culture where drugs and sex are lifted up like gods. You can see the highest suicide rates in history. You can see the teens who've dropped out of school. You can see world poverty. You can see the pain and the suffering and the wars and the trials and it's black. You can see the disinterest in learning among children, the inexcusable immaturity even in adults, the disobedience and rebellion of the rising generation. You can see the economy taking another dip. You can see the government falling and other nations rising up as potential world powers and you know it's not just pessimism speaking because this is real. The statistics are real. The issues are real. The people are real. You know them, you see them. You are one of them. This is the black. The trouble. The darkness.             

On the other hand, you can see the hope, the resurgence of courage in this time. You can see the intelligence and potential in the youth. You can see culture as a way of passing on creativity and the arts you can see the joy in children and their love of life and learning. You can see the love and the generosity of others. You can see the incredible development of others and take joy in the way they think and act. You can see the peace and the prosperity and the happiness and it is white. You can see the potential for great leadership among the coming generation. You can see the bright light not only at the end of the tunnels but along the sides, illuminating the path. You can see the successes of others, the developments in technology and science and medicine. You can see the ideals that made us strong and you know it's not just optimism speaking because this is real. The solutions are real. The goodness is real. The people are real. You know them, you see them. You are one of them. This is the white. The anticipation. The light.                                                                                                                                               

We view our present, our past, our future, in black or white. No, it's not set in one view or the other, but it is there. Sometimes I find myself thinking things aren't all that bad. That the world is better off than people make it out to be. Other times I see beyond these propped up versions of reality and realize just how far decayed it really is. But it's not just one right and one wrong. It's both. It's black and white mingling together like water and oil, together but never combining. Never in the same view. Sometimes certain issues are white and others are black. But never grey. Nothing is grey. Maybe the gray is just an illusion- the flickering of white and black going so quickly back and forth that we can hardly realize they're separate. Black and white. Water and oil. Two ways to view the world and they cannot seem to coincide. There's always more of one or the other. More white. More black. More of that mixed up concoction called Grey that we drink up to make ourselves feel balanced. To feel like the hope stems from a problem and is therefore purposeful. To feel like there these problems are temporary and maybe things aren't so bad as we think. Black and white and synthetic greys. Unavoidable. Inescapable. And most certainly part of being Human. 

A New Generation

Part of a conversation I was having a few months ago with an amazing friend of mine who I wouldn't give up for anything... 

What if we were part of the next Great Awakening in the church? I can see it coming. I see a time fast approaching when prophets will rise up and there will be a revival of Life through the Holy Spirit. How amazing would it be if we were so in tune with the Holy Spirit that even miracles were performed for the healing of others and to proclaim praise, honor, and glory to God our Father? 

I've heard some people say that we can't speak in tongues now and there were only certain gifts for the apostles and all sorts of things like that. But I know people who have seen miracles performed and who have seen the glory of God. I know people who have seen visions and spoken prophesies over others. I know people who DO speak in tongues and who have prayer languages. I know people who are so filled with the Holy Spirit that within the span of one mere word when they pray or worship, He completely floods the room. What if we were all like that? I mean imagine what could happen. I'm not saying what if we were all the same, but what if we were so in tune with the Holy Spirit and God's desire that we possessed, through Him alone, a sort of supernatural power. The authority to cast out demons and heal the sick. I know it's possible. I believe that, to an extent, we've been given that kind of authority already. That authority only comes by the name of Jesus Christ. If we hold fast to Him, then what can Satan stop us from doing? Nothing. There's no doubt at all in my mind that He can and will do these things. He could use us just as well as any other generation to do it, but we have to love Him. There have been prophets that have risen up. Mattie Montgomery for one, who calls for a Great Awakening in the church and for us to "step into [the] destiny" and the calling that God has placed on us. To become the Joshua generation that would rise up and march forward with a faith that was stronger than ever before and that would change the world. Even if we don't get to see it, what if we started that? What if we were the beginning of that revolution? I know that just one person can change the entire world. Even a person with little influence (like us). It doesn't have to be some major world power, but guess where we are?! AMERICA! :D We are in a country that completely dominates the rest of the world and has IMMEASURABLE influence on other countries. Chain reactions are entirely possible and even if one person just tells one person who only tells one other person, that's two more people added to the Everlasting Kingdom of God and who will live forever in Paradise!! :D I'm so hyped up right now it's AWESOME. I mean, just imagine what could happen.


I really hope God uses me in a way that would expand so much larger than I could ever anticipate. Whether I see it or not. Although I would prefer to see it... I am a prophet. I know that in a way and with an assurance I can't really explain. There have been a couple times that I've been given prophesies to speak over people. I've seen visions. A while back, I had a vision during worship at my church. Everything was white and I was standing there. A massive black wave like water made of shadows rose up in front of me and I put my hands out to hold it back. And I did. The wave stopped advancing. I opened my eyes after that and prayed that God would tell me what that meant, that He would assure me in that promise and.. and that calling. While I was praying, I saw the same scene. All white except for the black wave advancing against me. But this time, there were people beside me. My entire youth group was beside me and we were all holding back the wave together. But we weren't just holding it where it was. Together, we were pushing it back. Through the power of Christ. We were forcing evil to renounce its claim on the son of Adam's blood. It has no place where there is light, nor any hold on the children of God.

 A pastor I was under for a while said that God had given him a name to speak to me and the name was Esther. That I was being brought into the place I was for a reason and that the reason was to do great things for God that no one else could do otherwise. Those weren't the exact words, but you get the picture. Let no one put you down because you trust in the word and the promises of your God. Our God.

Courage, strength, and peace to you my brothers and sisters simply because you are His. Never forget what He has told you. God is going to do incredible things. And soon. Be ready for them. I'm not sure how I know, but I am confident that there is a wave arising. A tide of hope is about to be unleashed as together we push against the established order of this world and fight for the righteousness only found in Christ. This, my dear friends, is the beginning- the rising- of a new generation. The generation that will change it all forever. 

Haunted

This post has been in my drafts for a while. But I think it's time for it to come out. So here I begin...

How in the world can you forget the past when it keeps coming up to haunt you? How can you move on from something, anything, when all it wants to do is cling on for dear life? It warrants tears and frustration. Hate and indecision. And of course that same feeling of want mixed with uncertainty is exactly the thing I feed. Adam Young said once "Why is it -- the faster you attempt to heal from something painful, the more frequently it tends to haunt you? When will the ghosts under the stairs give up and go home? Why can't I give them five bucks and the car keys and tell them to take the night off?" Why? Why can't I write that same poetry as Levi, where he can find himself in the lost corners of his mind. Where he can gather his thoughts into something coherent and make it more than just a bunch of words thrown onto a paper. Where he can create something beautiful. Something wonderful. Is everybody haunted? I don't want to keep remembering the past but sometimes it just won't let go. Sometimes its grip is so tight I don't think I can breathe and sometimes, only sometimes, I'm not sure I want to. The past brings pain. And I know that I should know the future brings hope and forgiveness, I just want to get there sooner. I want to get out of this silent zone I'm in where nothing makes sense because nothing is real because there's nothing to be real that I can make sense out of. I want something concrete. Something that doesn't make me look back and wonder what I did. "I don't want to be left in this world tonight. Am I alone in this fight? Is anybody out there?" - Tyler Ward: Is Anybody Out There?


Is everybody haunted?

Alexithymia

I've noticed, especially recently, that when I'm upset or nervous, I listen to music. The more whatever emotion irritates me, the louder the music gets. So here I am, sitting in my room, with my door closed and my music so loud I can't hear much of anything else. And I can't even place what I'm feeling. I guess that's not entirely atypical, but it certainly doesn't help anything. Alexithymia.

alexithymia  a·lex·i·thy·mi·a (ə-lěk'sə-thī'mē-ə)
n.
 Inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner.

Technically, that's the definition. It's a psychological condition that keeps you from being able to verbalize emotions. And I think everyone suffers from it, to an extent. It's hard sometimes to say exactly what you're feeling. When it doesn't quite fit in general terms like "mad" or "upset" or "hurt". The English language, and most languages probably, are severely lacking in terms words to effectively express emotions. And yet we try. Personally, I find that extremely interesting.

Two Rants

         Do not underestimate the youth of our generation. We are powerful. Those who believe are just as much a part of the Armies of the Living God as any adult. It was us, the youth, who pushed back that black wave in my vision. I, a youth, who held it. This is not a matter of age or experience but of the love and faith placed in the Lord Almighty. Yahweh. Our God. We are not powerless. We are not to be degraded. We are not to be allowed to fall. We are the masses, the influence and those vastly influenced by these cultural monsters. We must protect ourselves and be protected. We may be the future, but we are also the now. We are strong. Do not underestimate the youth of my generation.
 

         What shall we do? We are called into this service for more than this, surely: to act out in faith once every now and then. It has been said that Christianity is an ongoing act, a lifestyle of love and service. Rarely with that is it explained that this love and service comes from an overflowing of the love, grace, and mercy that we have been given. Christianity is a lifestyle not of love but of being loved. Our actions and service stem from the realization of what we have been given. This love empowers us. Enables us. It calls children to be prophets. Causes men to fall on their knees in worship and women to rejoice in freedom and adoration. Without this love we are given, our faith means nothing. Is nothing. There must be more to this love if it is so foundational to our spirits. More, possibly, than we could ever understand. Yes, truly. Then what do we do? We share this love, yes, but how? Within the boundaries of circumstance and gifts among other limitations, how do we proclaim this gospel in a way that would impact not only others but ourselves? I don't know. How does an introverted, private-schooled teenager become to prophet she is called to be?

         Surely training is continuous for our mission. That training should not nullify our commands. How do I meet this goal now? I am Peter. Not one to wait in Jerusalem for the gift I am to be given. But perhaps, for now, that is what I am to do. Watt, not necessarily just where I am, but in Jerusalem. This first "realm" until the Spirit of God Almighty overwhelms me to the point of tears and joy and desperation to move and rejoice in the glory of my Lord. Ready yourselves. There is a storm coming. I comes to tear down and to build. To purify and refine. To cleanse. To plant and reap and call. Let the Spirit of the Lord arise in your hearts. Put aside your idols and your gods and receive the mantle of the Holy Spirit and the power invested in you through and only through the grace and strength of our God. Prepare yourselves. Ready yourselves. This storm is fast approaching and will wait no longer. A new generation is rising up to take its place. Their eyes are held fast on the glory of the Most High and their hands are ready to do His work. Their hearts are pure and their feet are moving to the pulse of His heart. The armies are marching. Prepare yourselves, my brothers and sisters, for battle. For war. Surely a war will rage in this place. The King is coming. Whether or not this is the war of the End, I cannot claim to know. I speak only the words given to me, that the King is coming. He is preparing the way for His Judge who will reign in glory and power and honor forever.All creatures on the earth, above the earth, and under the earth belong to Him. We rest in His hands. Call together the masses. Awaken the assemblies. The time draws nearer and nearer still when there will be no more to shout the name of Christ in the streets.

         To love the Lord your God is to serve Him regardless of the cost. He never asks too much. Ready yourselves. Ready the others! Awaken the church in a new revival. There will be a time when Christianity rises and the greatness of God will be revealed through His bride. She will shine like the Son of Man. But there will be a time, too, when the world will be cloaked in darkness. People will reject the name of Christ and refuse the love of their savior. These times are coming when we will be tried and persecuted for His sake, even in the places we were meant to be safe.

         Even so, let us proclaim the glory and honor of our God. In those times and in all, even today. Our God never changes. Let your love for Him never fail, nor let your hearts waver. The flame of a candle is easily extinguished. Do not let this be of your love. Let it instead be a fire that consumes not only the sacrifice, but the water and the stones around it. Let it consume your heart, flowing over into your job, your relationships, your home, your church, everywhere you go, all you do, and who you are. Let your life be a song of worship to our King. All glory to my God forever. Amen.

1 Samuel 12:20-22, 24 (NIV)

“Do not be afraid ... You have done all this evil; yet do not turn away from the Lord, but serve the Lord with all your heart. Do not turn away after useless idols. They can do you no good, nor can they rescue you, because they are useless. For the sake of his great name the Lord will not reject his people, because the Lord was pleased to make you his own. But be sure to fear the Lord and serve him faithfully with all your heart; consider what great things he has done for you."

Psalm 2:11 (NIV)

Serve the Lord with fear and celebrate his rule with trembling.

Malachi 3:17-18 (NIV)

“On the day when I act,” says the Lord Almighty, “they will be my treasured possession. I will spare them, just as a father has compassion and spares his son who serves him. And you will again see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not.
 

Hebrews 9:14  (NIV)

How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!

 1 Peter 4:10-11 (NIV)*

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. ¹¹ If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.

Deuteronomy 10:12-13 (NIV)

And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in obedience to him, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to observe the Lord’s commands and decrees that I am giving you today for your own good?

 Joshua 24:14-16 (NIV)

“Now fear the Lord and serve him with all faithfulness. Throw away the gods your ancestors worshiped beyond the Euphrates River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”
Then the people answered, “Far be it from us to forsake the Lord to serve other gods!




*Full reading of this chapter, and in fact of this book, is highly recommended

Emptiness

I can't write anything. I've got two posts marked "Draft" waiting for me, but I can't seem to face them with the respect they deserve. Belonging and Responsibility to Christ. The words just sit there and mock me as I stare back. I can't find the emotion to write them and keep them sincere. I know that if I were to try, I'd be forcing out each syllable and twisting the letters to fit a lie. That, dear friends, is the last thing I want.
I wrote a poem once about how I couldn't write. It ended up being a story-poem with the plot line as follows: I couldn't write, so I sat there looking at an empty page. Finally, inspiration. I write about the empty page I stare at. It was simple, really, and not very long. But this is a different kind of emptiness and how can I write about a blank white canvas on a screen? This emptiness is one that's full of questions. But the questions don't shout or demand answers. They lie there, quiet. Now and again one will whisper, but not often enough to break this feeling. In the silence I see my past and a thousand more questions come rushing in. Rushing in and crashing like a wave. Like something that should make noise and rip apart these foggy seams, but no. This is a silent film. The only sounds are my fingers on the keys and the crunch of pretzel or granola. What kind of backdrop is that? What sort of emotion is this? It doesn't really have a name. It is an emptiness, but it is full of silent songs and questions and memories. And how can an emptiness be full anyway? Tell me, what did I do? What did I do to cause this? I can't escape it. I can run and shout and scream all I want, but I don't make any more noise than do these questions that cling onto me. I'm not even sure how much of this makes sense. I want to feel despair, but instead I feel numb. Pain, joy, anger... anything is welcome if only it will break this down.
I miss my friends. The ones who never knew how much I loved them. The people I want so much now to sit down with and talk to. The ones I promised never to let go. I miss them. I could be real around them and not worry about them judging me. Now, I have to be careful what I say and do just because I know people are watching me. They're looking me up and down and putting a label on me. The different one. Not different in the stereotypical Christian "Oh everyone will see there's something different about you and wonder what it is you have that they don't" type. Not the "everyone's different and that's what makes us unique" kind either. Outcast different. I suppose I shouldn't care. It never bothered me much before. I suppose it doesn't bother me so much now, either, but I think I wish they'd let me breathe. That they'd allow me to take down my mask for a while and give me some space so that I could be who I am in the truest sense. I wish that almost as much as I wish I could form a coherent thought. Or a decent blog post for that matter. If only it weren't for this emptiness...

Responsibility to Christ

There are so many souls in one room. Next time you're standing in Wal-Mart or church, or some other sort of active and public environment, look around. The sheer amount of people there... It's overwhelming. What can one person do for so many? How can we love so many? How is it even possible? I could pull on some sort of story or metaphor here, but I won't. I'll just speak the truth. Our impact is on as many as we can manage to affect. Just because we can't reach everyone doesn't mean we shouldn't bother trying to reach anyone at all.
It is an enormous amount of responsibility to be a Christian. We have a high calling and responsibility to Christ that it seems we forget. All too often we find ourselves, or rather we lose ourselves in the cracks and crevices of our own minds. Not until church or Bible study, if then, do we remember what we've been called to do. Our battle is raging whether we recognize it or not and the longer we remain oblivious, the farther we slip away. Life is constantly in motion and honestly it's all we can do to keep up. But we must keep running.

Three Steps from Crashing (East to West)

There are some days when you just can't win. There are some days when you're on top of the world. And then there are those bipolar days that just can't decide what to do with themselves...


"East To West"
Written by Casting Crowns

Here I am, Lord, and I'm drowning in your sea of forgetfulness
The chains of yesterday surround me
I yearn for peace and rest
I don't want to end up where You found me
And it echoes in my mind, keeps me awake tonight
I know You've cast my sin as far as the east is from the west
And I stand before You now as though I've never sinned
But today I feel like I'm just one mistake away from You leaving me this way

Jesus, can You show me just how far the east is from the west
'cause I can't bear to see the man I've been come rising up in me again
In the arms of Your mercy I find rest
'cause You know just how far the east is from the west
From one scarred hand to the other

I start the day, the war begins, endless reminding of my sin
Time and time again Your truth is drowned out by the storm I'm in
Today I feel like I'm just one mistake away from You leaving me this way

I know You've washed me white, turned my darkness into light
I need Your peace to get me through, to get me through this night
I can't live by what I feel, but by the truth Your word reveals
I'm not holding on to You, but You're holding on to me
You're holding on to me

Jesus, You know just how far the east is from the west
I don't have to see the man I've been come rising up in me again
In the arms of Your mercy I find rest
'cause You know just how far the east is from the west
From one scarred hand to the other
One scarred hand to the other
From one scarred hand to the other

Remember the Fallen

I couldn't find a reason to grieve. I was sure there was something wrong with me. Hadn't I loved her? Everyone else was crying....
My great-grandma died close to a week ago. Sunday, December 2, 2012. We went to the funeral and I couldn't find any reason to feel even a semblance of grief for her. In all honesty, I still can't. I tried all the typical reasons.
I'll never see her again: Actually, I will. I'll see her in paradise.
She's not going to be here for Christmas: is this really getting to be about me getting presents? That's pitiful. She's not celebrating Christ's birth here, but she's WITH Christ. That's way better than any Christmas gathering.
She's gone. I can't see her any more: yes, she's gone. She is gone into Heaven. She can breathe freely. She can move. She can run and shout and laugh and dance again.
Death hadn't touched my life until then, save for the loss of two dogs, a hermit crab, and one relative I had never known. Even for my PETS I cried. But for my great-grandma? No. In the span of about 20 minutes I felt sadness. Not grief or sorrow, but sadness.

And now, here I am. This is one week after the mass shooting in Newtown. I think of those 26 killed. I think back to the stories I've heard of Columbine. Of the shootings in Tucson, in Aurora, in so many places within the past few years. I think of my friend's pastor who killed himself last year. I think of all of them who lost their lives, people I don't even know, and I grieve with a sorrow I have never known. It's a physical heartache. Something that makes my stomach knot and my head hurt. I do not hate the shooters. I weep for them. The boy in Newtown, he didn't just wake up that morning with a psychopathic urge to kill. He was human. He IS human. The others were too. The shooters, the victims, the witnesses, they're all HUMAN. I am by no means saying that what they did was right. I am not saying it is acceptable. But they didn't just desire blood. They were driven to that by so many different forces and voices. Some of those were their own.
Now, there are so many families who will wake on Christmas morning and weep bitterly for their children. For their husbands. Wives. Mothers. Fathers. And they will wonder why God would do this if he existed. They will despair in their loss. The shootings go on in theaters, churches, mosques, schools, homes, streets...
And so I grieve for them.
It is devastating. Those children may not have been saved. They will never get to live out their lives. They won't have children of their own. Their families, their friends, now live with not only the memory of their lives but with the memories of their deaths. Depression may ensue. Despair. Falling away from God. Hatred toward those who murdered the ones they loved. And all of this is understandable. To an extent it is expected. No words can compensate for the people you have lost. The nation truly does grieve with you.
Even still, remember those who begin such things. A teenager who decides to open fire on classmates before killing himself may be driven by depression. Depression brought on by others. Everything you do has a consequence. There have been multiple accounts of people planning suicide then rejecting it because someone reminded them that they are Human. That they matter. These kids were reminded of that because someone picked up their books, said hi to them, complimented them somehow. And it saved their life.
To those reading this long after these current events, do not forget to remember the fallen. Do not reject those who hurt. Do not cause the harm that pushes people toward, to, and over the edge of control into the abyss of depression and darkness.
To those not affected by these shootings: pray. Pray for the men, women, and children who have lost ones they loved. That they still love. Pray for comfort and peace. Pray for something good to come from this.
To those involved or affected by the shootings... There are no words for what has happened and I am deeply, deeply sorry. I pray for you. I weep for you, with you, and will continue to do so for years to come. Evil is hard at work. No law or regulation can stop Satan. Comfort each other. I pray that _something_ good would come out of this. Trust in God, because He is there. I can't explain the "why?"s. But there is a reason. Somehow, somewhere, there is a reason. Whether we will ever see or understand it, I don't know.
To you all: Remember the forgotten.




Ltpoethearts.blogspot.com

Questions...

Why is it that just when everything looks perfect and I've neatly arranged all my scenery that a whirlwind comes through and threatens everything? Just when I've filed away all of my Fears and shoved the last few crumbs of Doubt under the rug, a twister runs through and throws everything back out into the open again so that I have to rush to cover it until I have more time to reorganize. I'd just neared recovery from two back-to-back internal battles (the earthquake and the aftershock). Little did I know, a hurricane was on the way. My great-grandma died on Sunday night. I haven't slowed down enough to really soak it in and everything it means. I'm not sure I want to. Maybe this is that "denial stage". If I keep moving long enough, if I can fall asleep fast enough at night, I won't have to think about it and it won't mess me up again. I can outrun the hurricane.
Maybe that's a fantasy, but it's one of the few things I still want to believe. I can't seem to find the light at the end of any of these twisting and winding tunnels. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've been going in circles for months.

Maybe life wasn't meant to be put together. People always seem to think someone or other has their life all figured out, but what if that's not even possible?