Tag Archives: Christianity

Free Spirit

I choke on plastic words creating packaged sentiments of empathy or condolence. Lies slither through cracks in the walls of closets and basements like smoke through an open window. Where do you live in a reality where nothing is real.

To know the truth but carry it buried in the pocket of a smoker wrapped in wolf’s bane for fear of it catching wind. For fear that the others will know and suddenly the scrim will melt away like embers in a moonlit breeze. What would we say, now naked and free, no cloaks to hide our intent. How would we continue without truth layered in embers, but blazing with glory in the dark of night.

These facades have taken on a life of their own trapping us within characters we no longer recognize, but can’t escape. Trapped, breathing though porous masks that suffocate a souls yearning to be free, dying to be released. Is death our only truth and birth no more than awakening to contrived realities dished out in plastic stages of development for the benefit of the play.

We fear nature for its truths. We hide in clothes, houses, and careers dreaming of freedom from it all. We dream of The freedom to be wild and human, compassionate and forgiving in a world without lies.

We fall to our knees looking up to a God who doesn’t recognize us because we hide beneath layers of decay for decades serving a different purpose. A faint pulse beats under a black heart starved of the blood and air nature demands. No one hears the rhythm or feels the life that screams to be judged.

I can no longer breathe the air that’s so polluted with purpose and intent I gag with each breath through constricted lungs. How can I free my soul to meet my spirit before the last breath leads me to a land promised by a bat wearing a doves feathers. I want to live before I die.

I want to overcome the clothes I’ve been given to wear as a child that fashioned my tunic for another mans dream. I want to overcome banners and parchments that hang on dilapidated walls and rusted poles. These shackled dreams of men kept me from wandering free where my God would show me mercy and resolve like Job and his ashes.

I have faith that though I was removed from God at birth I can feel His presence in the absence of the humanity I reside. Everything here is gray and steel, stale and stagnant like ponds of nuclear waste in a forest of deciduous trees permanently dormant. It’s the distant shrill of one lone cardinal that affirms my hope.

My banners are fabric, my honor is defined by laws, and my faith stands alone surrounded by lies. I am made to think. My places of worship have locks and flood lights illuminating signs with catchy slogans selling faith for tithes. It is in the wilderness where truth awaits, where God reveals his majesty, not within rooms decorated for posterity. A forest of mirrors reflecting man’s arrogance and contempt for God’s power and presence is just a step away.

So now I live outside myself. For my body may be imprisoned in this nightmare, but my mind is free to travel the earth searching for a handshake or a hug with the warmth of blood.

My hood drawn loose I walk narrow paths avoiding the noise and smoke from distant fires. My path is lit with the spirits of those gone before me. The spirits of men who walked alone with the weight of the world on their mind. I see with my heart and listen with my mind for signs of life, but the world is static and I was born robbed fluid.

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Charismatic and Atheist

Truth doesn’t make me a Christian, faith make me a Christian. Wether it’s true or not that Jesus walked on water, I have faith that the lesson He would want me to take away from that story isn’t about His majesty, rather that I will sink when I let my faith sink. Christ died on the cross for my sins. I will never have a video or physical evidence. Which is the point after all. My faith gives me hope, and that pertains to life, not just spirituality.

I hear atheist and charismatics harping on the supernatural nature of religion. One side mocks God when a tragedy occurs, while the other side takes annual pilgrimages to bleeding trees. Faith is not knowing, it’s hoping with trust. Hoping with confidence that you can live up to the ideal of Christ. This faith has nothing to do with religion, religion is power, faith is spirituality. They are different and that’s what is unique for me about Christians.

There is a movement in the world to tarnish the Christian faith. The folks who are behind this movement, the followers who buy into it, and the Christians contributing to the narrative don’t understand its religion that they’re referring to. Christ wasn’t religious, he was spiritual. Christians do miraculous things daily for folks around the world they don’t know, nor will they ever meet.

Folks ask questions about why God lets tragedies occur. Some even go as far as to mock Christians for turning to God within tragedies they perceive He let occur. We hear statements like, “Where was God when this or that tragedy occurred. It’s cynicism as a tactic to create doubt, but we’re taught about doubt with Thomas.

God doesn’t direct our lives to ensure outcomes. Faith wouldn’t exist if we didn’t have free will. It’s within these tragedies we learn that our world has evil and it can never win if we keep our faith. We can’t be a Christian and know, that’s ridiculous, there’s no room for faith in that world.

Christians are leading the way in separating themselves from religion. The Old Testament provides us with many stories that have messages on how to live together. The New Testament gives us the hopeful message of Jesus and examples of how to maintain faith in turmoil. These stories aren’t instruction manuals for the supernatural.

So don’t come at with “pray about it”, or sarcastic comments about how God let’s bad things happen. God wants me to act on my transgressions and atone. Not sit around hoping a prayer is gonna make things right. He doesn’t control my life, He gave me free will and human nature, he knows my heart. So if you’re an atheist or charismatic Christian running around talking about Christianity is magic, I probably won’t see you later. Don’t pray about it either, do something about your misleading intentions.

American Spirit

I was looking through my social media early one morning and was reminded how special the American spirit is to the world. This is a weekend for reflection to many, and as I reflect, I’m reminded how this spirit survives despite America’s government. The separation is clear.

I see the disconnect in the millions of heartfelt messages from folks about our service members who sacrificed all. Many of these messages are from folks who don’t know the pain of this loss personally, but empathize with those that do. We remember the WW11 widow who went on to make a new life with her scrapbook of memories of a love only dreamt, because no one gets left behind.

I read the anecdotes from a friend in Honduras sad about leaving friends behind to return home. I see photo’s of smiling men laboring to improve learning and living conditions for folks thousands of miles away. I feel the American spirit in their photos.

I see young soldiers with backpacks full of miniature flags walking rows of white headstones placing each one with the care of a loved one. I imagine in his mind the glory he dreamt of how each patriot found his home there.

I read about young folks just starting their journey in life upon graduating from 15 years of security and learning. I’ve watched them over the years clean houses and yards for older folks less fortunate. I’ve watched them build structures to lighten the burden for those less physically fortunate. I see the American spirit.

I see photos of babies. Some in hospitals and some taking the first step in a family video. As I read the comments I feel the pain and joy of folks distant or near as the empathize or celebrate with the parents joy or sorrow.

I’ve read the stories of Europe being attacked and the heartfelt comments from Americans who desperately want to ease the pain of someone they can’t even imagine, or might not have even liked. I see the cover photos superimposed with foreign flags in solidarity with folks they will never know.

I see my neighbors cutting each other’s grass. I see the person at the cash register receive change from the cashier because they were a few cents short. I see the folks on the side of the road laughing and joking as they change a flat tire. I read on yard sake sites of mothers giving away baby clothes that no longer fit to anyone who might need them. Everywhere I look I see the American spirit.

There are folks outside and within our country that would have you believe being American is something evil. They’ll point to political figures. They’ll try and convince you that lies and deceit are the coin of our realm. Hell, they’ll even try to convince you we’re responsible for the Christian crusades if you listen long enough. Some of these accusation are truths and half truths of our government, but they aren’t part of the American spirit.

Take time to really reflect this weekend, folks died for this holiday. They died for you before your parents were born. They died before they had children or families of their own. Don’t feel bad about barbecuing, or swimming, or having too many beers with your friends. This was part of why they put theirselves in harms way.

But…. Remember that when the weekend is over they would expect that you would share some old clothes with someone less fortunate. They would expect that you would help out the neighbor who can’t cut their grass. They would expect you support or travel somewhere far away to help out folks in need. They would expect you share a kind word with someone, on line or face to face with a hug.

Trust me when I tell you they knew about the disconnect with the government. They lived and died with it. They worked within it with hopes to change it. They could spot an idiot a mile away. They also understood we aren’t our government, hence; “We the people in order to form a more perfect union….. Remember all the way back to that revolutionary soldier who passed on for you to grill with a machine he could never imagine.

Remember Freedom and goodwill are alive today for your to carry forward. It’s a legacy left to us. I’m encouraged that every second of every day their sacrifices are living and breathing in our efforts to be a better neighbor around the world.

Randomness

My mind lazily stares at the reflection of the door in the rainwater collecting on the sidewalk. I struggle with which door to open, which door to walk through for the rest of my life. Both have become surreal and the glimmer of hope in my reflection is as real as the sadness behind the pains encased in reality.

In the end choice was an illusion, a weigh station to a truth I already knew. Home is an illusion like the mind. It doesn’t have matter like a house or brain, of which both will eventually collapse. And so it is, choice, the stairway to somewhere, always leads me on.

So is life an illusion brought to life in the reflection of inconsequential notions of reality. Are hope, faith, and prayer the home of truth, reality, and the work that brings shining moments. We aren’t meant to know, only care enough to try.

Does it all matter, probably not, but if you don’t care, it’s not worth living. The reflection means no more than the reality and that’s not a crossroad, it’s a void. A place where nothing has color or tears to dry. A place where death lives and life passes on.

Everything has meaning, has worth if we care. Reality pushed the boundary of sanity at times. So hold onto your reflections with the understanding that life does matter, as do the illusions that give it measure. When this gets twisted you’re no longer real.

March Madness

I’m disappointed in the feminist movement. I’ve been following their movements since the “bra burning” days. This march on D.C is another in the long list of failures. I don’t think it’s due to their ideals, but we just witnessed hundreds of thousands of woman organize and march, and what was the message, they marched!

There is a core out there who are passionate about the exploitation of young girls. This is a valid argument and a national problem. 1 out of 3 is real! Our tween age an teen age girls are a sought out commodity and need protection that all to often doesn’t come from home.

There are woman passionate about reproductive rights, and justifiably so a woman’s health is just that, hers. The sad but obvious sentiment missing is that in many of these cases there are men who should be heard supporting their woman, but they cower in the background like the women got pregnant on their own. That old country song “Stand By Your Man” needs a remake, “Stand By Your Partner”, man up bitch!!!

The “Glass ceiling” has been shattered for a while now. Yes, there are shards still in the framework, but it balances out with other prejudices like color, religion, or socio economic history. Instead of celebrating the woman who ran Donald Trump’s campaign, the “uber left feminist” demonized her and any other woman who is successful. Ain’t nothing free “baby”, you gotta earn it. A vagina never got anyone to far no matter how they tried to use it, especially on a hat!

So how does the history of this movement keep getting usurped. The avant guard in the seventies, the “intelligencia” in the nineties, and in this century the postmodernist are ruling the narrative through remnants of all these groups. The universities that we subsidize are a bastion of professors that believe that science is objective and truth is a lie. The avant guard pops out of Hollywood as all sorts of characters. The intelligencia is rewarded for perpetrating the narrative and punished for not supporting the narrative.

Make no mistake this is coordinated and the division Obama created by moving to the extreme left, and the extreme right taking the bait, created a gap where everyone could just waltz right in. Then the “bandwagon was rolling with “Boomer” at the reins!

The other players are an echo from the past. The “Black Lives Matter” crowd seem to have usurped the outdated “Civil Rights Era” narrative. The whole nothing is as it seems postmodern narrative fits in well with them.

Atheist made great strides in demonizing Christianity, they show deference to the Muslims, and act like kids at a teen idol concert when it comes to eastern religion. They’re good till you ask them if you can have atheism without having a God, then they use the postmodern formula of deconstruction and take apart the content ignoring the question.

The real danger to this is we, “True Americans”, are put at risk by the naïveté of these groups. Postmodernism is a European movement attempting to get a foothold in America to change our culture and further socialize the world as a rebellion to capitalism.

Black Lives Matter has been infiltrated, if not originated, by the militant Christian and Muslim movement. They share the methods of there is no truth and the organizations that make up our culture are persecuting their groups.

The Muslim movement in America is not a foreign influence, it’s perpetrated through the prison system among black leadership within a gang that assumed a religious origin for protection. One of the popular moves throughout this culture is ex patriating. They use treaties signed in the 18th century to establish their indigent status and then file paperwork to recoup their birth certificate, SSN, and any other document that formed what they refer to as the “contract with the American Corporation”.

It may seem that I’ve strayed from the feminist movement being usurped since it’s inception, but race, gender, and politic have consistently usurped the narrative of feminist. It’s part of a larger movement that seeks to use questionable situations to highlight a narrative of division against our way of life. Don’t be fooled!

Is there room for improvement in our culture, certainly. Are there folks who are greedy making fortunes off the backs of soldiers, the poor, and middle class, always has been. We have much to work on in America. The truth is that a subjective world leaves our freedom vulnerable.

Celebrating yourself marching as a group is an egocentric activity. Selfies with vulgar signs and platitudes don’t tell others what your issues are in a coherent manner. Leading a march of hundreds of thousands of citizens who are ignorant of the larger goal is not activism, it’s sedition.

I hope the feminist movement can reflect on these last weeks and weed out the leadership that had other objectives besides the welfare of woman. You have foreign influence within your ranks that have once again usurped your cause. In fact, if you don’t wake up from your ignorance you could make life for females in parts of America worse by inviting foreign religious practices that devalue woman to the level of livestock. Regain control of your mind along with your body and we’re behind you 100%, otherwise your cause will once again fade into the history of the avant guards dream of a socialist utopia.

Walking with Him

Christ is our personal example because he loved humans enough to confront their faults with empathy, but most of us are blinded like children to the magic of the story.

I loathe these flocks of station that reduce our Savior to a miracle or moral to support their claims to privilege. They minimize Christ in their denominational divisions with an air of spiritual superiority that transcends hypocrisy. Christ is freedom because he was free.

He had no church. He despised the temple and what it had become; and he was at odds with the religious leaders of the times because he saw through their hypocrisy. Why would we think he would view today’s church in any other manner?

Christ didn’t carry a Bible, he was the New Testament. A testament to love, forgiveness, and selfless virtues. He didn’t fear opposition, he welcomed it with words of wisdom. All we have today is the dizziness of orators offering interpretations based on ideologies competing for tithes. What Jesus received, was received for others, through him we were blessed.

Today, maybe more than ever, our body is our temple. Our bible is kept at home for a reason. Build your temple on His life and you can’t go wrong. You don’t need another man to tell you to love and respect others. You don’t have to be part of any group to offer a hand up. All you need is to feel the humanity that Jesus highlighted and appended your mind, heart, and arms to the world.

I’ve seen His spirit in many people. Some through their acts, others through their words. Ive seen this with my own heart. So those of you selling faith can walk on by, because my mind is open to a world of wonder where my heart can roam free and my arms can embrace people who are mired in religion. You can’t “walk with Jesus” sittin in a pew!

Since it’s Sunday

Gilded doors open wide to the smell of varnished wood and the soft steps of carpeted footprints. Light filters through stained glass murals creating shards of majestic light. Empty moments wait in anticipation.

The cross hangs centered high above the lectern framed by ornate chairs creating an isle of redemption. The rows of spindles form a line of demarcation between the masses and the messengers; and the only thing between them are the soft cushioned shelf to kneel.

Words and bread are washed down with wine and meanings fermented for centuries. Centuries of roles played out to the rhythm and design of a place called sanctuary. A place where freedom has boundaries.

And then the day when the silence of tradition is shattered by pain and misfortune wrapped in elegance and smiles. Feathered hats and stiff shirts ruffle in a truth remembered. Thunderous truths that remind us that it’s ok to “fall short”. This is the one truth that keeps our commitments in line with the architecture of reality.

Then the reality of silence reminds us hypocrisy is necessary to further the cause. The less fortunate need our contempt to remind them that blessings are earned; that faith has a reward as evident by you’re place in the pews.

Then the gilded doors open wide to the light of truth. The soft winds of the world caress the idea that prayer is what separates the chosen for posterity. Handshakes and hugs are safe amongst the forgiven; so now the armor of God will protect the chosen from the filth as they go forward into the world they strive to order.

These remnants of historical fiction are embedded in the souls of structure. Humanity was lost on the fulcrum of Christ. Nothing is Holy. It’s man’s desire to rule that perpetuates truths as a parody of faith.

Christ lived amongst the people outdoors where no one was homeless. Where everyone was lost in the idea of humanity as one. The church was where they traveled; in a grove, in a house, or on a boat they ate, breathed, and believed.

His words inspired the world to goodness; not in a book, not in a building, but in a gaze where breath and flesh pressed the meaning of goodness into acts of kindness.

So now I travel as one, not alone, but within an ancient truth passed down through time and thought. Born unto me through the simple truths of good and bad, right and wrong. He was not the Author, but the messenger who gave his life for the truths I’ve known since birth. And I’m the only man that owns this for myself, everyone else is a usurper.