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Showing posts from December, 2018

The Sins of Our Fathers

Let's suppose this picture represents several generations of humanity. Let's also suppose the colors represent the bad habits present in those generations. When looked at from above, we see mostly the brown introduced by Adam and Eve's sin at the beginning of time, but when we zoom in, we can see the color. That slash of magenta represents generations of finger pointing. Then there's that blue stripe representing hoarding. The blue goes away because of a family revival, but the blue pops up again further down the line in plenty of kings, dictators, czars and presidents.  I could illustrate my own sins here too. Some of my colors were in the lines before me, and some have lain dormant for generations and my personality has now brought them out. Some, I am not even aware of because I disguise them behind the belief that I'm just trying to help or do a good job or something seemingly innocent like that.  However, none of my colors reveal anything new about humanity. I

Answering the Lies

Do you hear them? They cut through the air. Do you see them? They fly so fast. They land with a dull thud on your wooden form. The part that has yet to be turned human. The pain draws your attention again and again away from the warmth of the living fire inside you and onto that stiff, cold puppet, that manipulated toy that used to be you. And those darts find their mark day after day. The lies. They have struck and you shudder.  But you are not without an answer. ➤  So to the one drawn again and again to nasty habits: to that oh-so-delicious occupation of minimizing other's difficulties and magnifying your own, to weighing your acquaintances on your scale of holiness, to believing your wisdom is beyond others . . . to those who do this, and then realize it and look around and see where you are, the mud again, the muck, the pig sty. "You pathetic failure!" the lies say. "You'll never break these old habits."      Answer with truth. Look up from this m

Psalm 69: A Complaint of a Sick Mom

For the director of music. To the tune of “Somebody Get Me A Doctor.” Of Abigail. 1  Save me, O God,     for the sickness has come up to my head. 2  I sink into fuzzy headaches,     where there is no breathing out of my nose.     I have come into the deep waters;     the floods engulf my nasal passages. 3  I am worn out calling for help;     my throat is parched.     My eyes throb, looking for my God. 4  Viruses assault me without reason     outnumber the hairs of my head;    many symptoms are my enemies without relief,     them that seek to debilitate me.    I am forced to rest     when I have mouths to feed. 5  You, God, know my trials;     my and my baby’s illnesses are not hidden from you. 6  Lord, the Lord Almighty,     may those who hope in the flu shot     not be disgraced because of me;     God of Israel,     may those who seek good health     not fall within my sneezes’ range. 7  For I endure sleepless nights for my baby’s sake,     and big