Humans acting badly

Sometimes, humans really make me ashamed to be one of them. Not that I’m faulting God in His Creation. I know He intended for us to reflect His glory. And when we do, it’s breathtaking. And someday, we will on a consistent basis. But for now? For now, the future of humanity looks dim. Perhaps that why Jesus said, “And except those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved: but for the elect’s sake those days shall be shortened” Matthew 24:22. I know it’s good that I’m uncomfortable living on earth. Earth is not my home. It’s not as real as the next dimension I’ll dwell in for eternity. Still, Jesus commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves. From the looks of things, people aren’t loving themselves much because being kind and neighborly is clearly out of fashion. When the PEZ candy company hosted its annual egg hunt for Easter this year, it turned out to be a very bad idea: I’ve never been fond of egg hunts. I’m a bit leery of the pagan connection. But, this is America, and egg hunts are as traditional as apple pie. (Our church children’s department does hold one but stresses that we look for the eggs as Jesus looks for us as His lost lambs. I suppose that’s tweaking the pagan practice to fit the pagan rituals much like the Catholic church did in the middle ages. When you live in a pluralistic society, this happens.) But back to the behavior of those parents at the egg hunt. This is the future, ladies and gentlemen. And if the children grow up to mimic their parents, it’s looking a little bleak. Come quickly, Lord Jesus! I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up in such a selfish world. Which is why it’s more important than ever to spread the message of the kindness of Christ and His love. As His followers, it’s absolutely vital that we exhibit the fruits of the Spirit: Please tweet: Love never fails. How about you? Do you long for the return of Christ? Are you doing your part by walking in love? Weigh...

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Words from the abyss

I stare at the page. No, that’s not right. I stare into space. Into nothingness. Empty of anything but anguish. The mere thought of lifting my hands to the keyboard, exhausting. Thinking thoughts that require more than automatic muscle movement, overwhelming. If you’ve never experienced grief this strong, you cannot know how this feels. The blankets are my shelter. Like God’s wings, they hide me from outside forces that take too much glaring effort to face. Exhaustion. The exhaustion is much, much more than being tired. It’s the lack of will to do anything but sleep, stare, sob, and sleep again. I wonder if God feels this way over children He’s lost. And if He does, how His mercy is even deeper and wider. My thoughts are stuck in a thick goo of anguish. Anguish isn’t the right word. It’s much more than despair. It’s pain, squared by pain times itself, over and over and over again. An exponential abyss of dark, infinite hell. I know now why they wear black when they grieve. This is so much worse than death. So much worse. And I. Can’t. Find. My. Way. Out. This yawning void sucks me down with each strain toward the light. Each small advance thwarted by the constant shadowy reminder of the cause of the torment. The only escape is death. But death doesn’t come. With bodacious irreverence life marches on with trivial duties. Make the bed. Brew the coffee. Feed the cat. Sort the socks. Why do people go on as if nothing has happened? Why does the sun continue to shine? Why do the stars and moon mock the darkness? I must think new thoughts. I must put praise on my lips. No. No energy. My mind is too full of intrusive sorrow. I cannot be a hypocrite today. To pretend I’m okay when I’m clearly not is too┬áheavy a burden. Today I can’t paste on the smile, stick out my chin and write pretty prose. The blankets. So soft. So comforting. The cat purrs. I close the laptop. Close my eyes. Tomorrow will come. Maybe there will be new words...

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