Against My Soul part 2

I can do it.  I can vote for Trump.  As I looked at the last debate, it became clear which side was part adolescent, but also which side was against the sanctity of life.  I can lay down my issues with Trump, because they are issues that hit me in a personal way.  I feel confident that I know what kind of man he is and it is the kind of man who I have struggled against in my life experiences.

However, something greater is worthy of the statement, “Against my Soul.”   I can and will do everything in my power to prevent a candidate from winning who disrespects life and who would support and promote the killing of an unborn child.  This candidate is so evil, she supports dismembering the body and crushing the head of a baby in the womb, the place where a baby should feel the safest.  What kind of a woman would fight for that?

It bothers me that she disrespects life so much that she would murder. I would expect her to carry that philosophy through to every policy and area of government, for if she can disrespect an unborn baby’s life, she will disrespect ours at some level, maybe every level.  It is an unborn baby today.  Tomorrow, it may be mandated euthanasia of the elderly and the sickly.  Tomorrow it may be the extermination of certain groups and races.

The sanctity and respect of life lays at the very foundation of a freedom loving government.  It permeates every area from Congress to the classroom.  It is the basis of respect for each other as God made us and how God made us.  We are grateful for life, all life, for it is the greatest gift and privilege we could have in this world and in the next.  The doctor is cautious; the bully is silenced, the judge is fair, the teacher invests, and the parent loves, because of the precious life in the balance.

We protect and nourish that life.  We build bulwarks of wisdom to guide that life.  We give that life the tools to succeed and grow into a contributor, a lover of life, a mentor to others.  We give up ourselves, our dreams, our goals, our self-indulgences, and our plans for the future because this little one has entered our lives and we feel the awesome privilege and responsibility to love, protect him, and teach him.  This little one is not an  inconvenience or a burden.  He ain’t heavy; he’s my baby.  This little one is part of me; I am bonded for ever with him.  I have joy just watching him, just being with him. It is an honor to listen to him and to share with him what I and others have learned. I can feel the wonder of new things when I see through his eyes.  I catch the joy he shows at the little things that amuse him.  His giggles touch my soul, and it is then I know that my soul has touched  God.  For through my little one, I can know the Holy One.  I glimpse the innocence, the pure, the love of all that is right, and I feel more alive than at any other time.

How can we murder that?  In destroying that life, we destroy our own.  I see it in her.  I see the disrespect she has for the unborn and how that has translated into disrespect for the lives who get in her way.  It is not far to go from murdering an unborn child to murdering someone who thwarts her agenda or threatens to blow her cover. Yes, what does it matter that she let people die when she could have tried to saved them? They were only the lights of someones’ lives.  They brought joy to those who know that the reason to live is embodied in those we love.  She let them be dismembered, crushed and torn apart because they did not matter to her.

We cannot let this woman rule over us, for she will destroy us.  We will not matter to her.





Against My Soul

I greatly resent being told that I must cast my vote for Trump or else I am responsible for Hillary winning the Presidency.  Can’t do it.  Can’t do it.  Can’t do it!   Why do I want to vote an arrogant pouty sex pervert in the White House?  He has no governmental experience.  He doesn’t listen to advice.  He tells people what they want to hear.  He degrades and makes fun of others.  He treats women like sex objects if they are pretty and insults them if he thinks they are ugly.  He speaks very sexually inappropriate about his daughter.  He supports Planned Parenthood, yet says he is against abortion.  He is a poor sport.  He is narcissistic.  He asks for a religious advice committee and then ignores them.  He was a democrat and supported Hillary.  He brags about trying to seduce a married woman and grabbing them inappropriately.

No. Can’t do it.  If God wants Trump to be president, He will have to put him in office.  I can’t do it.

Maybe I expected a President to be classy, to be a gentleman, to act with decency and integrity.  I do not expect a President to be someone who sends horrifying chills down my back when he talks about his daughter being a “piece of ass.”

My very soul revolts against this man.  This is the type of man who molested me when I was a child.  This is the type of man who betrayed me in marriage.  This is the type of man who verbally abused me when I was married to him. This is the type of man who treated me like I was nothing and made me feel like my opinions were not worth hearing. This is the type of man who manipulated and used me, and then threw me away for someone else. This is the type of man who continually hurts people and does not care for he has no ability to empathize. This is the type of man whose pride vomits out his mouth and reeks destruction.

No I will not vote for him.  Can’t do it.  And no. I will not vote for Hillary.  Can’t do that either.  She is evil.

RNC, you  have made a grave error.

God will decide this election.  He may give us the person we deserve or He may have mercy on us and deliver us from this horrible precipice where our lives and the lives of our children are at stake.

Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on us.






What My Eyes See

What I see in the would of me.

My heart is broken.  I am not free.

Wounds unhealed hurt every day.

Darkness near, can’t find my way.

Tomorrow  clouded by regrets of the past.

Clouded vision. Mistakes that last.

How can eyes with a broken heart

See the light and not the dark.


My only hope is in You, Lord.

Every day I search Your Word.

In Your arms  I will be

As I trust what Your eyes see.

For what my eyes see is not what You see

You see a hope, You see a love

You see a plan, You see above

Every darkened sky, every broken dream

Every sin and pain, You redeem!

You make a way for me

For what my eyes see is not what You see.





Love Thine Enemy

I am left speechless after reading this. It is astounding!

Eclectic Orthodoxy

by George MacDonald

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy; but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.—St Matthew v. 43-48.

Is not this at length too much…

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Touching the Real

It has been at least 2 years, maybe more, since I have been to my daughter’s grave. Today, I felt the need to get in touch with something real, something true. Death is real; death is true. Thirty-four years ago, I said good-bye to a precious 2 year old little girl named Susie. And I cried today as if it was today. As I stooped down and brushed away the few strands of grass that had grown over the flat engraved stone, I wept. I wept because life is bigger than me. Accumulated pain is drowning me. It never gets any better.

Now at 57 years of age, I have more questions than I do answers. Where is the wisdom that is supposed to come with age?

Another cruel stone thrown with a vengeance on my life’s pile of painful stones has made them all come crashing down upon me again. It is a cascade of evil leading to destruction if it has its way, leaving nothing but questions in its path.
I thought if I prayed and lived a clean life, God would honor that. I thought if I was faithful to tithe and serve Him in the church, He would reciprocate. I thought if I put all my heart and soul into being a good parent, learning as much as I could about it, and putting it into practice with prayer, it would reap good things. I depended on His protection for my children. And yet, there was something I did not see that was happening to my children.

There is plenty of blame to be placed, but I blame myself for my blindness. Why did I not see what was happening? Why did I think that staying with their dad was better than leaving him? Why did I think the virtue of having a dad outweighed the detrimental influence of his emotional sickness and the evil in him? Why did the church teach that divorce was wrong across the board? How long will my children continue to pay for my stupidity, for the behavior of their father, and the negligence of the church?

More and more I find that I do not know what is real and what is unreal, what is true and what is not, what is right and what is wrong. The lines between the sacred and the secular have become more and more blurred as time goes on. We live in such an imperfect world that it seems ludicrous to suggest that there can be any values built upon it. If the foundation is wrong, there is no logic to anything rising from it. Anyone can justify and rationalize any behavior or way of thinking by only slightly tweaking the schematic. And who is to say they are wrong? Maybe they are right in their logic. Maybe I am the one who has hang ups.

But you know what? I have to get up out of bed every morning and make myself go to work and survive. Every breath I let out cries to be brought back in, and so I breathe again, wondering when that final breath might be, and how painful it will happen.
Life goes on and life finds a way. I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do with the irreconcilable differences between the holy and the unholy (if I can even tell the difference). Thank God this world is not my home. It is a veritable hell at times. I look for a better country and I seek the fellowship of a God Who loved me so much that He gave His Son to die for me. His Son has been born in me, and that is what keeps me going. Because He lives in me, I can face tomorrow.

In this confusing painful life, I know I have one steady thing on which I can always count and on which can always cling. That one Rock that is faithful, steady, and true. I had to feel something real today, so I knelt beside death. What is more real than death? Death means there is something real and true. Death is something to be reckoned with because it is real. It is going to happen to every one of us. And since death is real, it stands to reason there are other things that might be real. Life is real. Life and death. And Who has the words of eternal life?
And so once again, He is my strong habitation whereunto I continually resort. More than that, He is my Redeemer. No one else can take a bad situation and bring beauty from it. No one else can make beauty from ashes.

I need Him now more than I ever have. I feel the darkness of evil rising up to devour me and my children and grandchildren. I fall in desperation at the foot of His Cross. There is no other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved. In the cesspool of my sin, blindness, and mistakes, because I am helpless, I have only one recourse: to cry out from my slough of despond for Help.

We are fighting a spiritual battle with the demons of hell and the father of lies and the distorter of truth. I do not know how to fight, but I know I can pray to the One who promised He would hear me when I call.

A Response to an Article on Christian Fundamentalism

Some thoughts about this article:

Having been a close observer and participant in the evolving Christian fundamentalist movement, I feel there are several concerns we need to address.

I grew up in a Southern Baptist Church in North Carolina. Beside the standard hymns, it was distinctly southern gospel in its music. I do not recall the word “fundamentalist” being used until I moved to an independent Baptist church in Texas. I do, however, recall the reverence that ushered in the Sunday morning worship service. About 15 minutes before the service began, the organist would play sacred hymns as people came in quietly and took their seats without conversation. As a child, I absorbed the message that this was a place and a time where the congregation as a whole met with a holy and awesome God Who made a difference in what we believed and how we lived. Even as children, we knew better than to disrupt the service with leaving to go to the bathroom, whispering, wiggling, or reading anything other than the Bible. We learned to respect this place and this time in a way reminiscent of the way the Children of Israel respected the shekinah glory of God in the tabernacle. We saw sinners saved and saints surrender. And in the small community we saw the same people that filled the altar at church live out what they believed in the way they treated others and avoided sin. I thank God for that kind of foundation that grounded me through many trials later on.

As I grew up, I encountered the world of fundamentalism. I had mistakenly thought that the people that looked holy were holy. However, one of the hardest things about growing up is that people you looked up to were not who you thought they were. They had all the holy trimmings, but inside they were hiding evil thoughts and motives that resulted in a double life. They were not changed inside. They adopted the legalistic lifestyle that allowed them prestige and power without the clean hands and pure hearts. These were the cultural fundamentalists. These were the ones who believed women should not wear pants, and that men should not have long hair. These were the ones who thought a rock beat was a sin and dance was evil. These were the ones who “beat” their wives into submission and in their greed for lust, money, and power, they gave absolute power to the bully pulpit.

These were also the ones who cheated on their wives, committed incest, and abused their children. These were the oppressors of women and children. These were the ones that made the rules without the relationships. They thought what they looked like on the outside and what they stood against won them brownie points with God, but there was no godly authenticity here. These were the ones who chased away the children and stripped their wives of dignity and respect, while they played games of one-up-man-ship with those to whom they felt superior.

Is it any wonder that the pendulum swung entirely the opposite way in the church? Is it any wonder that the young people left the legalistic church in droves? And the only way they were persuaded to reenter the doors of the church was with the party atmosphere of pizza and rock music that offered them something their fundamentalist parents and church did not; a feeling of love, belonging, and acceptance. This was an atmosphere far from the one they had left that had offered them a god that carried a big stick and conditional love.

I understand this. I have swung with the pendulum back and forth many times. The pendulum still swings a bit for me, but for different reasons. I am searching still for a place to belong, not so much in the sense of needing acceptance, but in congregational worship that brings back that sense of entering into a place and time where a holy and awesome God still makes a difference in they way people believe and live.

I am wary of pastors who forget as Charles Swindoll says, that a sermon is “not the performance of an hour, but the outflow of a life.” And this life is not one that is characterized by what you are against, but how you love.

Love. Is there anything more complicated and yet so simple? Love is involved in the way we treat others. God’s love treats people with respect and compassion. Human love treats people as objects to be used. God’s love is a holy love. Human love is feigned, flawed, and tolerant of evil. God’s love holds people accountable for their own good. Human love is about what makes people feel good.

So the search continues. While I appreciate the reasons others want the hype and excitement of the upbeat contemporary Christian rock music, I am past that. I have encountered God that makes me want to bow in His presence and acknowledge that I am nothing and He is everything. I need to meet Him on Sunday morning as I meet Him on Monday morning; as a needy sinner who can do nothing without Him. I want to be reminded that He is a majestic, marvelous, awesome God who deserves reverence and respect; one Who the angels stand before singing “holy, holy, holy,” an “immortal invisible God only wise.” We tremble in His presence and are brought into deep settled joy at the realization of His great mercy and marvelous grace. We celebrate from the heart, an inward rejoicing that displays a gladness not distracted by the pressure of how much I sway or how often I put my hands in the air so I can be pegged as spiritual.
Peer pressure meets us at every turn and in every environment, secular and sacred. When we stand before God, we stand alone, and we will give an account for the way we lived, the way we loved, and the way we worshipped.

My Morning Mantra

Thank you, Lord, that You are in control, that You work all things after the counsel of Your own will.

Thank you, Lord, that you do everything right on time, that my times are in Your hands.

Thank you, Lord, that You are faithful, the same yesterday, today, and forever, that You are the Rock that I stand on, the Song that I sing, my strong Habitation whereunto I continually resort.

Thank you, Lord, that You are my helper, that my help comes from the Lord which made heaven and earth, that You will not suffer my foot to be moved. You who keeps me will not slumber, You that keeps Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is my Keeper, the Lord is my Shade upon my right hand.  The sun shall not smite me by day, nor the moon by night.  The Lord shall preserve me from all evil.  He shall preserve my soul.  The Lord shall preserve my going out and my coming in from this time forth and even forevermore.

Thank you, Lord, that You are good, that Your mercy is everlasting, that your truth endures to all generations.

Thank you, Lord, that You love me with an everlasting love, that You command your lovingkindness in the daytime and in the night Your song will be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.

Thank you, Lord, that You are my life.  You said that if I believe in you, out of my belly shall flow rivers of living water.

For in You I live, in You I move, and in You I have my being!

…taken  from the Holy Bible

Reciting this every morning for years on my way to work has helped me start the day with the right perspective and has enabled me to leave the day in His hands no matter what happens.