Do You See What I See? May We See as He Sees.

“Greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world.”-1John 4:4

“Try on these,” Tom said with a cheesy smile, handing me yet another pair of glasses. “How do they feel?” he asked.

“They feel fine…” I mumbled. For 18 years I’d come here; for 18 years Tom attempted to correct my vision. I often wondered if he really was an optometrist, or merely a slick salesman. He’d shown no signs of intelligence regarding the correct function of human eyesight. It was as though this man had no idea what he was talking about; yet he cleverly sold me a new set of lenses each time. The sign across the window read “Tom: Solo Optometrist for over 4,000 years.” I kept coming back; he was the only optometrist I’d ever found in our world, but I didn’t believe the man was wise in the least bit.

“Oh yes, they’re definitely you,” Tom said enthusiastically. What a salesman, I thought, always asking how they feel, never what I see. Truth be told, I couldn’t see a thing, my vision was blurred in the left and tinted blue in the right, but the frames looked becoming; Tom told me it’s what’s on the outside that counts.

I looked in the mirror. “I look disgusting!” I gasped, turning to the side “I need to lose at least 30 pounds!”

“It’s not my fault you’re cursed with an overweight body and ungodly ugly facial features.” It was these unsightly jabs by Tom that beat my confidence and ripped apart my innards. When I saw myself with the vision he placed in front of my eyes I was a clump of dirt, un-useful for anything and hated by all. It’d always been that way. His lenses were the cause of intense migraines, plummeting self esteem, and no desire to live. For 18 years I’d returned to Tom’s cesspit of horrid vision, each visit longing for something more, longing to see a different picture through my frames.

“I’m sick of this! I can’t see a thing, Tom! You offer me lenses? You offer me soot in my eyes is what you offer me. I can’t see a thing! I was born with terrible vision; I couldn’t see a thing. You promised me vision with no bounds, a life of thrills! Do I look happy; do I look pleasured beyond belief? You lied. For years I’ve come to see you, for years your senseless solutions provide nothing but problems. You give me new lenses, I look in the mirror; I’m too fat. You give me free prescriptions, I look at the TV; the world’s too dark to live in. You give me more lenses, I stare at my family; I don’t see love. Your lenses don’t work, Tom! I want more! I want something new! I want to see life with clarity, with truth, with joy, how it was meant to be seen!”
Hearing my screams of frustration, a large man entered from the corner door. Tom squirmed in his seat. I’d never seen a soul in this pit besides Tom; truthfully, I thought Tom was the owner, but the man’s nametag proved otherwise. The pin neatly positioned above his suit pocket read “Yaweh, Owner.”

There’s no way, I thought to myself, all this time there was a higher power to run to for vision? “Are you the owner of this place?” my voice shook with anticipation.

“Yaweh, I AM” the strong voice replied.

“I can’t see. I want more than what this mediocre salesman throws my way; his vision doesn’t work.”

“Try these on,” the owner approached me with assurance. I squinted; I could see the structure he held. I was drawn to them instantly; the frames were wooden, stained red. The owner moved closer with a smile on his face… “At last, darling, at last.” As the nosepiece rested upon my worn nose, I opened my eyes. The sight was horrific; I collapsed on the hardwood floor. I didn’t want to open my eyes; what I saw in that glimpse was horrendous.

Tom, my vision coach for 18 years was less of a man and more of a beast. His face dripped with beauty, but his hands were covered in blood; they were quick to kill and ready to fight. The body which once bore a slick suit was now covered by a ragged pair of torn shorts. Tom’s calves were strong, his feet covered in dirt from all nations, he’d traveled many places. A to-do list was written across his right forearm: steal, kill, destroy, deceive, mock, distort, scare, tempt, corrupt, spread. The list of ungodly offenses continued across his sweat covered chest: separate, trap, plunder, burn, cut, steal, shatter. Upon his left forearm began another list: Darfur, Niger, Iraq, France, America, Norway, Peru, Japan, India. The list wrapped around his biceps and travelled from the top of his shoulders to the base of his back. Tom wasn’t who I thought he was. He knew nothing of vision; he knew only of misrepresentation, deformity and disfigurement. He was ruthless, his tongue released lies, and his hands offered nothing profitable.

The service table once covered in choice frames was now plastered with weaponry. A closer look at the lenses I once saw the world through revealed a disgusting selection of opaque optics. Nothing my consultant had to offer was worth anything. The lenses were cheap and distorted! They were all cracked, marred, tinted or painted! It was the concave illusion that led me to believe I was large and worthless. He deceived me. I looked into the mirror with my new lenses, with the vision the owner had given me, the same clear vision he had. I was beautiful, I was useful, I had a sense of purpose! The cracked lenses I’d worn for so long has distorted my view of reality. Though I hadn’t seen it before, there was a world outside of my own. The owner of this establishment heard my cry. The world was now crisp, somewhat scary, yet truthful. I’d never seen things so clearly. With new vision I looked to the owner; I saw a Lamb, a Lion, a Father, a King, an Artist, a Servant, a Ruler, a Comforter, a Lover, an Engineer, a Judge, a Friend, and a Counselor. I saw God.

“What, what do I do?” I said with tears in my eyes, oblivious to a proper response.

“You tell them what you’ve seen,” he said with a grin, “You tell them what I’ve shown you.”

*
“Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” Ephesians 6:10-13

I’m convinced that Satan hates you, and would love nothing more than to distort your view of yourself, the world, and your God. We were born into this world with imperfect vision, so run to the God who makes all things new, the God who sees all things clearly. I once heard that Satan doesn’t bother those who aren’t in his way. Why would Satan get in your business if you weren’t a threat? Oh, to be a threat! To be a threat is what we live for! I am personally sick of him. I’ve dealt with his whispers, I’ve seen his destruction, and I’ve witnessed his plots of fear. I’ve also witnessed weak-willed Christians who don’t know what to do when they’re attacked.

May I introduce to you the God of the Universe, the God of the Israelites. See things as God sees things, not as Satan would have you see them. When you’re on God’s side and you’re attacked, there is no time for fear. When you’re in battle, your immediate posture should be to stand with feet planted firm and an ear towards your Commander. When you’re attacked, you fight back; you do not cower in fear, you do not shake in your boots, you draw your sword and sling your stones. You may be the only person in the room but you are not alone. You may feel weak, but you have been provided with perfect selection of protection by the Creator of All Things. He has handed you the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit, the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith. Our armor is listed in Ephesians 6:10-20, to be unprepared is our fault, God’s given us the supplies to stand firm.

I used to be a very scared person, I was aware of spiritual warfare and it freaked the living daylights out of me. This summer in Kosova I learned something; God wins, he’s more powerful, he’s my Dad, he’s got my back, he’s always watched over me and he’s not going to stop any time soon. I learned that in order to accomplish what God has for us to accomplish, we must see as God sees. We have no reason to fear. Do not fear those who can harm your body but can’t touch your soul. I also long to tell you with a loving heart that Satan is real, he thrives upon temptation; don’t play into the trap of fear. Perfect love drives out fear, but you’re never exempt from the mission of a corrupt spirit.
I don’t long for their attention, but wisdom has shown me that to walk side by side with Jesus is to be trailed by an army of opposition. I look around and I see a group of people buzzing with spiritual excitement. God is working and he’s working with all his muscle. But open your eyes, see the truth, view the world as God sees it; the Kingdom is thriving, but the rejected angel, Satan, is working too.

If you’ve been given the vision and provided with protection, what have you done with it?

Crisp-eyed and armed with truth,
-Jaime S.

Keep Going:
What is the armor of God? How can you wear the belt of truth, or the breastplate of righteousness?
Does Satan see you as competition, or a crippled opponent worthy of laughter?
What lenses do you see the world through?

We’ve Mythed Something

I’d come so far to reach this place; I heard that in this building was the secret to life, life to the fullest, life with a meaning, life with a purpose. I came with baggage, a purse, backpack, and five large suitcases, each attached by a rope to the back of my worn belt. I’d heard that it was here I’d receive a new belt, a belt of truth. Not that I had any idea what that was, but truth sounded good; I’d bathed in lies my entire life.  Perhaps it was those baths which lacquered the layers of filth I’d accumulated over my entire body.  My skin, once a tan hue, now bore hues of red, black, and blue. It itched constantly; scratching brought immediate pleasure dampened by the stinging ooze that followed. In instant flip to my forearms revealed 12 inches of self-inflicted scars. My knees were wobbling from the journey; I needed rest. I was a mess.

As I staggered toward the building, a horrific being ran out of the double doors. The feet of this being were running madly, but the hips didn’t want to follow; they used their weighty thrust to jolt the body to the left, right, backwards, then left again. A loud voice protruded from its mouth, “Unclean, unclean!” “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for your rod and your staff will comfort me!” Its arms were in utter confusion, the right was raised to the sky, signing some sort of language, the left would smack the right, then return to his protective barrier of the closed right armpit. The right hand would rise again and the vicious cycle would ensue.

I stood in shock as the battle within this being continued. The hips grew weary and the body ran towards me. As the being came closer it pierced me with its eyes; the iris swirled with color, the gaze screamed love. It was loving me with its eyes, I wanted to melt right there with a posture of surrender and a plea for life.  But the noise was interrupting my plan.

No part of this body matched up.  The eyes were still loving me, as my own welled up.  Yet the mouth screamed in a shrill tone “You don’t deserve to be here! Clean yourself off before you enter our presence! You’re dirty and stained, let us wash you & cleanse your appearance. On second thought, go home, clean up and come back next week.”

The right hand signed, “Psalms 103, Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed…”

The left had slapped the right and reached backwards to grab a garden hose. The burst of water struck my face and traveled down my body. The left hand wiggled the stream in anger, for none of my filth would come off.

The right hand quickly reached horizontally away from the body and signed, “Titus 3:5, He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.  He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit.”

“Can I be saved?!” I cried out.

The head nodded yes as the eyes gleamed in excitement. Quickly the mouth said, “NO!” The right hand extended to cusp mine; the left grabbed the wrist of the right to paralyze mobility. The feet made steady steps towards me; the hips regained their strength and threw the body backwards. The fall came with a massive thump to the cement, causing a stream of cracks to stem from the broken being.  The body jolted continuously, expelling fluids and ripping at the joints.  An hour later, the being was motionless. I viewed the stationary body plastered against the cement, each part exhausted, and paralyzed by its lack of sync.

They called this “The body of Christ,” but it wasn’t a body at all. The body died, and there I stood, needy, longing for truth.

=====
Discord within the body of Christ doesn’t work. When two parts of the body move one direction while the rest moves another, it lacks unity.  In fact, it displays no unity.  The body becomes a freak show of individual parts attempting to lead something they weren’t intended to lead, screaming words they were never intended to utter, carrying out actions that were never intended to be.  When the body doesn’t comply to the head, the body falls apart. It corrodes from the inside out and rots in front of a world who’s being told that this body has found the purpose to a meaningful life.

It’s asinine! It’s this display of sinful separation from the head of the body (God) that causes an abundance of myths in our societies about the body of Christ.

It’s this lack of unity that leads into the myth of: I have to straighten up my life before I go to church. It’s this dysfunctional body that screams the myth: the church is a place of imperfect people who think they’re perfect, and look down upon me for not joining (which has become less of a myth and more of a reality in some churches). It’s the church not following the head’s attitudes concerning people and money which creates the myth: the church only cares about the numbers, how many people they can grab & how much money they will get out of them. Or the myth of: God will only accept me once I’ve cleaned up my life; if the church doesn’t like me dirty, neither will its God.

It’s impossible to find a perfect church; I was once told if you’ve found the perfect church, don’t join it, you’ll ruin it. The truth is that on earth there is no perfect church of perfect people; we’re born into this world as an imperfect people headed towards an imperfect life.

We cannot wow this world with our personal list of good deeds because the world doesn’t care.  The world’s seen people attempt perfection; they’ve seen that it fails.  There’s no sense in expending all efforts to maintain a flawless life in order to win others to Christ because the goal is unachievable; we can never be perfect. What we can wow this world with is our unity; unity is possible.

It was he [God] who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Sons of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.  Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming.  Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ.  From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work. –Ephesians 4:11-16

Unity will “wow” because the world has seen people attempt to achieve unity; they’ve also seen divorces, corrupt companies, and failed promises. The world cannot achieve unity; with God as our head, we can.  They will know we are Christians by our love, they will know we’ve found a purpose worth living for when they see unexplainable God-driven unity.

The verses in Ephesians go on to say: stop living like you used to live, put off your old desires and adopt a new attitude, imitate God and live a life of love, live wisely, understand your God’s will, thank God for everything and submit to each other out of reverence for Christ. There is a process to unity, merely joining a congregation or volunteering for a ministry doesn’t grant instant unity.  Unity is achieved through a process, when all members are doing their part, working together under the leadership of Christ, headed towards the same goals, living with the same purpose.

Unity provokes (among other things) selfless, loving, immediate action; that is how we will “wow” them. We will wow them with our togetherness and tell them about the leader of our movement; the leader who wisely designed his team with a perfect thought in mind, unity.

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.  May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  I have given them to the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me.  May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you send me and have loved them even as you have loved me.  Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.  Righteous Father, though the world doesn’t know you, I know you, and they have known that you have sent me.  I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.” –John 17:20-26 that reeks unity.

We must unify, or we will crumble, and the world will still be longing for something more.

Put off the old you, cusp the hand of your leader, run towards the new life.
Jaime S.

Reliving History, Kosova Style

When I arrived at Pristina, Kosova in July 2008, I had no concept of the land I had just set foot on. For months, my team and I had been preparing our intercultural, packing, teaching and evangelizing skills, yet as I walked out of the airport, breathing in my first waft of Kosova air, I felt absolutely unprepared. We’re here, I thought to myself, We’re half way around the world! The unprepared feeling sank in when we packed 15 people into two “12” passenger vans with about 45 suitcases, backpacks and totes (avg three pieces of luggage per person).

I am an outdoors girl; I’ve done my fair share of camping, hiking and “roughing it out.” I can play Boy Scout with the rest of them, but I’ve never trekked to my campground in a sardine laden European Volkswagen passenger van through the disturbing ruins of war. That is what I was unprepared for.

Caleb Hastings was our leader, a man whom I’m convinced could put Google in its place; he knows everything, and everything is not an exaggeration. He knew about the fighting in Kosova while it was happening because the man reads everything about everywhere. Caleb knows why the Albanians are in love with Bill Clinton because he watched history unfold. And now, roughly 8 years later, he was leading us through Kosovar land.

Caleb told us there was mass genocide in Kosova for years during our lifetime, he told us thousands of Albanians were killed by the Serbs just for being Albanian, and I believed him, but I believed him in a sense of history book belief. I believed it happened, but it was an event that could never touch me. During the 2+ hour drive from Pristina to Peja, I was reliving that history lesson. The words came alive. “Albanians were killed just for being Albanian, they were forced out of their houses, and their homes were torched.” I believed it; it was like traveling through a drive-in junk yard. The panorama is breathtaking, Kosova’s landscape gives me goose bumps, but it’s inked with the splotches of a gruesome battle, it’s still burdened with scorched and shambled structures, houses that were once homes.
It’s funny how ten days can completely change your vision. As I returned from those ten days in Europe, I found my home twenty times more inviting than when I left it. My bed felt softer, and my electronics lost their gleam. Family was more appealing than friends, and I wanted to hug everyone I loved. Two weeks in Kosova was life morphing; God showed me, yet again, that the world far exceeds my Iowan sphere. Weeks before we left for Kosova, my family and I were evacuating our house due to potential flooding. We live right next to the levee, should the barrier break, we would have lost our home. I threw away so much junk during that move; God used that entire summer to teach me that possessions hold no rank. I could have lost all of my belongings, but my belongings held no stock. When the campers came to Camp Te Shend in the Rugova Mountains, some of them brought a grocery sack full of belongings for four days. Some of the campers wore the same thing for the entire camp, but they were still happy because the truth remains: fullness in life isn’t found in the abundance of your possessions.

I love that country. I returned again this summer; the buildings are still destroyed, but things are looking up. There are new establishments, gas stations; etc .which weren’t there a year ago.

My Dad gave me an issue of National Geographic last week, the prize from a victorious garage sale adventure. He told me the issue had a feature on Albanians/Kosova. I just finished reading it. What can be more powerful than reliving a story from the history books? Hearing the story, walking that land, meeting their people, coming home, and then reading about it from a photojournalistic point of view. Alexandra Boulat wrote “Eyewitness Kosova” in National Geographic’s February 2000 edition (Vol 197, No. 2). She was there! She saw it all happen! She saw the roundup of young men; she saw the dead bodies in the forest. When I see her photos I search the crowd for someone I know. Their faces show an attitude of disbelief, anger, submission, fear, and the uncontrollable urge to weep.
These people are hurting. I praise God that he has a plan for Kosova, I praise him that the Zellmer’s, Lindsey Roberts, and the Heston’s have a heart for these people, because these people are people just like you and I. They wake up every morning with goals, they go to school, they joke around, they need to know the purpose of life just as much as we do. They speak a different language, they live in a different culture, they aren’t cursed with humidity, they stand on a different lot of ground, but they need to know the purpose of life just as much as we do.

This world is crazy, it’s people long for something more; show them.

We can’t read history objectively,
Jaime S.

Stranger Interaction at its Finest

I attract strangers. Maybe it’s in my blood; I try to repel them, but there must be something about me that attracts strangers like a gnat to a rotten pear. Yesterday I experienced yet another interesting encounter.

My night at work had drifted dreadfully slow, the customers were few and the tasks grew fewer. A polite customer is a joy; an interactive customer is a rare gem, last night I found my rarest gem. Near 7:30 a jubilant man burst through our doors. Jubilant is an understatement, bursting is literally how he entered our establishment. Too many words could be used to describe this man; he was an overtly animated, excessively ornery, blatantly excited-to-be-alive man. Though he spoke with flawless fluency, English was not his native language, nor was America his native country. With an uneducated stab in the dark, I’d guess he was Indian or of some sort of Middle Eastern descent. This man had a wonderfully intimidating sense of humor, I wanted to laugh at his every joke, yet hide in the corner in fear of being directly joked with.

My co-worker told me this man was a regular as well as a doctor. When I asked what veggies he’d like on his chicken breast he pointed and asked for the Vitamin A, Vitamin E, and the list continued. I smiled sheepishly.

“You don’t know what I mean do you?” he said in a loud voice.

“No sir, I really don’t” I had to admit with laughter. After topping the most scientifically correct sandwich I’d ever topped, the man continued a conversation with us, asking us all our names.

“And you, what is your name?” he said pointing at me.

I smiled, “Jaime.”

“Jaime!” he said, “Jaime was the first name I learned in English! Jaime.” It was as though he was making an eternal mental note of my name. I don’t know how the topic came up, but one of my co-workers told him I was engaged. The man slid down the sneeze guard.

“You’re getting what!” he said obviously baffled. “Don’t do it Jaime, don’t get married. Why are you getting married?”

“Well, I love him,” popped out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. I could have delivered a much more meaningful reason for the decision of my marriage, but I concluded that was the briefest.

“You love him, good, so be with him forever, just don’t marry him! Do you know that 98% of marriages end up in divorce, Jaime? Wait, tell me, are you getting married because of your religion?”

He was in my face, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the kind man. “Yes, I love him and I do want to be with him forever,” I replied, “I also want to live with him forever and that’s not something I’m willing to do outside of marriage.”

The man put himself into more shock once he discovered we’d been dating for 8 months and I was 19. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt this man thought I was crazy. He sat down at a booth to eat and just stared at me like I was nuts.

“Don’t do it Jaime!” was hollered several times from his seat. He asked about our life plan and decided my interests in writing/photography weren’t proper decisions, “No, there is no money in that, choose something else.” Before he left, the man came up to the counter and asked for a slip of paper and a pen. “I went to Columbia,” he muttered under his breath. The pen bounced about as he wrote on the back of a receipt: Who you are, who you become, is determined by those who love you. “If you call him a liar, he will be a liar. Keep this paper with you forever, wherever you go, do not lose it, Jaime.”

It’s been more than 24 hours and I haven’t lost it yet. I came home that night and voiced my slight distress to my mother. The man at Subway didn’t anger me, if anything he made the time pass faster and plant a tickle in my tummy, but I’m getting a little worn from the constant disbelief. Andrew and I have only been engaged for two glorious months, yet in that time we’ve gotten an array of different reactions to our decision of marrying one another. I don’t wish to complain, but aside from some church circles, close friends and family, no one seems to think we’re acting rationally.

I know I’m 19, I know that on our wedding day we’ll both be 20. I know that that’s soon for some; I know that it’s not the norm; I know that our lives will change. I know our roles will change, I know relationships will be different; I know it will be hard financially. I know you may think I’m getting tied down, but I wasn’t aware that the walk down the aisle was a proverbial death march as I sacrifice my body to be bound by the dark depressing bondage of marriage.

I’m not blinded by love. I chose my groom, I found him early and I can’t apologize. I believe somewhere amidst the flowers, the rings, the chocolates and the stallions, we forget that love is a choice and not a fairytale. Love doesn’t fall into your hands; you take it in your hands and make it what it is. All inside the confines of God’s ultimate will. Love is not a feeling; it’s a commitment and a choice. It’s a serious choice, but a blessed opportunity to share in unity of a body, mind, and spirit foreign to your own but close to your heart. It happens at all ages.

The world has such an awkward view on marriage; the Bible has such an awe inspiring view on marriage. My Marriage and Family college course is so discouraging; but the Bible tells me that I’m Andrew’s helper; we’re lifelong teammates playing for our coach: God. I’m excited for that! We’re part of a league and I’ve found my partner, we’re ready to play ball despite the disbelief. I can’t let any negativity distract me. Like Andrew says, we’ve already got a full time job: serving our God.

Preparing for stranger interactions,
Jaime S.

Re-teaching the Taught

Amidst the hustle and bustle of my sophomore year of college, amidst the chaos of wedding planning, and amidst the business of everyday life, I must take time to write. It’s hard to make time these days, but you can be certain when I do write, it concerns something I possess passion towards. Traditionally, I possess no feelings of passion towards school, but this school year has already changed that.

This semester has been fairly decent. Marriage and Family is entertaining, Intro to Computers is so easy it’s hard, Into to Journalism is enjoyable, Digital Photography is frustrating, and  Biology is presenting a well needed challenge. It’s funny, I’ve been avoiding a science class with a lab like the death plague; I don’t see the thrill of two extra hours in an icebox of a room on a Wednesday afternoon. I’d rather be fishing. Though the class will involve me applying myself more often than desired, I’m still slightly excited about the course. Our biology teacher is a very friendly woman. *Mrs. Mitchell stands no higher than 5ft 4in tall. I remember the first time I saw her, her outfit consisted of well broken in khaki’s, a solid peach top, and a fairly new pair of New Balance tennis shoes. This is a positive for Mrs. Mitchell, you see, the sight of a teacher in tennis shoes always makes me smile. In high school, a favorite teacher of mine consistently wore tennis shoes with her dresses. It’s not that she lacked an ounce of fashion sense; indeed, she possessed too much common sense. Mrs. Griffith wore tennis shoes with dresses because they kept her feet warm; who can argue with that? Mrs. Mitchell has found more ways to place a grin upon my face; she claims that she knows all of the Mitchell’s in Iowa, for they’re all her relation. When asked who Bill Mitchell was, she paused and with a shy laugh admitted that Bill was the new guy in town; she’d heard of him, but no relation. She’s been endowed with a face that everybody knows; her facial features are so familiar. Mrs. Mitchell’s face is so recognizable; even you don’t know where you’ve seen her. She may have been a librarian, a cashier at Wal-Mart, or the organist in church. You’ve seen her everywhere, but nowhere all at the same time.

As class began the first day, Mrs. Mitchell assured us that everything we learned in class would be applicable to real life; a feat which not many teachers accomplish. As the minutes rolled on, it occurred to me that Mrs. Mitchell should have her own children’s show; her voice turned an everyday conversation into a story telling atmosphere. Opening my textbook, I immediately became engrossed with the photos, it’s no wonder the bookstore charged an arm and a leg for this book, each page has 15 full color photos. I will give mad props without hesitation to the photographers which captured nature at its finest for this book. Viewing these photos took my breath away. I’ve seen 500 frogs and 10,000 trees, but that day it hit me like a breath of fresh air. I hurriedly flipped through the pages. Photo after photo, waterfall after waterfall, mammal after mammal, forest after forest, my heart was beating faster. Apparently Mrs. Mitchell was experiencing the same sensation. As she spoke of our world, her eyes lit up; after years of teaching biology, she’s still obviously engrossed by the magnificence and beauty of our world. We were both captivated.

I flipped a few more pages; my heart sank. This same book that displays the beauty and incredible intricacy of everything God created, dares to teach me that all these organisms originated over a 4.6 billion year process of evolution. I wanted to walk up to Mrs. Mitchell, set my hand on her shoulder and say, “You can’t believe this, can you? You can’t. You see how perfect this is? This can’t be an accident. I don’t wish to offend you, but I should have spoken up, no, I’m not comfortable with you calling me an animal; I’m not an animal by default merely because I’m not a plant as you claim. No, Mrs. Mitchell, I’m a human. God created the heavens and the earth. On the first day of creation God created the day and night, the second came water and sky, the third came land and vegetation, the fourth came sun, moon, and stars, with the fifth came air animals and sea animals, with the sixth came land animals and lastly humans, the one thing he made in his own image. I am not an animal, Mrs. Mitchell, animals weren’t made in God’s image, I am. ”

My heart breaks to see origin explained with idea of evolution taught as scientific fact. When I see photos of nature, my heart literally pumps faster; I get excited because I know the guy who made that! I know his name! They called him I Am, they called him Messiah, they call him Prince of Peace, Almighty One, Savior, Creator of all living things. I know this artist!

Imagine yourself as an established artist; art is your passion, creating is in your blood, timeless hours are spent thinking, creating, and painting your canvas. Once perfection has been reached, your signature is placed at the bottom, and the masterpiece is hung upon a museum wall. How unreal would it be to enter that exhibit and hear the tour guide walk up to your piece and say, “This folks, is beautiful, it’s timeless, it’s perfect, it just showed up here one night, it seems that the wall changed form and this canvas appeared.” Just showed up? Changed into that shape? Your name is plastered on that baby! Your name is on it, your design is obvious, everywhere! Yet thousands are being taught that you weren’t the creator at all. My heart breaks. How God’s heart must break as well, and how Satan must be laughing. How fiercely I want to jab Satan; he’s conned so many. My teacher’s eyes brighten and her smile is widened when she speaks of nature. She admits that she’s seen the National Geographic Zebra video more than a dozen times and is still mesmerized by the prints upon the mammals molded torso. How disappointing for her to believe that it just evolved, my God’s handiwork is stated blatantly upon that animal.

I’ve had a lot of time to process this; a lot of time meaning a bit over a month. I thought at first that I may be overreacting; after all, I’ve never had the utter displeasure of being taught evolution as truth in a classroom setting. But after second and fifteenth thoughts, I don’t think I’m overreacting. I’d like to call it righteous anger. God is being ignored, he’s not receiving credit where credit is due, and that’s maddening. How will the world see how great God is, when our masses are being taught that such a vital thing God created wasn’t created by God. Publishing lies as truth is maddening. They call it change, they say it’s natural, they tell me change is synonymous with evolution. That’s fine, but I refuse to absorb the teaching that I’ve originated from an animal, that the beginning of earth was created by anything other force than my God. Change happens, yes, I’ve seen change. I believe in evolution; I’ve seen metamorphosis at its peak. I’ve seen broken hearts become whole again, I’ve seen the seekers become finders, I’ve seen the addicts become leaders, I’ve seen the hopeless become hopeful, I’ve seen the useless become useful, and I’ve seen the faithless become faithful. Yes, I’ve seen evolution at its finest.

The whole earth is filled with his glory. I urge you to walk with unveiled eyes. Look at the world, gaze upon its beauty, Google photos of sunsets or waterfalls. Whatever part of creation amazes you the most, embrace it and rejoice that God made it.

My God rules, my God rocks, my God reigns. His handiwork rages across the seas to the palm of my hand. How marvelous, how wonderful!
Jaime S.

The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world and all who live in it; for he founded it upon the seas and established it upon the waters. [Psalms 24:1-2]

*name changed

His Will. Will You? I Will.

God’s Word knows no bounds; how could it know bounds? He created bounds, with him there is no out-of-bounds; and his Word will continue knowing no bounds until we are heaven bound. I’ve learned not to place God in my boundaries; he blows them away.

God’s will has never been more apparent to me than in the past few months. For years I pondered and prayed for God to reveal his will, his plan for my life, to me. In hindsight, I didn’t have to question what his will was, for God’s will has always been lain before me. I don’t regret praying for God’s will in my life, for I think it’s vitally important to long for your desires match up with God’s will. But there was no reason for me to inquire about God’s ultimate will, God’s will is blatantly obvious: here’s my word, do it, share it, get involved to make my name look magnificent, and give me honor in all circumstances. This doesn’t inform me of the exact college I’ll be attending, nor the career choice I’ll be pursuing, but it does give me an obvious guide to make God centered wise decisions. I believe that if you take heed to the Holy Spirit’s nudges, match your desires with God’s will, and understand that God’s will for humans is to make his name great, life rolls out.

Imagine choosing a college by not only the best career program, but by the location you’d be in, the people you could reach out to, or the by church you could serve best in. It’s not all idealism, it’s reality, it happens. I know of an extremely faithful pure hearted lady one year older than me. We aren’t too terribly close, but she’s still a huge encourager to me. I remember asking her why she chose to go to the state college she’s enrolled in; she told me that the biggest factor was because of a specific church near the college. She chose her college because she was drawn to the body of believers near her school; that’s living with purpose in your heart, living above and beyond yourself. Though I can never be the accurate judge of people’s hearts, I’d say she was seeking (and finding) God’s will for her life right then at that time. What if we did that? What if we shopped not with a mindset of buying the hottest look, whatever the cost, but with a mindset of finding what looks good…at a cheaper cost, and used the excess money to bless others? Isn’t life worth more than food, and the body more vital than clothes? Look at the birds in our sky, they don’t have jobs or get paychecks, but God feeds them. Look at the lilies in your yard, they don’t worry about their clothes, but do you see how beautiful they are? God clothes them. Life’s too brief for us to be wrapped up in stuff when we have a Ruler of a Father who can provide for our every need.

How shameful it is that we let little things in our world steal our attention away from living a God-centered life. Life happens whether you’re living or not; God’s will happens whether you’re involved or not. Wouldn’t you rather be involved? That is where it gets exciting. God’s will is rolling out in our cities, states, countries, and earth. Do you have any idea what God’s doing around our world today? If you attend Harmony Bible Church, you’ve undoubtedly heard Doug say that if this is an average day, hundreds of people (Correct me if I’m wrong, Harmony, was it thousands?) in China will become believers in the reality of the kingdom of Jesus Christ. He’ll also tell you that if this is an average day 17 people will be killed for their Christian faith around the world. Do you have any idea what God’s doing through a group of pumped up Iowans? People are being fed, people are drinking clean water, people are being trained to be pastors, people are being blessed with free car washes, hundreds of men, women, teens, and children are hearing the truths of Jesus Christ on a weekly basis. God is moving; he is alive. He conquered death 2,000 years ago. Jesus was slain to pay the price for our sin, the tomb he lay in was occupied for three days, for three days his followers were crushed, saddened, hopeful, and waiting, but on the third day, he walked out, on the third day he arose in full life, laughing in death’s face, and conquering the one thing that separated us from him. Jesus is alive and he hasn’t stopped proving it since!

He moves today! His Word says that not only does he live, but he’s also coming back. Once every people group has been reached, and God decides it’s time, Jesus is coming back! Jesus, the King of Life, is coming back! For centuries believers have waited in anticipation; it’s time to stop waiting in anticipation and realize that he’s coming back soon, so get in the game. All of the people groups in the world can be reached within our lifetime, that’s reality. I can barely believe it. When I was 6, they taught me about this God on a flannel graph. Thirteen years later I realize the reality is, he’s alive, he’s moving, and he’s coming back. It’s true, it’s certain, and it’s mindboggling. That Jesus you wear on your cross isn’t on that cross anymore, he’s coming back. This is the movement.

I’ve never been more excited about the potential of southeast Iowa. Less than a year ago, I wrote “Call Me Delirious, I Feel It.” I can tell you that we’re now at the beginning of that movement appearing in southeast Iowa. Jesus is booming! People are changing! His will prevails, will you seek it? Will you join?

Lighting up like a Christmas tree,
Jaime S.

Jump in: www.iafusion.org
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Engaged: Odd and Loving It

Being engaged is such a weird concept. A man has asked my father for permission to live with, protect, and partner with me for the rest of my life. For 19 years my father has raised me, loved me, and poured into me. The blood that runs through my veins can be partially attributed to him; my physical characteristics were inherited from him, and my mannerisms are a product of a lifetime spent with Dad. And now he has consented to giving me away. I have been invited to spend the rest of my life with one stunning hunk of man, and I accepted his invitation. This is one of the most important decisions of my entire life; I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my days with one man, I’ve chosen this man to be my husband, the father of my children, and the grandfather of my grandkids. He is my leader, my helper, my partner, my love, and my friend. That’s kind of a big deal. I am engaged, and it blows my mind.

For a little over a month now I’ve heard countless congratulatory remarks, screams from the other line of a cell phone, and ever so common inquisitions of “How’d he do it!” or “When’s the big day!” To keep things at an uninformative briefing, the day is Jul 31, 2010, and I’m not sure how he did it. If you can settle for that answer, feel free to go along your merry way; if not, read on.

August 6th was a dreadfully long day; I’d spent the morning in Iowa City and the afternoon traveling home. My legs felt like noodles, my eyelids mimicked a confused garage door, and my brain was fried from lack of meaningful activity. I was emotional and crabby. My body as a whole was relatively exhausted and not in the mood for any activity that wasn’t called “sleep.” I almost regretted feeling that way; I knew I should have been looking forward to August 6th as it was another monthly anniversary and Andrew and I would be going on a date. Dates with Andrew are always fun, for Andrew has this odd knack for making every moment, place, or event 100x more spectacular than it was ever intended to be.

This particular night we were headed to the fine cuisine of Applebee’s, a restaurant which has nothing to do with apples or bees. It wasn’t the food that attracted us; on the contrary, it was the waitress possibilities. During a previous Applebee’s visit we had the waitress from heaven. The lady was in her 50’s and knew how to work for a tip; she constantly checked on us, brought us extras, and even told us we should be models. That is why we went to Applebee’s, you would too. Much to our dismay, our waitress’ name was Jamie; a gal in her early 20’s who didn’t compliment our looks, nor spell her name correctly. Once dinner was gorged, Andrew and I drove down to the Mississippi River front. Though I was absolutely oblivious, Andrew was trying to take me to all our memorable spots, a feat hard to accomplish towards 10 at night.

I believe it’s important to note now disgustingly tired I was at this point. My body was screaming, “Run away, Jaime, hitchhike back home, go to bed!” yet my conscience was whispering, “Jaime, it’s your 6 month anniversary, Andrew is adorable, just tough it out.” My conscience won, but I was completely confused, Andrew can sense when I’m uncomfortable or tired and usually takes me home, but tonight he wasn’t being his usual self. Two times we drove down to the river; two times Andrew said there were too many people, so we drove away. Finally, finally, after the third time, people had finally cleared the lot and Andrew let me out of the car. I didn’t wonder where everyone had gone; I knew where everyone had gone. It was eleven at night, all the sensible people were in bed, where I should have been. Andrew was unusually upset that the fountain had been turned off, so instead walked me towards the bridge.

I must warn you that Andrew and I have the silliest of conversations; his sense of humor meshes perfectly with mine, a phenomena that usually leads us to uncontrollable laughter. The night’s conversations had centered around body odor. I never said I was charming. I just wanted Andrew to know how appreciative I was that he had no body odor; he exchanged the same sentiments and the romantic evening ensued. It’s truly amazing, usually men smell, I was impressed. I was so impressed that I felt as though I needed to remind Andrew again. The moon was full that night, the water was as murky as ever, but the light cast a perfect reflection against the Mississippi ripples, a sight that Andrew and I adored. As I was in Andrew’s arms we talked about how amazing God was to create all of that. In true inattention, I pulled Andrew in close, I said, “Andrew, I have something to tell you. You… don’t smell.” Unprepared for his response he looked into my eyes and said, “Jaime, I have something to tell you…”

I was expecting a, “You don’t smell either” but instead he went on, “I’ve already asked your parents for their permission…” Andrew pulled out a black box and knelt down on one knee. I went into shock. My mind went into dream mode; my jaw hit the grass. His mouth was moving, he spent a good amount of time down there on one knee, but all I remember was, “I love you, will you marry me?” I thought he was kidding. I honestly thought Andrew was kidding, we’d been talking about marriage for a while then, and had genuinely decided that was what we were going to do, but now? Andrew made the mistake of not opening the box. I shouted, “You’re kidding! Are you kidding? You’re kidding! If that box is empty, I’m shoving you right into that river!” Andrew opened the box to reveal a breathtaking ring. I continued, “Are you serious? Are you serious? What’d my Dad say? When did you ask them? No way, no way! What’d my Mom say? You’re not kidding me! Are you serious!” I laugh about it now, but poor Andrew was knelt on the ground for at least ten minutes. Finally he said, “Well, Jaime, you’ve kind of got to answer me…”

The rest, they say, is history, one month old history. I said yes. I am engaged to one amazing man, my fiancé, my future husband, a killer steak chef. It was hard at first for reality to set in; this is the real deal, Andrew and Jaime Monroe, partners for Jesus The past month has been full of wedding dress shopping, idea gathering, bridesmaid asking, price shopping, apartment browsing, and photographer searching. It’s honestly a ton of fun; my primary objective is to marry Andrew without becoming bridezilla. So far, it’s working.

We took my ring in for resizing two days ago. It was a bittersweet farewell; I’ve only had the band for a month, but I’ve already grown emotionally attached to the thing. In downright honesty, Andrew could have given me a Ring Pop and I would have said YES! To replace the engagement ring, I’ve chosen to wear my purity ring. In a way, it makes me happy, this ring always reminded me how I am God’s, not my own or anyone else’s. On July 31st, my immediate roles will expand to daughter, wife, sister, friend, granddaughter, worker, writer and leader. But high above all other roles, I am a daughter of the King of Kings, I am a servant of the Most High God, and I am a light to a hopelessly dark world. I am an encourager to the hopeless, a hand in the body of Christ.

In Acts 9, the Bible tells the story of Saul (one of my favorite individuals in the Bible). Saul murdered Christians, he persecuted and killed them in efforts to stomp out their movement. While Saul was on a journey to find more Christians, the Lord made a surprise appearance. A flash of light surrounded him, God audibly spoke to Saul, and Saul was blinded. God also spoke to a disciple named Ananias in the city where Saul was headed, God told him to find Saul and restore his vision. Ananias cutely informed God of who Saul was, the killer of Christians, someone who could very well take his life. God, full of all knowledge informs Ananias, “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel.” Saul received his vision back, and his name was changed to Paul, the man who wrote a huge portion of the Bible’s New Testament.

This has a point; Saul was transformed, he was blind, then he could see, not only visually but also spiritually. He had a mission, a mission to reach the world with the good news about Jesus. I have been transformed, I’m not who I was. I lived in the dark, but now I see the awe inspiring light; I was lost but now I’m found, I was blind, but now I see. I have a mission, to reach this world with the hope filled message of Jesus Christ. That is my role, a role that will never escape me, a role that Andrew and I will share; my utmost devotion will be eternally captured within this role, and whatever else God chooses to add.

Perhaps these two weeks away from the ring will be a good experience; tears will be shed, but my heart and mind have been reminded: I am God’s forever and for always. He is my lover.

Being engaged is an odd odd thing; it’s already changing parts of my life, but I love it, I love it, I love it.
Jaime S.

“In the same way let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:16

Earplugs

What is it about a missions trip that makes you feel so much closer to God? Since my freshman year in high school I’ve been on five mission’s trips: Chicago, Seattle, Mexico, Kosova, Kosova. Without exemption, each year I hear, “I don’t want to go home, I feel so close to God here,” or “I’m so on fire for Christ, I hope this lasts!” It’s interesting to see those individuals mere months after the trip has returned. In some cases the sight is worthy of a battle cry, for God victoriously used those two weeks to permanently change a life. Other times, you find yourself standing before a pile of smoldering ashes, the remains of a fire that once was. To see through the smoke is to see an aching heart, angry that their fire has gone out and oblivious of how to rekindle. It’s not just fellow team members that experience this; I’ve experienced it too.

Following youth group retreats, Dare 2 Share conferences, Disciple Now events, East Iowa Bible Camp, and missions trips, I’ve always returned home with a blazing passion about my faith; pumped to read my Bible and ecstatic to build my future upon my God. Glee was slathered across my face; finally, my emotions and my will had finally found unity with God’s will and God’s pleasure. But as I merged back into the business of everyday life, my emotions towards my faith became duller and duller. I walked around with a sign that read, “Lost: a high and a passion, when found, please return to my longing heart.” How can this be happening? I loved where I was! Why didn’t I stay that way? Why did God stop speaking to me? After years of becoming utterly disgusted with my spiritual high & die cycle, God revealed something to me.

God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. My Savior reigns yesterday, today, and forever. My Jesus was, is, and will always be. His character will never change. Good is always good, and no matter what country I plant my feet in, the power and strength of our Almighty God remains. God is no more perfect, no closer and no louder in [insert country] than he is in America. The spiritual high and passion lost problem does not lie within the hands of your God. I learned that God speaks no louder in Kosova; it’s in Kosova that I finally took out my earplugs so that I could hear him. He may sound like a whisper, or a silence in Iowa, but take a gander at your surroundings. How can you expect to hear from God when, like me, you’re constantly immersed in noise and surrounded by people? How can you expect to maintain closeness with God when you offer him 15 minutes a day, immediately after the two hours spent on Facebook? Why did God sound louder in Kosova? Because I spent pure unadulterated time with him as I wholeheartedly served him. Because I was taken away from everything that makes me me, I was stripped from my comfort zone and all familiarity to do servants work in a place where God’s already working. His voice remains constant; it’s the volume on my ears that need to be adjusted.

I encourage you, the passion, fire, blaze, emotions you feel during and after a missions trip are real. But don’t constrain them to border lines; don’t underestimate your God.

Learning to chuck the earplugs,
Jaime

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another- and all the more as you see the Day approaching. –Hebrews 10:23-25

Choosing to Love

Choosing to love: loving my God, the God I uphold, the God that I praise. 

Is loving God something that comes natural, or something you have to work at?  Loving anyone, anything requires work.  What causes us to not love someone?  Is it when they do something we don’t agree with, when they offend us, or betray us?

If you’ve heard it once, you’ve heard it a handful of times, you may have even said it yourself: why does God let bad things happen to good people?  Some use this as an argument against God’s existence or against his character.  Perhaps this is a factor that would hinder you from loving God.  I’m in a place of inquisition today; why does God allow horrible things to happen to delightful souls.  I wish harm upon no one, but why is it that the sick get sicker and the poor get poorer?  Why are blameless children beaten, pure women taken advantage of?  Why are the innocent plagued with disease, the kindhearted targeted by natural disasters, the oblivious gunned down, and the good willing found homeless? 

Why then do the conniving achieve affluence, the destructive find more means, and the swindlers gain higher status?  Why do those obsessed with wicked behaviors seem to thrive endlessly?  Why is it that the men who cut corners are the ones who make it to the top, while those who follow the rules are shoved off into the sea of irrelevance?  How could I love a loving God who allows such things to happen?

When I open my eyes, I see that the evil get sick too; we all get sick.  The guilty receive punishment; the innocent receive punishment.  The rich get richer; the rich also lose their money.  Bad things happen to bad people; bad things happen to good people.  It’s not that God doesn’t care.  My Bible says my God is near to the broken hearted, He comforts the weary, He gives strength to the powerless, that He supplies all our needs in tune with his glorious riches.  My God is unchangeable, ever faithful and never failing.  As I marvel at his character I see that all of his moves are pure, lovely, and just.  His plans never fail and his actions are always called for and always carried out.  My God has a theme of God-ordained-irony; when events happen in his timing according to his will, things always work out.

It’s not that God doesn’t care; He does.  But as long as we’re on planet earth bad things are going to happen, for we live in an imperfect world.  We cannot wish heaven upon our every trouble and life situation when heaven is not on earth.  I’m learning to stop asking “why.”  It’s not sinful to ask “why,” but for me to ask “why?!” is to dwell upon the unchangeable and focus on the troubles as my tears distort the image of my disaster-allowing God.  My God allows disaster, but he always works through disaster, he works through every situation, good or bad, to make Himself known, and to bring us closer to his heart.  To grasp this truth is to realize that it’s going to be ok.  If your life’s goal is to magnify, honor, and glorify the name of Jesus as you run towards his arms and replicate his character, disaster and hardship should thrill you.  Tears are crucial, grieving is necessary, but the Light overtakes darkness in every tunnel, rejoice! 

I write this with a lump in my throat; I need to learn to practice what I preach.  Life gets crazy, the ones we love hurt and get sick, but that is life, is it not?    How can you appreciate light without first seeing the dark? 

God, I don’t ask you why; I run to your arms.  I long for your embrace, your comforting squeeze.  I love her, but you love her more.  You’ve never lost control and you’re not about to start now.  Satan temporarily rules over this world that’s why evil is allowed, that’s why sickness exists.  But he doesn’t rule my world; I have a different King.  You are my King, you are my Lord, and you are my Ultimate Authority.  I don’t use this as a distraction, but rather a reassurance that you know what you’re doing.  You rule, you rock and you reign.  I choose to love you; I choose to trust you.

-Jaime S.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything.  Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.  If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand.  His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4:6-7 NLT

A River of Life

I’ve never been one to swim; indeed, I’ve always been a terrible swimmer. Water and I mix like sawdust and jello, our companionship being awkward and distasteful. Much to my peril, I was born into water, from the moment of conception I was doomed to an existence within the waters of destruction, the river of death. For years I grew in these waters, unaware of its stench and putrid color. The water was sickeningly warm, the bodies of thousands caused steam to arise from the surface of our homemade Jacuzzi. The friction caused by my actions created bubbles daily; instinctly, my body jerked away from the heat, yet it moronically found infatuation with the zap of such warmth. The sight was a sickening one, body rubbing against body, perverse laughter feeding upon the next, each set of eyes literally blinded by the filth built up in our personal public river of death.

The temporary ruler of our pool was a gorgeous man; his eyes were inviting and his lips spoke with an incomparably rich smoothness. His words confused me, however; in the mornings he would swim with me, whispering, “You’re beautiful, why don’t you swim over here? It’s a bit deeper, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, the experience is utterly exhilarating!”

Intrigued with such an exclusive offer, I willingly swam to told deep waters. The farther I swam, the larger the waves became. I saw the ruler sitting upon the banks. Screaming with all might, I pled for his help; the ruler slowly meandered in my direction. “What’s this? Can’t handle it? Maybe if you lost some weight, this wouldn’t be so hard. Where’s your friends? Why don’t they help you? Wow, does anyone love you?” His words possessed less butter and more bite. As I opened my mouth to reply, the ruler cannonballed my direction, sending mouthfuls of water down my throat and into my empty stomach. I gasped for air, gagging on stray droplets. Laughing, the ruler breaststroked in a circle around me. After three laps, he lunged towards me, forcing his hand down my throat. “Don’t worry,” he said with a smile, “It will only hurt for a second, pain is pleasure. You’ll feel these tingles, baby, you’ll feel them and beg me for more.” After twisting and jiggling, the ruler removed his hand, now elbow deep in my mouth, with one swift motion. Revealing a quarter-sized object, the ruler had pulled out the obstruction. He kept me from complete death, but his hands tainted my heart as I lived a daily death.

His tricks went on for years, day after day I longed for the sensation the ruler offered. His offers were marvelous; his deliverance was a sham. With each body rubbed, each drink imbibed, each image sought, each object envied, each action desired, each text sent, each box stolen, each god worshipped, each false word spoken, each soul hated, each dip taken, I felt simply empty and utterly worthless. This water was nothing more than a cesspool of deception, destruction, disdain, and death. No one lived in this body of water; we all died pruney, disgusted, and longing for something more.
I saw our ruler speaking to a man on the banks one night. Swimming closer, I heard their conversation. The ruler nodded, “And how do you know their creator?”

“I know their creator, for I am their Creator, I’ve come to redeem them from their empty ways of living. My innocence will overwhelm their wickedness; my weakness will overwhelm their strength.”

Shock was evident in the ruler’s voice, “You’ve come to buy them back from themselves?” He laughed, and spoke as a man striking a deal, “These people are flawed, how could a being such as yourself desire to have anything to do with them? What makes you think they even want to be bought back?”

“Some wont,” he said with pure sadness in his eyes, “but” he said, with a smile across his face, “some will.” His smile was radiant, even through the dense steam of our wretched pool I could see that his man was magnificent and immeasurably more attractive than our ruler. In fact, in comparison he made our ruler look positively unbearable in appearance.

“Which ones do you want?” the ruler barked.

“I want them all.”

Our ugly ruler snapped, “They’re mine.”

Light emanated from the foreigner; his posture reeked power. “They’re mine. Tell me, how many hairs hang from the head of that little one? What’s her greatest accomplishment? Who does she desire to be? You know them, you know their weaknesses, but do you know their hearts?”

The ruler laughed, “Yes, I know their hearts, they all want me, their hearts burn for me, and for the satisfaction I bring. My satisfaction is strong, dear friend. They adore the smell, their tongues have fallen in love with the taste, their knees buckle as they come swimming back to me. I am their prince of pleasure, their connoisseur of comfort, I satisfy their every need, I am their father.

Furry burned from the man’s eyes, “You are the father of lies! You bring nothing of the sort! Your tongue may be smooth, your speech may be hypnotizing, but I am not fooled. You know, I created you too. I created you to worship me, much like everything else I created, but your selfish heart led to your downfall. When will you realize that you are worthy of no one’s worship, you never will be; no one is worthy of worship but me. You are not worthy of a drop of admiration. Prince of pleasure? You are the father of fleeting feelings with an aftertaste of captivity. Connoisseur of comfort? You are the salesman of sin, foreign to all things good; you deceive yourself and others, you do not deceive me. Satisfier of every need? You slaughter my children, bruise their hearts, place razors in their hands, and trip them as they reach towards my hand. You do not satisfy one need in their lives, indeed you seek destroy their needs. You drown them. They need me. I am their Father, I am their King, I am their Comforter, and I shall satisfy their every need.”

I watched in awe as the powerful being held our ruler under his foot as he began building a bridge. Constructed out of 40 large planks and christened with a crimson liquid, the bridge was as massive as it was captivating. Wiping his nail-pierced hands, He stood proudly before the cross-like structure and proclaimed, “Come to me. I am the Ruler of the world, I am the God of all things, I am the King of the Nations, I am your Mediator, I am your way out of this empty way of living, I am. I am the Alpha, I am the Omega, I am the First, I am the Last, I am. I am your Hope, I am your Strength, I am your Love, I am. I am your Author, I am Life, I am your Friend, I am your Father, I Am.”

I ran across the bridge that day, leaving footprints of filth across each plank. The Ruler of the world cleaned me that day, washing me in pure blood. He held me in his arms and strengthened my feeble body. His food was filling, his words were true, his actions were flawless, his body shed light, his pool was pure, and his breath smelled of undiluted life. A river flowed before my Ruler; it was water as I’d never seen before. I longed to swim in its currents; I longed to be lapped by its waves. The stream gleamed as a body of liquid diamonds. Placing my face near the edge, I took a whiff; the scent of the water was the same aroma of his breath.

“Drink,” he offered, “and you’ll never be thirsty again.” Elation ran down my spine and through my legs. Seeing my complete exhilaration, the Ruler entered the water with a giddy grin. The train of his robe filled the waters, his face shone like the sun as he held out his hand.

“Enter, my child, into the River of Life.”

-Jaime S
Read Revelation chapter 22
*Death has been swallowed up in victory.