#and yet He still took the opportunity on His deathbed to teach the people how to do a proper burial still trying to turn them

[canisvesperus]

I wish California tribes got more love on this website.

[thevividgreenmoss]

My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

[hearts-hunger]

together wing to wing || chapter two

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one

Series Summary: He's offered his protection before, on the Green. In the hospital, Cee wonders if he'll offer it again, and Ezra wonders if she'll even want him to.

Chapter Summary: Cee has a nightmare.

Pairings: Ezra & Cee (platonic!)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst | Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: hospitals, injury, nightmares, mentions of canon-typical violence

A/N: I love writing Ezra and Cee so much. I love this sad gruff accidental dad and his daughter who’s not as strong as she thinks she is. I love writing them discovering that it’s ok to trust each other. I hope you guys enjoy it too! ♡

The doctors came, and he asked them to be quiet.

They shot him full of something that made him tingly like the syrettes, but at least his wounds didn’t pain him so terribly. They checked his incisions and bandaged him again. They set him another breathing treatment before they left, and he tried not to cough himself into a spin with every inhale.

Cee didn’t wake, and he didn’t rouse her.

He rested back against the pillows, sore with all that coughing, his breaths still noisy but less painful. The sun had gone down, and the room was dark; the city lights of Central sparked outside the blinds like a sheet of frantic, trembling stars. He wondered idly if the people on Central had ever really seen stars - not the dull pinpricks washed out by the city, but the magnificent jewels that covered dark nights on less populated planets, lights so bright up there in the blackness it seemed like they might come to life and start eating you whole. He could read the stars on the Green Moon as easily as he could read his own handwriting, and if he never saw them again it would be too soon.

If he was honest with himself - and he made it a point to engage in honest conversation, whenever feasible - he had never really thought he’d get off the Green. It would have been too much to ask of the life he’d so carelessly given over to violence at every opportunity. He deserved to die on the Green, bleeding out and choked with dust. It would have been the one redemption of his miserable character to have died for a fatherless little girl, and for what it was worth in the grand scheme, he had been ready to do it.

But then, if her commitment to such a sorry, broken-down old bastard had been any indication, she hadn’t been quite so ready for their unhappy encounter to end. He couldn’t imagine why - he’d more than expended his usefulness, and was no more advantageous to her than the mercs they’d left on the Green. Perhaps less, as his wounds had not been lucky enough to kill him outright.

He burned with fever for cycles before they landed on Central, delirious and frequently unconscious. The foam kept him alive, but only just; he could feel it holding bits of him together, sticky and hot and unnatural. The pain was intolerable. In more lucid moments, he guessed the mercs had used the syrettes in the rock jumper’s med pack to get high, and there was nothing left for him to do but grit his teeth. He distinctly remembered how distraught his little bird had been, fluttering nervously around the cabin for something, anything to ease his affliction. 

He tried his best to soothe her and to keep a hold of his senses, but control was a rare thing out in the vastness of space; she was frightened, tear-streaked and tightly wound, and there was little he could do to comfort her. He kept it together until he couldn’t, and if he was lucky, she fell into a restless sleep before he submitted to the fevered, painful tears that threatened every waking moment.

He hadn’t been conscious when they landed. He supposed Damon had done some good in teaching her the landing sequence; otherwise, it would have been of little advantage to them to get off the Green just to crash flat into Central. Cee had confessed to him later, with the pale of guilt and distress, just how dire his situation had been: the medics had been doubtful he would make it off the transport to the hospital. By some miracle, or just his own damn stubbornness, he’d made it through surgery and been returned to Cee breathing and neatly bandaged.

Now, several tedious cycles later, he was finally starting to improve. The doctors often remarked on his expeditious recovery, and he wanted to say that he’d rather lose his other arm than leave Cee to a deathbed vigil. He’d recover if it killed him, if only to keep from being a burden on her any longer.

As it was, recovery vexed him something awful. He was a man of action; lying around had never suited him well. All his life, he’d never known more than a moment’s leisure: there was too much work to be done, too many debts to be paid. He’d tramped up and down the Green with a half-rotted arm, breathing in dust with every wheeze of his spent filter, tied to a nervous little girl with a thrower aimed at his back. To be in a clean, safe hospital, in Central of all places, with nothing to do but rest? Ezra had never known such unimaginable luxury, and it grated on him. He needed something to do.

But there was nothing for it. He could hardly sit on the edge of the bed without terrible swings of dizziness, and breath escaped him with the smallest aggravation. So he busied himself with worry - for Cee, for their future, for whether she wanted a future with him at all. 

He looked over at her, studying her face in the dim light. She looked even younger when she slept. He wondered again how her father could have justified bringing her to the Green, how he had rationalized taking such a little thing like her to that awful place. Ezra didn’t have children, had never had anyone to care for other than himself; but if he had, he would have done damn near anything to keep them off the Green. He fervently hoped it was pure necessity that drove Damon to bring Cee there, but Ezra knew a prospector’s heart - aurelac was the only thing that mattered, and greed for it drove men to terrible things. Violence, thieving, killing. Ezra knew that well enough, and he’d pay for indulgence in that same greed as long as he lived.

Cee, though. She needed better, deserved better. The galaxy was wide open for her, and he would do whatever it took to allow her access to it. He’d already decided she should have his point collection, as paltry a sum as it was, but he was no stranger to the ways of the world. She was young still, a Floater, with no kin or place to call home. To go off on her own could be a death sentence, or worse. He knew what happened to Floaters like her; he’d been a Floater like her, when he was younger, and would tear heaven and earth apart to keep her from the pain that had been inflicted on him in his youth.

He’d offered his protection, before. Flush with pain and dazed by medication, a thrower pistol held in unsteady hand towards him. Troubled even then with how easily she could be swallowed up by the vilest, most unsavory things. Mercs like those were a dime a dozen, lying in wait for a little bird to come flitting in before they devoured it.

He wanted to offer his protection again. He would stay by her side as long as she wanted him to. But, with all that had transpired between them, all the pain and hardship he’d brought her - he couldn’t blame her if she decided to leave him without a backwards glance. It surprised him, his grief, when he reconciled himself to that possibility - he knew with certainty that he would miss her and worry over her as long as they were apart, and he couldn't remember the last time he’d felt that way about anyone.

The monitor notified him of another release of painkillers, and he sighed when the drug flooded his system. He might have fallen asleep, lulled by the diminished pain and the woozy feeling in his head, but Cee started to stir.

“Ezra,” she said. Her voice was strained, thick with sleep. Like a half-muted warning through a faulty comms system, and it sent a thrill of agitation through him.

He sat up a little. “Right here, birdie.” 

She didn’t answer. He saw she hadn’t opened her eyes, and he grimaced. He’d wondered if she’d have nightmares. His sleep was too heavy with drugs to allow any night terrors yet, but he knew once he was sleeping on his own again they would set in with an unparalleled passion. That she was enduring them now spoke of the trauma that still weighed heavy on her, despite how well she seemed to cope while she was awake.

Her expression crumpled with fear as whatever night terror had a hold of her remained unwavering.

“Don’t take me,” she whimpered. He’d never heard her voice so tight with misery, and it felt like a deeper wound than any he’d suffered before.

He winced and pressed his arm over his stitches as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Without thinking, he tried to reach out to her with his right hand; the frayed nerve endings protested, sharply, and he gave a growl of frustration. Damn his weak, useless body. He couldn’t do a single thing without an objection or outright refusal.

“Please,” she said quietly.

He moved his left hand towards her, gently gripped her shoulder and shook.

“Come on, birdie, wake up,” he coaxed, raising his voice a little. “Cee, it’s just a dream.”

She seemed to hear him. “Ezra,” she said again. He had never heard his name called so pitifully.

“That’s right, little bird. Go on and wake up. I’m right here.”

He shook her gently, and that seemed to do the trick; her eyes flew open, pupils blown in the dark as she looked around for something familiar. 

“Ezra,” she said for a third time, voice ragged with panic and relief.

He withdrew his hand and hoped he hadn’t overstepped. “The very same.”

Then, before he could say anything else by way of comfort, she disentangled herself from her blankets and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in a bruising hug. His breath came in a slightly pained huff, aching and sore with the impact. It was a good hurt, if there was such a  thing. He was so stunned by the gesture he could only act on instinct, and like the warming of a tired old machine that hadn’t been used in years, he caught her against him and slowly put his arm around her.

“Easy, little bird,” he said. He splayed his hand over her back as she held him tighter; he felt her shoulders shake with quiet tears. 

“You’re alright,” he said gently. “I believe something gave you an awful fright while you slept.”

He felt her stiffen; not a moment later did she pull away from him, a brilliant blush over her cheeks visible even in the dim light. She hastily wiped the tears from her face and crossed her arms over her chest, defensive.

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to - I hope I didn’t hurt you. That was stupid.”

He cleared his throat to fend off a cough. “You didn’t hurt me, birdie. Takes a lot more than that to lay me low, I assure you.”

She sat back on her cot, curling in on herself; she refused to meet his eyes. He hoped she wasn’t embarrassed by the way she’d acted; sometimes a body needed comfort, and was so keen to get it that little could be done to deny such a demand. He didn’t mind, and would not withhold any solace she was willing to take.

“It was just a silly dream,” she said. She was embarrassed; he’d heard that color in his own voice too often to be unfamiliar with it in hers. He wondered how often she’d had nightmares before, and if they had ever been met with any kindness or sympathy.

“I’m afraid I must disagree with you, birdie.” He paused a beat to steady himself, to let the wave of dizziness pass. “Nothing so unsettling could rightly be counted ‘silly’.”

They sat in silence for a moment. It didn’t escape his notice how she continued to brush tears from her cheeks.

“It was the Sater,” she said finally.

He looked up and met her eyes. “Your nightmare?”

She nodded, pressed her hands to her face as if to hide behind them. She drew a hitching breath.

“Thank you for not giving me to them.”

He sighed. “Oh, birdie.”

He had told her the truth on the Green: he was never going to give her to them. He may not have been a virtuous man by any stretch of the imagination, but he could honestly say that he hadn’t considered that, even for a moment. He’d never had problems with the Sater before; he wasn’t religious, but he was of no mind to deny any man whatever consolation he could find. Their proposal, though, a little girl in exchange for his healing - Ezra could have torn the whole place apart and still have not satisfied his wrath. Even now, he felt an acetous, clawing disgust that threatened to overwhelm him at the thought.

He’d placated them as best he could, and the words were bitter in his mouth. I beg your forgiveness for the little one’s impertinence. She’s a nervous thing, fatherless. Allow me to search her out and bring her back to you.

They’d let him go, with the promise that he would be healed if the girl was returned. He didn’t know where Cee had gone, nor did he have any strength to go hunting for her; he’d barely made it back to camp with his spent filter and festering wound. As he set blade to skin, he sent a prayer up to no one - not for himself, but for the little bird in the woods, hoping she would find something or someone to help her find her way off the Green.

She looked less ragged now than she had looked then, stumbling into his tent, breathless, terrified. Food and clean clothes and sleep, even broken as it was by nightmares, had done wonders. And yet, she was still that little bird in the woods, and he was still the only thing she had in all the world. A pitiful hand to be dealt, certainly.

“No thanks required,” he said tiredly, weary with the weight of his culpability in her troubles. “Least I could do.”

Her expression clouded. “He would have given me to them.”

It didn’t take much to guess who he was, and Ezra was wary of stepping into this kind of territory, unsure what he should say or if he should say anything at all.

She twisted her fingers together, wrung them so her hurt would have somewhere to go.

“Dispensable,” she muttered. 

He frowned. Surely Damon hadn’t - 

“That’s what he called me, once,” she said. She looked up at him, defiant even as tears streaked her cheeks. “He was high, and I accidentally broke one of the rods for the thrower. Make yourself indispensable, he said. There’s barely enough room on this pod for me.”

Ezra wished she would stop telling him things about her father. He felt his hatred towards a dead man, one he’d delivered the final blow to, wouldn’t do him any favors.

Cee shook her head and bit her lip; it did bleed, finally. Ezra raised himself from the bed with some difficulty and wet the corner of a washcloth in the refresher sink, then offered it to her. She looked up at him in confusion.

He nodded towards her. “Your lip’s bleeding, birdie.”

She took the washcloth and pressed it to her mouth, watching him with a careful gaze as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed again.

“You shouldn’t have gotten up,” she said.

His laugh was little more than a huff. “You are mighty keen on fretting, aren’t you?” He took a deep breath. “Mind you don’t worry that lip any more, or you’ll have a hard time getting on to me when I do something that’s not to your liking.”

She studied him like he might break apart at any moment. He felt like he might; the night’s activity was testing the limits of the pain medication.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you, earlier?”

He nodded. “Positive. And you know me to be an honest man, whenever possible.”

“Candid discourse,” she remembered.

He smiled. “Precisely. So I hope you won’t take offense when I tell you, honestly, that nightmares trouble every creature from time to time, and certainly trouble those who’ve spent any time on the Green.” He gave a few weak coughs. “There’s no shame in it, birdie.”

She twisted the washcloth around her fingers in her lap, the bleeding abated for the moment. “You have nightmares?”

“Indeed,” he said. He leaned heavily on his left hand to keep him upright. “And I will undoubtedly have many more before my time is up.” Such was the price of a life of violence, inflicted or endured.

“How do you... deal with it?”

He gave a half-shrug; his right shoulder disliked being jostled, and he tried to keep its movement to a minimum.

“Not much to be done for it, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “Best not to be on your own. It’s hard to orient a mind consumed by fear without a helping hand.”

A precious few times in his life had he known someone he could call a friend, and it was only with them that he’d been able to soothe the nightmares that cropped up so often. A hand on his shoulder in the dark, a consoling word - that had made all the difference. He’d been without it more often than he’d had it, and sleep was a common point of contention between himself and his body. Usually he fell asleep when he was simply too exhausted not to, and he woke himself up, alone, in sweat and terror more often than not.

For the first time since he’d woken her, she looked a little less weary and upset.

“Good thing we’re not alone, then.”

Oh, but that eased his ills better than any dose of medication could have. He gave her a smile, pleased when she returned it with a small one of her own.

“Quite right, birdie,” he agreed. “It is a very good thing.”

She settled back against the wall, covering herself up in her blanket for a little warmth. They kept his room cool as the medication was liable to make him run hot, but he knew it was a little chilly for her liking. He reached over to grab the extra blanket from the foot of his bed and tossed it to her.

“The doctors should be in again, soon.” He looked at the clock and determined it was likely time for another one of his breathing treatments; his chest had begun to tighten again.

She pulled her notebook and a pen out of her bag. “I’m staying up this time.”

He gave a soft grunt as he lay back in bed. “Fine by me, birdie. Don’t...” He stopped for a breath. “Don’t worry about falling asleep again, if you need to. I’ll wake you if I fear there’s something amiss.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment; then, very softly, “thank you.”

He turned his head to look at her, buried under her blankets, her fictional world spread out in her lap as she tapped the end of the pen against the page.

“You’re welcome,” he said. He hoped she knew how much he meant it.

He closed his eyes and tried to come to terms with the dull, aching pain. “Read me a little something, birdie. If you’re not opposed.”

He heard her flip the pages in her notebook. “Just a little bit,” she said. “Not enough to give away the story.”

He hummed in agreement. “Just a little bit.”

He listened as she started to read, weaving stories about her favorite characters, her voice steady and relaxed as she sank into the world of her imagining. It was a good thing they weren’t alone right now, and Ezra tried not to think of what it would be like to be alone again.

Read chapter three!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic​​​​​​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​​​​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​​​​​, @theorganasolo​​​​​​​, @qhbr2013​​​​​​​ ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to my pedro pascal character taglist or this series taglist! ♡

[superjournalslibrary-blog]

The Mindset of Church Planters

Let this mind be in you… Phillippians 2:5

Christ had a way of thinking which made Him do the things He did. “This verse teaches us to think in the same way that Christ thought”. This is what “let this mind be in you” means.

It is only when your mind works in a particular way that you can accomplish the will of God.

I am writing about how your mind must work if you are to become a church planter. Without this foundation, no one will advance into the very difficult task of church planting.

The following chapters are basically educating you on the importance of the doctrine of church planting. You will be prompted and your ministry will be inspired to engage in the last great apostolic church planting movement.

1. Understand that God is monitoring your works. 

Dear friends, your works on earth are being monitored. God is going to require from you an answer concerning what He has put in you. He is going to ask you what you have done with His gifts. God is going to require from you things He has given to you. He will enquire of your works!

It is interesting that in the seven letters written to the seven churches, one phrase was repeated over and over - I know thy works. Which works are these? Whatever these are, it must be important for every church to have these works fully in place. Notice the following verses:

I KNOW THY WORKS, and thy labour, and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them, which are evil: and thou hast tried them which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast found them liars: Revelation 2:2

I KNOW THY WORKS, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan. Revelation 2:9

I KNOW THY WORKS, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan's seat is: and thou holdest fast my name, and hast not denied my faith, even in those days wherein Antipas was my faithful martyr, who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth. Revelation 2:13

I KNOW THY WORKS, and charity, and service, and faith, and thy patience, and thy works; and the last to be more than the first. Revelation 2:19

And unto the angel of the church in Sardis write; These things saith he that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I KNOW THY WORKS, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. Revelation 3:1

I KNOW THY WORKS: behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept my word, and hast not denied my name. Revelation 3:8

“God did not say, “I know thy houses and thy cars”. He did not say; “I know thy Mercedes Benz” He said; “I know thy works!” He did not say; “I know thy degrees.” He did not say; “I know thy father and thy mother.” He said, “I know thy works!”

2. Church planting is the key to going all the way with God.

For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's, the same shall save it. Mark 8:35

In 1985, I took a decision to go all the way with God. I had just finished a very difficult medical school exam. In my opinion, I just scraped through that exam. As I thought of the effort I had put into the exam, and the extra work I had done, I felt in my heart that it was not worth it at all. Why should I suffer so much for medicine? Why should I give my life for such a cause?

I vowed that from then on, my priority would be the work of God. Initially I thought that God was the number one person in my life. I was a very serious Christian leader but I did not realize that God's work was not my number one priority. From that time on, I determined that I had one purpose and that was to do the work of God! All other things became side issues. This was truly a turning point in my life.

From then on, my number one goal was God and the ministry. The Medical School had taken its rightful place as number two or three in my heart. That was probably the time that I entered into full-time ministry.

It is interesting to note that after taking that decision, I began to excel in the Medical School. I had a distinction and I won prizes! To my amazement, I topped my class. My heart was far away from any medical ambitions, yet I was receiving medical laurels. Isn't it amazing that the things you give up are the same things that God gives back to you?

It takes faith to walk with God. The opposite of what I expected had happened. This is what it is like to walk with God. He that loses his life will gain it! He that preserves his life will lose it. There will never be a time when you will not need faith. We will always have to believe.

From that time until now, I have been fully plugged into the ministry. Shortly after that period, I planted my first church, which I am still pastoring. Since then I have been involved in planting over 400 churches. I once made a covenant with the Lord that I would plant at least one thousand churches in Ghana alone. I always pray that God will give me grace to fulfill this covenant. I am going all the way! I am not holding back anymore. Let His will be done in my life!

In 1989, I qualified as a medical doctor. By April 1990 I had finished my housemanship. All my medical mates were on their way to foreign countries. It was quite clear to me that the Lord was asking me to stay in Ghana. There were just a few people in the church but I decided to stay with it. I knew that I had condemned myself to a life of poverty. I talked to my wife and she agreed. She supported me all the way. I knew I would never have a house or anything like that. I just knew it. However, I said, “Lord, I love you with all my heart, I will do it. I entrust myself to you.”

Many years have gone by and it's been worth it all. He said, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things shall be added onto you.”

For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it. Luke 9:24

3. You are expected to accomplish certain works whilst on earth

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast. For we are his workmanship, CREATED IN CHRIST JESUS UNTO GOOD WORKS, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:8-10

God has good works for you to do. That is why you are alive in the first place. Make no mistake, the only reason why you are still alive, is to accomplish certain good works.

I was once with a certain English man who was giving me a ride in his taxi. I asked him if he believed in God. He said he did not believe in God and wondered if I believed in such things.

I told him that I did believe in God. Then he asked if I believed in Heaven and Hell. I told him, “I certainly do’. He asked again, "Do you believe that Heaven is a good place?" I answered, "Heaven is a wonderful place and we are all looking forward to going there one day." He continued, "Do you think that life in Heaven will be better than life on earth?" "I'm sure it will be," I responded.

Then he asked a question that I have never forgotten. He said, "If indeed Heaven is better than this earth, why don't you all just kill yourselves and go to Heaven right away?"

Before I could answer that question, we had arrived at our destination and I had to get down. As I went along, I pondered over the question that this man had asked me. It seemed to make a lot of sense: Why not go to Heaven right now if it is such a great place?

But God’s Word shows us why we must still stay on the Earth we are here to do good works. We are ordained to do certain good works on this Earth! We cannot leave until we have finished our work on Earth.

One day Kenneth Hagin had an experience in which he died physically. As his spirit ascended out of his body, he heard a voice saying, “go back, go back, you have not finished your work on Earth.” His spirit returned to his body and he lived for many more years, accomplishing the good works that God had called him to do.

Another reason why we do not kill ourselves is because it is a crime to kill yourself. It is against the law and it is against God's will.

4. Wisdom is to be mindful of Heaven and conscious of approaching eternity.

Once, one of my pastors came to the office to say good-bye to me. He wanted me to pray for him. He was going out as a missionary to a foreign country. As he sat next to me, the Spirit of the Lord came upon me and I spoke to him under the anointing. I said, “Always think like a dying man and you will be a wise man. Think about your soon arrival in Heaven and you will be wise.” You see, when people are on their deathbeds, they think differently from people who are not thinking of the realities of Heaven and Hell.

I remember talking to my wife. I asked her, “What do you think God will say to me when I arrive in Heaven?” I don't remember the answer she gave me but this is something that bothers me all the time. Is Heaven happy with me? Is God pleased with me? What will Jesus say to me on the day I see him face to face? Unfortunately, most of us are just thinking about earthly things money, cars, visas, power, influence and the honour of men. These thinking patterns are not wisdom. If you die without doing His works, you will be a fool on the day of your death.

Don't be deceived; your time on earth is limited. After today, you will have one less day of opportunity. The houses you are building and the things you are acquiring have no real value. Jesus said, “Do not pile up things on earth.” Why did He say so? Is Jesus against us having nice things? Certainly not! He was giving us the highest kind of wisdom to live with eternity in mind and to believe in the resurrection. The more eternity conscious we are, the wiser we will be! Do a little calculation right now; how many more years will you live on earth after reading this book. Compare this with the many years you will spend in eternity.

My father once told me that the way I spend the first twenty-five years of my life would determine how I would spend the next forty-five years of my life. By the age of twenty-five, I was a medical doctor and a pastor. My first twenty-five years have truly affected the years that have followed.”

However, I have an even higher piece of wisdom for you: “The way you spend your seventy years on Earth will determine how you will spend millions of years in eternity.”

Don't be like the rich young fool who thought that life was only an earthly life. He was planning various things when the Lord said to him, “Thou fool, tonight I require thy soul from thee.” That very night, the Lord called him up to Heaven in spite of his earthly plans. God knows the day He is going to call you to account. Get ready with your works. I know thy works!

5. You were created to be more than a good person in the society. We were not created so that we would just be “good” people. We were created to do certain good works. These good works were ordained by God and not by you. In other words, God has already determined the works that you are supposed to do. No one can do anything to impress God. Your goodness, your morality, your uprightness and your perfection will not impress God. To please God is to do what He says you should do.

After eating of the Tree of Good and Evil, men have become obsessed with what they see as “good or evil'. Obeying God is what is right for us to do. Doing good things, moral things and upright things are not necessarily pleasing to God.

When Satan approached Jesus in the wilderness, he suggested some “good things” for Jesus to do. Jesus was asked to use God's power to turn stones into bread but He did not.

He was also asked to protect Himself with God's power but He did not. These are all “good things” but Jesus did not do them. He knew that the right thing to do was to obey God. The devil also asks people to do “good things” but there is always a hidden agenda. As soon as you step out of God's commands you are in sin even though you may be involved in a “good thing”.

Anomia

Let me help you with a definition of sin. Sin is not necessarily doing something evil. It may surprise you to know that doing a good thing, which is not God's will, is sin. As I said earlier, there were many good things that Jesus simply would not do.

Jesus could have gone on living longer but He accepted His father's will to die on the cross at the age of thirty-three. Would it not have been a good thing for Jesus to have travelled all over the world preaching until He was eighty years old? There are many sick people that Jesus did not heal. Why didn't Jesus heal them? Was it not a good thing to heal the sick?

At this point, we need to understand the essential definition of sin. SIN IS THE REJECTION OF GOD'S WILL. SIN IS THE REFUSAL TO ACCEPT GOD'S PLAN AND GOD'S WILL. It is the substitution of your plans for God's plans. Sin is the substitution of your wisdom for God's wisdom!

That is what “anomia” means. “anomia” is a Greek word. “Anomia” means to reject the law, the will and the way of God. How sad it is that we often think we know better than God.

Whosoever committeth sin transgresseth also the law: for sin is the transgression of the law. 1 John 3:4

From this Scripture, we see that transgression of the law is sin. The word “transgression” is translated from the Greek word “anomia”. This means “one who acts contrary to the law.”

Vine's dictionary declares that this verse gives the real meaning of sin. Vine goes on to say, “This definition of sin sets forth its essential character as the rejection of the law, or will, of God and the substitution of the will of self”. Years ago, I remember telling God about my plans to serve Him. I decided that I would go into the secular world to earn a lot of money to support the work of God. I told God that I would be a high-income earner who would contribute thousands of dollars to the kingdom.

I am not the only one who has had this idea. I have met countless people who have expressed similar ambitions. It is amazing that very few, if any at all of these people actually do bring a lot of money to the kingdom. I am a full-time pastor so I know what people do. Most of the rich people I know do not contribute much to the kingdom. In fact, you virtually have to plead with them to cough up a few of their gold coins.

Can I be honest with you? I think that, if I had gone on that route (which would have been my way instead of God's way) I would have given very little money to the kingdom. I think I would have probably criticized pastors and churches for the way they use money. Mercy Lord!

You see, God knows more than we do and when God called me to full time ministry He knew what He was doing. I remember clearly at the end of 1990 the Lord asked me to stop every other activity and be a full-time ministry worker. My way would have been to give God some money to keep Him quiet. Forgive! I didn't know about my future ministry. I would have forsaken the ministry and the rewards He had called me to.

The Value of the Thumb

I once met a man whose thumb had been cut off in a factory accident. He showed it to some friends as I looked on with interest. He related what happened and told us how much compensation he was paid for his thumb. With mixed feelings he stated that he had been paid eight thousand pounds sterling for his thumb. At that time, I had only one pound in my account and I thought to myself, “What a lucky man.”

Years later, the Lord reminded me of this man's thumb and asked me to do a calculation:

“If this man was paid eight thousand pounds for just his thumb, how much would two thumbs cost?” I said; “Sixteen thousand pounds” Then he asked me; “How much would five fingers cost?” I said; “Lord about forty thousand pounds” He continued; “How much would ten fingers cost?” I answered; “Eighty thousand pounds.” Then the Lord asked me; “How much would an arm cost?” I answered; “A lot of money” “What about a leg, a kidney, a heart and a brain?”“I am not sure” Finally he asked me; “How much would your whole body cost” I said, “Millions.”

The Lord showed me that no matter how much money I contributed to the kingdom, it would never be up to the value of giving my whole body, spirit and soul to His work. In my limited understanding, I thought that giving a lot of money to God was just as good as giving my whole self to Him.

6. The reason for your salvation is the good works.

We often only preach about money and we teach people how to be successful. However, our salvation was and is for a purpose. The Bible says we were saved by grace through faith and that it is not of ourselves but it is the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8). We are his workmanship created for good works which God has before ordained that we (Christians) should walk in them”(Ephesians 2:10). This is why we are still alive. There are good works for us to do! One of these good works is the planting of churches. We need to go to the villages and to the towns to preach. God wants people who will go with His message. God is looking for church planters.

These good works are the reason why God gave us a new life in Him. It is so that we would live for Him and do His purposes. Your works are very important to God. This is the reason for our salvation.“I know thy works!”

7. Doing the work helps you overcome your personal problems.

When people preach and teach it does not mean that they do not have problems. As we minister the Word of God, these problems become smaller. Instead of us focusing on our difficulties, we must lift up our eyes unto the Lord of the harvest and look at what lies before us. Let us stretch out and reach the un-churched people of our day.

God has never used perfect people who have no problems. Noah had a drinking problem but God used him. Abraham had serious marital problems, but God used him. Rahab, the harlot had moral problems but God used her. The fact that God will use you does not mean that you have no problems of your own!

We have “this treasure in earthen vessels” (2 Corinthians 4:7). God's glory and anointing is not in heavenly or angelic vessels, but in earthly vessels. I have always ministered in spite of my personal problems. There are times I have had financial problems, but I did the work of God. There are times I had marital problems, but I did the work of God. There are times I have been sick, and had to be operated upon by surgeons but I still did the work of God.

People look at me and assume that I have never had any problems. Perhaps I even have more problems than the average person. But doing the work of God makes it seem as if I have no problems.

But we have THIS TREASURE IN EARTHEN VESSELS, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. 2 Corinthians 4:7

Every earthen vessel that the Lord uses is plagued with personal problems. He ministers in spite of these and not because his life is perfect. The good news is that as you focus on the work of God, your personal problems diminish and the excellency of the power of God becomes manifest.

8. The strength of a church is measured by its sending capacity.

The strength of a church is traditionally measured by its seating capacity. The more people the church seats, the greater it is perceived to be. However, the church was born as a sending church. Is your church sending people out? Pastors like to boast about who comes to their churches. They drop names and say “The Minister of the Sun, Moon and Stars comes to my first service. The Deputy Minister for Financial Corruption is on my finance committee.” Rarely do pastors speak of the people they have sent forth as missionaries. Notice how the New Testament churches operated.

Now there were in the church that was at Antioch certain prophets and teachers; as Barnabas, and Simeon that was called Niger, and Lucius of Cyrene, and Manaen, which had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch, and Saul. As they ministered to the Lord, and fasted, THE HOLY GHOST SAID, SEPARATE ME BARNABAS AND SAUL FOR THE WORK WHEREUNTO I HAVE CALLED THEM. So they, being sent forth by the Holy Ghost, departed unto Seleucia; and from thence they sailed to Cyprus. Acts 13:1, 2, 4

9. Doing the works causes you to overcome the zilch of life.

Therefore I hated life; because the work that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me: for all is vanity and vexation of spirit. Yea, I hated all my labour which I had taken under the sun: because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after me. And who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man or a fool? yet shall he have rule over all my labour wherein I have laboured, and wherein I have shewed myself wise under the sun. This is also vanity. Therefore I went about to cause my heart to despair of all the labour which I took under the sun. Ecclesiastes 2:17-20

One of the words Solomon used many times was the word vanity. Solomon discovered after acquiring everything that everything was vanity. God gave him things many human beings could only ever imagine. King Solomon discovered that each and everything was worthless and empty. He said, “Vanity of vanities all is vanity.”

Everything is useless. Everything is useless in the context that Solomon was writing; which was the context of “under the sun”. “Under the sun” is a commonly used phrase in the book of Ecclesiastes. Under the sun refers to our earthly existence under the influence of the physical sun zilch.

The earthly existence that we have is useless. That is the reality. Pastors are supposed to teach and preach the truth. We need to be oriented toward Heaven and oriented toward the day of our judgment. A church planter is someone who operates by this wisdom. Planting of churches is not vanity because it will bring us an eternal reward.

10. Your works will follow you into Heaven.

When you die, nothing goes with you. I have conducted many funerals. I have stood over the coffins of people that I have known and loved on this Earth. I have buried people and put them into the ground. I have seen it repeatedly. No one takes anything out of this world. Cars remain behind, houses remain behind and money remains behind.

And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; AND THEIR WORKS DO FOLLOW THEM. Revelation 14:13

Nothing except your works will follow you when you leave this world. You have to get involved with the work of God. You must plant a church in your lifetime. You have to get involved in your church.

God only gives you an opportunity to be involved in His work. God does not need you. He does not need me. He does not even need pastors. If pastors were so important, they would not die. Nobody is of any relevance and significance to God. God's mercy allows us to be involved in His work. Our inclusion in the work is God's mercy towards us!

11. You will void becoming critical by planting churches.

It is better to participate than to be an observer. Observers often become critical of everything. After being idle for some time, you begin to see all the faults in your church. You will notice the pastor's mistakes when he preaches. You will notice his mistakes when he quotes Scriptures. You will notice when the anointing is not as strong as it usually is. Before long, you will be familiar with all the shortcomings of your church. You will eventually fall into criticism and become faultfinding. Demons will find in you a haven.

12. Plant a church because there is a time when God expects you to be a teacher.

There comes a time when you should be a teacher of the Word of God. You should teach people, you should give something.

FOR WHEN FOR THE TIME YE OUGHT TO BE TEACHERS, ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God; and are become such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat. Hebrews 5:12

There is a time when you must become a teacher. If you do not become a teacher when you are supposed to, there is something wrong with your spiritual development.

One day we went preaching and there was a young woman in the group who I asked to preach at an open-air dawn broadcast. She said: “I don't know how to preach. I have never preached before, I don't know enough of the Bible.” Then I told her, “You can preach.” I told her to repeat everything I said to her. Before long, she was preaching. She preached a whole sermon that morning. She is still serving the Lord today. You will be surprised at what you can do if you only try.

Furthermore, by these few pages, my son, be admonished because of making many books there is no end!

by Dag Heward-Mills

[blackchurchpost]

With "A Letter to My Brothers," Prophetess Beth Moore Will be Remembered in Church History With the Likes of Martin Luther King Jr., Billy Graham, Anne Graham-Lotz, and Other Church Leaders

I think I can speak for many of us when I say we are neither interested in reducing or seducing our brothers. —Beth Moore

Beth Moore came out of her prayer closet one day and wrote a document akin to Martin Luther King Jr.’s ���Letter From A Birmingham Jail.” By the grace of God, she showed the courage of Billy Graham, the eloquence of Martin Luther King Jr., and the authority and fierceness of Anne Graham-Lotz.

I long for the day—have asked for the day—when we can sit in round table discussions to consider ways we might best serve and glorify Christ as the family of God, deeply committed to the authority of the Word of God and to the imitation of Christ. —Beth Moore

One of the reasons the letter is so great is because she was extremely careful not to do the whiny, pity-party thing that unfortunately is so common in some women. No, she stood flat-footed, if you will, and delivered with authority what the church needed to hear. Beth Moore, all of the pain you have endured has brought you “to such a time as this.”

Here is the document that will be read in church history books long after Beth Moore has left her death bed.

A Letter to My Brothers

Dear Brothers in Christ,

A few years ago I told my friend, Ed Stetzer, that, whenever he hears the news that I’m on my deathbed, he’s to elbow his way through my family members to interview me about what it’s been like to be a female leader in the conservative Evangelical world. He responded, “Why can’t we do it before then?”

“Because you know good and well what will happen,” I answered. “I’ll get fried like a chicken.” After recent events following on the heels of a harrowing eighteen months, I’ve decided fried chicken doesn’t sound so bad.

I have been a professing Evangelical for decades and, at least in my sliver of that world, a conservative one. I was a cradle role Southern Baptist by denomination with an interdenominational ministry. I walked the aisle to receive Christ as my Savior at 9 years old in an SBC church and exactly nine years later walked the aisle in another SBC church to surrender to a vocational calling. Being a woman called to leadership within and simultaneously beyond those walls was complicated to say the least but I worked within the system. After all, I had no personal aspirations to preach nor was it my aim to teach men. If men showed up in my class, I did not throw them out. I taught. But my unwavering passion was to teach and to serve women.

I lack adequate words for my gratitude to God for the pastors and male staff members in my local churches for six decades who have shown me such love, support, grace, respect, opportunity and often out right favor. They alongside key leaders at LifeWay and numerous brothers elsewhere have no place in a larger picture I’m about to paint for you. They have brought me joy and kept me from derailing into cynicism and chronic discouragement amid the more challenging dynamics.

As a woman leader in the conservative Evangelical world, I learned early to show constant pronounced deference – not just proper respect which I was glad to show – to male leaders and, when placed in situations to serve alongside them, to do so apologetically. I issued disclaimers ad nauseam. I wore flats instead of heels when I knew I’d be serving alongside a man of shorter stature so I wouldn’t be taller than he. I’ve ridden elevators in hotels packed with fellow leaders who were serving at the same event and not been spoken to and, even more awkwardly, in the same vehicles where I was never acknowledged. I’ve been in team meetings where I was either ignored or made fun of, the latter of which I was expected to understand was all in good fun. I am a laugher. I can take jokes and make jokes. I know good fun when I’m having it and I also know when I’m being dismissed and ridiculed. I was the elephant in the room with a skirt on. I’ve been talked down to by male seminary students and held my tongue when I wanted to say, “Brother, I was getting up before dawn to pray and to pore over the Scriptures when you were still in your pull ups.”

Some will inevitably argue that the disrespect was not over gender but over my lack of formal education but that, too, largely goes back to issues of gender. Where was a woman in my generation and denomination to get seminary training to actually teach the Scriptures? I hoped it would be an avenue for me and applied and was accepted to Southwestern Seminary in 1988. After a short time of making the trek across Houston while my kids were in school, of reading the environment and coming to the realization of what my opportunities would and would not be, I took a different route. I turned to doctrine classes and tutors, read stacks of books and did my best to learn how to use commentaries and other Bible research tools. My road was messy but it was the only reasonable avenue open to me.

Anyone out in the public eye gets pelted with criticism. It’s to be expected, especially in our social media culture, and those who can’t stand the heat need to get out of the kitchen. What is relevant to this discussion is that, several years ago when I got publically maligned for being a false teacher by a segment of hyper-fundamentalists based on snippets taken out of context and tied together, I inquired whether or not they’d researched any of my Bible studies to reach those conclusions over my doctrine, especially the studies in recent years. The answer was no. Why? They refused to study what a woman had taught. Meanwhile no few emails circulated calling pastors to disallow their women to do my “heretical” studies. Exhausting. God was and is and will always be faithful. He is sovereign and all is grace. He can put us out there and pull us back as He pleases. Ours is to keep our heads down and seek Him earnestly and serve Him humbly

I have accepted these kinds of challenges for all of these years because they were simply part of it and because opposition and difficulties are norms for servants of Christ. I’ve accepted them because I love Jesus with my whole heart and will serve Him to the death. God has worked all the challenges for good as He promises us He will and, even amid the frustrations and turmoil, I would not trade lives with a soul on earth. Even criticism, as much as we all hate it, is used by God to bring correction, endurance and humility and to curb our deadly addictions to the approval of man.

I accepted the peculiarities accompanying female leadership in a conservative Christian world because I chose to believe that, whether or not some of the actions and attitudes seemed godly to me, they were rooted in deep convictions based on passages from 1 Timothy 2 and 1 Corinthians 14.

Then early October 2016 surfaced attitudes among some key Christian leaders that smacked of misogyny, objectification and astonishing disesteem of women and it spread like wildfire. It was just the beginning. I came face to face with one of the most demoralizing realizations of my adult life: Scripture was not the reason for the colossal disregard and disrespect of women among many of these men. It was only the excuse. Sin was the reason. Ungodliness.

This is where I cry foul and not for my own sake. Most of my life is behind me. I do so for sake of my gender, for the sake of our sisters in Christ and for the sake of other female leaders who will be faced with similar challenges. I do so for the sake of my brothers because Christlikeness is at stake and many of you are in positions to foster Christlikeness in your sons and in the men under your influence. The dignity with which Christ treated women in the Gospels is fiercely beautiful and it was not conditional upon their understanding their place.

About a year ago I had an opportunity to meet a theologian I’d long respected. I’d read virtually every book he’d written. I’d looked so forward to getting to share a meal with him and talk theology. The instant I met him, he looked me up and down, smiled approvingly and said, “You are better looking than _________________________________.” He didn’t leave it blank. He filled it in with the name of another woman Bible teacher.

These examples may seem fairly benign in light of recent scandals of sexual abuse and assault coming to light but the attitudes are growing from the same dangerously malignant root. Many women have experienced horrific abuses within the power structures of our Christian world. Being any part of shaping misogynistic attitudes, whether or not they result in criminal behaviors, is sinful and harmful and produces terrible fruit. It also paints us continually as weak-willed women and seductresses. I think I can speak for many of us when I say we are neither interested in reducing or seducing our brothers.

The irony is that many of the men who will give consideration to my concerns do not possess a whit of the misogyny coming under the spotlight. For all the times you’ve spoken up on our behalf and for the compassion you’ve shown in response to “Me too,” please know you have won our love and gratitude and respect.

John Bisagno, my pastor for almost thirty years, regularly said these words: “I have most often seen that, when the people of God are presented with the facts, they do the right thing.” I was raised in ministry under his optimism and, despite many challenges, have not yet recovered from it. For this reason I write this letter with hope.

I’m asking for your increased awareness of some of the skewed attitudes many of your sisters encounter. Many churches quick to teach submission are often slow to point out that women were also among the followers of Christ (Luke 8), that the first recorded word out of His resurrected mouth was “woman” (John 20:15) and that same woman was the first evangelist. Many churches wholly devoted to teaching the household codes are slow to also point out the numerous women with whom the Apostle Paul served and for whom he possessed obvious esteem. We are fully capable of grappling with the tension the two spectrums create and we must if we’re truly devoted to the whole counsel of God’s Word.

Finally, I’m asking that you would simply have no tolerance for misogyny and dismissiveness toward women in your spheres of influence. I’m asking for your deliberate and clearly conveyed influence toward the imitation of Christ in His attitude and actions toward women. I’m also asking for forgiveness both from my sisters and my brothers. My acquiescence and silence made me complicit in perpetuating an atmosphere in which a damaging relational dynamic has flourished. I want to be a good sister to both genders. Every paragraph in this letter is toward that goal.

I am grateful for the privilege to be heard. I long for the day – have asked for the day – when we can sit in roundtable discussions to consider ways we might best serve and glorify Christ as the family of God, deeply committed to the authority of the Word of God and to the imitation of Christ. I am honored to call many of you friends and deeply thankful to you for your devotion to Christ. I see Him so often in many of you.

In His great name,

Beth

Because of some of the things Beth Moore brought out in her “A Letter to My Brothers,” the president and owner of the parent company of BCNN1, Daniel Whyte III, led by God, took the liberty to change the Apostle’s Creed and the Nicene Creed.

Baptist Preacher and Gospel Light Society President, Daniel Whyte III, Updates the Apostles’ Creed to Better Reflect Important Details of Jesus’ Resurrection

Daniel Whyte III, who happens to be a Baptist preacher, but who, for nearly thirty years, has read the Apostles’ Creed in family devotions with his wife and seven children, has taken the liberty to update it for the first time in hundreds of years.

According to the Lexham Bible Dictionary, “The Apostles’ Creed seems to represent some form of what the early church called the ‘rule of faith.’ The early Christians were guided by the ‘rule of faith,’ the Holy Spirit working in community and individuals, and the authoritative Scriptures. Before the ‘rule of faith’ was called such, there were general references to the teachings and traditions of the apostles. It is these core teachings that make up the Apostles’ Creed. Signs of these ‘core teachings’ are seen as early as the New Testament book of Hebrews, which speaks of a need for Christians to grasp and embrace the basic concepts of faith so that they can move into deeper parts of their Christian faith, while at the same time realizing how essential it is that they never depart from a core belief in the real and living Christ. The Apostles’ Creed represents a set of uncompromisable core beliefs for Christians. The Apostles’ Creed, like all creeds, functions like a filter for orthodoxy; it indicates what is and what is not ‘Christian.’ It is a public profession of belief in historic Christianity.”

Whyte made the change in the Apostles’ Creed because he believes the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus Christ should be included in the historic Christian affirmation. He states, “Perhaps the most important aspect of the post-Passion record are Jesus’ appearances to His followers. Obviously, Satan and the enemies of Christ did not want news to get out that Jesus had risen from the dead. As Paul said in 1 Corinthians 15:14, ‘If Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and our faith is also vain.’

“Thus, all of Jesus’ appearances after His resurrection are important, including His appearances to Mary Magdalene and the other women, His appearances to the disciples, and His appearance to over 500 brethren over the course of the 40 days following His resurrection. The record of these appearances in the Gospels and as recounted by Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 are important because they are eyewitness proof that Jesus was indeed alive in bodily form after His crucifixion.”

Whyte goes on to say, “The resurrection is a vital part of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. It is the one thing that universally sets Christianity apart from all other religions. We follow a Savior, Master, and Teacher who is alive. We, and the world, need to be reminded of that. A statement describing Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances should be included in the Apostles’ Creed because it is a part of the Gospel message. If we’re going to name Pilate, let’s name Mary Magdalene, the other women, the disciples, and the over 500 brethren.”

He recommends that all parents have family devotions (which used to be called “family altar”) each day. For those who have little children, Whyte urges parents to teach their young ones about the faith using this ancient statement of Christian belief.

The updates to the creed are in red and underlined below:

The Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, the Maker of Heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:

Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried;

He descended into hell. The third day He arose again from the dead;

He was seen alive by Mary Magdalene and the other women, the disciples, and over 500 other brethren; He ascended into Heaven, and sitteth on the Right Hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.

Amen.

– BCNN1 Editors

With “A Letter to My Brothers,” Prophetess Beth Moore Will be Remembered in Church History With the Likes of Martin Luther King Jr., Billy Graham, Anne Graham-Lotz, and Other Church Leaders was originally published on BCNN1 - Black Christian News Network

[consciousowl]

What Makes Buddha So Cool?

You may have a couple friends leading an exemplary life that feel no need for God. They are highly educated, scientific and technically savvy. They even have philosophic depth, and delight in Sci-Fi blockbusters.

You may have gone into deep conversation in matters of ultimate concern, finding them very uncomfortable with conventional, organized religion, but with a soft spot for Buddha. “You know, if I had to pick any religion, it would definitely be Buddhism.”

How could Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, 2,500 years ago, be so adept at addressing the sensibilities of contemporary people, such as the brilliant American philosopher, Ken Wilbur?​

NONE: America’s Fastest Growing Religion

In recent decades, no one denomination can claim to be the fastest growing, whether Christian, Jewish or Muslim. You can be Orthodox, Conservative or Reformed. You can be ultra-liberal, such as the Universalist-Unitarians, patron of many of our best authors. It doesn’t matter.

A new generation is emerging with Millennials increasingly dropping out from church, mosque or synagogue. They do this, not out of any kind of spite, but simply because they don’t find this form of religion very relevant to being spiritual or attaining ultimate realization. They would more readily look to psychoactive drugs and meditation.

The numbers suggest that 20% of our youth don’t go to any kind of religious institution on a regular basis. Yet only one-third are atheists. What about the rest? They are “spiritual, but not religious.” They put a higher value on spirituality than most people in pews. They can now go to Google, iTunes or YouTube to seek enlightenment. Here they have instant access to Eastern Philosophy and Religion.​

Religion of No Religion

Five hundred years before Christ, Buddha actually beat Socrates in placing supreme value on knowing yourself. It didn’t matter what your caste was in India, whether you were male or female, you had a right to know the truth. Let the gods be the gods, but WHO AM I?

It is said that Buddha instantly saw the highest potential in this incarnation of everyone he met. Having awoken to who he truly was, he devoted his entire life to making that experientially accessible to whomever he met. He started a global movement that has yet to see its limit.

Think of the Dalai Lama. Buddhism is a way of being.​

You didn’t need to learn rituals, recite authoritative scriptures or master the intricacies of theology. You just needed to tune into your experience, observe your mind until you transcended it and come to the realization that you are one with it all, that you are the space, or context, out of which everything occurs.

Suffering? You’re Never Alone

Buddha was a crown prince with an overprotective father who shielded him from the ugly side of life. Siddhartha wined and dined with a profusion of dancing girls. Anything he wanted, he got instantly. Yet he was still not satisfied. One day, he came across a sick man, then an old decrepit man, and finally a dead corpse being carried off. Siddhartha came to the shocking realization that everything he was taught to believe in was phony.

Siddhartha chose to drop out, leaving his lovely wife and newborn son in the night, knowing they would be well cared for. He had to find the truth at any price, hinted at by the sannyasins he had met earlier who had dropped out, and told him of another way.

Accordingly, Siddhartha followed the path of asceticism until he became skin and bones, and yet he still couldn’t arrive at the truth. Being a genius and very well-educated, he wandered off from his companions, took food from a maiden and sat under a banyan tree until he would find both the truth about suffering, and the end of suffering.​

Enlightenment as an Institution

As a would be king, Siddhartha dreamt of a society in which enlightenment was everyone’s birthright. To do this, he would need to awaken, himself, and then find a way to catalyze that awakening in others. Not only that, Siddhartha would need to teach a generation of Indians so well that they would, in turn, teach others.

Siddhartha took anyone who wanted to follow him as a beggar. They simply needed to shave their hair and put on an ochre robe. They would follow and listen, forever asking questions. They would consider, not only what he said, but how he said it, and to whom. They would even reach toward the possibility of a silent, wordless transmission, as found in Zen.

The Buddha had the good fortune to be accompanied by men with flawless minds who remembered what he said in intricate detail. He created a mission statement upon his deathbed: Suffering, and the end of suffering. He kept it simple in the Four Noble Truths, and the Eightfold Path. All of us can count to at least ten. In doing this, he set the stage for the world’s first universal “religion.”​

The World’s First University

The institution of enlightenment within India had a profound impact upon South Asian civilization, ultimately transforming East Asia, and to a considerable extent, all the world. This process was accelerated by a young emperor, Ashoka, who, sick of the futility of conquest, decided to take up Buddhism for himself and institutionalize its principles.

Ashoka sent out missionaries to Sri Lanka, Southeast Asia, China and even the Mediterranean, which had become relevant after Alexander the Great’s attempted invasion. Buddhism had started as a dialogue and most of the sutras are in dialogue form, which makes them easier to remember. Truth is always anchored in experience. The ideal emerged to be “omniperspectival,” to recognize and honor every point of view.

Centuries later, Nalanda, in North India, was built as a major university where people all over the known world, including China, would come to learn. It would last from the 400’s C.E. to the 1200’s C.E. People learned the dialectic, very similar to that of Socrates, to an exquisitely fine degree. They would polish their expertise with vigorous debates as a public spectacle, competing for actual prizes.​

Hinduism Distilled for Export

The great Anglo-American philosopher, Alan Watts, who popularized Zen Buddhism, taught that Buddhism stripped Hinduism down to its bare essentials. It could then be understood by anyone, and transcend the borders of the Indus River Valley civilization.

You will hear of karma, dharma and reincarnation. However, Buddha redefined them in broader terms that might apply to anyone. Karma simply met you create what is happening. Dharma went beyond caste to your personal mission or destiny. Reincarnation was no longer dreaded, but something that could be transcended in a single lifetime.

Buddhism readily adapted to wherever it went, starting with China and Southeast Asia, Tibet and Japan and finally America. Each country and civilization got its essentials and reinterpreted it within its own cultural framework. When you realize that Buddhism is really an educational system for enlightenment, this makes sense.​

Incomparable Track Record of Peace

When we look at the great religious traditions, we find that Buddhism has inspired less wars, armed conflict or violence than almost any other faith. Granted, we recently see exceptions, such as in Sri Lanka and Myanmar. However, the long-term trend since Ashoka threw down his sword has been peace, noninjury, a recognition that all life is sacred and every human incarnation an incomparable opportunity.

The key lies in Buddha’s focus on suffering, and the means to alleviate it. Buddha never promised to eliminate physical pain. Rather, he focused on the mental and spiritual discomfort which make pain all the worse.

For example, a mother threw her dead son at Buddha’s feet, asking him to raise him from the dead. Buddha turned to her and asked her to go to every house in her village and find a family that hadn’t lost a member. She did, and of course, ended up following him.

Buddhism delivers peace in a way that could profit the Abrahamic religions, which all use “Peace” as their greeting. This has to do with its methodology to have people effectively deal with their monkey minds.

When the mind is still, you become peaceful with a powerful presence. You need not resort to violence. To the enlightened mind, violence, itself, is actually a form of weakness.

Buddha Our First Scientist

Siddhartha encouraged his followers to continuously question him as a way of learning. They were not to take his word as authority. They were not to “believe” in anything he said. They were encouraged to experientially prove their path to the very end of their lives.

Buddha was not born in the priestly class, but rather as a warrior and ruler. He had a very practical edge keener than most any other spiritual master. He made careful observations at a very deep level. He early on saw the interrelatedness of all things, which Thich Nhat Hanh calls INTERBEING. He thereby anticipated systems theory and quantum physics.

The Dalai Lama, in The Universe within an Atom, maintained that if a Buddhist tenet conflicts with contemporary science, it should be rejected. However, he also suggested that Buddhism, itself, is an inner science that perfectly complements the West’s empirical tradition. As I learned from Werner Erhard, deeply influenced by Zen, “Allow that which is to BE.”​

Believe in God? Try Experiencing Him!

You may be either Theistic, or Nontheistic in your orientation. You may prefer a personalized view of reality, or an impersonal view. You may prefer to think of “God” in the first, second or third person: “I,” “You,” or “It.” This will depend to a large degree on whichever faith tradition you were brought up.

In any case, we are all talking about the same God, our Source, the Supreme Self.

NONES, agnostics and atheists resonate to Buddhism because of its experiential, nondogmatic, pragmatic character. Why try to believe in God when you can immediately experience “It”? For many people, meditation is the fastest way to a direct hit. While psychoactive drugs have their uses, they are better as a means of opening up to the Transcendent than a means to sustain the experience.

Buddhism goes with any religion, because, at heart, it is profoundly educational and therapeutic. It shows you in very elegant terms how to go within and make contact. You can do this as a Christian, Muslim, Jewish Person or humanist.

It needn’t destroy your faith. Rather, it can illuminate your own tradition and make it real in a way it never was before. Very often, Westerners who go into Eastern philosophy and religion go back to their own Abrahamic tradition… only transformed. For example, I am a Universalist who finds my “home” on the interfaith map as a Christian / Hindu, or Hindu / Christian. While I have implicit faith in the Person of Christ, I am convinced that India has by far the best map of reality.​

Meet Buddha as Yourself

Youth may also resonate with Buddha, because he never claimed to be a god. He dedicated his life to empowering you to come to the same realization as he did. He laid it all out step-by-step. He was a learner, just as we are learners. Siddhartha Gautama didn’t become the Buddha (The Awoken One) to separate himself from us, but so that we could become one with him.

You will find great delight in studying Buddhism, either through courses, books and lectures, or through actual meditation and spiritual community, the Buddhist sangha’s. Have no fear. If your faith is well-grounded, it will never disappear. Rather, it will become a much deeper part of you and be immeasurably enriched by your personal encounter with Buddha.​

What Makes Buddha So Cool? appeared first on http://consciousowl.com.

[chadhowsefitness]

New Post has been published on Bringing Back Manliness | Alpha Male | Chad Howse Fitness

New Post has been published on http://chadhowsefitness.com/2017/02/show-thyself-a-man

SHOW THYSELF A MAN

Lying on his deathbed, a dying king turns to his son with some final words of wisdom…

“I go the way of all the earth: be thou strong therefore, and show thyself a man.”

I have a great relationship with my old man. He’s taught me a lot in life, not necessarily by words, but through his actions. As such, he probably has no clue how much he’s taught me. If he were lying on his deathbed and he reached out and told me to be strong and to show thyself a man, it would be last words that would inspire me, puzzle me, and guide me for the rest of my days. Those final words that David whispers to his son in a last attempt to make amends for bad parenthood and to give some final guidance so his son doesn’t make the same mistakes he did, are a culmination of what a father should be teaching his son from day one.

Self-Reliance

Most men know that they should be teaching self-reliance and not dependence, but their actions are out of line with their intentions. They may not be actively doing it, but they’re teaching a dependence on things, others, and maybe vices, without ever really knowing what they’re doing. If my old man taught me dependence, it would be in two areas: God and books. I’m more than okay with that. I agree with it and am thankful for it.

He didn’t teach me to be dependent on things, where most of the kids I grew up with were taught so. It starts with what they give and buy you, but also where they, the father, find joy. (Read This: The Death of Self-Reliance)

Walk into my old man’s office and you’re surrounded by books. Walk into his bedroom, and there are books on the floor around his bed waiting to be read at night. He gets joy from reading and I constantly see him with his nose buried in a book. The latest vehicle is of little concern. The nicest clothes or the biggest TV don’t guide him to work harder or save money. The problem with many of us, myself included, is that we aspire to have things to give us a jolt, more meaning in our lives, a bright spot in an otherwise monotonous day.

We buy things we don’t need with money we don’t have to impress people we don’t like.

Fight Club is a wonderful film, and that sentence makes it entirely worth the watch on its own. To aspire to acquire things is to work to become dependent. As a man, it’s important to draw the line between what you own and what owns you. When we talk about self-reliance we’re mostly referring to the skills that allow us to survive and thrive on our own. The handyman is seen as self-reliant, as is the hunter. But our dependence on things is increasingly apparent. We don’t simply buy them to use them, we buy them and we allow them to use us. We become dependent on the feeling that we get with the purchase. It takes us away from our monotony, from the bigger questions in life, and gives us a brief feeling of power.

Self-reliance must also include power over the things we buy, which must also include an understanding of why we’re buying them and who we’re buying them for.

The other self-reliance, the skillset, is stuff we can and should learn. My old man set this example, once again. As a guy who didn’t want to pay someone else to do something that he was sure he could do, he, with no experience, did the deck and the bathroom and a bunch of other projects around the house. This was before Youtube, but when the “for Dummies” series was at its height.

There is wasting time doing things that you could get someone else to do. That does exist. If I spend two days working on my bathroom, that’s two days spent not working on my business, taking food out of my son’s mouth (my dog). But to learn the skills that enable you to take care of your abode and not depend on someone else to fix what is yours gives pride that cannot be measured in dollars. It’s this form of self-reliance that has been lost.

When David told his son to show thyself a man, self-reliance had to be in the equation. If my old man whispers those same instructions, self-reliance will cross my mind and it will stay in my mind until I pass that incredible call to action to my own son.

Stand for What’s Right

There’s a reason why “stand for” is stand for and not sit for or lie for or think for or wish for. Standing is a position of power and action. When you’re standing you’re ready to fight, to do battle, to defend.

To show thyself a man isn’t just about thought or intent. When that call to action, one similar to Man the Fuck Up!, is put out into the world, it’s expected that the man will stand for what he knows to be good and just and right. He will stand, and fight, for his values, no matter how unpopular they are.  To show thyself a man is to stand for something greater than the individual. It’s to stand and fight and defend something beyond one’s own gain and one’s own fortune in life.

This is an important part of the book. Though the call to action is to pick your own ass up and become self-reliant, strong, successful, and a man of action, a man in the arena, there must be something greater that propels you and guides you. For David is was God. For you it may be your family. It may be the future family you want to defend. It may be your belief in something that you just can’t label or figure out just yet; set of beliefs, a philosophy, it may be your Maker, but it cannot only be you.

Do What You Must

I grew up with a wonderful dog. He was my best friend. Just a wee pup, not like Teddy, the Dogo Argentino I now have. He was mischievous and even a little arrogant. He was the Napoleon of the dog park. As soon as he saw other dogs he tried to put himself in a power position even though he was but 18 pounds.

The dog lived a long life, but toward the end he started to slip. My folks went back and forth on putting him down. My dear mother would call then cancel when he showed a bit of life. There’s nothing I wanted more than to have him healed and to eek out a few more years of life. But with each passing hour I could see that it was time. So I called the vet, took him, and spent his final minutes with my hand on his head.

That was tough. Tears welled up. I’d been with the dog since I was 12. He’d sleep on my bed. Welcome me home from school with a wagging tail and screams of happiness. I am not an archetype for manliness, not close. I’m still learning what it is to be a man, largely from my old man. But in this instance I understood what had to be done and I did it.

What must be done is rarely what’s most easily done. It’s the man of the house that works long hours at a job he hates to put food in the mouths of his wife and kids. It’s the man of the house that keeps a bat under his bed or a gun in his nightstand in case the house gets robbed and he has to defend. It’s the man who removes the hornets nest from out back or takes the dog to the vet to be put down, even though he tears up all the way there and all the way back.

It isn’t that the man feels nothing. No, he feels the same pain and anguish. He feels sad for those who cannot survive off of what they have, but he understands the necessity to give people an opportunity to earn rather than giving them sustenance.

When David said, show thyself a man, he in part had to mean show thyself worthy of the moniker, man. Show, not think, not theorize, but show. It’s in the sometimes ruthless actions that men must take to defend their tribe or feed their clan that they show themselves to be men. The men unwilling to see the world as it is and do what’s necessary to survive and thrive in it are relegated to the pussified existence of a victim.