#being raised christian (always being reminded that bad thoughts and actions will send you to hell)

[tittyinfinity]

I overshare online because I need constant validation that every thought and action of mine is Good and Okay and Normal. Surely this is a healthy coping mechanism

[writingstudent]

Handle Me

Ivar x Reader 

Warning: possible triggers, mature themes

You shifted awkwardly in your chair, hands immediately going to smooth down the skirt of your floor length dress. It was not often that you wore such dresses, or any dresses for that matter. Being born on a farm and raised without a woman in your life, you were not a graceful being. You were a shield maiden, a fierce fighter. This has earned you several scars among your body, that littered it alongside the several tattoos that you had been given as sign of comradeship with your other fellow soldiers.

It was an understatement to say that you felt uncomfortable as you sat down next to the usual flower picking girls around the table. You were sitting next to Ubbe, who had Margrethe on his other side. He must have picked up on your awkwardness when you had first entered the dining hall and quickly motioned for you to sit down next to him. You were very grateful, and finally realized why almost all the women in Kattegat melted at the sight of him – not only was he attractive, but he was also a very caring man.

A hand suddenly clamped upon your lower calf. You let out a small yelp, and your battle reflexes immediately took over, making you take whatever you had in your hand (which happened to be a fork) and slam it onto the arm that was holding your leg in a vicious grip. Luckily for your attacker, he quickly moved his arm away. Your fork was now stuck halfway into the wooden floor, its hilt bent oddly towards a side.

“Impressive.”

A small growl left your throat at his condescending tone, and your mind was quickly clouded with anger. You whipped your head around, and crabbed your attacker by the collar of his shirt, snarling in his face. That is when you realized, that you were looking at Ivar’s mesmerizing blue eyes. Odin.. you thought. You were holding Ivar Ragnarsson up by the collar, while snarling menacingly at him. It was worse than writing, signing and sending your death wish to the gods. Your lips were also a few mere centimeters from Ivar’s plump pink ones.

“Now, I do like it when a woman knows how to manhandle me.” You could taste the ale in his breath due to your proximity. You shuddered at his sultry tone, needing to take a deep breath to resettle yourself. You quickly let go of his collar, letting him fall back to the ground unceremoniously.

Ubbe next to you chuckled, clearly amused by the scene he had just witnessed. “Are you alright Y/N? I have to say, it is certainly a pleasure to see a woman finally be able to put Ivar back in his place. ” He laughed whole-heartedly, getting louder at your horrified expression.

“E-excuse me, my reflexes took over.” You lowered your head in shame, nervously tugging your dress lower to cover your legs again. The ink that swirled around your lower thighs and the back of your knees covered the scars that you could not help but hate looking at.

The small bench you were sitting on shook slightly as Ivar heaved himself onto it, smirking as he made sure to keep very little space between the two of you. “Ivar, I don’ -”

You were cut off from protesting as Aslaug stood up, demanding silence in order to make a toast. It was an unwritten rule that one was not to leave the table or change seats since the delivery of the toast – unless such is requested or approved by the queen. You did not wish to fall out of her good graces, and hence you could do nothing to offend her crippled son, which she watched and fawned over constantly.  

“The gods have blessed us on our past raid! We have shown these Christians who we are, ruthless, violent and blood-thirsty Vikings. We have to thank our fiercest and most notable fighters – Ubbe, Y/n, Sig-…. ”

The list went on, but you had drowned out the sound of the rest of her speech. Pride bubbled in your chest, as you grinned lazily at the queen, winking as you lifted up your cup towards her. She didn’t seem to be able to resist the temptation to laugh at you and nod approvingly of your gesture.

You could feel the curious glances of the Vikings weighing upon your body, looking you up and down as if to seize you up and understand how you could ever be a fighter. But there was gaze that seemed to burn you. You did not have to look at him to feel his eye shift, frantically scanning over your face and then lowering to your chest abdomen and to your legs. You weren’t sure if you wanted to turn your head or not – on one hand, you could have told him off and ended the awkward sensation of tinkling throughout your body, while on the other you could have simply remained quiet, and would not have to burden yourself with seeing his reaction. The cold fingers of a shiver traced your spine. His reaction.

He kept looking, but this time his gaze was lingering well below your chin, and focusing on your body instead. Your shoulders, too wide after all the training and preparing for battle, your stomach too strong to hide properly within the corset of the dress. Then came your legs. You grimaced simply thinking about them. You had been severely injured multiple times in battle, leading to your legs becoming a fascinating display of scars. You hated them, and always felt uncomfortable at their sight. They had grown old, and no longer protruded your legs’ natural shape, but instead simple marked your skin with odd patterns of light – like an artist scratching out his unwanted sketch. Unwanted, that is what they were.

You had attempted to cover them up with ink, but nevertheless they were not as feminine and elegant as they once had been.

You tense suddenly when a calloused hand grabs onto your knee. It does not move, yet instead it holds you forcefully, giving you a slight squeeze.

“What were you saying Y/N?” His breath fanned upon your neck, spreading a searing warmth throughout your body – adding to that of his gaze.

You gulped. “I don’t think that we should sit so close together.”

Hurt quickly flashed upon his face, but was replaced with his capricious fury. “What?” He hissed, pulling your knee towards himself and making you face him in the process. “Are you afraid of sitting next to the cripple?” His tone was getting lower and so was the volume of his voice, but his words were getting as menacing as ever. “Are you afraid that my legs will somehow infect yours? That you will not be able to flaunt anymore, or go around as the battalion’s hellcat?”

You squared your shoulders, relaxing as you arrived back into your familiar territory of sentiments and discussions. As a woman, you were often accused of such actions, and being a shield maiden you were one quick to violence.

You stared him straight into the eyes, challenging him purposefully this time. You were blinded by your own uncontrollable anger, and you could feel your fear and uncertainty slip away instantly. He wanted a show? He will get a show.

“Why? Did you sit next to me hoping that your legs would learn from mine?” Your snarled back at him, your upper lip lifting slightly in repulsion at the force he was applying to your kneecap.

His eyes widened and a hand quickly wrapped around your throat, squeezing it mercilessly and almost blocking your air passageway. You continue glaring at him, nearly unfazed by his violent reaction, but your face softens as you look down at your legs. You spent what seemed like hours in this silence, knowing that you would have a blooming bruise on your throats the next day. "There's nothing to flaunt anyways" you rasped out, your voice sounding very airy due to Ivars hold on your neck. Confusion took over his features, and he slackened his hold. " Why? " " it's nothing that anyone would want to see. Wake up Ivar, look around you. There are plenty of pretty women, elegant and gracious, made for the soul purpose of ring wives. Even the servants and slaves would look better." You were whispering now. Ivars hand simply rested on your neck, no longer doing anything to harm you. But these words did. These thoughts. Why were you telling him anyways ? It's not like he could have ever understood. He was a prince, and a man for that fact, he took whatever he wanted. " Why would anyone want me if they could have anyone better?” 

“Darling,” Ivar drawled out, his sarcastic demeanor returning, “do I need to remind you that you are sitting next to the cripple?“ A puffed chuckle passed through his lips. 

He took his hand away from your neck, but his other found its way back to your calf, kneading it softly. He leaned in closely, “I do not believe that they are as bad as you describe them to be. How about you let me the judge of that tonight? ” 

Your heart hammered into your chest, excitement rushing through your veins. Gods, what you wanted to do to him. In just a few minutes he had made you shy, furious, uncomfortable and back to a stuttering puddle. 

Ivar’s calloused hand began sliding up dangerously, snapping you out of your thoughts immediately. 

 “Plus, like I said before, I wish for a woman who can handle me. I lust for a warrior, fierce, cunning and beautiful.”Ivar added , after having sensed your discomfort. “You Y/N, seem like the perfect choice.” He nipped at your earlobe teasingly. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue pushed out a quick gasp, your mouth watering at the sensation. 

“Now, the question is, can you handle me, darling?” 

You once again found yourself staring in his sea blue eyes, remaining mesmerized. You didn’t have time to think before you crashed your mouth onto his. The passion in your kiss was feral, your teeth clashing as neither could restrain themselves. 

Yes, you certainly could. 

[bichristian]

In Which a Dog Taught Me How to Do Matthew 18:15 the Right Way

If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. Matt 18:15 (NIV)

Yep. A dog. A Portuguese Water Dog, to be specific. His name is Cashel (his sister’s name is Gallway’s Girl, so there’s some sort of theme with the naming I think). It’s a bit of a story, so bear with me. Skim over the first bit if you like.

Now, I’ve grown up with dogs. I’ve petsat dogs before; I have never petsat a dog like Cashel.

I was raised in a military house. I watched my family train dogs to be obedient. We also went for wheaten terriers (think docile and not too bright), though more for the kid-friendly/non-shedding factor. Yes there was a system of rewards, but we expected a grown dog to respond to commands WITHOUT continual praise or rewards. All the dogs I’ve petsat will at least respond to my call to come. And let me sleep.

Cashel is... not that dog.  He is strong willed, barks at me all the time (very loudly), is obstinate, tries to steal anything and everything off the counter (including my medications) and continually wakes me up (I haven’t gotten a solid six hours of sleep since starting this gig). There are other things, but this comes off the top of my head (oh, he also refuses to come when called; if he comes it’s cause I bribed him or he feels like it). His sister is not like this (she’s like him scaled down; she’ll at least be somewhat reasonable), so it’s not ALL nurture. He was at least partially born an ass (a butt, if you wish to be PG). Based on what I know of the owners, these dogs are Spoiled.

Today it came to a head. I am under orders to make sure they go out (and have been woken often enough even when I do this) before bed. Cashel was... not really doing that. It became a barking-ordering match. Eventually I gave up, cause I was exhausted and Done (reminder that I am on sleep deprivation for the last five days; those of you with depression/anxiety know that this is a good route to a nervous breakdown). It took a treat to just get him back inside, because apparently he was Done with me.

Long story short: he refused to go to the bedroom with me (a requirement from the owners) and for a bit refused to even let me touch him. Eventually I managed to bribe him with a treat enough to let me pet him and I gave him a good rub down. Still took a trail of treats to get him into bedroom, but that eventually got me back into his good graces.

This made me realize that I was going into this gig with the wrong sort of strategy. I was expecting them to be like the dogs I had grown up with and looked after; essentially, ones that responded to commands and had been trained in a specific way (or any way). Cashel needed some encouragement and love if he was going to work with me. And it wasn’t like I was trying to be selfish. If he consumed people food, it could mess with his stomach. If he ate my pills, he could poison himself. If he doesn’t go outside, self explanatory issues happen.

In the end, I truly only want good things for him (even if he gets on my nerves). Which means he has to follow some rules, even if he doesn’t like it. And rather than the usual commands, I have to use a bit of love and affection (and treats) to do the convincing for me.

The point of this long-winded story (I’m chatty when I am sleep deprived) is this: I have seen Christians approach discipline the same way. And in many ways we have justified the “plank vs speck” retort. However, as Jesus said, confronting your brother or sister about sin is not necessarily being a hypocrite. It’s not about throwing the first stone. And it’s something we should do. But how you do it matters. You cannot come from a place of judgement. Remind yourself that their sin isn’t worse or better than yours. In the end, without Jesus it’s going to send us all to the same place anyway. It’s not about self-righteousness or making them feel bad about themselves.

Instead, you must come from a place of love. You must approach your confrontation with a kind, gentle, loving mindset. This is for them. This is for their good. You are doing this because they’re doing something that is not good for them. God doesn’t put in the laws for no reason. It may be a sin that ruins their relationships (lying, cheating, stealing), hurts themselves (alcoholism), or hurts others (gossiping, adultery); and yes, I know that some overlap categories, but moving on. Whatever it is, God told us we shouldn’t do it for a reason. Since he’s an omnipresent, omnipotent God, it seems like he might have a good idea about what is and what isn’t good for us.

Think of it as how you would help a friend fix a broken relationship, because that’s what it is. Their sin is hurting them, and their relationship with God. Always emphasize the love. That you love them now, just as they are, just as God loves them. And that you want the best for them. Should they respond positively, don’t end the conversation there. Offer to help them, be it an accountability partner, a willing ear, or whatever they may need. Friends and support are vital in those times.

Do all things in love, in kindness, and in faith. Before, during, and after, be strong in prayer so that the Holy Spirit may guide your actions and thoughts. Do not be frustrated or allow yourself to become angry if they respond defensively or angrily (it doesn’t help). Speaking from personal experience, it’s not fun to be told you’re doing something wrong. Especially something that is disappointing or angering God. No matter what happens, keep them in prayer. Either that their hearts may be opened, or that God will continue to help them while they work on confronting and battling their own sin. Though don’t forget to pray for yourself and your own fights. God doesn’t forget about you and your struggles.

May God bless all of you, give you joy and and peace, and keep love in your hearts for all your days. GLYASDI.

[fae-fucker]

The One: Chapter 20

Ok, only 11 chapters to go. We’re almost there.

The other girls freak out on America, with Elise saying that America has to follow the king’s rules and we get this:

“Maybe the rules are wrong!” I screamed [...]

You’ve seen torture and supposedly lived in poverty thanks to Clarkson’s rules, and it took you three books to arrive at a “maybe”? 

*sigh*

Anyhoo, America gets pulled away by the royal family to get a good talking to, and again we see how the evil Big Bad King Clarkson is a completely useless, incompetent doink and thus a very weak and pathetic villain:

“You swore!” he bellowed. “You said she was under control. First the outburst on the Report, then you nearly get yourself killed on the roof, and now this? It ends today, Maxon.”

Though to be fair, a villain must be this weak and incompetent for America to triumph. Anybody more intelligent and she’d be dead in a week.

This supposedly super evil mastermind who orders little kids tortured can’t have one dumb bitch executed or even assassinated and paint it as an accident. 

This is honestly so fucking sad. Like literally, he’s only this incompetent because if he were A BIT, just A SMIDGE more intelligent, this whole plot would’ve crumbled.

“Father, did you hear the cheers? People appreciate her sympathy. She’s your greatest asset right now.”

“I beg your pardon?” His voice was an iceberg, slow and deadly.

Maxon paused a moment at the chill but continued. “When she suggested that people defend themselves, the public responded positively. I daresay the reason more people aren’t dead is because of her. And this? Father, I couldn’t put a man in jail for life over what was supposed to be a petty crime. How can you expect that from someone who’s probably seen more than her fair share of friends beaten for less? She’s refreshing. The majority of the population is in the lower castes, and they relate to her.”

I had to read that, and now so do you. (Also, wtf is that iceberg metaphor?)

Clarkson says that he let America stay because she keeps Maxon ... focused?

Guys, I’m gonna cry.

“Clarkson, perhaps—” He silenced the queen with a look, and whatever her opinion was fell away.

CAN YOU SMELL THE FEMINISM IN THE AIR. KIERA CASS IS SURE ALL ABOUT THAT SWEET SWEET FEMALE EMPOWERMENT! SO MANY STRONK FEMAL CHARACTAAARS!!

“These girls have been disastrous. Even the Asian’s connections have done nothing for me. [...]”

You’re just an incompetent twat then. Oh wait. 

I mean, first we get to hear that he doesn’t need “connections” in France and then it turns out he has political problems with the French, and now he claims that he can’t use the “Asian’s” (ew) connections even though he’s in desperate need of them. 

Whatever bro. Just die already.

Clarkson suggests that they send all the current girls away and Maxon gets to hand-pick out new random girls. Because misogyny? Kiera Cass sure loves it! Clarkson mentions a “French girl” (Daphne was it? I can’t remember) and America ... Well, she’s America:

I lowered my eyes. Maxon had never mentioned a French girl.

It genuinely felt as if someone took a chisel and chipped a crack in my heart.

HE HAD OTHER GIRLFRIENDS?!?!?!? EVEN THOUGH HE TOLD ME OVER AND OVER THAT HE’S NEVER FELT LOVE BEFORE AND THAT I WAS HIS FIRST?!?!?!?!?!?!??! I WILL BELIEVE CLARKSON’S OBVIOUS ATTEMPTS AT MANIPULATION, EVEN WHEN KNOWING HE HATES ME, OVER THE WORDS OF THE MAN I SUPPOSEDLY LOVE!

Hey, Kiera? Your characters are shit and I hate them.

Maxon seems to be struggling to make a decision. I ... don’t understand why Clarkson doesn’t just ... decide for him? He IS the king. Idk, Kiera Logic, I guess.

“Either way, you should ask yourself if that,” [Clarkson] said, pointing to me again, “is someone you could really spend your life with. Dramatic, selfish, money hungry, and, to be quite honest, very plain. Look at her, son.”

But we all know she’s gorgeous, so this is only there to show how EVIL the king is.

I do love his epic burn though. You know you’re in trouble when the antagonist we’re all supposed to hate has a point about your main character being a selfish twat. 

“I’ll give you a few days. For now there’s the press to deal with. Amberly.”

The queen scurried over, placing her arm through the king’s, leaving us alone and speechless.

FEMINISM.

America leaves to angst. She thinks about the consequences of her actions for five seconds before going back to the things that really matter:

And as frivolous as it was when I considered everything else going on, I couldn’t stop thinking about this French girl. Why hadn’t Maxon mentioned her? Was she here a lot? Why would he keep her a secret?

At least she acknowledges it’s frivolous, I guess. Progress?

The other girls come in to keep her company. 

Kriss giggled. “None of us is an Amberly, are we?”

“I like shocking people too much,” Celeste said with a smile.

“And I’d rather hide than do half the things she has to.” Elise ducked her head.

“I’m too wild.” I shrugged my shoulders, embracing my faults.

“I’ll never have her confidence,” Kriss mourned.

EMBRACING MY FAULTS. I’M GONNA PISS.

KIERA CASS, YOU CAN’T FRAME THIS AS A FLAW WHEN EVERY BOOK HAS GLORIFIED AMERICA’S “WILD” (pff) NATURE. AND SHE SAYS “FAULTS” BUT MENTIONS ONE THING THAT ISN’T EVER FRAMED AS A FAULT BUT AS A QUIRKY GOOD THING THAT EVERYONE ELSE JUST DOESN’T UNDERSTAND!

STOP BEING SO CHEAP AND TRANSPARENT, HOLY SHIT.

Kiera Cass is so American and such a Good Christian™ that she considers AMERICA to be “wild”. I’m gonna fucking cry holy shit??

Celeste apologizes for all the shitty things she did. This honestly is a refreshing scene that FINALLY shows the solidarity that supposedly exists between these girls. Too bad Kiera will still kill Celeste for being a dirty slut. 

Celeste had apparently put bleach in Elise’s shampoo.

Elise nodded. “I missed a morning in the Women’s Room so my maids could dye it back.” She turned from me to Celeste. “I knew it was you,” she confessed calmly.

Celeste hung her head, absolutely mortified. “You didn’t speak, you barely did anything. In my eyes, you were the easiest target, and I was shocked you never broke.”

WHY IS ELISE NOT PICKED YET!!!! SHE’S FUCKING AMAZING HOLY SHIT?!?!?! America would throw a shitfit if this happened to her!

“I would never dishonor my family by quitting,” Elise said. I loved her conviction, even if I didn’t completely understand it.

Why does this feel vaguely racist?

“All the same, I don’t think he wants me. Even if he did,” [Celeste] added, pulling her hands from mine to tidy up her eye makeup, “someone recently reminded me that I don’t need a man to get what I want out of life.”

Your attempts at feminism are pathetic, Kiera. Especially when the person who “reminded” her of this can’t survive without a man.

Elise didn’t waver, staring Celeste down. I braced myself for her vicious words now that Celeste was finally at her mercy.

“I could tell him. America and Kriss would be my witnesses, and Maxon would have to send you home.”

MY GIRL ELISE. DO IT! BE A POLITICIAN DAMMIT! SINCE NOBODY ELSE IN THIS BOOK KNOWS WHAT IT IS, YOU’D FUCKING RULE THE WORLD!

“It’s always on my mind,” Elise confessed. “I have to hold on to it however I can, especially since I’ll be an embarrassment to my family if I don’t win.”

“How is it your fault if he’s the one doing the choosing?” Kriss asked, shifting her weight and settling back in. “How would that make you an embarrassment?”

Elise turned in more, moving from one worry to another. “Because of the arranged-marriage thing. The best girls get the best men and vice versa. Maxon is the height of perfection. If I lose, it means that I wasn’t good enough. My family won’t think about the feelings behind his choice, which is what I’m sure he’ll judge by. They’ll look at it logically. My breeding, my talents—I was raised to be worthy of the best, so if I’m not, then who will have me when I leave?”

Again, this feels racist? No? Just me?

They talk about stuff and it’s all summarized and America talks about how great it is, bla bla bla.

Celeste had been raised to be a specific kind of pretty. That beauty depended on covering things up, shifting the light, and seeking to be perfect at all times. But there is a different kind of beauty that comes with humility and honesty, and she was glowing with it now.

Yeah. You hear that, girls? BE HUMBLE OR BE A NASTY FAKE BITCH. Nice Christian™ values shoved down your throat by our very own misogynistic trash can Kiera Cass. 

Maxon sneaks in and Elise addresses him as “Your Majesty”, which is a shame, since she’s the most politically savvy person in here. It’s “Your Highness”, because he’s a prince. Only his parents are “Majesties”

“Ladies.” He nodded his head back at us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I think I just ruined something here.”

We looked at one another, and I felt sure I wasn’t the only one thinking, No, you made something really amazing.

FEMINISM. ALL THIS FEMALE FRIENDSHIP AND SOLIDARITY??? OBVIOUSLY THANKS TO A MAN!!!

Hey Kiera, why do you hate women so much? :))) Did they eat your dog?? STEAL your man???

The other girls leave so Maxon can have a special talk with America.

It’s all about how the people ADORE her (that’s the word used, yes), and how Clarkson’s TERRIFIED of her (that’s the expression used, yes) but can’t eliminate her because that would ... uh ... 

Anyway, America, because she’s proven time and time again that she has her priorities straight, asks Maxon about his French friend.

“Daphne is my friend. That’s all she ever could be. I spent my life waiting for you, for all of you. This was my chance to find a wife, and I’ve known that for as long as I can remember. Romantically, my interactions with Daphne were nonexistent. I’d never have thought to mention her name to you, and I’m certain the only reason Father did was to give you yet another opportunity to doubt yourself.”

I bit my lip. The king knew my weaknesses too well.

“I watch you do it, America. You compare yourself to my mother, to the other Elite, to a version of yourself you think you ought to be, and now you’re about to do the same thing with a person you didn’t know existed until a few hours ago.”

It was true. I was already wondering if she was prettier than me, smarter than me, and if she said Maxon’s name with a ridiculously flirtatious accent.

“America,” he said, cupping my face in his hand. “If she had mattered, I would have told you. The same way you would with me.”

My stomach turned.

If you think that Maxon will call off the engagement when he sees America hugging Aspen without even letting her explain herself and deciding to marry Kriss instead before changing his mind right at the end once his parents are dead, you’re completely right.

Oh. 

Spoilers, I guess. 

[eloquence-uncensored]

Let’s talk about the bane of an INTJ’s existence.

Emotions. I’m talking about emotions.

Life is easy when you're selfish! Nothing is complicated or hard to understand. Anything that's good for you is good! Anything that's bad for you is bad.

Whether good or bad things are happening to the people around you is irrelevant, as long as it they don't talk to you about the bad stuff. Everything is only important as it relates to you. Nobody and nothing else matters!

And then you grow up.

In less than a decade, I've gone from hyper-selfish to hyper-empathy, and I don't know what to do about this new-found complication. I made a huge mistake a few years ago. I looked at my attitude about life and other people and thought, “Wow, this isn't very good. God, can you please make me grow a compassion?”

And then He did.

To disastrous results.

Now, I can be having a perfectly normal and productive day, but whenever I'm reminded that domestic abuse and suicide and the sex trade are things that exist, it ruins my day.

Now don't get me wrong—that doesn't mean I sit around and sulk and don't want to do anything until I go to bed. I'll still do fun stuff. I'll still laugh whenever everyone else laughs, still smile whenever everyone else smiles, and I'll at least look like I'm having a good time. But even then, in the back of my head, there's going to be this little kid going—

What do you do with that?? What do normal people do with that? Do they cry? Do they post something angry and vague on social media? I don't know.

(There's another variation of this problem in which, you know, I notice that somebody I know is attractive all of the sudden and I don't know what to do with that, but that doesn't happen as often.

Actually, I've got a great way of getting rid of that problem. Ask God to take away your feelings, and then stop thinking about that person. It works!

But that's a much smaller issue than the negative emotions thing, so I'm going to keep talking about those.)

In the past, I've had two ways of responding to that kid in my head: number one, avoid it, and number two, pursue it.

Avoid it looks something like “ARGH! Shut it out! Ignore it! Nothing bad in the world is happening that I don't know how to deal with!!”

That's a surprisingly easy route to take when you're a sheltered church kid, but that glass fortress will crack eventually because even churches aren't safe from this kind of stuff.

An even weirder variation on “avoid it” is, “I can't let anybody think I have any weakness like compassion! I'm just going to go on with my life as if this doesn't bother me. Nobody will know!”

Which, again, is shoving that little kid in a box, taping it shut, and saying “Shut up!” So it counts as avoiding.

Pursuing it looks like, “I'm a disgustingly privileged, white-ish, middle-class American. Even my family is semi-functional! The only way I can punish myself for being this happy is by making myself miserable. I'm gonna go do some research on domestic abuse!”

Ah, that actually feels good to get off my chest. Because those are really—really unhealthy ways of dealing with it. Seriously, past me needs therapy, stat.

But what is healthy? I still don't know. Do you cry? Do you pray? That helps. It can help a lot, actually, especially if you're sincere and don't hold anything back that's bothering you...it's a whole other post that prayer works and isn't just bouncing words off the ceiling, but I'm not talking about that.

Do you post about your feelings online without context so that nobody knows what you're talking about enough to judge you? Oh, wait.

Sometimes that little kid still stays there. What do you do?

See, there's this thing about me where if something makes me sad, it flicks on a light in my head that says, “Do something—do something.” It's action-oriented. This hurts—“do something.”

But do what? Most of the time, you can't do anything. What do you do when your friend moved away and is really missing home and their old friends?

...Be there for them? Say you're sorry? I've done that. Like, twelve times.

I'm still doing that.

It doesn't work. That little kid is still there.

What do you do when you hear about the suicide rates in your country or the survivors of domestic abuse? These are things where you can really only help by being there for somebody, being their friend, and walking alongside them. Sending them to an organization, especially one run by something as disconnected as the government, doesn't hit right in the chest, where people really need it.

Sure, there are some charities that do really great work, but when you're broke, what can you do? Legitimate question. Should I volunteer? Or what?

If I gave money to every charity that addressed something that broke my heart, I wouldn't eat. Even if I narrowed it down to charities that actually do their jobs well and put people back on their feet instead of making them dependent on a check, I still wouldn't eat.

If I volunteered at all these charities—who knows if there even are some in my area—I'd break my heart every single day, just looking at these people.

Now, not being able to do everything doesn't excuse me from doing something. Nor is emotional pain something to be avoided at all costs, especially if there's something you can do to make the situation better.

I'm just saying that the task is so insurmountable and the very idea of abuse so painful that it's crippling.

Where do I start? I don't know.

And like I said, these are really only areas where you can help by being personally connected to them. But if I don't know anyone who's going through this.

And if I do...they don't want to talk to me. They don't want to be my friend. They think that my happiness is...naïve.

For a while, I wondered if they were right.

And let me make this clear: there is a good use for that “do something” instinct. It's not useless! It's not just here to make our lives miserable. Sometimes, it can help us do a world of good. Like the story of one of my personal heroes—Nicholas Winton.

Look at this nerd. He wasn’t even married yet when he saved the world. When Winton realized that there were Jewish refugee families hiding in what was then Czechoslovakia from the Nazi Holocaust at the outset of WWII, Winton abandoned his vacation in Switzerland to visit and talk to these families.

He discovered that there were thousands of parents who wanted their children out of the country and safe, even if they couldn't make it to safety themselves.

So Nicky did something. He acted as a middle-man to get the kids to foster families in Britain and Sweden. He had someone collect information from the Jewish families; he contacted governments and newspapers himself to ask for permission and get the word out of the need for foster families; and he raised enough money to ship the kids by train right past the Nazis and to safety.

All in all, he saved 669 out of thousands of kids. They lived, while their Jewish families...well, they were killed. Sometimes horrifically. But these kids survived. And they went on to be ministers, doctors, politicians, scientists, mathematicians, film-makers, actors, fathers, mothers; and their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren now amount to more than 5,000 people.

5,000 people! Who lived, who died—who wouldn't have existed if it weren't for Nicky Winton. And he just left it behind him. After that, he served in the Royal Air Force, got married, had kids.

That—THAT is what the “do something” instinct can do is at its best. It's useful, it's good, it can save the world.

Boy, it feels good to end this here. If you want a pick-me-up, stop reading at the end of this paragraph and go on with your tumblr browsing. Follow your emotions! It's a good thing that you feel this way! You can help make the world a better place!

But sometimes you can't.

If you kept reading, you're probably asking the same question that I am. What do you do when you can't do...anything?

Unfortunately, I don't have any advice. I'm still struggling with this myself. I've recently come across a new way of looking at this issue—that negative emotions can spur you in the right direction, like a charge that sets off a rocket, but you've got to deal with the emotions before you go in that direction or else your rocket will explode in midair.

But that doesn't always help when there's no direction to go.

And it's really hard to find help for this because “Oh, the American dream is all about getting what you want, being happy, and being satisfied! It's all about you! Pursue your happiness!”

And at the same time, “Pfft, Christians can't be sad!” Because—I don't know, reasons.

Both of those are dumb, and blind.

But I don't know where else to turn.

The one thing I can't do is shove the world's pain off say, “Well, I'm glad that's not me.”

But...it's really interesting to me, as a Christian, that Jesus in the Gospels never seemed to be above people's pain. Whenever someone came to Him asking for a miracle, He never said, “Nope—I don't have time.”

It didn't matter if they were asking Him to reverse death or sickness—i.e. things that happen to all of us and kind of can't be avoided. He never said, “You guys are human beings. You know this happens. Deal with it.”

He just went. And healed them. And brought them back to life.

If you read it carefully, it really starts to look like He cares a lot.

And that gets really interesting when we think about ourselves and our own prayers in the same terms as those people asking for miracles—even miracles for other people.

“Jesus, my servant lies sick and in severe pain.” “Jesus, my daughter is dying. If you come, she'll be healed.” “Jesus, Lazarus is sick. You know Lazarus. He's your friend. Your homeboy. Please, come and heal him. We know you care.”

Funny thing about the Lazarus story. I think it's tainted how we see praying for healing. We can all picture God dilly-dallying for no reason before coming to save us to prove He's awesome.

What we have a hard time believing is that He'll say, “Okay,” go straight there, and do the thing. For us. Because we asked. And He likes to see things work out and see us smile and stuff.

I think we forget just how much He loves us.

Well, that's my rant. If anybody is emotionally smarter than me and can give me any advice, I'll leave the replies option open or something.

If this just let you know you're not alone—good. We could all stand to hear that a little more often.

The last thing I'll leave you with is something I heard from the pulpit recently—which may surprise some of you—and that is this:

What do you do when everything falls apart? When the divorce is final and the diagnosis is fatal and the casket lies open in front of you?

What do you do when your job is gone and the house is gone and your support is gone and your life and family are blowing apart? What do you do when they hurt you in ways that can't be repaired?

What do you do when prayers aren't answered in the way you hoped and believed so hard they would be?

What do you do when everyone hurts?

What do you do when there's nothing left you can do?

You hurt.

Apparently, there's really nothing wrong with that.

[inmomni]

No. 14b

I. Intro/Premise:

Hi, my name is Inmo, i am a senior biological studies major at Biola University. I’ve grown up in the church all my life, and I am currently a frustrated, working past it, christian who doesn’t work as advertised.  

This became clear to me after my youth group’s 2015 winter retreat that i got “saved” for like, the third time that my best friend and i had an interesting conversation about our sin. I remember we were on a night hike with a few other of my church friends when i suddenly started to get a strong urge for a cigarette.  I hadn’t had one since the start of the winter retreat, which was about two weeks ago then and a long time for me.  It brought up this kind of frustration in me.  Not because the craving was getting worse, but because i had just been “saved,” again. See in my mind, if you were with Jesus, you should be the farthest away from sin because of this new found love that you have for Jesus now; so in turn, that would make you naturally hate sin, ya know? Sharing the comment with my church friend, it sparked some talk about the fallenness of man and how we innately fall away from God, you know the gist, and we went on for about an hour when pent up with frustration about how i still want sin after all that God had shown me, after knowing what He did for me, after experiencing how much He loves me,

I said, “I wish God could just make us love him so much right now that we would never dare to sin again.”  

II. Idealistic Picture vs: Reality

Idealistic: [See], I thought I knew what a christian should look like. I’ve been to church all my life, so that being said, I think I have a pretty good idea of what an idealized modern day non-Jesus Christian would be like:

Prays for at least 30 mins a day, an hour if it didn’t cry at all to “push through and seek the Lord”….Or an hour if you did cry cause, you cried and you had a moment with Jesus.  

Reads the word every day without fail, even if you don’t have time for it cause you’re too busy serving, you get it in somehow by listening to an ESV ebook bible or through your 2min New Morning Mercies.

Just exudes Jesus everywhere they go, like to the point where you feel so sinful if you’re around them, but somehow they’re so humble that it doesn’t even cross your mind.

Raises their hands every single worship song at some point in the chorus and definitely the verses cause no one raises their hands for those

Every single conversation they have in passing turns into some life changing prophetic revelation for both parties involved

The list can go on.

Past Reality:

As you can see, I think a lot, my mind is always racing, and in science and especially in theology i really like to understand things and how they work, I need sequential process.  So if I don’t understand something, I will just sit there until I get it to take an action on it. I need to know what to do, I need direction, and I need it NOW. So in grappling with my newfound faith during my early high school years, my sinfulness, how to pray, what to think during worship, how to know if I’m being genuine, what I need to be feeling when I encounter God, and i started picking away at my own faith with my doubt.  And with doubt, I froze, because I didn’t understand it, and because I didn’t understand it I would question if I was a christian at all because I didn’t act the way I thought i was supposed to.  I didn’t reach out to leadership, I didn’t ask my pastor or small group leader any questions I had, how to walk in the faith, I simply took what I saw, held up myself against that standard, and graded myself accordingly.  And because I wasn’t doing well with the Lord, all other areas of my life would suffer, my overall mood, my motivation, my assurance in God and his character; nothing was stable. So I started to seek refuge from my reality in things like video games, anime, kdramas, sleeping, and slowly that evolved into trying weed for the first time, and then turning that into an everyday thing, with a daily goal of escaping reality and forgetting how terrible of a person I am. I was open to having fun, cause my life didn’t offer much as it was, and because all of this relied on how i felt, it wouldn’t be like this all the time, maybe just months at a time, sandwiched by seasons of “doing alright”, or a year on, and a year completely clean because God did graciously meet me in those moments, but nothing really changed, even if it was a year away, it doesn’t change the fact that I failed.

There emerged a very cyclic pattern starting since senior year of high school:

Summer is so good, it’s great, restful, had a bunch of fun, ready to get back to work

Fall initially is really good, meeting up with friends, keeping up with academics, motivated, I’m doing okay with God, reading here and there, not consistently, but reading at least, not doing bad things and such… then it starts to drop off around late October. I start getting less motivated, missing more classes, sleeping in more, trying to escape reality more.

Winter is super bad, just bummy lazy disgusting, right up until finals week approaches from where I jump up out of bed and turn into a study machine.

This carries on past spring and then probably into summer again. Then it repeats.

Recent past reality: 

This cycle got worse every single year, until last year, my junior year, when I failed 3 classes second semester.

It was my junior year, and I’m a bio major.  I’m trying to become a doctor, but now I’m not even sure of that anymore.  

Present Reality:

If I’m honest today… I’m a slob, my sleeping schedule is a mess, I’m not even properly eating and what the heck is up with that. I don’t go to the gym anymore. I’m not loving on the people that are close to me well at all. I feel so selfish and twisted. I think myself into a pit, dramatically breaking apart my own self confidence and credibility to myself.

It’s easy for me to think: “God, I feel like such a failure. I’ve tried so hard, my bootstraps ripping into the palms of my hand, to be a Christian, to stay in the faith, but it’s too hard. I don’t get it, and i don’t understand it. If i did, then maybe i wouldn’t be like this.  If i was a christian, I wouldn’t be doing X, Y, and Z or i would have fixed this part of myself ages ago.  I should have had a consistent routine with God by now, talking with him, I should be the ideal christian by now.”  IF I had truly been a christian up til now, holy, I’ve lived 21 years exposed to the gospel, and I don’t know how to do this thing. I should just give up.” I couldn’t even trust myself, the feelings and emotions I had, my all my actions can be accompanied by an army of voices questioning my intentions for everything.  Everything was falling apart, my future, my faith, my academics, nothing was solid, nothing was stable, the way I am right now, I can’t even pick myself up again. I can’t do this.

III. Realization & God-centered Reality

But that’s when it became clear to me.  If you’ve noticed by now, I’ve used the word “I” so many times up til this point. God just started highlighting all of the I’s I used, and he started replacing them with His name.  and it all started to click.  Maybe the reason I failed all these times was to bring me to a place where I could say, with my heart inside out, “God help me please, I don’t know what to do.”  I tried to do things my own way for 3 almost 4 years now and i failed every single time, maybe it’s time to look towards God and not myself.  

God reminded me of a passage in Numbers 21:6-9 where it talks about God sending fiery serpents to the people of Israel.  In short, God sent fiery serpents to the people of israel because of their disobedience, killed a lot of people, then told Moses to construct a bronze snake so that people could look at it and live.  Notice God didn’t say be healed from their afflictions.  He just said that they would live, like NIRV even says that they “remained alive”.  So what are the takeaways here for me? As you live your life, with or without God, you’re going to get bit, like 100%, when God said he sent serpents that killed many, I’m sure it wasn’t just a heist size group of snakes that ravaged the entire population, but a disgusting amount of serpents.  You can try to fend for yourself, or you can look up at God and get through this thing with him.  

The amazing thing is, that when I look to him, I see the moments where God affirmed me in my spiritual growth, all in retrospect of course.

I remember a time at Chick-fil-a with the same Caleb after serving at VBS where one of these moments happened. We had just finished up a day where the theme was the good news.

I started asking him about what he thought of the entire day that we just ran through. He responded with a “It was kinda weird”, not really a straight answer, but to see more what I’m thinking.  I started explaining how they didn’t do the gospel justice, how this wasn’t something that was deserving of being rushed or just gotten over with, especially if it is for these kids.  At one point, some guy paraphrased the gospel to,

“uhh we sinned, Jesus died on the cross for them, and, oh shoot were out of time, can the crew leaders explain the rest on the way to the next station” Everything was so rushed, paraphrased, cut off, I understand we were pressed for time the entire program, but dang did this topic deserve more respect.

I was getting really emotional, and tears started running down my eyes at which point caleb asked me why I was crying.  I didn’t understand his question, until i remembered that all the conversations we had and all the things he’s seen me do don’t point to an impassioned college student upset because his church’s VBS didn’t do the gospel enough justice when presenting it to 5-10 year olds.  That was when I realized God has taught me the weight of his gospel

There were other instances like this:

When i first got to Biola, and I hated it, but God told me through the` song i hated the most during high school  (Christ is Enough) that though i may think that i failed because nothing went to plan, its all according to his. He’s bringing me to a place where I can say Christ is all I need, and he placed that desire in my heart.

Placing me in Torrey, a great books program at Biola,  so that I would have a deeper knowledge of the word and how to converse with people, to have that show up at a party filled with a bunch of non-christians who were talking philosophy of a higher being and of a purpose in life

Seeing that through every cycle of highs and lows, regardless of how low that low was, I still came back to a place where God met me.

IV Conclusion:

To be honest, I still don’t fully know what I’m doing.  I’m trying to read more.  Pray more, I don’t know what it looks like to do what I said just now, or what that actually looks like.  But regardless of what I know, or what I understand, God is doing things behind the scenes for my good.  That there is no other reason, there can’t be any other explanation than the grace that God gives me and sustains me with.  In this most darkest season of my life, I have never understood more clearly what it means to work out your faith with fear and trembling, to know that I am a christian despite all my crap, and that despite how hard I may want to leave, not even I can pluck myself out of God’s hand, because of the way He’s been teaching and shaping my heart. He’s locked me in.  Once you know, you know, with this sort of thing if you know, if you’ve seen or tasted just a fraction of his grace, you cannot go back. Grace prepares the heart for salvation, it is grace that one receives salvation, and it is through grace that salvation is sustained and sanctification is occurring.  I don’t know how I got here and how to get to where I need to be, but I just know that God’s got this.  

So I’m just going to take that and run.

[romancatholicreflections]

22nd Oct >> Daily Reflection/Commentary on Today’s Mass Readings (Isaiah 45:1,4-6; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5; Matthew 22:15-21)for Roman Catholics on the Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

Commentary on Isaiah 45:1,4-6; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5; Matthew 22:15-21

Isaiah 45:1,4-6; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5; Matthew 22:15-21

IN PAST SUNDAYS we have seen Jesus attacking the religious leaders of his people for their failure to recognise in him the Word of God, the power of God, the compassionate love of God. All they could see was a man who broke their laws.

Today, in the first of four challenges by different leaders, they hit back. Their plan was to get Jesus to discredit himself. The first challenge, in today’s Gospel, comes from the Pharisees. Their deviousness is seen in the delegation they sent – a mixture of their disciples (not themselves) and some Herodians.

It was a strange mixture because Pharisees and Herodians were bitterly opposed to each other. The Pharisees were rabid nationalists and totally anti-Roman; the Herodians were willing to collaborate with the Romans hoping to benefit from it. In the language of today, they would be called “appeasers” or “fellow travellers”. It was a perfect example of the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Both sides hated each other but they hated Jesus even more and both had scores to settle. Or did they hope by sending such a mixed delegation that Jesus would be thrown off the scent of their real purpose?

Their opening statement is clever and very flattering. They praise the utter honesty and integrity of Jesus. All of which was perfectly true. Jesus, in fact, is being praised as endowed with God’s own sense of truth and justice, totally impartial, with perhaps a bias for the poor, the weak and powerless.

And it is precisely in this strength of Jesus – telling it like it is without fear or favour – that they hope to entrap him.

Deceptively simple

After this flattering softening up and linguistic foreplay comes the apparently straightforward question: “Is it against our Law to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” In fact, this seemingly simple question turned on a red-hot issue. Palestine was a colony of Rome, a very unwilling and troublesome colony. The Jews hated the Romans, hated their brutality, their moral corruption, above all their godlessness. So, the nationalistic Pharisees felt that the taxes should not be paid to the oppressor. It was, one might say, an early version of “No taxation without representation”. On the contrary, for the Herodians, collaboration with the Romans was seen as beneficial.

It was a loaded question, something like the old chestnut “Have you stopped beating your wife?” If Jesus said taxes should not be paid, he would have pleased the Pharisees but they could report him for sedition and have him arrested. If he said taxes should be paid he might please the Herodians but almost certainly he would lose all credibility with his own people.

The Jews believed that they had only one Lord and Ruler and that was their God. Taxes, or any form of submission, should only be made to him, by offerings made in God’s Temple. So today’s First Reading from Isaiah makes it clear that Cyrus, one of the great kings of antiquity with enormous power and who had made vassals of the Jews, was seen as never more than an agent doing God’s work.

Hypocrisy

Jesus, of course, is perfectly aware of the dangers in giving a straight answer. He accuses them of gross hypocrisy in setting this trap. They have no desire to know the answer. They have their own answers already. Their only intention is to lay a trap for Jesus to hang himself with.

Jesus asks them to show him a coin. He asks to know whose image and what is the inscription on it. The head was that of Tiberius Caesar, the Roman emperor of the day. The inscription would have read, “Tiberius Caesar son of the divine Augustus, great high priest”. Caesar claimed not only political sovereignty but also divine attributes. Worship of the emperor was seen as a test of loyalty to the not very religious central government and would soon become a major issue for the early Christians as it was already for the Jews. For both groups, worship given to the Roman emperor could be nothing but idolatry. Even though, for some, it was seen only a matter of formality, Christians and Jews took it very seriously and many were martyred for their refusal to bow to the emperor. (Different kinds of emperors still produce martyrs in our own day.) And it reminds us of how many Christians – including China today – who refused to acknowledge the absolute power that Communism claimed over their lives. It is basically the stand of the “underground” Church in China and for that many have paid a high price over the past 50 years.

A famous reply

Jesus then gives his famous answer, “Give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar – and to God what belongs to God.” The answer should not be understood cynically and in line with those who thought that no allegiance at all belongs to the ruling power (e.g. the terrorist or anarchist line), nor, on the other hand, that a civil power has the right to demand total submission of its subjects. No state can claim to itself divine powers of absolute authority (e.g. atheistic dictatorships). All are subject to the higher demands of truth and justice and the inviolable dignity of the person centred in God.

We all are, in some way, the citizens of two kingdoms: citizens of the political territory where we belong and citizens in God’s Kingdom. As Jesus says, they both require certain loyalties from us.

We all depend to a large extent on our civil government. In modern times very few people can supply their own water, electricity, telephone system. There are many other services which only a civil authority can provide, such as education, hospitals, roads, welfare services for the unemployed, the handicapped, the elderly…

It is obvious that if these are services are to continue and even be improved they require the cooperation and support of the community at large. We do this for the most part through paying taxes. Taxes are not just a necessary evil. In a just administration they are our contribution to making the services we take for granted available. In a just tax system, too, we help to spread more evenly the wealth of the community so that each one has access to what they need for a life of human dignity.

Supporting our community

There are many other ways, too, in which we can give our support to raising the quality of life in the community. All of this can be seen as “giving to Caesar what belongs to Caesar”. One, unfortunately, does meet people whose only interest is in seeing what they can get out of the community for themselves and their immediate family with no intention of ever giving anything back.

But we are also citizens of God’s Kingdom. For much of the time, there is no conflict between “Caesar” and God but not always. We do sometimes, from the standpoint of the Gospel, have to criticise our government’s actions or non-actions. Sometimes we have to refuse to obey our government. In South Africa’s apartheid system, many Christians were forced to violate the immoral laws of their government. In the United States, both black and white people violated the segregation laws operated in many states. In the name of truth, justice and human dignity they had no option.

And we need to realise that when we really love our country and its people, then we may have to stand in strong opposition to the authorities on certain issues. Of course, the authorities will try to present such people as traitors and a threat to the stability of the country. But such people, who show they care, often have a far greater love for their country than the so-called “silent majority”.

Two responsibilities

Today’s Gospel makes it very clear that we have two responsibilities: to the government of our country or territory and to God. Where both are in harmony there will be no conflict. Wherever there is immoral or unjust behaviour against people’s dignity and rights, then there has to be conflict. Such conflict is not always bad. On the contrary, it is because of creative conflict that our society makes progress. Provided we always act in a positive and creative way, “speaking the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15), then the flawed kingdoms that men build can, in time, become the Kingdom of God. As a famous dissident – and martyr, St Thomas More, said: “The King’s good servant, but God’s first.”