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cloudy-leonhart · 4 years ago

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Paubaya.

[Author Note: I watched the Paubaya music video, I suffered bad, so you guys are going down with me :)) Jean stans, sorry in advance <3]

Summary: you and Jean had a happy relationship, so what went so wrong? You both never knew until you both got the closure you need at the very same church you left Jean standing at the altar. (It’s kinda a songfic? The original song was in filipino so i translated it.)

Female Reader.

Recommended Song: Paubaya by Moira Dela Torre.

Theme: Angst, Breakup, Modern AU.

Pairings: Jean x Reader.

TW: breaking up, swearing, crying. (Can’t rlly tell if this is cheating because the song is rlly just about ghosting someone and forgiving, I’ll put it in anyway.) cheating.

Jean had no idea why he kept coming back to the same church. He had no reason to, and here he was sitting in once of the polished benches. Churches were supposed to give you hope, it was where people gave prayers of all kinds. He’d never hate a building so much.

Where did everything started to change, when was I not enough anymore?

It was nearing midnight, the church will soon close and Jean’s finding it so hard to stand, he was soon the only one left inside the marble building. It was warm due to the candles that lit the altar in the front, he could see the ghost of you standing up front with him, a reminiscent feeling washed over him, god you looked so beautiful that time.

Why didn’t you tell me from the start, I’m the one you needed but not the one you love?

He couldn’t help but shed a tear, the white lace caressed your skin so beautifully, he was so awestruck on how your hair fell perfectly on your face. He was so whipped, and he wasn’t afraid to show it, he could remember how he reached his hand out, connecting with yours as your father passed you onto Jean’s hand. He pulled you in front of the altar, holding your hand tightly.

If only he knew how much you didn’t want to do this.

Where did my love lack, I gave everything just to make you smile.

He had so many things he dreamed of doing with you, it was a shame it would never happen, he gave it up, so many things he gave up just to keep you in his arms, but when did you start falling out of love? Jean watched as the ghosts of your supposed happiest day faded from him eyes, leaving him alone in that church.

Why didn’t I see you don’t want us anymore, I’m the one you’re with, but you’re looking for him.

He missed you so much, a year went by so fast, a second you were stargazing with him, and the next, he’s alone, reminiscing on something long gone. Jean doesn’t even know where you are anymore, god knows if you’re having the most fun in your life, he’s hoping you are though.

And if you’re happy with his company, I won’t insist no more.

Jean wonders if you were to go through with your wedding, would you be happy? He looked at his watch, 11:03 pm, it read. A sigh left his mouth as a hand ran through his ash grey-brunette hair. He remembers all the things you did in your relationship, a smile unconsciously planting itself into his lips.

All I wish for him is to never make you cry, and to take care of you.

He could remember when you and him went on a trip to have a picnic, your were smiling the biggest that day, he could still remember how the sun showered you both in warm gold, Jean felt like he remembered that one moment like it was yesterday. His hands ran up his arms, trying to replicate the same warmth you gave him when you jumped into his arms that day.

Where did the faithfulness stopped, every time you say you loved me?

Where did it all go so wrong, why couldn’t Jean hear you didn’t want to do this anymore? God, why were you so silent? He knew could never blame you, even if he tried hard to, you weren’t at fault, at all. Everyone breaks out of phases, relationships all the time, but damn it, it fucking hurts.

It wasn’t your fault, neither of you. Jean never blamed you, he hopes you don’t blame him either. Maybe he lacked in something. He doesn’t know what, it was just something. Maybe you knew?

Why didn’t you admit that there’s somebody else? I’m the one you embraced, but you’re thinking of him.

Jean laughed at his state, he felt dumb thinking of something that happened a year ago. He felt his eyes tear up as his laughter died down, why is it still painful? it hurts so bad, he needs to let go, god it’s hurting him so bad. Jean laughed through his tears as he tried his best to wipe them away from his vision.

He moped no longer and stood up from his spot, walking towards the altar one more time.

Why didn’t I think, that there’s a finale?

He could hear footsteps coming up to the front of the church, he turned around to walk away, when he saw you, the girl he’s been hurting over, bad. Jean thought it was just a figment of his imagination until you stood in front of him, his nose picked up your familiar scent. He knew you were standing in front of him, the real you.

“Hi..Jean..” You looked up at him, a similar pain in your eyes, matching his.

Jean couldn’t speak, he felt he was gonna sob if he even spoke a word. You took it as a sign to continue what you wanted to say. “I..I’m sorry.”

“God, I’m so sorry..Jean.” Jean’s eyes widened slightly. You could feel your eyes sting with tears, as your throat started to close, a familiar feeling. You recognized it as you starting to breakdown.

“I, am so sorry,” your voice starts to quiver, “I got tired. I’m sorry I had to disappear.” Jean turned his gaze to the side, feeling himself start to tear up. “I tried, jean. I really did.” your gaze was long on the floor. “I gave you everything, I truly did, I was just emptied.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Jean felt himself sigh, his sigh was shaky, and he felt himself take a big gulp, “I’m sorry.” He found his voice to say something. You stood before him, your gaze was on the floor, feeling too shameful to look at the eyes of the one you used to be in love with.

He continued either way, “I’m sorry..that I wasn’t there when you needed me.” Jean forced himself to muster the courage to say what he needed to say, he needed to, for both of you. “I’m sorry if I didn’t protect you.”

“fuck, I didn’t even get to protect you.” Jean’s voice started to pitch, he felt a tear run down his cheek. “I got scared.” You looked up at him, “I was so scared.”Jean confessed his fear of not being good enough for you and the relationship. “But, I wanted to be there, Reader, I really did. I wanted to be there when you were hurting so badly.” Jean ran a hand down his face to rid of the itch from the cold wind hitting his wet cheeks.

He could start to hear your sniffles and your attempt to try your best not to sob right then and there. “But, I wasn’t.” Jean laughed through his shaky voice. “Maybe because, I was slowly realizing that..we weren’t meant to be with each other.”

You tried to smile through your pain, an attempt of a smile was on your face as you quivered, “We tried, right?” Jean looked at your face, tracing over every small feature. “We gave it out best fight, right?” You asked. Hopeful, that he too believed you both did your best, trying hard to keep the relationship together between you.

Jean gave a painful smile back, nodding. “Yeah, we tried.” You sniffled, wiping your tears, fiddling with your hands. “I uhm..wanted to thank you for the memories you made with me,” Jean confessed, a pained smile still on his face. “Even if we couldn’t do what we always dreamed of doing.”

“I’m happy with the life you shared with me.” You wiped your tears away, listening entirely to Jean and him only. Not the buzzing silence, not the wind outside swaying the trees. Just him.

“I’m..happy that, you’re happy.” You looked at the side, trying to catch a breath, even if it’s hard to do so, with every breath you took taunting you to let out the sob you keep supressing. “I want you to be happy, too.” You confessed, looking at him. He felt relief, maybe because you both needed to talk this out, or maybe finally feeling like you could both let go of the things you kept holding on about each other.

Your eyes closed shut as you whispered out, “Thank you.” Jean reciprocated with a thank you of his own. You hiccuped, a line of thank you’s coming out of your mouth, maybe from the fact that you’ve finally told him and you’re finally getting the closure you needed.

You felt comfortable enough to reach out for his hands, those same hands that held you during the coldest nights. He welcomed you into his hands once again. Your gazes met each other once again, as one hand cupped your cheek and the other cupped both of yours.

“Oh, God.” The overwhelming feeling of nostalgia and hurt started to resurface and slowly start to fade away, as he glanced up. He could feel your smooth skin, his fingertips caressing it ever so gently. “I want you to know, that I forgive you.” He mumbled out, making sure the moment of intimacy were for both you and him only. “I forgive you, too.” You replied, holding on the hands that held your face lovingly.

You felt your head become weak as you cried into his shoulder, relief coming out. You felt so relieve that he forgives you for the pain you’ve caused him, you couldn’t believe that such a wonderful man was once yours.

Jean looked at you as if it was the last time you’ll see each other, and it probably was. He scanned over every single detail, every speck of light in your eyes, he wiped the tears that cascaded down those beautiful eyes of yours.

And for one last time, laid a gentle kiss on your cheek. before he nuzzled himself into your neck, holding you tightly. He pulled back, “I need to go..” You looked at him with pleading eyes and mumbling incoherent pleas. “I need to..” He felt like he was going to break if he stayed a second longer.

“Take care of yourself.”

You nodded and sighed, starting to pull away, Jean planted his lips one more time on your forehead, his beard tickling your face, before he started to pull away from you. You looked at him one last time, also trying your hardest to memorize his face.

I was the first, but he is the last.

With every step Jean took, he felt the guilt and the burden become lighter, he knew both of you needed to let go, and god had given both of you one last time to recieve that closure.

And it can really be seen in your eyes, why he’s the one you chose.

You wiped your tears away, watching as Jean left you alone in the church you both used to hate so much, and for once, you could see the ghost of your past self leaving with him.

I can’t go against your destiny,

both of you had to let go, and with this, you needed to release the burden of still being in pain, both of your guys’ pain and hurt are no longer’s each other burden, you realize that it’s okay to entrust things to fate and destiny.

But, I forgive you.

Jean knew you and him forgave each other, and that finally releases the heavy weight of pain and guilt both of you held, you both feel like you could breath so freely, and even if you both won’t see each other again, at least, you both got to hold each other one last time.

I’m setting you free.

Jean was happy that he no longer has to feel chained up to your guys’ relationship, and you were happy that you no longer have to deal with the guilt of causing Jean pain and leaving him unanswered. Jean’s footsteps faded away softly, as you stood in the church, crying your final feelings out.

I’m letting you go, and entrusting everything to him.

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truthbeetoldmedia · 6 years ago

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The 100 6x07 "Nevermind" Review

Hello fellow watchers! Did y’all breathe a sigh of relief as I did at the end of this episode? And while I’m at it, I'd like to take this moment to say: I LOVE when TV shows address mental and emotional traumas in a physical way in the characters heads. Give me Sherlock mind palace games all freaking day! That said, let's dive into the episode:

Dad, I had the strangest dream...

We pick up exactly where we left off in “Memento Mori”: Jaux!Clarke going to sleep in the real world and real Clarke waking up in her old Ark cell inside her own mind, surrounded by all of her most impactful memories decorating the walls like hipster graffiti art in an Asheville alleyway. She “hears” her memories as she touches them and walks through the exit door, only to stumble into her “sanctuary” (aka the real church she raised Madi in for 6 years) and be greeted by her dead father. Or rather, her memories of her father being animated by her subconscious. He’s all kindness and warmth when he asks her, “What's the last thing you remember?” She realizes with a start “I died” but, as her father points out, she still has a beating heart. As her BFF Bellamy Blake asked once: “Are we still breathing?” as a response to “Is there still hope?” And that beating heart is all Clarke needs to get her survival spark back.

She enters the next door in her mind and is face to face with none other than A.L.I.E. (Welcome back, Erica Cerra! We’ve all missed you...mostly.) A.L.I.E. gives Clarke the 4-1-1 on how she is still able to have her memories and a foothold in her own mind. Of course A.L.I.E. is all like “I tried to save you from this pain” but Clarke still has zero patience for even her memory version of this show’s “Woman in Red”, telling A.L.I.E. “there is no joy without pain.” She does however follow A.L.I.E.’s advice and takes her memory of saving Raven from the chip and hides it. A.L.I.E. also mentions Clarke’s darkest memories, her ‘traumas’ if you will, and how she can’t “let them go”, still being things she just buries rather than face or make peace with. She tells A.L.I.E., her voice littered with confusion, “You say these are my memories but there’s something here I’ve never seen.”

Josephine enters stage left

That something is a rather jolly door, decorated for Christmas, with a mix of music, screaming, and gunshots coming from behind it. Clarke opens the door only to be startled by Ms. Josephine herself, in her original body (I’m assuming in her mind that is how she sees herself) walking through from her memories right into Clarke’s...

She takes a minute to give some fake science facts about how both their minds can share a body, but not forever, so somebody’s gotta vacate Clarke Griffin town...and Josephine doesn’t have a body to return to, talk about an awkward roommate situation. Clarke has suffered and survived too much to just give her body over to Josephine willingly. So a battle of the wits it is.

Josephine gives us some unsettling deeper looks into perfecting the mind wipes — she was “jacked” into people with active minds before, including a six-month-old. Lovely girl. But they weren’t tech-advanced minds like Clarke’s so Josephine needs to know what makes Clarke’s mind so special. I love this kind of expositional dialogue when you are getting much needed information, and the headspace of the speaker, and Josephine is the perfect mix of this. She is ruthless, a sociopath as Clarke calls her, or psychopath — take your pick. She gets Clarke thinking so she can infiltrate her thoughts. Upon seeing Clarke’s ‘cell’ covered in all of her memory sketches, Josephine’s “I rescind my compliment” was a great line. I am a big fan of using Josephine as an audience insert into Clarke’s mind, as well as a way to callback and maybe even “fix” issues from last season’s jumble of plot. Like when she’s inspecting the sketches and reaches the Madi in a shock collar moment from Season 5 her comment of “child abuse dressed up as protection. Cool” made me actually say “ Yasss! Point out that issue from Season 5, queen!”

“Are you hiding a memory from me, Clarke?” She is one crafty B and I am into a Moriarty/Holmes kind of showdown with these two brilliant and dangerous ladies.

Of course it manifests as a physical fight, too. As they are fighting for control over Clarke’s body Clarke goes straight gang fight and slams Josephine’s head in the door jamb over and over until she is “dead” — but this being a mind fight she easily manifests in Clarke’s mind again, ready to fight. Clarke, brave but never dumb, decides running and hiding in her own mind might buy her some time.

The ghosts of choices: past, present, and future

Clarke’s first stop in her memory maze is her most recent bad decision that haunts her daily: leaving Bellamy to die in the fighting pit. But weirdly it’s a projection of Octavia there to guilt and shame her: “I really thought you cared about Bellamy.” The explanation that Octavia gives for Bellamy not being in the memory himself (because Clarke can’t stand the idea of facing him) is both a great idea, and a weak one? Because the deep trauma they’ve been through

TOGETHER would have made Clarke’s memories and reactions so much more emotional and visceral had Bellamy been there talking to her at some point. (If they don’t give Clarke a mind/memory moment with Bellamy this season, they will be wasting the opportunity for cathartic angst between main characters most writers DREAM about.)

Still, Clarke’s desperate tearful pleas of “he forgave me, he understands” was a great moment to reiterate the importance of Bellamy’s forgiveness and what he thinks about Clarke. Josephine’s comment “even your projections hate you Clarke” really hit me in the feels. Clarke hates herself so much that she injects it into how she thinks other people in her life perceive her. (With Octavia, she’s probably not wrong.)

Clarke runs from her ‘leaving Bellamy’ memory right into the cold arms of her decisions at ‘Mt. Weather’ and the horribly disfigured mind ghost of Maya Vie, one of the shows most true and noble heroes. It was so great to see her back! Though if Jasper or Bellamy had been in Mt. Weather along with her I think the emotional impact would’ve been greater. Still Maya’s snarky yet cutting “too bad I wasn’t in that group, huh?” when Clarke pulls out her classic “my people” line was perfect.

Clarke’s choices have left a lot of dead bodies behind and she has never had the proper time and headspace to deal with the impact those choices have had on her own mind, body, and soul. I’m hoping one good thing that can come out of her being a hostage in her own body is that she will come back having worked through a lot of her issues in her mind and emotions. I mean I can at least dream about this possibility, okay?

Creepy Maya making Clarke realize she’s in control of her thoughts and memories was great. Josephine falling for her trap because she is so used to being in control of the situation was such a nice way to reveal she has weaknesses just like Clarke, hers being extreme hubris.

Clarke saying “Me? I’ll find a way to survive. I always do” was such a “yassss! That’s my Clarke Griffin!” moment for me.

Also Josephine letting herself get shocked to “death” because she’s bored was such a nice touch to show her level of crazy town.

Finally we get to “that place”, the dark traumatic place Clarke hides her darkest, most hurtful memories: through the airlock she watched her dad get sucked out of and into the woods where the memories of the deaths of her only (so far) romantic partners are hiding. The first one being Finn, literally dying at her own hand because of Lexa! That should’ve been conveyed more, because it makes the fact that she loved and mourned Lexa even more traumatic and dark. But they seem to want to erase all the bad things Lexa did...which makes no sense to me but I digress. And in the lockbox two other deep loves are represented in the video of her dad and Jasper’s goggles. Also I teared up when Josephine tried to get the box open and Clarke finally gives in because she thinks Bellamy has given up the fight, so why shouldn’t she? And she puts in the code 0102 and tells her “you forgot Bellamy and Raven.” Ouch! My delinquent loving heart felt that pain deep. (I miss Season 1 so much sometimes guys!)

“Tell Madi I love her. Tell them all.” Bless her heart she was finally starting to live again and then they stole her and basically forced her to kill herself at gunpoint. But this brings us to my personal favorite cameo and part of the episode:

Hello to my son Monty Green! I love that Monty is the only version of a friend in Clarke’s memory that isn’t hostile towards her? Or mad at her? Clarke knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Monty Green loved her dearly and trusted her and Bellamy to take care of his only child. I love that Monty is the manifestation of Clarke’s moral center but also of her self love and problem solving. He’s the motivation to do better for her. And his comment “you call this doing better?” is both sad and satisfying! Leave it to the person who literally saved part of the human race to imprint his way of thinking on to her.

Of course his chat gets her motivated to not go down without a fight. When he offered her his hand...I got a little misty eyed. I miss him so much. Money suggesting entering Josephine’s mind was a great way to get to know what makes her tick. And YIKE! Her mind is a dark place. Seeing her best friend end up being her killer because Josephine killed her lover, and then seeing WHY she killed said lover: he was against oblation, aka literally leaving newborns to be slowly eaten by the forest. One of the darkest things this show has revealed (and that’s saying something) to try and keep the bloodlines “pure” for Primes. That’s some serious post apocalyptic Nazi thinking to be sure.

I love the fact that Josephine’s memories are categorized chronologically basically using the dewey decimal system because she is extra af, and of course the idea that if they can access her traumas they can control her body because our deep-seated traumas are the key to who we are as people is something you could unpack for days. Monty’s quip “I like your drawings better”, which is really Clarke saying that to herself, was a nice nod to Clarke at heart being a creative more than an analyst, if people would just let her live. LITERALLY.

So they break in to Josephine’s first trauma I’m assuming? And boy howdy it’s a doozy. College age Josephine is working away at homework (judging by the Christmas decor in the Riverdale-ish diner cramming for finals.) It’s neat to see the world before the bombs. The newspaper with Diyoza’s capture story, the magazine with Becca gracing the cover like a Fortune 500 queen. I love world building. Anyway back to the scene:

Josephine and her friend’s studying is interrupted by a very uncomfortably realistic “nice guy” taking over their space and demanding Josephine’s attention and time. Only when she says no he turns threatening and violent, tapping the handgun he places on the table — only to use the weapon on himself as he lays the blame of his own choices at Josephine’s feet, his warm blood misting her face. All of us women have had a moment where we’ve prayed this person in front of us didn’t do something like this, or worse, to us. It triggers Josephine’s mind to the point that she comes after Clarke in a fury, tossing her out of her mind and not noticing she left her clever side (Monty) in the diner. Bravo Clarke! Also I would like to mention I know what happened to Josephine would be traumatic, but I feel Clarke has endured way worse? So kudos to Clarke Griffin for always being stronger than her darkest moment.

“I win” are Josephine’s first words upon waking up still in control of Clarke’s body (or so she thinks), with just a little nosebleed but she’s back among the living! And she knows how to permanently erase Clarke’s mind. Josephine’s day is starting much better than her previous night...or is it?

Because as she enters the room with her father and Bellamy negotiating for team space pops! to have a home. Bellamy “if we pretend you didn’t murder Clarke” Blake (as always his dramatic self) notices a “new” tic Jaux!Clarke has picked up, finger tapping...and upon further study he notices a pattern:

She’s tapping out a message! In Morse code!! (Shoutout to Earth Skills teacher Charles Pike! You legend!) Clarke Griffin is pulling a Will from Stranger Things and calling Bellamy through blinking the Christmas lights of the diner into Morse code. And he’s finally “ in range” for her 2200th message! He knows within two seconds it’s her trying to tell him she’s alive. There is no doubt, all bets are off, Clarke Griffin is ALIVE. “We’re gonna get her back” he says to Miller, smiling. Screw peace. It’s not worth it if she isn’t in this world to share it. Heart Bellamy is back, benches! AND I AM HERE FOR IT.

Final thoughts and tidbits:

I really wish they would’ve shown an old scene of Wells since they couldn’t get it worked out to have Eli Goree back.

I loved the tight dialogue scenes and limited character focus again in this episode. There’s just too many characters to focus on all at once. On that note: my kingdom for a Bellamy-centric episode where we get to hear his innermost fears, hopes, thoughts. Give it to me.

I really loved the concept of this episode and how it reminded me that this is the same Clarke Griffin from the pilot, and the Mt. Weather. Sometimes this show feels it’s grown too far from its roots.

Eliza has become so good at micro expressions.

I love Josephine as the “Anti-Clarke”: she’s smart, artistic, cute, blonde, and deadly. Just like Clarke, but where Clarke wants everyone to have a chance at life,only using her power when she feels cornered, Josephine enjoys being privileged and judging who’s fit to live from her seat of power. She likes playing God. Clarke loathes it. Josephine and Sanctum are a physical manifestation of all the “big bads” this show has ever had: there’s some A.L.I.E, Lexa, Dante, Cage, Pike, Diyoza, Octavia,McCreary, Nia AND Clarke at her most ruthless wrapped up and baked into Josephine and the people of Sanctum. Echoing all the lessons learned, and not, throughout the seasons. It’s working really well for this season.

Check back next week for our thoughts on “operation get Clarke back” here at TBT!

Gina’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

#The 100 #Nevermind

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laketaj24 · 7 years ago

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Songbook Series: Erik: Sandcastles

A/N: Heyy again! Thanks for reading my works. If I forgot to tag you I’m sorry! I tried to catch everyone. Taglist is still open! If you like it please, comment, reblog or like!! It means the world to hear what you guys think.This part was based off of Sandcastles by Beyonce. Also, I can take requests for this series! I recently received one called RESPECT and it goes perfect and it is going to be the next chapter! (I’ll post the request with the fic!) It’s a great way for me to hear new songs so please request away! Maybe the readers can determine the story line lol Catch up here:

No Limit (1), Broken Clocks(2), Church (3), Take Me Away(4), Thru Your Phone (5)

Warnings: Smut. Violence. (Italics and Bold below are flashbacks) Might be some typos. Oh well, my bad.

“M’Baku..” she moaned with her lips pressed against the side of his face. Asa’s hips wind up and down his shaft rocking herself into oblivion. He grips her back as she hums a melodic cry of ecstasy in his ear. “Fuck me baby.” His hips slam into hers and she rains scratches down his back as he hits spot making her body melt. She’s shaking on him, reeling in the new flesh.

Asa opens her eyes looking at the steering wheel. Why the fuck was she back here? The house made her heart flutter and drop at the same time. She clutched the steering wheel when the front door opened. Erik was dressed regular compared to his normal attire. The white shirt clung to his chest while the black basketball shorts hung from his waist accentuating that damn v line she loved. She places Kojack on the floor and runs over to Erik like she’s been gone for years jumping all over him shaking his little tail.

“What up big man!” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ace.”

She steps from the car looking at her phone and then back up to him.

“Fuck yes, harder.” Her body spasms as he fucks her rough and fast then slowing down dragging himself out so he can feel every inch. “M’Baku.” She mewls.

“He make you feel like this?” He pants winding deep in her. She feels like heaven, clutching him with her soft slick walls. “He gives you this?”

“No.” She pants. “No.”

****

“Erik.” Asa almost sobs covering her face. “You were supposed to love me.”

“Hey... I never stopped. I swear.” He steps to her. “I love you now. I’m sorry. She meant nothing.”

“Then why’s you fuck her?”

“Please come inside.” He pleas.

“I fucked someone else.” She spat. “And the entire time I... couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Asa wipes her face. “Did you think about me?”

“Asa.”

“I asked you a question.”

“I only ever think about you.” He pauses. “Who’d you fuck?”

***

“M’ba...” her breath is hitched as he spills into the condom and his last few strokes and the perfect surge of tingles throughout her body.

They lay there for the fifth time that week staring at the ceiling. “I’m not understanding this ex of yours.”

She swallows at the word ex. “He cheated on me. There is nothing more to understand.”

“But you’re perfect, so I’m lost.” M’Baku smiles at her chuckling. “We should eat. I know you’re drained.”

“It’s because of you...”

“My friends are in town... so I will be leaving but I would love to see you again and again...” he peppers kisses along her collar bone.

“Yeah, sure.” She smiles.

***

“Does it fucking matter Erik! It’s done. Just like the little bitch you fucked! It’s done.”

“I mean why you gotta get even before you even let me explain. Why couldn’t you have given me the privilege to tell?”

“The privilege! Bitch did you give me the privilege of being ducking faithful. No. I rode the nigga dick for four nights straight and you can’t change shit. How that medicine taste? Bitter? Yeah, I figured. So, drop it.” She pushes pass him walking into the house.

She expected to come home to shambles, but Erik had fixed her mess. The couch she’d ruined was reupholstered the broken frames were replaced with new ones and still held the pictures of them. He’d fixed it all. She trudged upstairs starting the shower water noticing he hadn’t bought clothes and the bed looked like it hadn’t been touched.

The warm water sloshes over as she dampens her hair and then her body lathering up the pink rose soap and bathing herself.

The sun crept into the hotel room cutting through the curtains and into the warm chestnut face of M’Baku. He was a gentleman, kind sweet and sexy as hell... and the only thing she could think about was how to get back to Erik. She slipped into her clothes silently tiptoeing around the hotel room like a thief in the night.

“Where are you going?” He asked perched up on his elbows watching her pack her few clothes into the bag.

“I love him.” She whispered. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.” Asa couldn’t find the courage to look at M’Baku so she didn’t grabbing her belongings. “Thank you for helping me forget.”

“He doesn’t seem like he deserves you, Asa.”

“I already know.” She sniffles opening the door. “He doesn’t.”

*******

Erik awaits her in the bedroom with his eyes hooked on the floor. Asa maneuvers around the bedroom grabbing her clothes and standing at the mirror. “Can I dress alone?”

“I only cheated once. And once is enough I know...” he said holding his hands up defenseless. “But I don’t need one night to take away....”

“Stop.”

“No, I couldn’t even sleep while you were gone. Four nights wondering why my messages left on read, and your phone won’t even ring for me. I can’t live like that.”

“We can’t talk about it later. I got shit to do.”

*********

She shouldn’t have gone to her apartment. She should have went home and went to sleep peacefully next to Erik. But the thoughts and images of her on him were engraved in her mind. And the words she said to him. This bitch was disrespectful.

Before she can think her feet are moving guiding her to the large oval maroon door. She taps three times hearing the music stop and her shuffle towards the door, Asa breathes. Just talk to her.

“Asa!” She says giddily. “What are you doing over here!”

“Yeah I just wanna talk to you.” She says with a smile. Asa doesn’t think as her hand connects with her hair wrapping around her hair pulling her outside into the grass. She grabs Asa’s hands and tries to pull her away. “Erik is fucking mine!” She growls. “I’m his religion bitch, his whole reason for being and it’s time you knew the old Asa. Old Asa will drag your ass to the Hollywood sign and toss you the fuck off!” She gritted her teeth as she slings her over to her car. “Come near either one of us again and I will fucking end you.”

Malaysia scrambled away backing into her house. “You’re gonna pay for this.”

“Name the price bitch, dragging your thot ass was well worth it!” Asa laughs.

*****

“My nigga! Why Asa out here dragging hoes out they house.” His friend laughs on the other end of the phone. “What are you talking about?” Erik clicks away on his controller.

“She drug a chick name Malaysia out her fucking house. Shit all on Facebook. You ain’t seen it.”

“Nah, let me call you back.” Erik hangs up not wanting to divulge in it but he does opening the video in his inbox.

The front door opens and Asa tosses her purse on the couch, “we can talk now if you want.”

“About how you snatching people out their houses and shit?”

“About how... I’m not about to allow another woman to come in and ruin this here.” She gestures between the two of them. “This is mine.”

“Okay.”

“You were stupid.” She spat. “And I forgive you.”

“Okay.” Erik’s face is calm but inside his heart is rapping against his rib cage. “Thank you...”

“I’m not gonna tell you who he was... ever. Don’t ask me.”

“Asa.”

“Erik.”

“Aight, it’s all done.” He tosses the phone beside him on the couch. “I’m not gonna ask anymore...”

“Good.” She stares at him for a brief moment and then his fingers encircle her wrists pulling her to him. She falls in his lap shaking her head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to fuck this nigga out your memory.” He whispers. His tongue licks the curve of her ear and she pushes his chest causing him to lay flat back on the couch.

“Don’t you have company coming?”

“You didn’t forget?”

“I remember everything baby.”

“I’m sure you do...”

Their clothes are off in a pile in seconds and Erik doesn’t rush, like he had so often. He takes his time admiring her, what he could have lost to the foolishness. Her beautiful almond colored skin was unblemished to him, stretch marks or not he loved every inch of it.

“You think of me while you were fucking him?” Erik mumbled in between kisses his fingers dance around her navel then down the slopes to her womanhood. Asa shook her head no. “Why?”

“I fucked him to forget you.”

“Now I gotta fuck you to forget him...” he peppered kisses on her neck and slipped his finger into her watching her raise from off the couch. He’s over her watching her eyes dance with some amusement as he drapes one of her legs off of the couch and drags his tip down her slit over and over. Four days without her seemed like a lifetime. Time inched by with no regard for his feelings or his loss of sleep. Erik enters her with one fluid motion grinding his hips into her as if she was bound to disappear. His desperate fingers crawl up her sides to her breast twisting and pulling until she arched into him with a pleasured moan. “I love you Ace.” He whispers.

“Never again.” She answered.

“Never.” He thrust into her again. “I swear.” Erik’s words wash over her as he becomes relentless with his deep strokes and intoxicating touches.

“Who’s are you?” She pants as he goes faster. “Whose.” She says gripping his shirt dreads so that his eyes are on hers.

“Yours baby.” He says between clenched teeth. She pumps him with her walls as she rides out her orgasm. Erik lays into her a few more times and rests once he’s came inside her.

*****

The days passes with them lazy entangled on the couch. The knock on the door forces Erik from the couch. He slides his shorts on tossing her his shirt. “Coming yo, damn.”

He opens the door and o’Koye raises an eyebrow glancing at his bare chest. “They don’t believe in clothes here?”

“O’koye, they don’t believe in greeting in Wakanda.” He smiles. “What up General?”

“Kumani T’Challa.” She says tapping her spear on the ground twice. “Njadka, would you like a moment with your guest.”

Asa sits up on the couch staring intrigued at the beautiful woman. “Who is Njadka.”

“Njadka, son of N’Jobu. Duke of Wakanda.” Ayo smiles.

T’Challa enters the house. “Njadka... beautiful home.”

“Yeah, I do Aight.” He smiles at his cousin pulling him in for a hug. “What up King.”

“Cousin.” T’Challa says doing some weird handshake with him. “I cannot express the gratitude I have for you allowing me and my friends lodging.” He glances at Asa. “And your woman is as beautiful as you described.” He nods respectfully.

“It’s no problem.”

“Ayo, O’koye, Nakia... you all know.” The three women smile and wave.

Nakia grins. “Duke Njadka, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“You two, you better be doing my cousin right... catch these hands.”

T’Challa laughs. “Prince M’Baku of the Jabari.” He calls outside.

M’Baku enters the room with a grin. “Duke Njadka I have heard stories of you.”

Erik’s eyes grow wide. “You didn’t skip no meals, did you? This man big as hell. It’s all good though, y’all come in. We were about to cook. Asa!”

Asa stands up from the couch fully dressed, with just fucked hair. “Come meet everyone.”

“Meet indeed.” M’Baku says with a smile.

Tagging: @wilddrabble @readsalot73 @sparklemichele @titty-teetee @amour-quinn @captstefanbrandt @valynsia @byzantium-glytch @suz-123 @captstefanbrandt @harleycativy @sunnyfortomorrow @sincerelysinister @ceridwenofwales @ivarsshieldmadien @bang-kim-bap @samwinchxtr @purple-apricots @raindrop-dewdrop @harleycativy@scumyeol @challaxkillmonger @virgosapphire79 @jecourt @pebblesz892 @wakanda-inspired @kreolemami @littleica @someareblindtoitsbeauty @almostpurelysmut@slimmiyagi @maliadestiny @jecourt @challaxkillmonger @part-time--thot @thiccdaddy-mbaku @live-likeyourlast @tiredofthisgeneration @littleica @someareblindtoitsbeauty @vanitykocaine @idilly @myboyfriendgiriboy @graysonshisss @leahnicole1219 @another-imaginesblog @vanitykocaine

#black panther #njadaka #erik killmonger x woc #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik stevens #erik imagine #erik #erik killmonger smut #erik killmonge #michael b jordan #tchalla #mbaku #okoye

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hauntedbunkbeds · 7 years ago

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Day 3: The End is Now

Day 3, Post Apocalyptic or Dystopia: Did the world end with a whimper? Is it a dying human race on a flourishing planet? A nuclear winter? A dystopic regime? It doesn’t have to be bleak! The End is Now

Someone was banging on my door. More than one someone.

“Hold on, y’all,” I cried out in the direction of the living room. I shook out a wrinkled pair of slacks from the floor and pulled them on, followed by an old t-shirt, “JESUS LOVES YOU” emblazoned on the front, “JESUS LOVES YOU” emblazoned on the back (just in case). The knocking grew more frantic.

“I’m coming!” I yelled, losing my patience.

I lost my patience a lot. It was something I was told I needed to work on, but I kept forgetting to work on it. Or, more truthfully, it was something I had no idea how to work on. God made me this way. I am not proud of my outbursts but it’s just a part of who I am. I opened the door aggressively to show that I was not pleased to be interrupted like this.

A crowd of seven or eight people stood on my front porch. Some looked like they had been crying. One man had a bloody nose, just letting it bleed freely onto his dress shirt. Several more people were walking up my gravel driveway toward the house, pointing at me. I smelled something burning.

“You’re the guy with the signs!” one woman said. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and yoga pants and her hands were shaking. “You’re the End of the World guy!”

“I am a preacher,” I said proudly. “And my church is the streets of this sinful city, and my parishioners are anyone with the bravery to hear His word and be saved.”

I did have a church once (a real one, not some dingy street corner) but I lost my patience one day, and then I didn’t have a church any more. I was a preacher at Sunshine Baptist Church for fifteen years, before they asked me to kindly resign. I had called a deacon’s wife a whore and told her she would rot and Hell. I stand by this, but perhaps saying so in my Sunday sermon with her family in attendance was crossing the line, at least that’s what I was told when I was relieved from my position as shepard of that particular flock.

So, I set off on my own.

The whole street corner thing was a temporary solution, you see, just until I could save enough money to start my own church, one that focused on what really mattered: being saved; making sure that when The End of Days comes, you’re on the right side of the battlefield, because it will be a battle. It won’t end with a whimper. I believe that.

“That’s the guy!” someone yelled. “He told me I was going to hell when Doomsday comes!”

“Me too!” yelled someone else.

Now, listen. Like I said, I lose my patience a lot, sure, but I also feel like it does everyone a disservice when you sugar-coat things. Sugar-coating makes things go down easy, sure, but then people don’t even know what they’re swallowing, and next time they get sick, they can’t even help themselves. I tell it like it is because when your pulpit is a street corner, you get one shot. These people aren’t coming back every Sunday. Our lives intersect at one precise moment, and that’s all we have. If I don’t tell you right then that you’re going to burn in hell, you might never hear it. You might never be saved. I take my this responsibility very seriously.

I was used to being yelled at, typically all day long, in small outbursts or with the occasional college student who felt it worth his time to really psychoanalyze me, usually concluding that I was a closet homosexual, while I concluded the same about him. It was a useless exercise. Usually when I got home at night, I would remember that I had promised myself I would be more patient, and I would feel disappointed in myself, but ultimately blame the aggressive, sinful world surrounding me for my outbursts. Someone had to bring tough love to these people. If no one tells you that you’re on a path straight to hell, how will you know to change direction?

The crowd at my doorstep was growing, and behind them the sky was turning an ominous shade of grey that looked ready to open up on them at any second. I heard what might have been a thunder clap or an explosion, and everyone ducked instinctively. It was around 9 AM but getting so dark it could have been the middle of the night.

“Listen, man.” One kid pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked college-aged, with thick glasses and skinny jeans. “I don’t like you, but I have to know: How did you know this was going to happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feeling outnumbered and a little worried about the growing group of panicked faces in my yard. “Repent and be saved. I can’t forgive you your sins, only God can. Leave me alone, sinners!”

I tried to take an authoritarian tone, but the sky was so unsettlingly dark, and something was burning, or something was rotting and burning at the same time. It was hard to pin down the stench.

“We’re talking about that!” a woman said, pointing to the sign I would often carry with me when I preached. It was tall and narrow, containing on it a list of the many sins that would need to be repented if you wished to be with God when the End of Days came (e.g. sodomy, playing violent video games, drinking, swearing, etc.). I had hand-painted the entire thing, something I was very proud of.

“Yesterday you told me I was going to hell,” she said. She wore a business suit and carried a briefcase which had fallen open, her papers scattered all over my lawn. She didn’t seem to notice.

“You told me I would burn in hell for being a slut,” she continued, “which is so problematic for so many reasons but I’m not even going to get into it now because then you said something super ominous like ‘The end is nigh’ and I was like, ‘Oh yeah, when is nigh?’ and you pointed to THAT stupid sign.”

Everyone turned toward the sign, which was over eight feet tall and contained, in addition to the list of applicable sins for admittance to hell, a section along the bottom that read as follows:

REPENT FOR THE END IS NIGH

JUNE 03, 2018 YEAR OF OUR LORD

DOOMSDAY, JUDGEMENT DAY

SINNERS GO TO HELL

I glanced down at my Casio digital watch, though I already knew what it would say: 9:03 AM 06/03/2018.

Let me explain.

Any good salesman knows that nothing makes a sales pitch more convincing than a sense of urgency. I can yell all day and night about sin and being saved, but who’s really going to listen if they feel like they have all the time in the world to repent? So I picked up my bible one night, crunched some numbers, and settled on June 3rd, 2018. Was I sure the world was going to end on June 3rd, 2018? No. But I was sure that it wouldn’t hurt anybody if I were wrong. What’s the worst that could happen? I couple people turn their sinful lives around faster than they would have otherwise? It felt harmless to me. In the spirit of full disclosure, I had not considered what it would mean if I were right.

Now, here they all were: The gays, the fornicators, the gluttons, the thieves, all right on my doorstep. I suppose in many ways this situation was ideal: I preached, I was heard, I was proven right, and my flock came to me in their hour of need. I had grown so used to being ignored and spat on, I hadn’t stopped to consider what I would even do if someone actually agreed with me, wanted to follow me. The grey clouds above us had begun a slow spiral, like a twister could drop from it at any moment. In the distance, screams could be heard.

I must have looked confused because the man with the bloody nose spoke up.

“A crack opened in the streets,” he said, his voice shaking. “It’s swallowing people up. There are...there are...”

“Demons,” a woman finished for him. “Literal demons. They’re eating people, tearing them limb from limb.”

“How did you know it would come today?” someone cried up at me. “And how do we get saved? Please, help us!”

A chorus of others echoed the plea.

“Hang on a second,” I said. I retreated inside and closed the door behind me, twisting the deadbolt.

I inhaled slowly through my nose, exhaled slowly from my mouth. I learned this technique from a woman at Sunshine Baptist who worked with children who suffered from anxiety. She told me it might help me with losing my patience. Only this time, I wasn’t losing my patience. My heart raced, but with joy, with excitement. My flock was here, they needed me, at last. I pulled my bible from the side table beside my couch and took another deep breath before turning around and undoing the deadbolt.

“Showtime,” I whispered to myself, a smile creeping across my face. I pulled open the door and faced my new parishioners, their faces screwed up with fear. This was my moment. I cleared my throat.

“Repent, sinners!” I boomed. “For The End is...um, Now!”

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jasongoldtrap · 4 years ago

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The Corkscrew

By Jason Goldtrap

March 9, 2021

When I was growing up in the 70s and 80s, my hometown, Nashville, Tennessee, had a musical theme park called Opryland USA. Aside from the standard thrill rides, the park was noted for dozens of shows featuring Country, Rock, Gospel, Bluegrass and Broadway. The king of the attractions was the Wabash Cannonball.

Named after the song popularized by Roy Acuff, the Wabash Cannonball was a corkscrew roller coaster. Ten models were built by Arrow Dynamics, the first one debuting at Knott's Berry Farm in Buena Park, California in 1975. Opryland USA opened their coaster that same year in the State Fair section.

My parents loved roller coasters, and still do though time has tempered active involvement in the subject. As a family we all loved going to the park. I would ride all the rides along with them except for one: the Wabash Cannonball.

From my perspective it was just too intimidating. Even today, I still get fearful around roller coasters which is part of their appeal. I pictured myself flying out of the seat and rocketing into the ground.

As a little kid, with mommy around, I had an excuse to sit this one out. That changed as I matured.

Thirteen-years-old, going to the park for the first time without parents. Lots of running, drinking far too much Orange Fanta, two cardboard containers of popcorn, playing video games that I could already play at the skate center and, well, bodily noises offered for amusement rather than necessity. We could ride the Flume Zoom as many times as we wanted. We'd rear-end antique cars on the guided track where you could press the hammer down with speeds up to 7 mph.

Inevitably though, someone would suggest my foil, the Wabash Cannonball. "Um.... I have to sit this one out." I would flood them with laughable excuses about not feeling well. And, eventually, they would give up coaxing me. I would sit on a bench beneath the second loop and try to wave. They would dart out of the station hyped up on adrenaline.

"Wanna ride again?"

"Yeah!"

I was silent.

They would race back to the station. I would people watch. Head to the petting zoo. Long for a square of Smoky Mountain cashew fudge which I could have eaten if I had not wasted $2 on Space Invaders and Pac-Man. On the third go around, one of the fellows would feel a tinge of sympathy for me and we would move on to the bumper cars or the spinning swings.

It went on like this for weeks until one day when my band of brothers ran into a similar sized group ....of girls.

"Hey Joan!"

"Michael. What are you doing here?"

"Having fun. Who are your friends?"

"Well you know me and Betty from school. This is Rhonda who goes to my church and my neighbor Melissa."

We exchanged pleasantries. Awkward silence seeking cues for conversation.

Michael stated, "We're about to ride the Wabash Cannonball. You wanna come with?"

Joan smiled and nodded. She received a tug from behind. "One second." The girls clutched together to analyze the situation and discuss limits to potential affection. She turned around and spoke for the other hens. "Sounds like fun... except Rhonda here is too scared to ride it."

I got a slap on the back. "Jason will ride with her." Suddenly, the world grew dim as if I was suddenly thrust across time and space. Frozen. Confused. Before my mouth could utter the words, "Well I..." The boys and girls began to pair up.

"Are you afraid of coasters too?"

I confidently shook my head, "No. Rhonda. Absolutely not."

"Let's go!"

We walked the seemingly 2,000 mile long trek from Doo Wah Ditty City to the State Fair. Not much on conversation. Occasional, stolen glances. Evaluation. Rehearsed lines. Hoping my voice won't squeak.

During the 30 minute wait in the sweltering sunshine I actually opened up to her a little. She told me of her life. She liked horses and even once rode an elephant at the Knoxville Zoo. We discussed our mutual fondness for Gatlinburg, Star Wars, volleyball and watermelon. We relaxed and became new friends.

And then it was our turn at the ride. We were too busy talking to realize that we had seats on the front row! I snapped my head to Chris. Hers to Joan. Was this a prank? Did they realize the enormous pressure we had been voluntarily pushed in to? She tried to communicate her concerns via telepathy which is common to females, especially in mating season.

Undaunted, I slid past my self built brick wall of trepidation and took my seat in the front car. She gave a coy smile and gracefully sat by my side. The train lurched forward. Jerk. It connected with chain. During the ascent I imagined a cartoonist scene in which the 85 foot peak of steal and bolts made sport of me with each half a foot rotation.

I prayed. Nothing too elaborate. Just a plea to not throw-up on her. I began to silently whisper "amen" when I felt a hand being delicately intertwined in mine.

The car gently rounded an elevated curve. Before I could say something clever we both began screaming as the floor escaped us as we hurled down at 48 miles per hour. Up a little. Another sharp banked turn followed by a nose dive. The first loop lay ahead. I was too distracted by the gravity of the moment by the hand holding to notice that this acceleration was slugging me into the first swirl. I was upside down and then once more.

"Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh! Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. That was fun!"

I had stepped aboard a child but now I was a man!

We all clapped and begged for one more go around from the teenage thrill engineer. Maybe there was a lightning bolt from Heaven or she was too busy chatting with a co-worker to notice that she forgot the breaking switch. Jerk. Chain connection. We were going for a coveted and rare second ride!

This time my heart was thrilled and somewhat disappointed that Rhonda removed her hand to clap. And, once complete, did not return to my velvet fingers. But, that was ok. I was having fun.

As we got off the ride the coed group took a break from each other. The girls needed conversation and play-by-play analysis while the guys just pushed each other around.

Rhonda, from a distance, turned my way with a flirtatious grin before her visage lowered as she was told the real story of Jason Goldtrap: the dork. She even looked at her hand and wiped it on her Capri pants. I could see her guffaw, "He picks his nose in public?"

Reunion. We rode a few more rides but that was it for me and Rhonda. I talked to the other girls a little but there was no connection.

The speakers echoed. "Opryland USA will close in thirty minutes."

We disbanded and walked separately to the long line of station wagons. We were three years far from automotive liberation. I lost her in the dark.

I never heard from Rhonda. I never even considered calling her or asking Joan about her. We were two ships that passed in the night... and sunk.

That day I conquered one fear and, for one minute and 28 seconds felt invincible. That is part of the magic of a theme park. Escape. Innocent, affordable fun. Acceptable thrills mixed with surprising spurts of physiological growth.

In 1997, Opryland USA closed and replaced by a mall. I always feel sad for cities that lose their amusement parks. They are losing so much in the way of togetherness, family memories and funny and romantic tales to share with future grandchildren. You don't get that from a mall.

As far as I can tell, there is only one corkscrew roller coaster still in operation in America. It is named the Corkscrew and it's at Silverwood Theme Park in Athol, Idaho.

After the park closed the Wabash Cannonball was sold to Old Indiana Theme Park in Thorntown, Indiana but not reassembled. Sadly, it laid in an open field until it was finally scrapped in 2003.

Thanks to YouTube you can take one last ride. Enjoy.

https://youtu.be/OLtO06SC-Lc

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ineedtoescape11 · 8 years ago

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You know how much I’ve cried over the things you’ve done. You know the number of times The old insecurities were dug up with my random constant need for affirmation that you loved me and that I would be your only one that that things like that wouldn’t happen again. I made sure I told you each time how affected I was. You’ve watched me have a panic Attack right in front of you at that CC because you were hiding secrets from me and hiding your phone from me like you didn’t trust me. You know I’ve got crippling anxiety but each time you did something bad you didn’t stop to think how would she feel if she knew I was doing this and hiding it from her? And when I raise up the matter of how your actions hurt me, you turned me into the bad guy. You call me self centered. When I calmly told you that I didn't appreciate smth you did or said you always said "you make me feel like shit" and proceed to be angry with me and guilt trip me. That was always your favourite line after hurting me and I calmly voiced out. "You made me feel like shit". That sentence still hurts. After so many times. But did you stop to think that your actions may have made me feel like shit in the first place but I was trying to be calm and rational and tactful in the way I put it. You’ve called me so many bad things but I told myself you’re working on your anger and you will be better soon. I've got anger issues. Such bad anger issues but have you seen me snap at you? The only time I recall intentionally snapping at you was because you told me only I could calm your anger by being stronger and more aggressive than your anger. Of which you got angry at me for doing what you told me to do. You Liken me to the people you hate in your life over and over again. And yet I stayed on and at one point of time I wasn’t even entitled to my own emotions. I stayed on and I loved you. I healed on my own without talking to anybody, without talking to you too much about the hurt I felt cause each time I thought you realised and I knew you would get angry with me for feeling hurt. They weren’t minor events. Yet you treated them like they were while I sat here crying my eyes out until I sleep. You say that in your anger you just want to hurt me. You personally told me that before. You see your phone light up with my name calling you repeatedly, desperately but in your anger, you see my name and you harshly reject calls. You ignored all my calls and all my messages and left me to wither in my own anxiety for one entire day once, for a mistake I never even made. It wasn’t my fault. I cried myself to sleep and went to my attachment where I sat in a toilet cubicle and sobbed alone for 20min. I nearly collapsed twice in front of patients because of the emotional and physical exhaustion. And then you casually appear pretending like you didn’t reject all my calls and all my pleas for a response because I was worried for you. I remember telling you all of this while I was on the train back from attachment when you suddenly decided to reappear. The green line. While I was struggling to stay afloat, you went to a carnival at work and took photos on motorbikes and played games. I’ve gone to work after a night of sobbing because you snapped at me with such puffy eyes that everyone at work asked me what’s wrong. Little things like when my mum cooked pork for lunch on the day we were supposed to meet, you choose to just cancel our meetup just like that. I don't understand. Why couldn't we still spend time regardless? Because we couldn't kiss? We could have still chilled and spent time and talked and laughed. But whenever you have beef you continue with the plans to meet when if it was me, it would be immediately cancelled. You ask if you could just brush your teeth and kiss me but when I showed discomfort towards the idea, you got angry with me. Heck you didn't even want to see me when I ate pork for lunch but you still want to try and kiss me after having beef. I don't think you remember this but early in our relationship, you told me that you wouldn't mind going catholic and we could both go catholic together so religion is less of a problem. You told me I could have a lovely church wedding with loved ones and I could get a grand white gown that I felt like a princess in and we would read each other our vows to which you proceeded to make up funny retarded ones on the spot and I laughed so much reading them. I started thinking of names for you for baptism and I thought of ignatius for you and you cringed so bad and you judged my choice of name so bad and we laughed so much that night. Abruptly without telling me, you scrapped the plan. When I brought it up you were shocked. You said you love your religion and you didn't want to go catholic. I was taken aback. Then why did we paint such a pretty picture? But I respected that. I urged you to go for your prayers when you didn't want to for some reason or another. I encouraged you to grow in your faith. We were supposed to have that mutual respect for each others religions. One day you told me you actually do want me to convert sooner or later. And when I was shocked and I asked about the mutual respect, you got upset with me. You insisted you could hope and what was wrong with that. I said nothing was wrong with hoping but I just wanted you to respect my decision and stance. We knew our relationship needed compromise and understanding. You decided without consulting me that the children are going to be of your religion. Insisted on it in fact. I repeatedly expressed my fears and discomfort of being the only one not of that religion in the house but you kept insisting everything would be fine. Where was my say? I was already failing to get you to do your daiIy prayers and getting you to pray every Friday. I was failing at getting you to stop smoking, stop drinking. Heck you drink more Than I do. I supported you to be strong in your faith because you said that was what you wanted but then you acted differently. I cried in the middle of the club because I couldn't get you to stay with me, to dance with me, to show me affection. I watched you walk up to girls and dance with them. It wasn't just dance battles. Lone girls that were dancing. You walked away from me and went to them and danced. I felt you push me away about thrice saying "no no I have A Girlfriend" after I had my body against yours for quite some time. I told you I was your Girlfriend and you doubted me. When you were with me you just wanted to touch me all over. You were supposed to protect me in the club. You were supposed to have a fun night dancing and partying with me. You were supposed to take care of me. Me and our Friend had to drag you everywhere and after a while I just stood in the middle of the club and cried and gave up trying to get you to spend time with me. I watched you turn from the strong, independent, in control, responsible young man to someone who couldn’t be bothered to take care of his finances or his health, someone who regularly abandoned his squad for Dota, the squad that he worked so hard to get and that he vowed to love and raise to be fine young men. I made more than 10 fitness plans for you. You didn't listen to or try any of them. I was supposed to help you manage your finances but then you proceed to hiding your finances from me yet expecting me to help you manage them. When I got frustrated, I was in the wrong. When I just said it’s your choice and you know what you’re doing, I’m also wrong. I treasured you. I loved you. I babied you. Maybe I was in the wrong to get into a relationship when I couldn't give you a good one. I always feared that was going to be the case. No dating proper, no uploading photos and videos everywhere. I couldn't provide. Maybe that's why you strayed. I'm thankful you helped me thru a tough time, made me smile so much, made me feel safe, taught me how to love so wholeheartedly, helped build me up. But somewhere along the way, things changed. I kept trying to get you up on your feet. To build your self esteem again. Making you exercise, sending you good morning mini essays to make sure you started your day smiling. How often did you return those good morning wholehearted messages? When I tell you I miss waking up to proper good morning messages, you did them for a couple of days then gave up again. Then you just stopped with the good mornings even tho you're always awake before me. Just waiting for me to do It. You know it meant a lot to me. Why couldn't you give me a loving good morning message? It takes just a minute. You were running out of money, you weren't eating proper, you always got angry because of those two reasons but you didn't want to get a job even tho you told me you'd work at the zoo after you ORD. Another empty promise. For the next one out there to win over his heart, he's a loving soul. Really. I really hope you'll open your heart again. But please, treat yourself well, don't make her worry. Exercise and get the blood pumping, you'll fall sick less and you will be happier and less groggy and tired. Eat well. You're a big boy and I know you can take care of yourself :) she will take care of you too but you need to take care of yourself first okay? Treat her like how you would want your daughters to be treated. Place her over video games. She can bring you further than those games can. Dont let her feel like a game is more important than her. Don't spend on those games, save the money for the future you'll have together. Stay as retarded as you are, you're funny, she'll love it. When you guys are debating, open your mind, see things from more than one perspective. Yours is valid but so is hers. Don't invalidate her thoughts or her feelings, be open minded and the Two of you will be incredibly happy and you'll spur each other on to be better. Treat her and her body with respect, love her heart the most. Respect her decisions and understand where she's coming from as you always did with mine. It's something I really appreciated :) don't ever make her fight for your attention with other people or other stuff. Enjoy your own life and your own time with friends and yes the occasional game and your movies, I know you love them :) it's important to have a balance! If you're angry, just call for a timeout, tell her you need a bit of time and when both of you have cooled off, you can talk things through rationally. Trust me, it'll mean the world to her :) don't abruptly disappear okay, it'll make her worried sick and possibly even angrier. Don't let each other sleep angry. Always make up before sleeping and remind each other that even if you're angry, you love each other. It's okay to love someone yet be angry with them. So Long as the matter is resolved and there is understanding of what happened and what can be done next time. He loves when he can Lay his head on your chest so he can hear your heartbeat, it calms him. Just hold him tight and don't say a word. He loves gifts. Receiving gifts is his love language. So surprise him with little things now and then. He's a sucker for star wars and panda bears, they're his Favourite. When he's sad, remind him that he can get a nice juicy steak at the supermarket. With some fancy cheese and maybe Some keropok. It's his happy food. And sparkling juice in those wine bottles. Remember those. He's very very ticklish and as much as he squirms whenever you Try, just have a tickle war with him now and then, you'll see him laugh his head off and he'll smile :) don't lick him and touch him tho, it's funny but he doesn't like it. Encourage him to study and read and let him tell you stories of whatever he just learnt, he's a great story teller when it comes to these things and you'll learn so much, trust me. Write him letters. So that when you have to go overseas or smth he'll always have that piece of you to return to. Hold his hand proud. He likes kisses more than hugs so shower him with them, especially little kisses all over his face. You'll see how much he loves it. Most of the time he likes to nua in bed so if you Two do get the chance, enjoy the nua time with him :) Encourage him to go out with his friends, sometimes he can be a bit stubborn but that's where you have to be even more stubborn. He may not want to but when he's with them watching movies and eating and talking cock, he'll have fun :) he's terrified of roller coasters though, don't make him go for too many or else he'll get nauseous. He loves walking so go on walking dates with him. Places with a beautiful skyline! His weakness. Baby him now and then. He needs some time to let his guard down and to just rest from life. Babying him and holding him will definitely help. He will send you lots and lots of songs, listen to them. They tell you things that he wants to say to you. Sometimes you have to hold him back when there's a crying baby on the bus or the train HAHA Theres so many things about him but that's for you to find out. Find someone who can guide you spiritually, I know it'll mean so so much to you. Take some time to sit in the masjid and just be at peace. Spend hours there. It used to calm you so much. Sketch again!! Your sketches are beautiful and you used to love spending time on them cause painting was expensive. Find your drive and your motivation again!! But make sure you're doing this for yourself. Not for anybody else. Because you deserve the drive in life. It pushes you further and further. Be the responsible young man I know you are :) stand strong in due time, find the drive you once had and take care of yourself. That's the most important. If we don't take care of our own selves then who will? So many things I always wished I could tell you. But I couldn't. Because I started living in fear of when you would get angry at me again. Fear of when would I catch you doing things secretly again. Fear of promises not coming through. Fear of my inadequacies that push you to be secretive. Fear of the paranoia I felt that I shouldn't be feeling in a relationship. So much fear. Me living in fear is not good for me, neither is it good or fair for you. You threaten to talk about me in a poor light. To constantly remind me that I walked away. But I stayed. I stayed and I stayed. But you kept walking away. You kept hurting me, knowing what I felt. Intentional or not, ignorance or not, whatever happened happened. And I am entitled to what I feel. I hope one day you'll understand. Trust me it's hard on me. So so hard. It was the first time I trusted a man with my heart. The first time I let my guard down so much with a male figure. So many memories. So much emotions. I invested my whole self into this relationship. I was prepared to deal with being beaten up, thrown out and disowned. Being hunted down and possible hurt by your side. Because I deserved happiness and that was you. I envisioned a future together. But with everything that's happened, I couldn't. And I'm sorry. I need to take care of myself. I can't keep hurting emotionally and physically anymore. So no, it wasn't easy to just walk away. I didn't just walk away. You're a precious boy and I hope you find the same spark as you once had. Open your heart and be open minded. I'm not perfect. I'm broken and crazy. But there's someone else who's going to be out there. Open your heart and open your mind. Build yourself and love yourself. We are both growing and learning. I am genuinely sorry for all the times I've fucked up or broken you or hurt you throughout the course of our relationship. I was trying my very best, I swear I was but I'm bound to fuck up and I apologise sincerely and wholeheartedly.

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wegolongwayhome-blog · 5 years ago

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Blog Post 13

1. If my geography background serves me correctly, Singapore is located on the southern tip of Malaysia as a sort of island. I don’t know terribly much about it, except it was complete garbage land and no one really knows how they managed to survive, even being so close to Malaysia. If there is greenery there, it is thought out and planned, all other space is industrial. The four official languages are Mandarin, English, Malay and Tamil.

2. A hegemonic government is a democracy run largely by one body or party. This can be good because often times there are no one disputing what the party wants, but also takes away freedom from others who’s voices are not heard within this party.

3. As a former marching band kid, I was only slightly annoyed at those who were out of step, but overall I think it was pretty cool. I only saw one commercial in the time that I watched and it definitely sparked a nationalistic feeling. I can’t say that I have seen this myself in my own time, but things like this are not uncommon in countries that focus heavily on military. While not the best example, the Nazis did something similar to this when they took Paris.

4. I grew up Roman Catholic, so that is one set of standards that people abide by. However, I fell out of the church right around my “teenage angst” phase where adults couldn’t give me believable answers. Because of this, I don’t necessarily believe that there is such a thing as one apparent civil religion. Not everyone will have exactly the same viewpoints as another, and it would take incredibly long to take the data and try to find the line that connects everyone.

5. Music conveys a message by making people feel love and pride in their country, especially in the nationalistic songs that are created in Singapore.

6. off topic, but that was such a music educator choice of music video. anyway. I really liked the build in the song, and the use of strings was really nice. It kept it really light and joyful. The tempo was pretty comfortable, and it was in major which was nice. You can’t put a girl who’s dream is to be a music teacher in there I’ll cry. But they did show the youth of Singapore and they were all happy. Which is interesting considering their fertility thing that was in the article. Song is a 7/10 for me, just a little too overdone with how great everything is in Singapore.

7. They both definitely played to their times in the musical and visual aspects. The 80′s one felt like the coming-of-age story that was so big in that time period and the music definitely felt 80′s. The other one had that guitar in the back that was so classically 2000′s and I love it. That one also had the flags and more kids and all that jazz.

8. The one from the 80s of course was not as high quality, but basically just had people walking around or whatever. I loved the more modern one. It changed the music to be much more current and actually made sense, and showing different families of different situations is a great way to instill pride in people.

9. If the US produced this and sent it out, I would genuinely thing we were going to war or something. Something like this produced by our government would make me extremely cautious, but I can see how it works in Singapore.

10. I find the most interest their pleas to their people to have kids. I can’t imagine our government making an announcement like that over and over so that is really interesting. It might just be my cynical side but this all seems too good to be true, and the parodies tell us that which i appreciate.

Grocery list

Caramel Corn

Coffee

Cabbage

Kiwi

a french baguette

Vanilla Pudding

Green Beans

Veggie Burgers

Navel oranges

more Coffee!

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thornburgrealty · 7 years ago

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Pass coming the embedded video you can

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kansascityhappenings · 7 years ago

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She was raped, pregnant and married by 11 – now she fights to end child marriage in the US

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TAMPA, Fla. – In Florida’s halls of power, Sherry Johnson is somewhat of an anomaly: a black woman who grew up destitute and survived child abuse.

Her story is shocking. Raped at 8 and pregnant at 10, she was forced to marry her rapist at 11. She had to abandon high school after the babies kept coming.

For years, she kept silent. But now, her voice rings clear in chambers where the state’s laws are made. Her unrelenting public pleas to end child marriage are being heard.

After a lifetime of struggle, Johnson’s time has come. Finally.

At 58, she sports a head full of thick, tight curls and a pantsuit that would make Hillary Clinton proud. She navigates the corridors of the Capitol with a black binder tucked under her left arm, a purse slung over her shoulder and a fierce look of determination.

Johnson makes her way past sepia-toned photographs celebrating Florida in the early 20th century, as though they were glorious times for everyone. Past the rows and rows of framed faces of lawmakers who gained fame within these walls.

“All men,” Johnson observes, as she dashes by.

On this winter morning, days into the 2018 legislative session, she is on her way to meet with a state senator co-sponsoring a bill to abolish child marriage in Florida. An identical version has been introduced in the House.

Johnson has spent the last five years lobbying lawmakers to stop the kind of abuse she suffered in her childhood. An effort to ban child marriage under the age of 16 got traction in the Florida House in 2014 but went nowhere in the Senate. Since then, Johnson’s words have fallen on deaf ears. Doors have closed on her. Until recently.

As incredible as this may sound, Florida stands poised to become the first state in America to say no, unequivocally, to all marriages of minors.

Last year, Texas and Virginia enacted new laws limiting marriage to those 18 and over, but they made narrow exceptions for minors granted adult rights by the courts. The bills before the Florida legislature set 18 as the age for marriage and allow zero exceptions.

In Suite 202 of the Senate Office Building, Johnson gets a hug from Lauren Book, a 33-year-old senator from the south Florida city of Plantation who herself is a child abuse survivor and activist.

Book has blond hair, a Florida tan and big, bookish glasses. Her walls are blanketed by inspirational quotations from Plato, Shakespeare and even Coco Chanel: “If you’re sad, add more lipstick and attack.” She displays a brass desk plate that asks: “What would Beyonce do?”

“Sherry and I have a lot in common,” Book says.

“Until you put a face on this issue, people don’t understand,” she adds. “And Sherry has been that face. She has been able to destigmatize the process.”

Book signed on as co-sponsor of the Senate child marriage bill introduced by Lizbeth Benacquisto, a Fort Myers Republican and rape survivor. The two women legislators embraced the #MeToo movement and have been vocal on sexual misconduct allegations clouding the Florida Legislature.

In Book, Johnson sees an ally. If the bill passes, Johnson wants to stage a play based on her 2013 autobiographical novel, “Forgiving the Unforgiveable.” She’s also compiled a budget for a bus tour to promote awareness. She asks Book to help her brainstorm ways to raise money.

“When the bill passes, I want the community to know this has happened,” Johnson says. “I just want ideas. This is all so new to me.”

“You’ve been working so hard to make all this happen,” Book replies. “You have a lot going on. Take a break.”

“I can’t relax right now,” Johnson says without hesitation. “I’m on a journey.”

‘I’m coming out’

Child marriages are legal in every US state because of a hodgepodge of exceptions that let minors get married with parental consent or judicial approval. A majority of these marriages are coerced and involve girls marrying adult men, according to the Tahirih Justice Center, a national nonprofit group that tracks child marriage and aims to end gender-based violence.

The US State Department considers forced marriage a human rights abuse and, in the case of minors, a form of child abuse.

Though child marriages represent a fraction of all US marriages, the numbers remain significant. The Pew Research Center found that in 2014, nearly 60,000 15- to 17-year-olds were in marriages.

Few perceive America as a land where child marriage occurs; many think of developing nations like Afghanistan, Somalia and my homeland, India, which ignobly led the world with almost 27 million child marriages in 2017.

Johnson’s story is being told at a time when increasing numbers of women are feeling empowered to speak out about abuse. The women’s movement has been gaining momentum and has helped push forward child marriage bills. Besides Florida, a dozen other states have legislation pending, though not all would set a strict age floor at 18.

In Florida, Johnson has been instrumental. She has been vocal about the cruel story of her childhood. She hopes that one day soon, she might be able to stand next to the governor as he signs a child marriage ban into law.

That would be the vindication she has so earnestly sought.

There has been little opposition to the bill, though critics would still like Florida to make exceptions for minors who are voluntary participants or if their would-be spouses are in the military. Young servicemen and women sometimes want to marry their girlfriends or boyfriends before deploying on dangerous missions.

To that argument, Johnson retorts: If you are under 18, you cannot make any other legal decisions. You cannot buy a house, join the military, vote, rent a car or drink alcohol. How is it possible then to make a wise decision about entering into a legally binding partnership, one that is meant to be permanent?

Johnson leaves Book’s office brimming with excitement.

“You know that song, ‘I’m Coming Out’ by Diana Ross?” she asks as we climb into her car. She starts belting out the lyrics: I want the world to know… There’s a new me coming out. And I just had to live. And I want to give. I’m completely positive.

“This is exactly what’s happening,” she says. “People are coming out. My soul is so happy right now.”

She has ambitions to organize a conference for survivors of child abuse and child marriage, so they can express themselves in public, just like she did when she testified before lawmakers. “So they can get it all out,” she says.

She knows the importance of that firsthand.

A mother and wife by fifth grade

As a little girl, Johnson lived with her mother in Tampa in the back of the parsonage of their church. She was an only child.

Johnson and her mother belonged to an apostolic church and went to mandatory service six days a week, sometimes seven. Hats and long sleeves were required for the girls and women; they could not wear pants or jewelry. They behaved in accordance with strict church guidelines, and the elders told them what they could say or do.

Johnson’s mother spent little time with her. When she did, it was to bake biscuits and fruit pies for the church. There was no television in the house, but her mother would, on occasion, sit down with Johnson with a coloring book and pencils. That is the fondest memory Johnson has of her childhood.

Each day before school, Johnson sought out her aunt for lunch money because Johnson’s mother worked as a substitute teacher and could barely make ends meet. Her aunt lived nearby in the same house as the bishop of their church, and one day, when Johnson was 8, he summoned her into his bedroom.

I got your lunch money. Come and get it.

He forced her to lie on the bed, used petroleum jelly and penetrated her. He said nothing and then sent her on her way, blood dripping down her legs. Johnson ran to a bathroom to wash herself, but she was a child in the fourth grade. She could not understand what had happened.

After that, she was raped repeatedly by the bishop and also a church deacon. But when she tried to talk about it, no one believed her, not even her mother. It happened so frequently that Johnson accepted it as a part of growing up.

Her elementary school classmates cruelly told her she smelled like fish.

Several months passed when, one day in class, she was summoned to a room where students received their vaccinations. Johnson was confused. She never got shots; her church forbade them.

She was examined by a nurse and sent back to class. A few minutes later, she heard her name again, blaring through the intercom. She was to collect all her belongings and wait in the office for her mother to pick her up. What had she done wrong?

You’re going to have a baby, her mother blurted out in the car. Who’s been messing with you?

I tried to tell you, Johnson replied. But you said I was lying.

A doctor examined her and gave her the news: She was seven months pregnant. She did the math and knew it was the deacon’s baby.

Her mother stood up in church and told everyone her daughter was lying about being raped. She blamed Johnson for bringing shame on the family and sent her away to Miami with the bishop who had raped her. She was dropped off at Jackson Memorial Hospital and left there alone to have her baby.

On a February night in 1970, Johnson, only 10 years old, waited in a hospital hallway. She tried to imagine how a baby would come out of her body; no one had explained it to her. The stares burned through her; she felt like an oddity at an amusement park.

At 1:54 a.m., she gave birth to her first child. When she returned to Tampa, a child welfare worker came by to ask questions. She figures her elementary school must have tipped off the state.

The men who had raped her were adults and if the truth were to surface, they would face statutory rape charges. Instead, Johnson’s mother arranged for her daughter to marry one of her rapists, the deacon. She bought a white dress and veil for her daughter and accompanied bride and groom to the Hillsborough County courthouse in Tampa.

Johnson was 11. The man she was marrying was 20.

Johnson remembers sitting at a long table that seemed bigger than her house. She remembers her mother speaking with the judge. The judge refused to marry a girl so young, even though she had a baby.

But a month later, they tried again, this time in neighboring Pinellas County, where Johnson was allowed to sign on the dotted line. The judge was fully aware of her age; the license lists her date of birth.

She had not finished fifth grade yet on March 29, 1971, when she became a wife as well as a mother.

So began a life of burden, a life she was forced to accept.

Marriage before adulthood often has crushing consequences, undermining a girl’s access to health, education and economic opportunities. Girls and women in abusive relationships often suffer from low self-esteem and can fall into a self-destructive pattern of attracting more exploitation. Johnson was no exception.

At first, she returned to school while her mother looked after the baby. But her church prohibited the use of birth control, and Johnson had baby after baby.

Her husband abandoned her each time she was pregnant. She had no choice but to take him back when he returned after the baby was born. They lived in the same parsonage house with Johnson’s mother and slept in Johnson’s old bedroom surrounded by cribs.

Girls her age played with baby dolls. Johnson found herself with real babies.

She washed diapers, cleaned the house and cooked one-pot stews. Her husband rarely spoke with her; she was just there for sex. They struggled to pay the bills.

She was too young to know how to act, so she watched married couples in church and mimicked their behavior at home.

She loved studying and even skipped a grade one year. As it turned out, school was the only normal thing in her life. But that, too, was taken from her. She made it somehow to the ninth grade but then could go on no longer. By the time she was 17, she was raising six children. She never knew what it was like to play sports or go to the prom or graduate. Robbed of her childhood, she lost all motivation.

Every day when she woke up, she cried.

It was her husband who should have been handcuffed, she thought. She felt she was handcuffed instead.

She grew tired of her husband’s lack of support and sought help from Legal Aid. They wrote her a check for $75 to pay an attorney to file for divorce. But not long after, at 19, she married a 37-year-old man. He, too, hurt her verbally and physically. She bore three more children and was 27 when her youngest daughter was born.

By then, Johnson felt the weight of nine children — five girls and four boys — and an abusive husband pulling her down. She was frustrated, tired, bitter and, most of all, angry that this life had been forced on her. It began to affect her relationships with her kids. She hollered and fussed at them more often and tried her best to remember they didn’t ask to be born. It wasn’t their fault.

She smiled on the outside, but inside she was always crying.

She felt worthless and even contemplated driving her car off the Howard Franklin Bridge that spans Tampa Bay.

It was only after she left her mother’s church that Johnson was able to start healing. Through a new church, she met a psychologist, Joan Gaines. The two women began talking. It was the first time, really, that anyone had listened to her.

It had taken almost half her life for Johnson to find her voice.

Forgiveness

Gaines described Johnson as a smart, resilient woman who was keen on setting herself on a better path. She was like a round-bottomed roly-poly toy: No matter how many times you knock it over, it comes right back up.

“She was a child with nine children,” Gaines said. “She began to grow up much later in her life.”

Gaines, too, was an only child, but she had a happy childhood. Johnson’s mother’s actions were beyond comprehension.

“You don’t have to be nurturing to be a mother,” Gaines said. “All you have to have is a vagina.”

Johnson leaned on Gaines and looked inward. She turned to her faith in God, and she learned to forgive her rapists, her mother and, most important, herself.

It was time, she realized, to escape the dungeon of bitterness that was sapping her energy. The past was hurting her because she had chosen to hold onto it.

For Johnson, forgiveness was the only way to move forward, the only way she could speak freely about what she had suffered so she could save others.

‘The whole state of Florida failed me’

Hours after her jaunt to the Capitol, Johnson makes her way across town to see Tommye Hutto, a 78-year-old woman curtailed by rheumatoid arthritis.

Playing lobbyist is Johnson’s passion, but her job as a private caregiver pays the bills. She also had been teaching behavior-challenged children at an elementary school but gave that up to focus her energy on the legislative session.

Hutto retired as communications director for the California Teachers Union and moved to Tallahassee to be near her daughters. She lives by herself in north Tallahassee, needs assistance around the house and is one of several elderly clients Johnson sees.

The day before, Johnson helped a woman in her 90s who can no longer fend for herself. Johnson fixed her a dinner of fish sticks and steak fries and then wrote out a checklist: Make sure the bed rails are up on both sides in the highest position; insert an extra pad in the adult diaper for absorbency; check that her life alert is around her neck; empty the trash; tidy the house.

I watched Johnson intently before blurting out the obvious question: “What’s it like to take care of people after you did nothing but that all your life?”

“Well, I have to earn money somehow,” she answered.

She took this job, she explained, because caregiving is what she’s good at. She raised nine children, after all.

She moved to north Florida in 2008 after she remarried again. She and her third husband ran a barbecue place together in Tallahassee. But that marriage, too, ended in divorce.

Johnson could have returned to Tampa, where all her children were. But that was when she felt a calling. She felt compelled to share her story to make things better so no one else would have to endure what she had. She did not want her obituary to be confined to mother, grandmother and divorcee. She stayed in Tallahassee and launched her crusade.

She turned a small third bedroom into a home office and surrounded herself with her achievements. They serve as reminders that her life is no longer broken: a volunteer of the year award, a congratulatory letter from Michelle Obama on her book, a high school diploma from Franklin Academy. Johnson took classes online and at the age of 55, marched in the school’s 2015 commencement ceremony.

By her desk is a card one of her sons sent her on Valentine’s Day. “Of all the moms in the world, you are by far the best the world has seen.”

Despite her struggles, Johnson has no regrets about having her children.

“I still feel like I did everything I could do as a parent. I gave it my best shot with what I had,” she said. “I don’t feel less than a mother.”

At Hutto’s house, her motherly instincts kick into gear. She fixes dinner for Hutto and plops down on the living room couch. It feels like a long day after her rounds at the Capitol.

Sometimes, the two women watch “Wheel of Fortune” together. Tonight, they decide on conversation instead. They discuss the tribulations of aging and one of their favorite foods: fried chicken from the Publix deli. And, they talk about the one thing they have in common: being an only child.

“I guess there’s good and bad to that,” Hutto says.

“What’s the good part?” Johnson asks.

“Well, you get all the attention. You get to choose what you want. It’s fun.”

“I don’t know any fun part,” Johnson says, raising her eyebrows.

Hutto knows most of Johnson’s story and was, like others, in disbelief that such things could happen in America. She’s glad to know the child marriage bill is well on its way to becoming law and that it’s getting attention.

“What caused you to start advocating?” Hutto asks, her curiosity piqued.

Johnson mentions her book and a non-profit she launched to support abuse victims after she began speaking at small gatherings and realized the need.

Hutto says she knew of one girl in her high school who got pregnant, had her baby and then came back to school. But she didn’t get married.

“Did you know there were over 200,000 child marriages in America in the last 14 years,” Johnson says. “Over 16,000 were in Florida.”

“That’s amazing,” Hutto replies. “I had no idea. How did we not know?”

Johnson brings up her own case.

“The hospital knew. The school knew. The courts knew,” she says. “So plenty of people knew, but nothing was done. The whole state of Florida failed me.

“I feel my life was taken from me,” she says. “The ones who were supposed to protect me, didn’t.”

No response seems appropriate in this moment, and seconds pass in silence. Johnson looks down and takes a slow bite of fried chicken.

In a few days, she will be back at the Capitol, making her rounds — and hoping that the state that failed her will not fail again.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2018/01/29/she-was-raped-pregnant-and-married-by-11-now-she-fights-to-end-child-marriage-in-the-us/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/01/30/she-was-raped-pregnant-and-married-by-11-now-she-fights-to-end-child-marriage-in-the-us/

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billrhetts · 8 years ago

Video

youtube

7 Days Street Preaching in Nashville Tennessee & a Report on the Reformation Conference.

I just got back from spending an amazing seven days in Tennessee. My primary reason for going, was to attend Reforming America Ministries third annual two-day Reformation Preaching Conference, which was hosted at Calvary Bible Church in Joelton. I traveled afar to sit, lean, listen, and learn under a collective team of extraordinary polished sophisticated Bible Scholars. As one person said, we were “richly fed” and we “drank well” from their solid teachings. Regarding one particular Bible topic, one described this privilege as sitting under that teaching of a “no higher accolades of academia.” The aforementioned speakers taught and preached various sermons, as well as through each of the Five Solas. All their vendors were very resourceful. I purchased a book by the last survivor of the WWII U.S.S. Indianapolis, what a blessing it was to speak with him. To enhance my library, I also purchased a 3-volume set on Psalms (my wife gave me a $280 spending allowance, but lots of that went towards parking costs downtown). Do you know what we need today? Preachers who are actually out there, where the dead are. Uncloistered men, who care nothing about religious accommodations, or ivory towers. They may use libraries, but they do not love them. They would rather stand out in the midst of a depraved humanity, and cry out thus saith the Lord, hear the Word of the Lord. We need to take this so called good theology, and get it out there where the dead are. – Paul Washer Their itinerary provided us with plenty of time to engage in Biblical fellowship, whereas I had the privilege of enjoying their company and conversations. When it all ended, it was difficult to say good bye, so I slipped away, and quietly drove off. I wasn’t going to let any of them see any tears in my eyes (they probably already think Californians are sissies). Brethren, that’s how wonderful this conference was. Besides, every time I come to ‘the South,’ I wish to remain there, but I do have a wonderful wife in California. The Lord certainly used this conference to teach, edify, train-up, and equip myself and others for the ministry. As mentioned in my previous video about this trip, the best way to maximize the financial investments for this trip, was to make a ‘missions trip’ out of it. Therefore I spent one week preaching and sharing the glorious Gospel in the streets of Nashville. I concentrated on Broadway, west of the Cumberland River (from 1st Ave. S. to 5th Ave. S.), which consists of the renowned historical entertainment district for country music. I must confess I was very surprised. Having evangelized Sin City (Las Vegas), I quickly learned that the ‘late night – early morning’ crowds in Nashville were far more sinister than Vegas, including Prostitutes (the old VICE Cop in me is able to detect them). Of course the worldlings were acting just like the world, but so were many ‘professing’ Christians. If the professed convert distinctly and deliberately declares that he knows the Lord’s will but does not mean to attend to it, you are not to pamper his presumption, but it is your duty to assure him that he is not saved. Do not suppose that the Gospel is magnified or God glorified by going to the worldlings and telling them that they may be saved at this moment by simply accepting Christ as their Savior, while they are wedded to their idols, and their hearts are still in love with sin. If I do so I tell them a lie, pervert the Gospel, insult Christ, and turn the grace of God into lasciviousness. – Charles Spurgeon Since their locals lived in the progressively complacent Bible Belt, most of them had normalized partying and revelry. One professing Christian woman told me that her Pastor was “down with it,” and she believed drunkenness is not a sin (too many ‘Pastors’ are causing their sheep to stumble). Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:9-10). I cannot remember how many times I was told “Jesus turned water into wine,” by beautiful young girls staggering down this filthy decadent sidewalk, which at times had remnants of washed down vomit on it. I lost count how many times I warned them, that they believed in ‘another Jesus.’ It’s a shame that these locals did not sit under the Pastors that spoke at the aforementioned conference. And if they did, one of three things would surely occur. Either they’d be convicted, converted, and/or offended and leave. I will share one particular encouraging experience. While I was distributing tracts a group of decent looking youngsters approached me (this was still early in the evening). They advised they were Christians. Regretfully I was skeptical, as I assumed they might be partying, but thankfully I was wrong. It’s a beautiful thing to see young people carrying large Bibles in a place like this. They were from their church, evangelizing the same location. One of them told me that they were in serious need of encouragement, and that I was encouraging to them. However I failed to tell them, that it was they that encouraged me (I hope they read this). I then let them know that I was about to begin some ‘stop-light preaching,’ and invited them to watch. You’ll enjoy watching their excitement in the below video. By God’s grace I was able to personally distribute thousands and thousands of Gospel tracts, I preached to many more, and engaged in many conversations. Some of them were humble and receptive, a few seemingly repented, while others were belligerent, and fell just short of becoming violent. I had to constantly reassess when to stop, and when to move-on to the next block. Since these large crowds were all on the sidewalk, my large TOA megaphone would have been inappropriate to use. Therefore I used my Aker-38 in the areas where I did not have to compete with sounds emitting from the many bars and saloons. Consequently my voice had to be raised far above a normal level (I don’t like ‘that tone,’ or voice inflection, but it was necessary). I really thought this location was going to be mostly about the history of Tennessee, and their music industry. But I quickly learned that is was more about celebrating lasciviousness, sensuality, alcohol, and the bar scene. Since some of the crowds remained inside the bars and saloons, for long periods of time, I evangelized their interiors. Remember, if our evangelism is Biblical, then we will be hated by the world, so naturally I was 86-d from most of them. Take note that when I was asked to leave, I immediately and respectfully did so. Therefore there was no trespassing, nor bad witness. I also evangelized their Peddle Pubs and Peddle Taverns. As one woman peddled her liver and soul away, she read the front cover of my Gospel tract. She then scoffed the Gospel message by fully exposing her breasts. This place was like evangelizing hells mouth. Some want to live within the sound of church or chapel bell; I want to run a rescue shop, within a yard of hell. ~ C.T. Studd. If sinners will be damned, at least let them leap to hell over our bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms about their knees, imploring them to stay. If hell must be filled, at least let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go there unwarned and unprayed for. ~ Charles Spurgeon. Other than those many encounters which were audibly or visually R-rated, I regret not having my GoPro camera recording the entire time. Nonetheless I did not bring extra memory cards, nor was I able to store files on my tablet, and it would not be wise to spend ‘too much time’ at home later going through so many files (I need to spend less time at my desk, and more time in the streets). Therefore, the below video depicts only a ‘summary’ of a much larger labor of love. I want to thank those that financially contributed to this outreach, your dollars went to great use. Since I had a refrigerator in my motel room, I went grocery shopping, and ate in my room. However I did eat out thrice, and yes their barbeques are great. But they’re ‘big on pigs,’ and not much on beef. Above all, God was glorified, Christ was exalted, His church was edified, and the lost either read or heard the Gospel, and God’s Word promises to not return void. Sola Deo Gloria! If you would hear the word aright, [then] practice what you hear … hearing only will be no plea at the Day of Judgment—merely to say, “Lord, I have heard many sermons.” God will say, ‘What fruits of obedience have you bought forth?” The Word preached is not only to inform you, but reform you, conform you, and transform you … If you hear the word and are not bettered by it … your hearing will increase your condemnation. … We pity those who do not know where to hear the Word; but O how much worse will it be for those who do not care how they hear. To graceless disobedient hearers, every sermon will be a log to heat hell. It is sad to go loaded to hell with many logs to make it hotter. Oh, beg the Spirit to make the word preached powerful! Ministers can but speak to the ear, the Spirit speaks to the heart, and you must apply it. – Thomas Watson – a 17th century preacher.https://youtu.be/ZllS0ipTKzg

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minusthecynic · 8 years ago

Photo

I aint got time for playing games just that chick who sets my heart aflame it aint no mystery what happened with her and me/ how it wasn't meant to be/ how we fell apart like the little statuette I made of my art group leader in his honour cos it wasn't properly prepared for the kiln/ am I ready to endure that blazing tongue licking trial and torture/ don't kick me when I'm down cos you will teach me nothing you will just breed little beasties of resentment in me/ which wrap themselves around my neck and strangle the living daylights out of me/ in Jah I delight if you didn't know already/ rocking steady to this beat/ the music that's playing in my head when I write this/ I wont be defeated by my pitiful circumstances/ they say time heals all wounds but I've still got scabs cos I keep picking them open every time they start to recover/ breaking the bars of my skin cells cracking them open like fortune cookies/ fresh blood flows out my flesh/ I look like a wookie when folks give me stress/ I'm so blessed/ not oppressed by demons any longer/ though you might think otherwise if you saw the way I treat those pretty witty butterflies that come into my net/ live my love life with no regret/ you can make me soaking wet like the sea/ but I crave a deeper intimacy than the kind that your mind could ever possibly provide/ and its deeper than just bumping and grinding for me/ I want that church and steeple kind of love/ I want that sunday morning you in that white wedding dress kind of love/ I want the whole world knowing about us kind of love/ I don't like doing things in the secret chambers of a garden dark/ hey why should we hide our affection from the world we have been doing that for far too long and you wonder why I snapped my link with you/ don't expect to be respected if you aint prepared to show it shorty/ I aint hating on you I still love you but we can never be together again you already know that/ I know you harbour no illusions about the potential of the two of us to be together/ I'm desperately scribbling like an idiot jailbird chewing his last meal to avoid the temptation of another live video broadcast I shouldn't be watching streaming from the lounge room of some cutie I probably shouldn't be friends with but my love for God is endless/ so can I extend a benevolent hand without my motives being twisted all out of shape like pipe cleaners/ some say I'm a dreamer cos I spit that utopian paradise concept I utilize these skills not to pay the bills just to entertain the masses/ some may say I'm classist nah I'm just a classic/ like retro reebok or Adidas sneaks/ I do speak my mind in volumes copious compendiums of the freedom I've been extended by Jesus/ I won't end up like my grandfolks did/ going to hell in a handbasket/ unless they truly turned around on their deathbeds/ I've got to hope what they confessed to my moms n pops was genuine/ cos id sure hate not to see their lovely faces in heaven/ its pretty tricky yo when youre the second generation/ passing on the truth you learned from your ancestors/ I can relate to that indigenous struggle to maintain cultural heritage/ keep the language alive/ keep our songs and dances going/ put our art on blast/ cos we don't want our past to always remain our past sometimes we want it present in our future also/ only the bits that can potentially be redeemed for Jesus/ some say I'm an also ran/ but I aint gonna freeze up just because hate and criticism be on the increase/ shorty knows ive got it locked with Jesus He causes the evil to decrease in me/ less of me and more of you Lord this is my plea/ I know I cheat cos I don't flow to the beat/ just the music drumming in between my own ears/ perfect love casts out all fear/ you can tell I'm sloppy with my rhyme schemes panting for Christs living water like a thirsty deer/ unlike my homegirl channy I don't flow properly/ I do it sloppily but I'm still Gods property/ I dig this rap game ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper/ ive been that wannabe rhyme dropper/ homies hate on the skills got me wondering why don't they go ahead and do it themselves if they want to hear something slightly more endearing/ I would be cheering/ I aint hating for the sake of hating/ big up my homies I be celebrating/ not denigrating/ this is more than a recreational pursuit for me/ I would do it for a full time job but noones dangling golden cash carrots under me/ little wonder cos my thunder got stolen by way too many broken hearts and the molten lava I fell in/ cos my ego got in the way of my progress/ little girls calling me their idol/ people comparing me to my heroes/ as if I could ever be considered their peers and equals/ my head got big and swelled/ I could barely hold it up it was so bursting with pride/ yet when I chose to walk by the side of the lion of zion I realized how little I was without His help/ and what wee amounts of change I could accomplish stranded on my own on a lonely island/ selfishness just gets you nowhere fast/ ive got regrets for the way I used to live/ that die is cast but I broke the mould/ still haven't got a woman to have and hold/ for the rest of my life though when I do I'm gonna treat her like purest gold/ a diamond that's been cut innumerable times made more beautiful by her scars/ she will forever own my heart/ I hate the fact that I cant be with her right now/ I hate the fact that God said no to one girl but He might say yes to another/ plenty fish in the sea for this brother/ I know its a tired stale old cliché but I believe that I don't have to settle for a life of permanent bachelorhood/ and if youre a chick youre a spinster/ don't let them stick that bachelorette trash labelling on you/ whats in a name/ identity distinction/ you aint one of the bros you're your own person/ I give up on myself too soon just like I did with you/ strap me to a billion black balloons let them weigh down this sad faced clown/ fill them up with concrete when its still dripping liquid/ if that's even possible/ descriptive of the way I feel/ like I'm sweating bullets and lead/ scared of the future without a bae to call my own/ unlike that game show I don't aim to claim the throne/ I'm just happy playing follow the leader/ not straying from Jahs calling rounding up those stubborn ones I'm that sheep dog/ prodding cattle to get moving on a journey of self improvement/ no one knows the troubles ive seen or where ive been/ or the times when ive come in between a rock and a hard place/ or husbands and wives/ gossip separates friends/ and causes you to use kitchen knives/ for something other than slicing up animal meat/ I don't want any more blood flowing down our streets/ we already got robbed once I would be a dunce if I ever put myself in a position to allow that to happen again/ now God provided the money so we can claim back on insurance all that got jacked from us/ and so we could tighten our security/ Lord I wanna live a life of purity but you know what these two eyes see/ pretty young things find their way to me when I aint even looking for them/ so ive gotta be extra careful do that dip and bounce with my eyeballs/ when other dudes in seventh grade were making collages of busty babes I was pasting tiny babies snaps to my page/ we didn't even get to use a pen til then/ maybe it was freshman year/ can we live our lives without causing each others eyes to drip rivers of tears/ all of these days weeks months I wasted/ all of the blood on my lips I tasted/ only from my own d n a far as I could tell/ though some share the same as me/ in some small way linked by code of genetics to all of humanity/ its pathetic how we start race wars and act sexist/ all because were stubborn and pigheaded/ tell ourselves we can't forgive the wrongs of the past but that's a lie of the enemy/ crazy talk like suddenly sprouting legs and trotting round if you're a sea anemone/ I aint a portugese man of war I wonder what I'm fighting for/ instead of delighting in you Lord igniting that holy fire in me/ I'm frightened for what the future has in store/ I don't wanna be the same old me anymore/ but I find myself in wrestling matches with angels / like Jacob pretty soon I'm gonna wind up missing hip bones/ could you change my name to Israel/ so I know God will prevail evey time someone calls my name/ seeing myself as His success upon each occasion when they point out my failures/ and they will know us by the trail of the dead skin cells attached to bloody bandages we leave behind us when we go strolling down the gardens of the ghettos we all know and love/ I've still gotta live with the consequences of my actions this side of heaven/ I'm so dense and intense most cant handle me so they sit on the fence and observe the way my candles lit/ while I collect my dollars and cents and just smile cos Gods a genius/ cracking me up cos suckers and liars said I could never make any money outta this biz/ guess what I proved them wrong even though that wasn't the motivating factor/ saving souls and taking care of my future family was the only reason why I ever wanted to get cashed up/ I talked way too much trash for my own good/ folks misunderstood the way I acted in my neighbourhood/ losers calling themselves outlaws/ if they got locked up in jail how would they feel for real/ bush rangers strangers highway men by way men/ you aint going my way men so I can relax/ and even if you did pull me over to one side and told this kid to give his money cough that cash give it up quick smart like pash rash or risk losing his life you think i'd care to open my wallet for such deviants/ losing my life means nothing to me cos its in the hands of Jesus stupid/ so I aint fretting if you pull a gun on me and stick it to my head tell me that youre gonna pull the trigger on my skull and blast it to smithereens/ cos I know who my king is/ and I know where my future is/ lying beyond the stars/ they treat me like a spider from mars sipping cider from a glass/ eyeball with a hole where the pupil should be/ I'm like john lennon legend and tupac I wrestle with my own vanity/ that's insanity/ but one out of three found Jesus in the end/ at least that's the truth of which I'm convinced my friend/ some say I'm gonna deal with my sorrow tomorrow then they don't live another day there has to be a better way/ homies who consider themselves sold out for Jesus still watch movies with cussing does that even bear discussing/ why the shortie of my dreams watching scream queens better yet what I'm doing in that haunted house I should ask myself/ why the ski mask or hockey like Jason why I'm chasing that dragon why I'm facing these giants why I see myself as a dwarf but my God towers over my oppressors/ why I love the fact that He forgives me despite my constant messing round with transgressions and gressors/ how am I supposed to address this/ so much we don't talk about for the sake of love/ like I quit paying out on atheists/ cos I knew that wasn't winning souls for His kingdom/ it wasn't Christs mindset/ even though I don't believe that atheists truly exist theyre such an easy target/ I close my eyes and try to forget/ about all the blood sweat and tears it took to get my homegirl to where she is today/ thank you Lord for all the change you have brought to her life that death for life exchange/ I had to force myself to slow down cos I wasn't getting anywhere speeding too fast through life/ is it cos I drink too much coffee that I'm mentally rushing through this cconversation already thinking of what I'm gonna do with my day once you're up and gone/ why can't I just chill with it and enjoy the moment/ I don't have a remote control button to freeze the sun and keep you here with me shortie so I've gotta lap up the milk of time you're giving me like a happy cat and don't complain/ cos I cant prolong your stay for any longer than you wanna be here/ I'm sincere in my apology for trying to express my love for you in a physical way before you were ready/ I should have stuck with emotional expressions of the deep impression you carved into my heart right from the very start/ I guess I should have been more careful the kind of pics I was allowing my eyes to look at less than an hour before meeting you/ now I'm entreating you have mercy on me/ give me date number two/ or call it business meet/ cos I mix business with pleasure when the two of us are standing on the same street/ I'm demanding your attention never commanding it/ you could conquer the world if you quit hanging with twits/ do I include myself in that category/ guaranteed you could win a game of scattergories/ look at me I'm an allegory/ for what could happen if you trust in Jesus with your whole heart/ quit playing church and pushing HIm to the furthest branch of your birch/ I know sometimes life situations have got you out on a limb/ and I can't even imagine what you went through having to endure refugee camp/ dealing with that cramped space/ though I can relate to starting over in a brand new country where no one knows your name or face/ or the beauty of your personality/ I know it was hard for your folks cos they probably started at the top in your country then slid back to the bottom in ours/ having to begin all over again/ I remember how excited you were on the advent of becoming a citizen/ we've been through some happy times together/ getting higher than Everest/ stoked off that moment enthralled by your cleverness/ when you got into uni and excelled at those good grades/ when I saw you shining like constellations up on stage/ such a sensation I'm amazed/ you were on the line up for a folk festival I only visited as a paying guest/ is it only in my fantasies you lay your head down on my chest in wedded bliss/ baby let me comb your hair/ I love you in everything you wear/ can you do a fashion show for me when you select what you determine to be the best dress for that particular occasion/ you don't need any make up to look gorgeous/ I could wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with my head besides yours on the pillow every evening/ you got me weeping like a willow cos I only share this double bed with ghosts and memories/ they say the rap game is a widow maker/ cos cats be onto you pouncing when you shake your money maker and bouncing round the house like that/ every dog on the block wants to chat with you/ wants to lock you in chains make a hood rat out of you/ but you aint going for their smooth talk/ cos your eyes are on your heavenly prize/ not just like some souls whose only goal is to see themselves blaze bright and all the rest of the world can just burn up like a pile of garbage you discarded in your yard cos you couldn't stand the sight of carnage/ they feed people to pigs in my country no really/ they got mafia operating in my local area maybe/ living next door to a bikie gang affiliated lady/ still she can't use her shotgun to make a hole in the foot of an intruder/ its crazy how our laws sometimes protects criminal elements more than it does those who are innocent victims/ I'm sick of chewing humble crow pie eating it just cos evil minded fools won't let sleeping dogs lie and give me peace/ as much as I care about the cause you're fighting for I can do it my own way without your help/ although you asked for mine you didn't want it in the way I was offering/ so I withdraw my assistance/ and I say forget about our friendship if you can't treat me right/ i'm not the scum between your toes/ i'm not a handkerchief you can wipe your bloody nose with/ i'm not that goober dripping from your snoz gonzo/ you think you're the fonz but you're barely fuzzy bear yet alone tonto/ Jah come to my aid pronto get this hate off my mind/ help me stop thinking about the friendships which I'm forced to leave behind/ should have drowned his companionship when my homegirl left me/ romantically though I was the one who hopped on that plane/ I didn't get why wendy Matthews song was sad cos I associated blue skies with gladness even though billy was right they do bring tears/ yet they can also fill you up with cheer/ when you know theres sunshine for days so yall can come out and play/ and I struggle to relate to songs about the sun which stays bright until late in the evening like those catastrophic gothic trolls panicking at the disco / cos I operate under a different hemisphere but I'm more concerned about concentrating on what unites us instead of what divides/ believe it or not/ I'm ripley praying for those victims of homicide regicide and suicide/ suckers talked about killing God yet He still lives/ despite all of our obnoxiousness such snotty nosed punks He still forgives/ some get drunk off their own pretentions of genius/ yet they forget God is the one who gives their clogs their cleverness and their pants their smartness/ I wont be a bossy boots if you don't shoot the messenger/ did I forget Jesus is in the drivers seat/ I permanently play the role of passenger/ who paid for my passage Yah/ I aint saying things just to massage your ego/ I don't care if the truth is offensive to people/ though I try to speak it in love I don't shove folks in boxes/ without my spirit finding its home in Christ I'm a vagrant with no fixed address having no place to rest like He spoke of Himself in unfavourable comparison to vixens and foxes ❤ 🙂

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johnchiarello · 8 years ago

Text

We are the light too

WE ARE THE LIGHT- TOO

16 And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.

17 And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.

https://youtu.be/N0XfwA6Lm_k We are the light too

https://ccoutreach87.files.wordpress.com/2017/04/3-26-17-we-are-the-light-too.zip

2nd Kings 6

ON VIDEO-

.Catholic Mass- Church Unlimited verses

.What son is it?

.God sees the heart

.Do justice

.Protect the animals too

.Leave him alone

.Too many questions

.Death row story

.The gift of prophecy

Habakkuk 1:5

Behold ye among the heathen, and regard, and wonder marvelously: for I will work a work in your days which ye will not believe, though it be told you.

NEW [Past teaching- verses below]

I talked about the verses from the Sunday Mass- and added a few thoughts as well.

When Samuel anointed David as a young boy- this enduement of power was given unto him- and it was for a purpose.

David prophesied much in the book of Psalms- he revealed hidden things- things that only God knows.

Yet- thru the gift of prophecy- God also reveals the hidden things in men’s hearts.

The apostle Paul taught us this in the book of Corinthians-

24 But if all prophesy, and there come in one that believeth not, or one unlearned, he is convinced of all, he is judged of all:

25 And thus are the secrets of his heart made manifest;

Cor. 14

When Jesus healed the blind man in John chapter 9-

For the first time- he ‘saw’.

He saw things that he never 'saw’ before.

He did not know who Jesus was- but simply that a man named Jesus opened his eyes-

John 9:11 He answered and said, A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and said unto me, Go to the pool of Siloam, and wash: and I went and washed, and I received sight.

When we as the church- speak the word of the Lord- it reveals things.

Jesus told us to shout the hidden things upon the housetops-

Matthew 10:27

What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops.

One of the functions of the church is to make hidden things manifest.

That speaks of revealing the things that society prefers ‘not be revealed’.

Jesus and the apostles spoke in the audience of the people- and at times the rulers were afraid that their misdeeds would be exposed.

The purpose of this ‘revealing' is not for destruction- but to bring the hidden things to light- and as the apostle says ‘they will fall down on their knees and say God is in you’-

and so falling down on his face he will worship God, and report that God is in you of a truth. Cor. 14:25b

Because only God truly knows the secret things in the heart- as the verse from the Mass says-

1Samuel 16:7 But the LORD said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.

And when those secret things are brought to light- then true repentance comes.

Yes- Jesus told us he is the light of the world-

John 8:12

Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

And because we are his- we too are the light of the world-

Matthew 5:14

Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.

In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

The anointing upon David as a boy stayed with him for the rest of his life- he functioned in that gift.

Jesus has given us the Spirt- the Spirit of God is in us-

And like the verse from the Mass said- light reveals stuff- we are the children of light-

Ephesians 5:13 But all things that are reproved are made manifest by the light: for whatsoever doth make manifest is light.

John 12:36

While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light. These things spake Jesus, and departed, and did hide himself from them.

PAST POSTS [Verses below] here are my past teachings that relate to today’s post ‘we are the light too’

https://ccoutreach87.com/1st-2nd-samuel-links-updated-3-17/

https://ccoutreach87.com/1st-2nd-corinthians/

https://ccoutreach87.com/john-complete-links-added/

https://ccoutreach87.com/ephesians-highlights/

KINGS-

https://ccoutreach87.com/1st-2nd-kings/

https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/29/kings-2/

SAMUEL 16- Samuel is coming from the recent ‘hacking incident’ of king Agag, and the Lord tells him to go to Bethlehem and anoint a new king. Samuel is afraid ‘what if Saul hears about it? He will kill me’. Notice, Samuel feels intimidated and fearful. When he gets to Bethlehem the scripture says the Elders were all in a panic, they said ‘are you come in peace’? Hey, they just heard about the hacking incident, word spreads fast when a prophet straps it on with some pagan! They must have been thinking Samuel was on a warpath. He tells them he is come in peace and wants to sacrifice with them and worship. As a little aside, when you have prophetic ministers in a city, it’s only natural that Elders [pastors] are going to feel intimidated. Why? Are prophets better men? No, but the prophetic operates under a different type of anointing. Don’t forget you already saw Samuel gain a reputation among the people because of his strong prophetic gift. Sometimes pastors can feel intimidated ‘geez, that guy hit the nail on the head. I hope he doesn’t call me out by name too!’ Samuel doesn’t ‘call them out’ but says ‘hey Elders, where all in this together. Let’s worship God’. Samuel finds David and anoints him. Saul is battling with all sorts of personal issues [evil spirit]. Even his close associates can pick up on it. The servants recommend for Saul to get a worshipper who can play music and minister to Saul. They tell him ‘yeah, there is this guy named David. He’s real good at playing music. Plus he is a valiant and mighty warrior’. We often see David as a ‘mamby pamby mamma’s boy’ at this stage of his life. But scripture says he already built up a reputation as a fighter. David takes the job and becomes a musician for Saul. A few thoughts. In this chapter we see Gods Spirit [anointing] leaving Saul and going with David. David himself in Psalms pleas with the Lord ‘take not thy Holy Spirit from me’ after his sin with Bathsheba. Let me encourage some of my Pastor friends. It’s easy to read stuff like this, or for some ‘prophet’ to pronounce stuff like this to a pastor. I really don’t see applying this scenario to modern day ministers. God’s Spirit in the Old Testament was operating differently than today. Only one king at a time could have the ‘kingly anointing’. When the Spirit left Saul for David it was because God was only anointing one person for the job. Today, while it’s possible for a pastor/minister to mess up and ruin his ministry, I still wouldn’t apply stuff like this in too much of a personal way. Sort of like ‘The Lord must have left me and now he’s chosen so and so on the other side of town’. The Lord ‘doesn’t leave you’ in this way under the New Covenant. Paul said the gifts and callings of God are without repentance, in context he is speaking of natural Israel, but you can also apply it to believer’s gifts today. How much God uses you does depend on your willingness and obedience to his call, but don’t think he left ‘your church’ and went to the other one down the street! [he hasn’t written ‘Michelob’ on your door! See entry 887]

John 8-9 [radio # 592] before I cover this, last night I was watching a preacher from a classic type ministry. Not the flamboyant ‘prosperity’ type with gold hanging off and all. I was a bit surprised [let down] to hear him teach the classic errors of the prosperity movement. He took the verse in Corinthians where it says ‘though he was rich yet for your sakes he became poor’ and taught that Jesus died to make you rich financially [ a direct violation of 1st Timothy 6]. He went to Genesis and showed how Abraham was rich, then jumped to Galatians 3 and taught ‘we are Abrahams kids, therefore we get his blessings[stuff]’ a classic mistake in doctrine. I explained this in the book ‘House of Prayer or Den of Thieves’ in the chapter ‘The Abrahamic Blessing’[you can read this book on this site!]. This stuff shouldn’t have been coming from this program, they are not the type that teach this stuff. You could tell from the look on the faces of the audience that they were feeling uncomfortable with what this guy was teaching! Now John 8-9. Jesus says ‘you seek to kill me, a man that has told you the truth that I heard from God’ often times when people are reproved, they don’t like it. It’s not that what the ‘reprover’ is saying is wrong, it’s just we don’t like being confronted with truth. We usually take it out on the messenger. Jesus says ‘before Abraham was, I AM’ this is the name of God in the Old Testament ‘the I AM’. Jesus is the ‘I AM’ in Johns gospel. I AM the door, I AM the resurrection, I AM the way and the truth and the life. I believe you find 7 different ‘I AM’s’ of Jesus in this gospel. Jesus now heals the man who was blind from birth. They ask him ‘who sinned, this man or his parents’? They had a mentality that always wanted to place blame on someone for sickness, sort of like some in the healing movements of today. Jesus said ‘neither’. He simply said ‘this happened to him so I would heal him and God would get glory’. He heals the man and the leaders are mad. ‘Who healed you’? A man called Jesus. They get the guys parents and say ‘you say he was blind, then how come he can see?’ They say ‘ask him’. They go back and ask again. The healed guy answers ‘how many times do you want to hear it, I told you already’. Though the man still doesn’t know Jesus is the Messiah, yet he starts to defend him, and even prophesy! ‘We know that if any man be a worshipper of God, and does his will, him God hears’ good stuff coming from an ‘unsaved’ guy! Jesus hears that they rejected him, he tells the guy ‘I am messiah’ and the guy believes. Jesus says ‘I come to give sight to those who are blind [admit they need help] and to take away sight from those who see’ [think they know it all]. We often can’t receive correction because of religious pride, we think we ‘see everything’ someone comes along and shakes the cart, our first response is ‘who does he think he is, doesn’t he know that we all know more than him’. Quite often whole groups of leaders have the same blind spot. This is what enforces the belief that they must be right! Jesus told them ‘you guys are blind, if you could just admit you didn’t know it all, then I could show you some good stuff, but because you think you already ‘see’ everything, then you are gonna miss out’. Pride is destructive, it keeps us in the dark spiritually. NOTE; Let me give an example. I remember reading an article on tithing from one of the best Christian historical review magazines in print. They do exhaustive historical research on many subjects. To the surprise of the readers, this well respected historical magazine, read by many theologians, showed that all the historical evidence points to the fact that the churches of the first century did not practice tithing! This seemed to go against the grain of what many of the theologians believed, who regularly read this magazine. But you could have easily come to this same understanding from simply reading the New Testament in context. I have basically taught you guys this for years, from scripture. Yet this ‘blind spot’ was an area where many intelligent ‘religious leaders’ were all wrong. They ‘corporately’ were wrong on this subject. It took a ‘jolt’ from true historical evidence before they could ‘see’ the obvious! It would be too humbling to have seen it from a ‘layman firefighter’ who has a web site. NOTE; Tithing as a practice for Christians developed at the same time as ‘the church building’ and the office of ‘Priest’ and eventually the altar [in the Catholic system] and the mass. The church got away from the family/community mindset and took on more of the ‘church building’ form. Tithing fit in easily into an idea of church that asked ‘how much should we put in the offering basket on Sunday’. The whole language and style of church called for the doctrine of tithing to be taught, sort of like a ‘tax’ on the people of God to support ‘the church’. Now, there are some good things that came out of the ‘dark ages’ of Christianity. The ‘desert fathers’, the Catholic mystics and other good spiritual disciplines. I don’t want to fall into the category of those who see the dark ages as a time of no good whatsoever. But we also need to see how the church during that time was very legalistic in the sense that the Mass and Altar and 'Priest’ presiding over the liturgy were all forms of Christian service that were absent from the churches in Scripture. The tithe was just one added aspect of this legalistic approach that seemed to make it all the way into the Protestant churches of today. All these churches are good Christians in my view, but we need to be open to change and reformation as the Spirit leads.

VERSES-

Ephesians 5:8 For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light:

Ephesians 5:9 (For the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth;)

Ephesians 5:10 Proving what is acceptable unto the Lord.

Ephesians 5:11 And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.

Ephesians 5:12 For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret.

Ephesians 5:13 But all things that are reproved are made manifest by the light: for whatsoever doth make manifest is light.

Ephesians 5:14 Wherefore he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.

1Samuel 16:1 And the LORD said unto Samuel, How long wilt thou mourn for Saul, seeing I have rejected him from reigning over Israel? fill thine horn with oil, and go, I will send thee to Jesse the Bethlehemite: for I have provided me a king among his sons.

1Samuel 16:2 And Samuel said, How can I go? if Saul hear it, he will kill me. And the LORD said, Take an heifer with thee, and say, I am come to sacrifice to the LORD.

1Samuel 16:3 And call Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will shew thee what thou shalt do: and thou shalt anoint unto me him whom I name unto thee.

1Samuel 16:4 And Samuel did that which the LORD spake, and came to Bethlehem. And the elders of the town trembled at his coming, and said, Comest thou peaceably?

1Samuel 16:5 And he said, Peaceably: I am come to sacrifice unto the LORD: sanctify yourselves, and come with me to the sacrifice. And he sanctified Jesse and his sons, and called them to the sacrifice.

1Samuel 16:6 And it came to pass, when they were come, that he looked on Eliab, and said, Surely the LORD's anointed is before him.

1Samuel 16:8 Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. And he said, Neither hath the LORD chosen this.

1Samuel 16:9 Then Jesse made Shammah to pass by. And he said, Neither hath the LORD chosen this.

1Samuel 16:10 Again, Jesse made seven of his sons to pass before Samuel. And Samuel said unto Jesse, The LORD hath not chosen these.

1Samuel 16:11 And Samuel said unto Jesse, Are here all thy children? And he said, There remaineth yet the youngest, and, behold, he keepeth the sheep. And Samuel said unto Jesse, Send and fetch him: for we will not sit down till he come hither.

1Samuel 16:12 And he sent, and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the LORD said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he.

1Samuel 16:13 Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the midst of his brethren: and the Spirit of the LORD came upon David from that day forward. So Samuel rose up, and went to Ramah.

1Samuel 16:14 But the Spirit of the LORD departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the LORD troubled him.

1Samuel 16:15 And Saul's servants said unto him, Behold now, an evil spirit from God troubleth thee.

1Samuel 16:16 Let our lord now command thy servants, which are before thee, to seek out a man, who is a cunning player on an harp: and it shall come to pass, when the evil spirit from God is upon thee, that he shall play with his hand, and thou shalt be well.

1Samuel 16:17 And Saul said unto his servants, Provide me now a man that can play well, and bring him to me.

1Samuel 16:18 Then answered one of the servants, and said, Behold, I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, that is cunning in playing, and a mighty valiant man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the LORD is with him.

1Samuel 16:19 Wherefore Saul sent messengers unto Jesse, and said, Send me David thy son, which is with the sheep.

1Samuel 16:20 And Jesse took an ass laden with bread, and a bottle of wine, and a kid, and sent them by David his son unto Saul.

1Samuel 16:21 And David came to Saul, and stood before him: and he loved him greatly; and he became his armourbearer.

1Samuel 16:22 And Saul sent to Jesse, saying, Let David, I pray thee, stand before me; for he hath found favour in my sight.

1Samuel 16:23 And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.

John 9:1 And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.

John 9:2 And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?

John 9:3 Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.

John 9:4 I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.

John 9:5 As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.

John 9:6 When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay,

John 9:7 And said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam, (which is by interpretation, Sent.) He went his way therefore, and washed, and came seeing.

John 9:8 The neighbours therefore, and they which before had seen him that he was blind, said, Is not this he that sat and begged?

John 9:9 Some said, This is he: others said, He is like him: but he said, I am he.

John 9:10 Therefore said they unto him, How were thine eyes opened?

John 9:11 He answered and said, A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and said unto me, Go to the pool of Siloam, and wash: and I went and washed, and I received sight.

John 9:12 Then said they unto him, Where is he? He said, I know not.

John 9:13 They brought to the Pharisees him that aforetime was blind.

John 9:14 And it was the sabbath day when Jesus made the clay, and opened his eyes.

John 9:15 Then again the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. He said unto them, He put clay upon mine eyes, and I washed, and do see.

John 9:16 Therefore said some of the Pharisees, This man is not of God, because he keepeth not the sabbath day. Others said, How can a man that is a sinner do such miracles? And there was a division among them.

John 9:17 They say unto the blind man again, What sayest thou of him, that he hath opened thine eyes? He said, He is a prophet.

John 9:18 But the Jews did not believe concerning him, that he had been blind, and received his sight, until they called the parents of him that had received his sight.

John 9:19 And they asked them, saying, Is this your son, who ye say was born blind? how then doth he now see?

John 9:20 His parents answered them and said, We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind:

John 9:21 But by what means he now seeth, we know not; or who hath opened his eyes, we know not: he is of age; ask him: he shall speak for himself.

John 9:22 These words spake his parents, because they feared the Jews: for the Jews had agreed already, that if any man did confess that he was Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue.

John 9:23 Therefore said his parents, He is of age; ask him.

John 9:24 Then again called they the man that was blind, and said unto him, Give God the praise: we know that this man is a sinner.

John 9:25 He answered and said, Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.

John 9:26 Then said they to him again, What did he to thee? how opened he thine eyes?

John 9:27 He answered them, I have told you already, and ye did not hear: wherefore would ye hear it again? will ye also be his disciples?

John 9:28 Then they reviled him, and said, Thou art his disciple; but we are Moses' disciples.

John 9:29 We know that God spake unto Moses: as for this fellow, we know not from whence he is.

John 9:30 The man answered and said unto them, Why herein is a marvellous thing, that ye know not from whence he is, and yet he hath opened mine eyes.

John 9:31 Now we know that God heareth not sinners: but if any man be a worshipper of God, and doeth his will, him he heareth.

John 9:32 Since the world began was it not heard that any man opened the eyes of one that was born blind.

John 9:33 If this man were not of God, he could do nothing.

John 9:34 They answered and said unto him, Thou wast altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us? And they cast him out.

John 9:35 Jesus heard that they had cast him out; and when he had found him, he said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God?

John 9:36 He answered and said, Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on him?

John 9:37 And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast both seen him, and it is he that talketh with thee.

John 9:38 And he said, Lord, I believe. And he worshipped him.

John 9:39 And Jesus said, For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind.

John 9:40 And some of the Pharisees which were with him heard these words, and said unto him, Are we blind also?

John 9:41 Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin: but now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth.

36 And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would eat with him. And he went into the Pharisee's house, and sat down to meat.

37 And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment,

38 And stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.

39 Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner.

40 And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on.

41 There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty.

42 And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?

43 Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged.

44 And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.

45 Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet.

46 My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.

47 Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.

48 And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven.

49 And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this that forgiveth sins also?

50 And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.

Luke 7

Micah 6:8 [Full Chapter]

He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?

2 Kings 6King James Version (KJV)

6 And the sons of the prophets said unto Elisha, Behold now, the place where we dwell with thee is too strait for us.

2 Let us go, we pray thee, unto Jordan, and take thence every man a beam, and let us make us a place there, where we may dwell. And he answered, Go ye.

3 And one said, Be content, I pray thee, and go with thy servants. And he answered, I will go.

4 So he went with them. And when they came to Jordan, they cut down wood.

5 But as one was felling a beam, the axe head fell into the water: and he cried, and said, Alas, master! for it was borrowed.

6 And the man of God said, Where fell it? And he shewed him the place. And he cut down a stick, and cast it in thither; and the iron did swim.

7 Therefore said he, Take it up to thee. And he put out his hand, and took it.

8 Then the king of Syria warred against Israel, and took counsel with his servants, saying, In such and such a place shall be my camp.

9 And the man of God sent unto the king of Israel, saying, Beware that thou pass not such a place; for thither the Syrians are come down.

10 And the king of Israel sent to the place which the man of God told him and warned him of, and saved himself there, not once nor twice.

11 Therefore the heart of the king of Syria was sore troubled for this thing; and he called his servants, and said unto them, Will ye not shew me which of us is for the king of Israel?

12 And one of his servants said, None, my lord, O king: but Elisha, the prophet that is in Israel, telleth the king of Israel the words that thou speakest in thy bedchamber.

13 And he said, Go and spy where he is, that I may send and fetch him. And it was told him, saying, Behold, he is in Dothan.

14 Therefore sent he thither horses, and chariots, and a great host: and they came by night, and compassed the city about.

15 And when the servant of the man of God was risen early, and gone forth, behold, an host compassed the city both with horses and chariots. And his servant said unto him, Alas, my master! how shall we do?

16 And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.

Kings

Hebrews 13:3

Remember them that are in bonds, as bound withthem; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.

In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

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artsychica2012 · 8 years ago

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(via The Incredible Legend of the Black Church)

Today, for Black History Month, I’d like to tell you about something that has been long forgotten in the legacy of Africans in America. You may have heard these stories and dismissed them as fabulous folklore or passed-down legends that bloomed into fable over the years, but trust me, this ain’t no Paul Bunyan fairy tale. Everything I’m about to tell you is 100 percent true, with no alternative facts sprinkled in.

You might want to sit down for what I’m about to tell you:

A long time ago, all across this country, there used to be—OK, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but stay with me for a minute. In black communities everywhere, there were preachers, pastors and clergymen who were honest, trustworthy men of God. They were the heads of the most important institution in the entire black universe: the black church. And both the churches and these men were—now, here’s the part that’s going to blow your mind:

They were actually important to the black community!

I heard you gasp. Don’t look at me like that. I know it is hard to believe, but I swear it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I even visited a few of them, back when I was a young man. Stop laughing. I’m not even kidding.

I knew you wouldn’t believe me, but I understand. You probably roll through black neighborhoods and see churches on every corner and wonder how there can be so many problems in black America when we have these well-attended, amply funded, faith-based institutions sprinkled throughout every place people of color live. I’m sure you’re wondering how we could have trustworthy men and women leading what amounts to community town hall meetings every Sunday, yet fail to produce any real results?

I ask myself that question all the time.

But you should know, I’m not lying when I tell you they used to be very relevant to our struggle. They weren’t always run by con men and gold diggers. I’m not talking about things my grandmother told me, or regurgitating something I once read in a World Book Encyclopedia. I’ve seen black preachers and clergy go from home to home spending time with the disabled. I remember how they prayed with the sick, consoled grieving families and even—why are you laughing so hard?

OK, I know you’ve seen Creflo Dollar’s poker-faced pleas when he explained how he needed a bigger private jet to do the Lord’s work. I thought it was hilarious, too. Well, to be honest, before that video, I had never actually seen Creflo Dollar, so I thought it was an ingenious sketch satirizing the black church. I asked who this new black actor on Saturday Night Live was, until someone informed me that it was real. (Also, most people aren’t aware that during Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, he, too, asked the Pharisees to upgrade him to a G5. You just can’t expect the son of God to fly commercial. Not with 12 disciples and Mary Magdalene. Do you know how much those tickets would cost?)

I bet the reason you’re giving me the side eye right now is that you’ve heard Kim Burrell’s golden-voiced carols about the love of Christ, right before she launched into a hateful, homophobic rant. I understand that it’s hard to fathom the con men we now call clergy as pillars of communities once you’ve seen Donnie McClurkin tell people not to protest but to pray. Eddie Long’s extended history of abuse is reminiscent of the Catholic Church’s centuries-long scandal, so I can see why you’re skeptical. You probably watched fake doctor Pastor Darrell Scott sell his soul to sidle up to the devil’s dingleberry we now call “president,” and it all looks so detestable. I get it, I really do.

But there was a day when these men were our shepherds—and not just in the spiritual sense. There once was a time in our history when “reverend” wasn’t just a title. It was an apt adjective. Before they started calling Martin Luther King Jr.’s sermons “civil rights speeches.” Back when black churches were organizing centers, polling places, help for the poor and shelters from the storm. Back when we gathered in the sanctuaries to discuss marching across the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Back when our places of worship were such catalysts for change that white supremacists bombed the Baptist one in Birmingham, Ala., to bits. Back when we huddled in them for the first watch night services.

Even before they were stops on the Underground Railroad, our churches were always beacons of black freedom. Ask Denmark Vesey where he planned his slave rebellion. Ask Dylann Roof where he knew he could find nine angels.