This is a short story that I wrote about the depravity of man and the Holiness of God. Every event is true, though not strictly autobiographical. This is a mixture of things that have happened in our city, to my old roommate and to me.

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord

Experience at University culminated to this one point: “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

I grew up in comfort that the Deity and I were on the same page. I did no wrong, and he was my homeboy. Just like my t-shirt. That was our relationship, I do my best, he forgives me, and one day I’ll float around on a cloud with my grandparents.

I am from a wealthy family; my father is a banker. I went to a wealthy high school on the wealthy side of town that promoted fake smiles and shallow concern. The churches there all said, “Follow Jesus and you’ll be blessed. You’ll have that BMW.” And nobody argued because everybody wanted that BMW.

We adopted my sister when she was born. She isn’t Anglo, but we love her anyway. Her mother had her at 16 and chose to kill her by giving her away instead of killing her while in the womb. My sister is two years younger than I am.

I went to University to study business. I was going to make it big like my dad; I wasn’t going to worry bout anything. I was going to drive my BMW in my wealthy neighborhood on my wealthy side of town when I graduated. I went to University because that is what every responsible member of society does.

University was three hours from home, two and a half if my foot enjoyed its fellowship with the accelerator. It was in a city not as nice as my own. My friends and I were too busy enjoying our “last party of the summer” parties so we didn’t secure housing in student neighborhoods. All that was left was the inner city.

I moved into a house with three other guys from my old school and church into a neighborhood where dumpsters marked every corner. Old sneakers hung from the power lines. Fast-food trash lined the street curb. Graffiti tagged the freight train in a rush of color as it passed by 20 yards away every hour.

I went to church the first two Sundays of the school year because I was used to it. On the third Sunday I was too tired from playing video games all night so I slept in and enjoyed glorious freedom. I was good enough, not just on Sundays, I didn’t have to go. I knew it all anyway, I had heard the same thing for the past 19 years.

The first month living in our house, my car was broken into. They stole my radio, scattered the contents of my glove box across the lawn, and stole my wheels. The police told me not to hold my breath on catching the guy.

Two weeks later our front door was tagged in the polygonnic style of spray-paint letters. I couldn’t read what it said, but who can?

A week after that I noticed the neighbor’s 9-year-old daughter getting forced into different cars with different older men by her mother a couple times a week. The first couple of times the little girl was screaming and crying, declaring her objections with tears and grabbing her mother, trying to hold on to anything to keep from going away. Each time her mother would slap her face and shove her in the car. From where I sat in my room, peering out through the blinds, I think I saw something trade hands. After a while, the car would come back and the old man of the day would dump the girl off at her house. After a few more trips, the girl would numbly accept her visitor without tears and screaming, just a blank stare and slow movements.

I told my roommates, and we were all horrified, but not disturbed enough to break the concrete bonds between our comfort and us. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

Eventually I noticed a flash of green passing between the older men and the mother at the transfer of the little girl. I didn’t like to watch the process, though it was hard to avoid. Later the mother would walk down to the street corner where the soiled sneakers hung from the power lines. She would flash the green for a flash of white in an exchange with the imposing gentlemen stationed there.

I was tired and wearied that first semester in school, disturbed with the environment I suddenly found myself. I listened to surrounding conversations to see if anybody experienced similar living conditions. Every conversation amongst the little clones of cliques spotted through out campus was of the same topic. Sex, alcohol, the beach, money, celebrities, that’s all I heard. Were they blind? Just down the street where I lived, reality was playing on a dirty blacktop with no shoes or food. I had the same conversations with the same people in high school.

One night, early in the morning, I was awakened by gunfire. I grabbed the baseball bat I kept by my bed and cowered in the closet. Later when the police knocked on my door, I found that the two men at the corner got in an argument and shot each other dead. The little girl’s mother was caught in the crossfire. I watched as medics loaded her bleeding body into the back of the ambulance as social workers carried a tearless 9-year-old to a waiting sedan. Although I hadn’t prayed in a while, I prayed that the girl’s new family wouldn’t sell her into prostitution for cocaine.

Two of my roommates moved out.

* * *

A month later, my mom called me. Small talk was shallow and I could tell she had something important to tell me.

“Your sister is pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“She’s pregnant,” my mother choked.

“She’s 17.”

My mother sobbed on the phone. Through snotty sniffles she told me my sister consensually slept with a 41-year-old coworker, who was married with four kids.

When did she do this? At what time? How did she give herself to a 41-year-old man?! It was absurd. I threw up.

My mother began to call my name, “Jo-.” Somehow, my phone was violently propelled across the room, flinging vomit over the dirty carpet. It left an impact crater in the dry-wall.

Inside, I snapped. My chest was heavy with the despair of it all. Falling to my knees, I grasped for each breath and clenched my hair in my hands. What the hell was wrong with the world? How does a young girl, loved by her family, give herself away like that? And what was so important to argue over that the only settlement was with 9mm bullets?

“Where are you GOD!?” I cried. “Why have you left? How can you let all this happen? I thought you loved us!” Tears, saliva and snot soaked the carpet as I dug my face into it’s fibers and pounded it with my fists. “Why have you LEFT!” I repeated.

And then a voice answered. Though not audible, I felt the words imprint upon my chest.

I have not left. I will never leave you nor forsake you.

You left.

Angry, I cried out, “I left?! I followed every commandment! I never drank nor slept around! I am not like those people outside, I went to church.”

You belittled my name with your sacrifices. As if I needed anything, as if the Creator and King could be served by human hands! I desire your heart, not your vain sacrifices.

Still proud, I stood and haughtily lifted my eyes. “What about that little girl and my sister? How could you have let this happen?”

Will the fault finder contend with the Almighty? Let him who reproves God answer it. Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, since you know. You left me and ran this life in vain. I have a plan for the little girl and for your sister. I cause all things to work together for good, as if any man’s actions or choice can thwart me. I foreknow, I predestine, I call, I justify, and I glorify. I give and I take away. There is no other God but Me.

Driven back to my knees in fear, I spoke words that were not mine. They welled up in my throat and poured out in worship without my control. “Behold, I am insignificant; what can I reply to you? I lay my hand on my mouth. Once I have spoken, and I will not answer; even twice, and I will add nothing more.”

Pick up your cross and follow. Go to the little girl and tell her about Me.

* * *

The social worker offered me a chair, which I timidly accepted by the old bunk bed. I was at the orphanage where they took the little girl, Shawna. She was curled into a ball, starring blankly at the wall. Her pillowcase was wet and her cartoon princess sheets were drawn tightly around her, held in clenched, scared hands.

“Hello, Shawna,” I said. She didn’t move, though she blinked. I couldn’t tell if she was listening, but I continued, hoping she would hear anyway. “My name is Job. I have a friend I want you to meet. Many men have hurt you, but He isn’t like any man. He is a King. His name is Jesus…”

Experience at University culminated to this point: “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

©Matthew Watson, 2007

A thousand thanksgivings for a thousand eternities would not be enough to express our joy for freeing us! You paid more than what has ever been paid before to set me free. No longer am I a slave to sin, but by your grace a bondservant to you, O King.

And now I think of so many still enslaved. Won’t you free them too? Your grace is enough, your death paid the debt we owe, won’t you take them too?

Lauren is in Nigeria, Kara and Chloe in Tanzania, Rachel in Germany, and the ME team in the Middle East, preaching the gospel to sinners like us. Use them and speak through them. Won’t you take those whom you deserve? What about Kalyn, Linda and the Kids, Jenny, Aimee, Randy, Nando, Glen, AJ, Johann, Danny, Ewasko, and my family? Take them, please!

I don’t want your name to be forsaken in their lives. I don’t want your name to be blasphemed in their hearts. I don’t want your grace to be untasted by their souls. I ask and hope that it is your will that they be saved. I beg that they will become accountable to you now, before your majesty forces them to bow in the end. I beg you for their salvation. Do great things amongst the nations; redeem your tarnished name! Bring back the lost, take the throne, Jesus!

Victory is yours, how can we be in denial of it? You are Savior. You are Lord. You are Sovereign. How can we ignore it? Wickedness and perverseness is this generation. Our culture mixes souls with one another by cheap words and cheaper sex. We belittle every gift you give. We murder children and sacrifice them to the god of convenience. We sell the ideals of fiction and forsake reality. We are blinded and deafened by the sights and sounds of our iniquities.

And your children are spoiled by their rebellion. We wait for heaven but forget the One who will take us there. We sit in our big new buildings with Playstations, Pipe organs, and coffee shops, shaking each other’s hands for being saved. How many of us watch instead of worship? Who is genuinely contrite for their sins and desperate for the refreshing breath of grace, which only you can provide?

Revive us O Lord. Revive the dead and dieing in the great halls of your bride. Command us and give us what you command. Let us seek your righteousness and authentically seek your face, instead of just listening to a song about it.

New York Times: African Crucible

I have recently read this article in the New York Times about the horrors some children have to go through in Angola (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/15/world/africa/15witches.html?ex=1352782800&en=6a6aec7a1b5f2977&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss ).

I cant believe how broken we are. How far we have run from the Father. Surly, Surly He will see how the wickedness of man is great and our every intent and thought is on evil continuously. Surly He shall see how depraved we are, how enslaved we are, and set us free. Will we ever taste freedom?

What sort of generation buys clothes and pampers dogs but murders their children in the womb? What sort of generation worships celebrity and every hedonistic desire for sex, pleasure and vain-glory yet ignores that a father pumped battery acid into his son’s stomach for fear that the son was a witch?

What sort of wickedness dwells in us that we would see the Creator displayed by the heavens and all of creation yet we worship the corrupt instead of the incorruptible God? How long until the Lord King opens the seals and pours out judgment on this earth?

When, Oh Holy God will You return? You have set us free from our bondage by the death of Your Son! You have set us free and now we can bow and pay fealty to You instead of the darkness! Why do we commit such atrocities against Your Holiness?

Forgive us Lord King, forgive your people, and spare us a little longer so that we may wake up from our stupor of nightmares and apathy! Let us see Your face and call upon the name of the Father to love on the nations, lost in culture and sin! Embolden your people and send us out so that we may seek Your will and bring glory to Your name!

Father forgive us.

“They won the crowds over to their side, stoned Paul and dragged him out of the town, thinking that he was dead. But when the brothers gathered around him, he got up and went back into the town.” Acts 14:19-20.

Paul and is boys are preaching, proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ, healing folk and causing a riot amongst the peoples of Lystra, Antioch, and Iconium. Gentiles and Jews alike rise up, win over the crowds, and throw big freaking rocks at Paul until they presume he is dead. Then they drag his tattered body outside the city and dump him on the dirt road.

I can see his disciples standing around his body. Some are crying, some are in shock and probably scared. I’m sure Barnabas is praying fervently. And then Paul opens his eyes. He stands up and dusts off his tunic, and then to the astonishment of all normal men, he turns toward the gate of the city and walks back in.

And you know what the Bible says Paul does next? ”Strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, [Paul said], ‘Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.’” (Acts 14:22).

PAUL! You just go boulders dumped on your body, man! Are you okay? WHERE ARE YOU GOING!? Those people just killed you! “Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.”

Have you ever heard of such a thing? Did Paul reject those people, pray for a mighty smiting of the town, or forsake God? No. He “preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples.” (v.21).

Does this happen today? Yes.

Here is the URL to an article from the SBC about a man named Jameel in the Middle East. Read it and be encouraged, for even his trials did not turn him from the faith and his love is still strong for his enemies. http://www.sbc.net/redirect.asp?url=http://www.imb.org/. Praise Jesus for witnesses like Jameel! May we never have to be in a similar situation, but if we are, may we react the same way Paul, Stephen (Acts 7:54-60), Jameel, and Jesus did. May we pray on their behalf to God for their salvation out of love and a passion for their very souls.

I was reminded of my friend who told me of his doubt in the scriptures. His main contention was his doubt in the actual personification of Satan; he felt the Devil was compensation by an early eastern culture to deal with the idea of sin and death. I think he couldn’t see past the red tights, bifurcated tail and pitchfork.

A friend of ours, AJ Neely, and I tried to bring up angels, certainly everybody believes in angels. He denied their existence too. “What is the point in angels and a devil? He doesn’t need them, why would they exist?”

“Well, He doesn’t need us either, and yet we exist. It is what He has chosen to do,” one of us said.

We were dumbfounded by this denial. Scripture is so explicate about Satan and how he comes to “steal and kill and destroy,” (John 10:10). Ezekiel 28:12-19 tells how Satan, once a beautiful cherub, grew prideful and became unrighteous and was cast down to earth by God. Biblegateway.com found 129 entries when I typed in “Satan,” “Serpent” and “devil” (I have kept in mind that serpent in some cases actually referred to a snake).

In short, evidence is clear and backed up by scripture. The Word of God is inerrant, but sometimes I take the acceptance of that for granted. As my friend showed me, who claims to be a Christian and believes in the Omnipotence, Omnipresence, and Omniscience of God, not everyone believes this.

Doubt in the inerrancy of scripture presents several problems. If you allow the bullet of doubt to penetrate your thinking in one area, what is to keep another bullet from hitting you in another area, next time more vital? Soon “I deny the authenticity of Satan; the scriptures are a metaphor” will become “Jesus wasn’t really the Son of God, but he was such a good, moral teacher and healed so many people that we can attribute this to him as an adjective.” Eventually that too becomes “There is no God, just a way people should treat each other.” If you deny one part you deny it all. A double-minded man is a fool. He builds his house on sand. When the torrents of rain surely come, his house will be washed away (Matthew 7:26-27). He is tossed about like the sea driven by the wind, out of control (James 1:6-7).

You literally have no foundation when you doubt the scriptures. There is no more common ground between you and believers, there is no more joy. What would be the point? If one thing is untrue then all others are untrue! Can you see the lack of logic in this? Can you see that when you doubt what the Almighty Sovereign God says is true, when He cannot lie (Titus 1:2), all His works are perfect (Deuteronomy 32:4), and all His scriptures are inspired by Him (2 Timothy 3:16), you therefore cannot have faith nor hope in eternal glory with Him?

What a miserable burden this produces for the shoulders of the double-minded man! How the lies of Satan, telling people that he does not exist, enslave those whom believe in them. “You therefore, beloved, knowing this beforehand, be on your guard so that you are not carried away by the error of unprincipled men and fall from your own steadfastness,” (2 Peter 3:17).

Standfast! With all Hell breathing down your neck, with all the sulphury fumes of the lies of the enemy in your ear, STANDFAST! You have the Armor of God for a reason, “so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil,” and, “so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm,” (Ephesians 6:11 & 13).

I can attest that it is not by our own strength that we stand, but by the grace of God. “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me did not prove vain; but I labored even more than all of them, yet not I, but the grace of God with me,” (1 Corinthians 15:10).

Remember the scene in Braveheart of the first major battle between the English and the Scots? William Wallace gave the most hardcore pep-talk on freedom ever then went and taunted the English generals. Shortly afterwards the Scots began to harass the opposing army by lifting their kilts and bellowing war cries. When the armoured cavalry of King Edward the Longshanks charged the starving peasants of Scotland, they did not at first flee. They stoodfast and decimated the cavalry because of their faith in the plans of their leaders. 

For consider the psalmist’s praise “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold,” (Psalm 18:2).

The enemy will use any weapon in his arsenal to try and weaken the believer so that the believer either becomes ineffective and lukewarm or becomes more a hindrance than a help. We allow this special attack of doubt and despair to occur by our sin. I have noticed in my own experiences that Satan will pierce the skin with well aimed sniper fire of doubt following a constant barrage of temptation and sin.  

“Where is your faith now? You must not love the Lord, He doesn’t love you. You’re only a disappointment. Did you just call out to Him? He cant hear you, He doesn’t listen to sinners…”

Indeed the attack is great and facilitated by the sabotage of our flesh. We sin because we are a broken people, freed from the curse of the law, but still under the effects of the curse of creation. Even Paul continued to feel the effects of enemy fire (Romans 7:14-20).

We will discuss the nature of doubt, situations in which it occurs, and the cure.

 Doubt 

Def: To be uncertain about; consider questionable or unlikely; hesitate to believe. To distrust. To fear; be apprehensive about. 

doubt. (n.d.). Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Retrieved July 17, 2007, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/doubt. 

My definition: Doubt: “The lack of faith and failure to believe in an all-powerful God from whom all blessings flow.”

Obviously doubt in the Lord is simply absurd. If we believe that the Word is inerrant, then we believe that He is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-present and He loves us enough to send His only begotten son to die for us while we were yet sinners (John 3:16, Romans 5:8).

Lets look at the Bible…

Doubt is overcome by faith.

Genesis 15:1-6

Abram is presented with the promise of a blessing, descendants numbering more than the stars in the sky. Yet Abram is old and his wife barren, he has no heir. His belief in the Lord to fulfill His promises was “reckoned it to him as righteousness.”

The Lord is with us.

Judges 6:11-16

Gideon is the runt of the runt clan in Israel. He is on his knees grinding some wheat rations so that the Midianites, the people occupying and at war with Israel, couldn’t get it. The Lord approaches him and calls him “valiant warrior” (v. 12). Gideon proceeds to question the Lord, “O my lord, if the LORD is with us, why then has all this happened to us? And where are all His miracles which our fathers told us about…” (v. 13). The Lord tells him to go fight and that “I will be with you” (v. 16).

In both of these situations (let alone the Israelite nation as a whole whom literally saw the power of the Lord lead them out of Egypt, through the waters, while providing food and water in the desert), The Lord gives a command or a promise of blessings that seem, to the men that should receive, impossible given the circumstances. One man is tiny and insignificant in a nation occupied by an enemy army, the other an old sheep herder with no heir and a barren wife. Yet in both situations the Lord takes away the barriers and promises blessings.

God is in control of EVERYTHING.

Luke 8:22-25

Even the wind and the waves answer to Him. We freak out at the slightest bit of trouble and claim to be “perishing.” Let us at least do what the disciples did and go to the One whom has control, the Lord. With all thanksgiving and supplication, let us make our prayers known to God (Philippians 4:4-9).

Doubt causes us to lose stability in the Lord.

2 Peter 3:17, James 1:6-8

Without faith we are double-minded and hypocrites, “driven and tossed by the wind” as the waves of the sea. We lose our steadfastness. We give ground to Satan and give him a foothold in our souls.

How can we be sure? The cure: Fruits of Faith 

Philippians 2:12-13 says to work out our salvation with fear in trembling. We are saved by grace through faith, not of our own works, so that no man can boast (Eph 2:8-9). Therefore our works are to prove, or show our faith.

The tree is known by its fruit.

Matthew 12:33-35

Good produces good; evil, evil. How can an evil man speak what is good for our speech reveals what is in our hearts. Therefore is we are indwelled with the Holy Spirit as Christians, we produce fruit of the spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). Do our actions and our fruit reflect the Holy Spirit inside us, or are we quenching it? Remember that the Lord works in us “both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” (Philippians 2: 13) We can not do it, it must be from the Lord. As Paul says “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not.” (Romans 7:18).

Faith is the antidote of doubt.

Hebrews 11:1, Romans 5:3-5

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and hope doesn’t disappoint because the love of God has been poured out onto our hearts through the Holy Spirit. Exult in trials for the Lord uses them to build faith. And faith in the Lord produces fruit, profit, proven character, spiritual maturity. This brings about hope. You doubt? Rejoice and have faith in the Lord for He is in control and directs our steps (Proverbs 16:9). “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4).   

Strive for the fruit.

Galatians 5:22-23

Pray earnestly for these things, for you know as a sinner, saved by grace, that we are inadequate. Even praying seems empty and barren. This is a lie from the enemy. Our only cure is the Lord. Ask Him to fill you with His spirit.

So when the enemy comes to tell you lies, you can point to tangible proof that you are indeed a child of the Lord, freed from the curse of the law by the death of Jesus (Romans 6:6-11). Point to the Spirit, point to His promises, point to Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith.

This then is the chief end of man: to produce fruit to glorify God. Let us endure, fixing our eyes on Jesus Christ. Be encouraged that the Lord does not forsake His children. You were saved, you have been saved, you are being saved, and you will be saved.

“The poor is hated even by his neighbor, but those who love the rich are many. He who despises his neighbor sins, but happy is he who is gracious to the poor.” (Proverbs 14:20-21 NASB)

I will give some background information but will try to get to the point as quick as possible.

I currently work at a church across the street from Texas A&M. I am their maintenance guy and on Sundays after I open the doors and clean up the trash from the bars left over from the night before, I sit at the secretary’s desk and provide help when needed.

I have had several opportunities to try to minister to some people: victims of addiction, poverty, themselves, and enablement. This past Sunday I was picking up trash around the perimeter of the church and came upon a man reclining on a bench with his hat over his eyes. He looked dirty, homeless, and different from my white-bread, middle-class culture. I’ve named him Stephen.

He looked up and said “Good morning,”

“Good Morning. How are you doing, sir?” I asked automatically as I swept up some trash.

“Oh, not too good. I’ve been up all night crying.”

What? Most people just say fine and move on.

“You’ve been up all night crying? Why?” I ask.

He told me a story about being married for four days, having two boys in the 11^th-grade, and no money to buy food. By a quick examination of his eyes I could see that they were indeed red and irritated, but from tears or chemicals I could not ascertain, and praise Jesus, I ceased to care. His story was typical of most stories I heard: I couldn’t tell if this one was true or not. I remember James 2:16 condemning those who say “Go in peace, be warmed, and be filled” and yet don’t give them what is necessary for their body, so I looked into my wallet to prove I wouldn’t be lying if I said I had no money.

“Nah, Man. I don’t want to ask you for any money,” Stephen objected.

“Well, that’s cool. Nobody likes to ask for charity, but love should be freely given.”

With more talk, I discovered that Stephen does get a check from somebody but he had to spend it to get his woman out of jail, who is a lawyer. There is no way the lawyer part is true.

However cynical I sound now, I wanted to help him so much because I knew what he really wanted, but didn’t know it himself, was Jesus. I told him I have a friend, whom he has probably heard of, and I wanted him to meet. My friend doesn’t promise all the problems will be taken care of or even happiness. However, He does promise Joy and Peace. (I sort of mumbled something similar. I wish I had been that concise.)

Of course, Stephen had heard of my friend named Jesus and said that he reads the Bible everyday. So I misreferenced Matthew 6:33 about seeking first Jesus and His righteousness and all these things will be made unto you (If he had known Matthew 5:32, the place I said, he would wonder why I was referencing a verse on divorce). I absolutely bumbled through the Gospel with this man because, contrary to scripture’s teaching, I wasn’t ready with it.

After a few more words with Stephen, listening to him and trying to offer some kind words, I went on my way with work. I turned around and looked at the Starbucks two feet away in which walked many a Sunday-dressed family, including myself, on their way to church. The dichotomy brought me to shame.

And as I sat down at my desk I began to think of everything else I wished I had said to Stephen. I wish I had gotten close and sat with him on the bench, and not four feet away as if I was afraid he would reach out and steal my credit card. I wished I had told him more about Him who is the bread of life and the living water and through whom whoever would drink of it, would never thirst again. I wish I had invested my heart with him and told him to praise God for the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord. But instead I sat down and drank my coffee.

Some people get stuck in a victim attitude where they see all the harm done to them and none of their own responsibility. Some people are plagued with demons of alcoholism, drug addiction, and disease for the wages of sin truly is death. Some people find others they can manipulate and victimize (I know two separate people who have been victims of the same con man).

And yet they still need Jesus. They are seeking for Him, they want Him, but they just don’t know it yet. I wish I had the power to touch the lame, heal the sick and give them what their heart desires; it is the charismatic in me. We can only do so much before the other person has to come the rest of the way. God conquerors our hearts, he certainly conquered mine. Yet some have hardened their hearts against Him who offers peace and love.

I praise Jesus that I have parents that provide for me and have taught me a work ethic! I Praise Him for the circumstances in which I live and get a world-class education. I don’t feel guilty that I don’t live in a cardboard box. I work and earn my money, even the bit my Uncle Sam steals from me. But that doesn’t give us an excuse; we still have the power to help.

Programs will not work. It is not a matter of mere sacrifices and aid, but a matter of the heart. Welfare enables a slothful lifestyle of taking advantage of the system. Social Security doesn’t benefit everybody anymore, and I don’t think I’ll ever see what was taken from my check. Give your love, dear heart. Give your finances and/or support with your precious time to the church, missions, and honest charities that work to disciple and show Christ’s healing to those that have never tasted of it. “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it. Do not say to your neighbor, ‘Go, and come back, and tomorrow I will give it,’ when you have it with you” (Proverbs 3:27-28 NASB).

Shall we not put to death our selfishness and stay in our comfort zones? Shall we live in our brick houses and ignore the shanties down the street? Thank you Jesus I live in Bryan where I am exposed to reality instead of Rock Prairie in College Station, surrounded by frats and peers of my socio-economic class. I am disgusted that for so long I have passed my eyes over the half of this community that has nothing compared to us.

I am disgusted that I can read an article on CNN about General Taylor’s armies of 15-year-old rapist soldiers in Sierra Leon and then have the next headline be about how “Knocked-Up” did at the box office.

We need to go.

In Revelation, Jesus says He will spit out the lukewarm for not being hot nor cold. I would vomit too if I had to taste our apathy.

–Matt

http://www.ststephenssociety.org/

Do you ever have those days when you find yourself in such an inexpressible mood of ambiguous blah? Like, you don’t really feel bad: no one died, your not wallowing in iniquity, no one screamed at you and you managed to drive around town without totalling your car. But you just don’t feel good either. You just feel messed up. Like something is broken and you cant figure it out, cant even really find the words to express it other than…well, messed up.

Do you suppose that is something yelling from the inside that this world is broken? Things aren’t right, and not just in you, but in the world? I’m not a pessimist, and I’m not a cynic after 9 a.m., but I refuse to believe that this world is so happy. I don’t think the American dream of golden retrievers and boats really work; it’s not reality. I see events like Sierra Leon, Darfur, and Iraq and see turmoil with tears, broken lives, but never much healing or joy.

Why? What makes our soul ache like this? What robs men of peace and lies to them telling them that the pursuit of happiness and success is the most important thing when there are people dieing in mass genocide from 12 year old killers and rapists? Mothers kill their children, molestations, gruesome and macabre murder, abortion. What the hell is wrong with us?

Would I be so presumptuous to claim it as sin? Would I really be overstepping my bounds to say it is the depraved state of mankind, laced with evil, that rebuke and run from what is righteous? There is no other option, what else makes the world the way it is? Sin, and the sinners who commit them.

Tell me there aren’t days when your chest feels tight and you feel like crap and you cant figure it out, cant even talk about it because you cant understand it. And we walk about through our day “Hey John how are you?” “O, I’m doin just fine. How bout you Jack?” “Fine.”

BS we’re doin fine. We’re lost and don’t even know it; there is just some hunch in our chests that grows heavy every once and a while when we begin to think of morality and truth.

BS we’re doin fine. Because if we were we wouldn’t have a problem. Murder, rape, and every other evil thing one man can do to another wouldn’t occur. Peace would reign, joy would flow.

BS we’re doin fine. We’ve abandoned Jesus at the dinner table and have made love with the world in the next room. And it wasn’t a one night stand; we are still trying to make it work.

Rain, rain on my face
It hasn’t stopped raining for days
My world is a flood
Slowly I become one with the mud

But if I can’t swim after forty days
and my mind is crushed by the thrashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up – when I’m falling
Lift me up – I’m weak and I’m dying
Lift me up – I need you to hold me
Lift me up – Keep me from drowning again

Downpour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean, I’m losing control
Dark sky all around
I can’t feel my feet touching the ground

Calm the storms that drench my eyes
Dry the streams still flowing
Cast down all the waves of sin
And guilt that overthrow me

(Jars of Clay, Flood)

To be honest, I never really understood this song. Something about rain and drowning and it probably had something to do with Noah. But it had a good rhythm.

But alas, the Lord sees fit to open our eyes and hearts when we are ready, and not before, and so after a week of sin and constant spiritual attack; I am becoming accountable that the words I say indeed prove that I am a fool, and that they hurt and tear down instead of build up; that I have become selfish, hunting for laughter to build my pride while sacrificing my brothers and sisters; discovering a title for the gospel that I have known and love happens to begin with “Calvin” and ends with “ism”; I feel so exhausted. Everywhere I see proof of my complete depravity and that, even though I wish not to, I still am a monster of iniquity.

And the problem of transgressing in a community that actually cares for the spiritual health of its family is that you cannot hide it away. No, almost instantly you must become accountable and take responsibility. And so a collection of brothers come up, praise the Lord for them!, to offer encouragement, love, and counsel to bring back to the Church the transgressor, that the Lord’s gift of repentance can be felt in His gift of Grace. The problem, or perhaps blessing, depending on which side of repentance you stand, of asking forgiveness, is that it is so danged humbling. And there is no escape.

A weeks worth of mistakes is alot to be accountable for, and at least to me, feels like an overwhelming flood of despair. And yet, Praise Jesus, the King of Kings has conquered my heart, and because He loves me, He sanctifies me. “For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren; and these whom He predestined, He also called; and these whom He called, He also justified; and these whom He justified, He also glorified” (Romans 8:29-30 NASB).

I can not imagine how a crime-stained worker of iniquity and the Just Creator of All Things can ever be forged together except for on the anvil of Jesus Christ, in which hope does not disappoint. And all imaginings of life without grace irresistible tend to become visions of Hell.

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye Heavenly Host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Indeed, Amen.

This is from the blog of the mission team in Guatemala my mother is on. (It is public on Internet so I dont think anything is information sensitive). See http://www.outboundguatemala.com/ for more info.

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MEDICAL REPORT

June 9th, 2007

I have found it quite humbling to see the conditions, poverty and health of a people so close to home with so very little. It makes me feel embarassed to have so much when these folks have so little. I wish everyone could see the precious faces of the children. That is what gets me the most are the eyes and smiles of these little children. The older women almost always want to hug and kiss you in pure respect and thanks for the very little we have done for them. And when I say ´´little´´ I mean little. We are only able to do bandaid medicine here. It is not possible to have all of the medicine we need to help every problem these people have. We are able to throw maybe a months worth of drugs at them but you know that that will not be enough to make a long term difference. But the caveat to that frustration is that they are hearing the word of God, we are showing them the love of God and hopefully they will know we love them and Gods people truly care about them. Eleven people accepted Christ as their Savior yesterday and I am not sure how many from the day before. So we know that we are making an eternal difference.

On a personal note, I have not once had to use an outhouse or a hole in the ground as I was prepared to do. Thank the Lord for that. One member of our team did see three boys go out into a field with a roll of toilet paper and cop a squat, one boy on each side holding the other middle boy up. What a site that must have been| I will never take for granted new underwear, or any underwear for that matter ever again.

We have fed the mountain villagers two days in a row. They are so appreciative. There are so many of them.

Today a dentist will be at the clinic with us. I was so afraid I would not have the skills to triage and assess these patients because my skills are labor and delivery related. God has given me confidence and I am working with a great medical team of two other nurses, a fantastic physician, translators and pharmacy personnel. The entire team that is here has a purpose for being here. Each person performs a job God has ordained. We are led by Chris Halvorson who has orchestrated every detail with perfection. What a nice role for me to be a follower and not a decision maker. I feel so close to God down here and among people who love him and are serving him, some with great personal sacrifice.

The entire team helped us bag vitamins and other drugs in individual bags on our first day here. We are well equipped with what God has provided, but it just isn´t enough. I have a vision for more. I have a hope for next year. Can you believe I am already talking about next year¡

Off to the mountain we go for another day of looking in ears and mouths, praying we can make a lifetime and eternal difference in the lives of many.

Andrea Robertson, registered nurse

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Lets go.