Fuego de Dios

It takes little effort to put out a candle; if you can breathe on it, and the fire goes out. You can blow on it, and the fire goes out. You can pull an Aragorn and put it out with your pointer finger and thumb.

It takes much effort and teamwork to put out a forest fire. If you breathe on it, it spreads. If the wind blows, it spreads. You can attempt to put it out like Aragorn, but you’ll just end up with a burnt finger and possibly pre-death cremation.

How many of us live as candles? Housing the fire of the LORD in the smallest way possible, able to be blown out, snuffed out, talked out.

How many of us live as candles being blown by the wind in life just to bounce back up as a larger flame?

I’ve tested it. You must speak loud and breath-y in order to put a candle out by talking.

God speaks in a still, small voice. A whisper.

I promise you, dear friend, He doesn’t put out your fire. It’s satan who houses the voice which puts your fire out.

My candle blew out long ago. I had a life calling that was BREATHED ON by the Holy Spirit. My flame –my faith- flickered. But I bounced up with a larger faith than I had during the point of my anointing.

God was asking me to be a forest fire –to destroy the kingdom of darkness. The wind that tossed me back and forth: my trials, my hurts, my falls...only proved God was greater than I. Opposition would make me burn more furiously and jealously in order to see the Kingdom of Heaven come to earth through His humble servants.

God was asking me to be a forest fire and all I could do was wither under the pressure, make the battle my own, and allow trials to snuff me out.

I leaned on my own strength, and that was my downfall. I harbored my own ambitions apart from God –my glory or no glory. I sat docile and unresponsive to God’s unique calling. His whisper raising to a shout and yet I still sat bleary-eyed wondering whose was this booming voice I couldn’t seem to escape.

I was a zombie. The living dead. Dead man walking. I was hopeless, helpless, weak, scared, and passive.

I needed a Lighter, and all I had was a once-lit black wick to work with.

I’m telling you, dear reader, I am firewood and so are you.

I’m ready to begin the journey of interruption. Interruption of culture plans, interruption of culture norms, interruption of hate, lust, war, envy, jealousy, intimidation, depression. I’m ready to interrupt history for the sake of Christ.

You, too, are an interrupter.

Are you ready to disrupt the future?

Thoughts of the day

(excluding the ones of last night during my slap-happy session)







My hands are frozen but this fire is warming.







I looked right-side-up with it upside-down. It read "Orowo"












Hello Sunset.








I feel prized and valued today. I should feel so everyday, but today...oh...today I feel exceptionally treasured.

No, the man of my dreams (of whom I know the name) didn't ask me to marry him or even on a date.

No, I didn't win the lottery.

My mom asked me for help.

Name changes

I will be anti-gender specific when I am changing the names of these people.

Days are good without Harry. Harry is not a fun person to be around because Harry forgets to smile. Harry makes me feel stupid. I do not like Harry.

Today was half-good because Harry was only there half of the time.

Sharon and I talked a lot today. Sharon and I are STILL talking. I like Sharon. (remember, not gender specific *AHEM*)

Sharon is nice.

Differences

Today is set to The Snow Ballet by Port Blue. One minute and eleven seconds to configure all of today's hurt and failures.

Oh, how many times I've had to start this song over.

Constant drones of societal life.

...I'd rather have the woods all to myself. I'd rather walk a thousand miles with little but my microKorg Bartholomew strapped to my back and a one dollar bill in my back left pocket.
I'd disappear from sight as long as my two best friends and sister tagged along.





"I'd like to flick a pimple at you"

I'm weird.

-silence-

Okay, okay. It's not a new profound revelation or anything, but I just felt the need to make that proclamation.

I can stare at any word (excluding single digit ones) for ten minutes and become the most confused person at that present time throughout the whole universe. Play becomes pjoy.

I associate my closest friends with certain things. And also my not so closest friends, but I'll stick with the closest ones.

Jesus is always a chord in F or Bb.
Kate is always yellow.
Aaron is a vegan pot pie.
Meagan is orange dreadlocks.
Brett is peanut butter.
Peyton is a nose ring.
Kristin is browns.
Whoever James is, he is hygiene.

oh my gosh! Weird word!

I'm supposed to be writing an essay for theFurnace, but I can't seem to write anything down for it.

I'm seriously killer at writing essays. It's just the beginning that ruins me. Once I get started though, there's no stopping me.

Unless you give me a Kombucha. And pizza.

...I'd stop for those.

I found myself falling in love with the idea of a man. A man I call my best friend.

A man so profoundly in love with God that I can't help but fall in love with him for that.

I have the slightest sense he might one day return the feelings, but for now I remain cynical. I may come off quite apathetic, but I really am only pathetic.

I've found the man of my dreams, and he's found the woman that's found him to be the man of her dreams.

Dear Man,

You may or may not know I'm talking to you...

You have captured my heart in ways words cannot and will not express.

If the feelings are never to be returned, please let me know soon.

Sincerely,

bethany