New Site

Ok so the fiction blog ( very basic ) is up at http://lifeisthemuse.blogspot.com/ .
check it out. there's not much on there now but hopefully it'll encourage me to dig through old stuff and write some new things as well.

May God bless you and yours.

New Ideas

Ok so maybe its just to satisfy my own creative urges, but I'm going to try doing a separate blog for some poetry and stories, and maybe some illustrations that go along with the poems and stories. This would allow me to use this site as what it was intended for, mainly an encouragement for those who may experience some of the mental and spiritual turbulence I've experienced in life. The other site will allow me to play with my fiction writing stuff, and to pretend that my fiction is worth publishing. Please give it a shot; some may be biblically themed, but i'll try to describe each piece I post so the reader knows what they are getting into, and I am of the belief that biblically themed material can be ( should be ) enjoyable even to those who do not believe that Jesus is God. Hopefully someone enjoys this stuff.

faith, hope, and love . . . they come from God. don't let these out of your mindset for even a moment, and I really think you can face any trial.

A New World part 4...

see earlier posts for the preceding story. this is the last installment and I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it.

It was a man, or at least appeared to be a man. About six feet tall, he looked clean and powerful, and his eyes looked hurt and joyful at the same time. Those eyes were very wise; maybe wiser than any man had ever been. This is his place. He was clothed in a way that Jacob did not recognize, and those clothes gave him the look of both a general and a father. The man stood tall and yet not proud in a way that both demanded respect and eased Jacob’s fear a little bit, and Jacob found himself standing, watching the man between him and the river. It may come as a surprise that he didn’t kneel, but the fact was that he didn’t need to. Everything about him was kneeling already, as he was kept rapt in watching the man, in an impossible mix of fear and hope, love and anticipation.

“It is my Father that you should fear. I do His work, and his task is mine to complete.” Jacob heard this with his soul, or with his eyes, but not with his ears. The man’s eyes were speaking to him.

“I am yours and you are Mine. You will fall, but your falling will come to an end. You will hurt and cry, but you will be whole when you cease to see yourself at all and when your tears resemble mine.” Jacob didn’t quite catch the symbolism of the Man’s next action, but later would understand completely : He crouched, retrieved a small amount of water from that living river in a cupped hand, and then turned his eyes back to Jacob.

“Use your new eyes for that which they have been given to you. Do not be afraid of what you will see. You have been bought, child. Your master will help you. Know the source of the sight and you will know the reason for it.” His eyes watered and he formed a sliver of a smile. He then lifted his cupped hand and blew the water from it, gentle as a mother’s kiss. The living water collided with Jacob’s bare skin and he lost consciousness. He somersaulted backward again and again and then all was still and quiet and dark.

Jacob awoke to the sound of the telephone. Some jangling, high pitched tune was clattering out of it just loud enough to crack the shell of sleep. Annoyed, he told himself to be sure and change the tone to a simple ring later. It sounded more like a cheap handheld video game than a telephone. He didn’t even try to answer. It took him a good ten minutes to prepare himself for conversation in the mornings. Something’s different , he thought, scratching his foot on the shag before standing. He turned his head an awkward distance to the side, and his neck cracked, just like it always had. He tried to recall his dream, fumbling his way to the bathroom and beginning the motions of brushing his morning breath away. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t raise the dream above the line of consciousness. It just wouldn’t come to him, but a feeling encroached his dull senses that reminded him of how he had felt as he looked down on his baby sister, ten minutes after she was born. He grinned a foamy smile, and let the hunt for the dream go, emptying and rinsing as he did.

This feeling, which he would soon recognize as peace, was a little bit alien to him. Months had passed since he had last felt it, and so he didn’t recognize the symptoms. Those months had been far from easy. He hadn’t been sad, or depressed; what it felt like to him was loneliness. He struggled with it like a beast that meant to spill his blood. The loneliness murmured up from the intangible fibers of his soul, reminding him constantly that something was missing; that most of him, in fact, was missing; the part that was present seemed to consist of all the garbage. It had been the longest, hardest stretch of time in his young life. The pages of his old Bible had become smudged and creased; they had gotten worn from concentrated use. His mind was tired from all the wasted effort in trying to solve the problem with logic, and his confidence had all melted away under the heatlamp of brokenness. Three nights ago, he became worried that his heart was too jaded for salvage, sensing a seed of jealousy planted there. He had begun to grow jealous of all those people he knew that seemed as if they had everything figured out. He thought maybe that jealousy had tainted his prayers, and that God just wasn’t listening. He wondered to himself how Martin Luther and George Whitefield and countless other men of God had endured their own torments in seeking Him (theirs were undoubtedly multiples of his own.) So each day, this praying man had worn a thin smile, and carried the weight of the unknown like a millstone on a necklace.

But this morning, checking his voicemail and dressing to meet a friend, the weight was gone. And he didn’t even know it.

Two children were playing in the yard up ahead, kicking a blue ball back and forth, enthralled by the sweet simplicity of a child’s game. The grass was greener than it had ever been, and the sky was so blue that it subconsciously reminded Jacob of the majestic river in his dream as he approached the yard where the children were. As he passed, the younger of the two, blonde with boy curls and a cherubim’s face, paused from his game and smiled a smile like only he could. Something spread through Jacob’s nervous system, raising his awareness; filtering his thoughts, and at length pushing tears out of his smiling eyes. He never did completely recall nor forget his dream, but he didn’t need to. From that moment forward, for the rest of his life, he knew who he belonged to. Thick and thin, through all the pain and struggle and joy and triumph, that dream represented the victory he was allowed to share that kept his peace, and once and for all, to Jacob Jones, hope had become truth.

this story is meant to encourage something i need to be encouraged of myself. the story is entirely fiction, and i don't personally trust that God still speaks to us through dreams, but the symbolism is biblical, and i think it is important for me to remember that sometimes it takes a long time to reach peace with Jesus. the valleys are there for a reason, and that reason is NEVER that we should give up on waiting for Jesus. After all, He is THE way, THE truth, and THE light. i'm not giving up, and there are many who deserve thanks for that. there is something else i remember that gets me through, that keeps me, even in my darkest, most lonely moments, from giving up. i don't know the reference ( sorry ) but it's a bible verse. no matter how many promises God has made, they are yes in Christ. and something else : Matthew 5:6 says that blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. ( paraphrased ). Why does this verse mean so much to me right now?

Because it does not say blessed are those who are righteous...; it says those who hunger and thirst. remember, He didn't come to save the 'righteous', but sinners. i'm a sinner. this encourages me. i hope it does you. and even if i never become a 'righteous' man, even if i never fully find that peace, maybe someone else could be encouraged to hunger and thirst for righteousness. maybe these verses will spark a hunger and a thirst in me even tonight.

don't give up on life. someone loves you. don't give up on love. there is nothing else that will satisfy you. and i'll relay something that is no secret, and no coincidence. God is Love.

a new world part 3

this is part 3 of a story begun on april 20th. you can start reading there.

sorry it takes so long to get these up, the story was written years ago but i only have intermittent access to the internet, so if anyone's reading this, i hope that you will forgive me for that...


A New World, continued...

It was about twelve steps to the crest of the ridge, and when Jacob reached it, he found himself stunned beyond comprehension. The landscape opened up, still very simple and beautiful. But nothing any more than fifty feet away attracted even the slightest bit of attention, because there at the bottom of the ridge was a massive river. He thought he could see its bank from up here. It had to be miles across, and straight. Not a crook or a bend for the length of it. Nothing frustrated the roaring water from its path. It stretched on forever, as far as he could see, in both directions. It flowed from his right to his left, powerful but gentle, strong and yet smooth. The rushing sound was much more distinct close to it, but not overbearing at all. It was quiet and still forceful, much like everything else in this strange world, and in all its grandeur the river was even more awe-inspiring than the towering trees. Perhaps the most striking thing about the river was that it had such color. Here where everything was a shade of white, be frothy blue green of the water had the effect of fireworks on a black sky, but far more intense. It seemed, visually, to scream, to jump off the backdrop, and it permanently changed the mind of the beholder. The feeling of life that came from the tree was so strong here, even at the top of the ridge, that the man forgot himself again, and began walking toward what would be the bank, if you would call it that. The ground rolled off into the water smoothly. Looking up the endless length of the living water, he realized that the greater of the perpendicular ridges ran parallel to it, as endless as the water itself. And so, feeling smaller than a slave invited to a king’s table, Jacob sat down without a thought, crossed his legs, and was absorbed by the living, balanced beauty which was so new to his senses. Time passed unnoticed, and uncounted as he sat there, dazed in wonder. His thoughts were simple again; he couldn’t really think of anything other than the splendor of the strong current. Soon a new noise teased his ears. Like the rustle of the water at first, he could hear it like a gentle train that was still miles away. And then, slow and steady, it increased in volume until he could hear it clear and full and then it leveled off, not to get any louder. The new sound was a pleasure to him. It was intoxicating. The funny thing was that he could make out no change in the flow of the sound. It was like a song without words or music. It seemed to be all the love, all the sadness, and sweetness, and joy that a song wanted to be, without being a song at all. It was the most soothing, captivating sound imaginable. The combination of the sweetness of the music ( he could really think of the sound as nothing else but the truest, purist music ) and the glory of the massive waterway was surreal. He stretched for a word in his mind to describe it and soon gave up; none were sufficient. After a brief moment, the symphony of the river and the essence of the sound were all but forgotten. Jacob felt a crawl up his spine and his skin grew goose bumps. This reminded him for the first time of his nakedness, and he recognized fear in his heart. He felt a presence behind him that shook the fibers of his soul, and he didn’t know why but he could not turn around. Didn’t really want to. The fear was not the kind of children fearing boogeymen, but that of a creature fearing his master. Soon he felt the presence circle him, until it was directly in front of him. Jacob’s disposition changed slightly as he took note of the being which bore this presence.

John 20:26-29 (KJV)
And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. [27] Then saith he to Thomas, reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. [28] And Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord and my God. [29] Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.



you never know who God will use to shake you and remind you of Himself. i pray i am shaken, and reminded of Him.