I stood and I watched the world pass by.
People doing different things before they die.
I once young and alive the fancies of this world upon my mind.
Vibrant and colorful, laughter and dancing I got caught behind.
Till one day my head spinning I fell
Then he reached out for me to tell.
That he loved me and he would always wait.
No matter what; no matter how late.
A hazy vision getting clear.
All the time he was so near
Yet I often wondered how easily I chose a dazzling load.
So brightly wrapped and light to carry up an easy road.
I care not now; for I choose to stand and defy
And not eat of that tempting fruit, till the day I die.
Sometimes overcome by weakness and pain
I seem to loose; and my foes they seem to gain.
I fight it and he helps me out, cause I choose to stand.
I dare to differ cause I want to be in the promised land.
Today I asked another friend.
Won’t you take the hand he lends
Do you choose to defy all rules you know?
A simple shepherd would you follow?
David, Noah, Daniel, Shadrach, Mischel and Abednego
Kings, prophets, warriors, shepherds and many more.
They made a choice so different in everyway.
They dared to differ and chose to stay
With the true God, the king, the gentle lamb.
As he lead them on to the Promised Land.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A Choice: Sensuality or God
I’m 30 single and come from an extremely Cosmopolitan lifestyle. Though by birth I’m a Syrian Christian girl, my educational background and my exposure to life has been anything but conservative.
I come from an age of sensual pleasures. An age, where a lot of my family as well as my friends have live in relationships or are in a same sex relationship. (Just for the record it does not make me love them any less. I still love all of them very much as a matter of fact more now than ever before)
Well anyways, among my peers premarital sex, casual sex and sex through mutual consent is the name of the game. Even before I became a Christian, the temptation to fall into this snare was great.
For a long time at all the parties and gatherings my virginal status was a point of great discussion. My friends and family knew this topic used to create a great deal of embarrassment to me and they’d do anything to tease me. So it was a topic of immense mirth to those who said I was either going to die a virgin or I was going to be monumentalized into one of the oldest living virgins in the hall of fame to my utmost shame. Or so I thought.
My more philosophical and intellectual friends had some interesting concepts. One of them told me that being a virgin was a state of mind so I really had nothing to hold on to. Yet another friend suggested I sign up for counseling to deal with my psychological issues and fears about sex.
Little did I know back then that it was a supernatural intervention and a gift of grace that kept me from this temptation?
Unlike most new age girls of the 21st century strong willed and self controlled, I’m quiet weak willed and God in his mercy knowing my weakness simply kept me away from something that perhaps may have destroyed me.
Sure I had my turn of breaking my heart not once but several times. But today I found out that a physical relationship before or outside of marriage is not in keeping with God’s will.
The scripture actually says that when a man and woman have a union the two actually become one and God says this oneness, let no man separate.
This doesn’t mean that because a person has done all this they have no more hope. No, as a matter of fact Jesus reached out to 2 women we see mentioned in the scriptures; that had a history of living a life of sexuality.
One was a woman who was caught in the act and she was dragged into the public right up to where Jesus was sitting probably with his disciples and others.
They were baying for her blood. As per traditional laws in those times because of her act of adultery, she was supposed to be stoned to death.
So there they were in the spotlight.
Jesus, the woman and her accusers.
A catch 22 situation with no way out.
But Jesus being Jesus calmly tells the mob let him who has never sinned cast the first stone.
I’m thinking, how come each and every one of them walked away? There are so many possibilities that I have to sidetrack a little here.
One possibility, when Jesus bent down to doodle in the sand, he might have been writing down the names of the men who were there and the sins they possibly committed.
Second possibility, Jesus being the Son of God and they being the men that they were, there was a probability that somewhere in the bottom of their hearts they doubted that he could be who he claimed he was. After all, this Man did manage to do some spectacular healings and miracles. What if He knew our deepest darkest secrets? Would He call it out in public if I dared throw the first stone?
Third possibility, they being the so called law abiding Jews they probably followed most of the traditional laws. Now for every kind of sin they committed there was a certain type of sacrifice they made at the altar. So when you sacrificed a certain offering, there was a possibility that people knew the size of your sin.
And here’s the fourth and my favorite possibility. These men with the stones in their hands I’m assuming are like most other abusive and violent men we see today. They were nothing but bullies. It’s ironic that the man who was with the woman when she was caught in the act was missing. My theory is he must have been a pal or relative of one of these bullies, so he got away scot free. Anyways I’m thinking, that when Jesus asked them that question about casting the 1st stone it must have crossed their heads, ok, what if I get caught tomorrow? Now if I throw that 1st stone, there’s got to be someone else who is self righteous enough to throw the 1st stone at me. So right there at that moment I believe that that bully turned coward, dropped the stone and walked away.
The possibilities are numerous. Anyhow, back to the main topic. So the crowd drops the stones and disperses.
Now when Jesus and the woman were standing there alone, he asked her where those who accused her were and if anyone dared condemn her?
She said no one.
Imagine that an accusing, judgmental, finger pointing society waiting to hurl stones. But before the Son of the Most High God not a single one of them dared.
Amazing huh?
Then Jesus said, then, neither do I condemn you.
That’s the forgiving nature of our God. Even though Jesus in his sinless form, was the only person who could have pointed his finger, his forgiving and loving nature said that he would not condemn her.
But he had one condition.
Go and leave your life of sin.
He knew, that she knew, deep down in her soul that she was aware of what was right and wrong. It’s interesting to note that Jesus did not say leave your life of adultery and sexual fantasies. But he said leave your life of sin. And I’m thinking he meant a complete change not just adultery but probably a whole lot of other things.
Remember the men who dropped the stones and walked away? I’m sure that all of them did not have issues with just adultery. Some probably were dealing with issues of rage, maybe wine. Whatever the issues of sin. There was just no space for probable sins or grey areas or small sin or big sins in God’s definition of sin. For Jesus sin was sin. A liar was as bad as a murderer.
The 2nd woman Jesus reached out to was, the woman at the well. Jesus and this woman have a conversation and he tells her very clearly that he knows exactly who she is and what her past is. Married and divorced five times and the man she lives with right now is not even her husband. Oh he could see through her complexities, her messed up relationships and her past.
So think this, here’s a woman that no self respecting man from a decent society would even look at. She was bad news. The whole town knew it; she knew it and she thought this poor man doesn’t know it so I’d better be telling him.
Well Sir…the fact is…errr…ahem…well….you see….I’m not quiet a nice person.
And Jesus is like …yeah I know because you are this, this, this and all these.
This woman is blown out of her mind. He knows and still he would talk to me?
Me the worst of them?
What a God!
And the best part is Jesus is offering this woman with her past and all a chance to experience the true God.
Again I say, what a God!
Now, this does not mean that only people who have acted on their sins are sinful. As a matter of fact Jesus said that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.
And that is exactly what every medium seems to be promoting whether in books, magazines, internet, movies, music or marketing gimmicks. Sensuality is promoted and it makes you falter.
You stop, you look, you think, you sin. It’s not easy in this age to escape this lustful perversion that’s floating all around us.
Jesus says that if your eye or arm causes you to sin cut it off. He did not mean it quiet literally. He meant in a manner of figuratively speaking. The sins we tolerate in our lives. We need to cut it off completely. Here’s where I go wrong. When I stop to observe, I falter in my walk with God. But I need to keep walking with my eyes focused on him alone. That makes it easier.
In marketing we use something called Target strategy to reach our goal. In today’s world where the intoxicating sins of sensuality are propagated, we as Christians need to come up with an action plan to escape this sticky situation. We need to come up with a target strategy. Where Jesus becomes our target and our focus; after which our strategy should be created. A strategy surrounded by means, methods and ideas that would help us reach our final goal.
Jesus true, pure and perfect knowing the feeble, fickle minded, sinful and adulterous people that we are says ; “I know I know the whole world is pointing fingers at you. I know your sins, your past, your everything. But neither do I point a finger nor do I condemn you. I just want you to experience a loving and forgiving God. All you have to do is turn away from your life of sin, focus on me and experience my truth, my love and my forgiveness.
I come from an age of sensual pleasures. An age, where a lot of my family as well as my friends have live in relationships or are in a same sex relationship. (Just for the record it does not make me love them any less. I still love all of them very much as a matter of fact more now than ever before)
Well anyways, among my peers premarital sex, casual sex and sex through mutual consent is the name of the game. Even before I became a Christian, the temptation to fall into this snare was great.
For a long time at all the parties and gatherings my virginal status was a point of great discussion. My friends and family knew this topic used to create a great deal of embarrassment to me and they’d do anything to tease me. So it was a topic of immense mirth to those who said I was either going to die a virgin or I was going to be monumentalized into one of the oldest living virgins in the hall of fame to my utmost shame. Or so I thought.
My more philosophical and intellectual friends had some interesting concepts. One of them told me that being a virgin was a state of mind so I really had nothing to hold on to. Yet another friend suggested I sign up for counseling to deal with my psychological issues and fears about sex.
Little did I know back then that it was a supernatural intervention and a gift of grace that kept me from this temptation?
Unlike most new age girls of the 21st century strong willed and self controlled, I’m quiet weak willed and God in his mercy knowing my weakness simply kept me away from something that perhaps may have destroyed me.
Sure I had my turn of breaking my heart not once but several times. But today I found out that a physical relationship before or outside of marriage is not in keeping with God’s will.
The scripture actually says that when a man and woman have a union the two actually become one and God says this oneness, let no man separate.
This doesn’t mean that because a person has done all this they have no more hope. No, as a matter of fact Jesus reached out to 2 women we see mentioned in the scriptures; that had a history of living a life of sexuality.
One was a woman who was caught in the act and she was dragged into the public right up to where Jesus was sitting probably with his disciples and others.
They were baying for her blood. As per traditional laws in those times because of her act of adultery, she was supposed to be stoned to death.
So there they were in the spotlight.
Jesus, the woman and her accusers.
A catch 22 situation with no way out.
But Jesus being Jesus calmly tells the mob let him who has never sinned cast the first stone.
I’m thinking, how come each and every one of them walked away? There are so many possibilities that I have to sidetrack a little here.
One possibility, when Jesus bent down to doodle in the sand, he might have been writing down the names of the men who were there and the sins they possibly committed.
Second possibility, Jesus being the Son of God and they being the men that they were, there was a probability that somewhere in the bottom of their hearts they doubted that he could be who he claimed he was. After all, this Man did manage to do some spectacular healings and miracles. What if He knew our deepest darkest secrets? Would He call it out in public if I dared throw the first stone?
Third possibility, they being the so called law abiding Jews they probably followed most of the traditional laws. Now for every kind of sin they committed there was a certain type of sacrifice they made at the altar. So when you sacrificed a certain offering, there was a possibility that people knew the size of your sin.
And here’s the fourth and my favorite possibility. These men with the stones in their hands I’m assuming are like most other abusive and violent men we see today. They were nothing but bullies. It’s ironic that the man who was with the woman when she was caught in the act was missing. My theory is he must have been a pal or relative of one of these bullies, so he got away scot free. Anyways I’m thinking, that when Jesus asked them that question about casting the 1st stone it must have crossed their heads, ok, what if I get caught tomorrow? Now if I throw that 1st stone, there’s got to be someone else who is self righteous enough to throw the 1st stone at me. So right there at that moment I believe that that bully turned coward, dropped the stone and walked away.
The possibilities are numerous. Anyhow, back to the main topic. So the crowd drops the stones and disperses.
Now when Jesus and the woman were standing there alone, he asked her where those who accused her were and if anyone dared condemn her?
She said no one.
Imagine that an accusing, judgmental, finger pointing society waiting to hurl stones. But before the Son of the Most High God not a single one of them dared.
Amazing huh?
Then Jesus said, then, neither do I condemn you.
That’s the forgiving nature of our God. Even though Jesus in his sinless form, was the only person who could have pointed his finger, his forgiving and loving nature said that he would not condemn her.
But he had one condition.
Go and leave your life of sin.
He knew, that she knew, deep down in her soul that she was aware of what was right and wrong. It’s interesting to note that Jesus did not say leave your life of adultery and sexual fantasies. But he said leave your life of sin. And I’m thinking he meant a complete change not just adultery but probably a whole lot of other things.
Remember the men who dropped the stones and walked away? I’m sure that all of them did not have issues with just adultery. Some probably were dealing with issues of rage, maybe wine. Whatever the issues of sin. There was just no space for probable sins or grey areas or small sin or big sins in God’s definition of sin. For Jesus sin was sin. A liar was as bad as a murderer.
The 2nd woman Jesus reached out to was, the woman at the well. Jesus and this woman have a conversation and he tells her very clearly that he knows exactly who she is and what her past is. Married and divorced five times and the man she lives with right now is not even her husband. Oh he could see through her complexities, her messed up relationships and her past.
So think this, here’s a woman that no self respecting man from a decent society would even look at. She was bad news. The whole town knew it; she knew it and she thought this poor man doesn’t know it so I’d better be telling him.
Well Sir…the fact is…errr…ahem…well….you see….I’m not quiet a nice person.
And Jesus is like …yeah I know because you are this, this, this and all these.
This woman is blown out of her mind. He knows and still he would talk to me?
Me the worst of them?
What a God!
And the best part is Jesus is offering this woman with her past and all a chance to experience the true God.
Again I say, what a God!
Now, this does not mean that only people who have acted on their sins are sinful. As a matter of fact Jesus said that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.
And that is exactly what every medium seems to be promoting whether in books, magazines, internet, movies, music or marketing gimmicks. Sensuality is promoted and it makes you falter.
You stop, you look, you think, you sin. It’s not easy in this age to escape this lustful perversion that’s floating all around us.
Jesus says that if your eye or arm causes you to sin cut it off. He did not mean it quiet literally. He meant in a manner of figuratively speaking. The sins we tolerate in our lives. We need to cut it off completely. Here’s where I go wrong. When I stop to observe, I falter in my walk with God. But I need to keep walking with my eyes focused on him alone. That makes it easier.
In marketing we use something called Target strategy to reach our goal. In today’s world where the intoxicating sins of sensuality are propagated, we as Christians need to come up with an action plan to escape this sticky situation. We need to come up with a target strategy. Where Jesus becomes our target and our focus; after which our strategy should be created. A strategy surrounded by means, methods and ideas that would help us reach our final goal.
Jesus true, pure and perfect knowing the feeble, fickle minded, sinful and adulterous people that we are says ; “I know I know the whole world is pointing fingers at you. I know your sins, your past, your everything. But neither do I point a finger nor do I condemn you. I just want you to experience a loving and forgiving God. All you have to do is turn away from your life of sin, focus on me and experience my truth, my love and my forgiveness.
What is Freedom?
What a liberating sensation freedom is.
Freedom in body mind and soul is far more exhilarating and way inconceivable as against a list of possible liberating thoughts or ideas this world can feed you.
Paid up all your bills and dues and you’re debt free.
Got rid of the itch in your scalp then you’re dandruff free.
The sweetness in life killing you then you’re diet goes sugar free.
You go to rehab and clean up then you’re drug free.
We 2 ours none and you’re childfree.
You retired or divorced then you’re tension free.
You buy from the airports and then it’s duty free.
Everything today is Free! Free! Free!
But it all comes at a price.
But how my friend can I explain being set free by the lord?
While I describe this image I want you to imagine as vividly as you can the narration below.
Now take a deep breath and don’t breathe in again till you hear the word Smack.
Imagine being pulled into quick sand.
You’ve just gone under and you’ve got the last gulp of breath within you.
All hope, all life and all tomorrows are gone.
Its darkness around and thick, gooey, filthy, slushy, muck gets louder as
it sucks and slurps loudly around your eardrum. There is no other
sound you hear. Its dark and your eyes are closed and you can’t see
because of the muck. The last bit of air is being squeezed out of your
lungs. Death, Death, Death beats in your head till the rhythm changes
to you’re Dead, Dead, Dead.
Then suddenly you feel a strong pair of hands on your shoulder and
Smack with a strong tug, you’re pulled free. Ah you breathe in the
glorious beautiful air. The light shines brightly into your eyes and
you are squinting into the sunlight and the cacophony of sounds that
hit you is oh so sweet and so alive. You’ve been pulled free, but you
look down and see the filth and muck all over you and you just want to
get washed clean.
The strong pair of arms leads you to crystal clear cool waters. And
you wade into it deeper and deeper till the running waters washes over
you, washing away the dirt and filth away from your skin and clothes.
You step out from the stream and you’re clean, squeaky clean. But
you’re clothes are torn and in rags. And the strong pair of arms that
rescued you, and lead you to the clean waters, clothes you. The
garments are clean and white and dazzling with its newness.
Those same arms, then feeds you knowing your hunger and then holds
your hand as you hold his in gratitude and overflowing thankfulness.
The quick sand was my life in this world, my past.
The streams of fresh waters that cleaned me, was the blood of Jesus.
The new clothes that wrapped me, was the covering of the Holy Spirit.
The food was the word of God.
Now tell me my friend how can I help myself but fall in love with the
owner of these hands?
The strong hands that rescued me!
The precious hands that lead me to the cleansing waters!
Those gentle hands that clothed me!
Those caring hands that fed me!
Those very same hands that were pierced for me!
My Lord and my God, how can you care so much for me?
I can’t help but fall in love with my savior.
So what’s bothering you?
The abuse?
The abandonment?
The rejection?
Being unloved?
The pain?
The hurt?
What’s eating you?
The suicidal mentality?
The addiction?
The lust?
The hate?
The anger?
What’s scaring you?
The debts?
The demonic powers?
The black magic?
What’s stopping you?
The lack of a job?
The lack of money?
The lack of confidence?
The lack of good looks?
Well guess what?
Been all there and done all that and experienced every single one of it.
That’s what I’ve been rescued from. I’m Free.
Freed, Saved, Sanctified, Redeemed and Sealed!
Sure we are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed.
Perplexed and confused but not in despair.
Persecuted but not abandoned.
Struck down but not destroyed.
In this knowledge I give God glory.
The knowledge that:
I was bought at a price so that I might be the daughter of The Most High.
For while I was still powerless; God in his love sent his son, righteous holy and true to die for me. Me so ungodly.
Now who or what can condemn me when God has justified me.
Who or what can separate me from the love of Christ?
Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
No! In all these and through all these I am more than a conqueror.
I am a conqueror, through Jesus who loved me.
For I know now without a doubt and with absolute certainty that
Neither death
Nor life
Nor angels
Nor demons,
Neither the present
Nor the future
Nor any powers be it governmental or institutional or spiritual
Neither height
Nor depth
Nor anything else in all creation
Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever be able to separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus my Lord.
Because the love and the freedom and the hope that I’ve found in my God is stuck to me. And the best part is it actually works. I should know.
And it works even better than super glue.
So if you are in a situation right now of
Absolute hopelessness or
Absolute despair or
Absolute brokenness or
Maybe even absolute addiction.
Come and experience My God with me.
For no amount of
Therapy, Counseling, Medication, Institutionalization, Money, Power, Drugs, Alcohol, Popularity, Sex, Entertainment, Traveling, Friends or even Family can ever, ever, ever set you free.
So stop wasting your time, your energy and your money.
Simply experience the unconditional love of Christ.
A personal love just for you with no strings attached.
Imagine a father without a personal agenda.
Jesus said come and I will give you rest.
Aren’t you tired?
Don’t you wanna rest?
Let your father take care of it all.
All you have to say is:
Jesus I quit. I can’t go on. Come take control. Take over and set me free. I’m letting go dear father please catch me. Come into my life, into my hurt, into my tiredness, into my sickness, into my fatigue, into my mind, into my body and into my soul. Only you can ever make me whole and remove this emptiness.
I’m tired Lord and I’m gonna just rest in you and love you till you come for me.
I ask this in the name of my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer, my Hope, my Life, my Strength and my God, Jesus Christ.
P.S - Trust me pal it worked for me. I know what I’m talking about.
Freedom in body mind and soul is far more exhilarating and way inconceivable as against a list of possible liberating thoughts or ideas this world can feed you.
Paid up all your bills and dues and you’re debt free.
Got rid of the itch in your scalp then you’re dandruff free.
The sweetness in life killing you then you’re diet goes sugar free.
You go to rehab and clean up then you’re drug free.
We 2 ours none and you’re childfree.
You retired or divorced then you’re tension free.
You buy from the airports and then it’s duty free.
Everything today is Free! Free! Free!
But it all comes at a price.
But how my friend can I explain being set free by the lord?
While I describe this image I want you to imagine as vividly as you can the narration below.
Now take a deep breath and don’t breathe in again till you hear the word Smack.
Imagine being pulled into quick sand.
You’ve just gone under and you’ve got the last gulp of breath within you.
All hope, all life and all tomorrows are gone.
Its darkness around and thick, gooey, filthy, slushy, muck gets louder as
it sucks and slurps loudly around your eardrum. There is no other
sound you hear. Its dark and your eyes are closed and you can’t see
because of the muck. The last bit of air is being squeezed out of your
lungs. Death, Death, Death beats in your head till the rhythm changes
to you’re Dead, Dead, Dead.
Then suddenly you feel a strong pair of hands on your shoulder and
Smack with a strong tug, you’re pulled free. Ah you breathe in the
glorious beautiful air. The light shines brightly into your eyes and
you are squinting into the sunlight and the cacophony of sounds that
hit you is oh so sweet and so alive. You’ve been pulled free, but you
look down and see the filth and muck all over you and you just want to
get washed clean.
The strong pair of arms leads you to crystal clear cool waters. And
you wade into it deeper and deeper till the running waters washes over
you, washing away the dirt and filth away from your skin and clothes.
You step out from the stream and you’re clean, squeaky clean. But
you’re clothes are torn and in rags. And the strong pair of arms that
rescued you, and lead you to the clean waters, clothes you. The
garments are clean and white and dazzling with its newness.
Those same arms, then feeds you knowing your hunger and then holds
your hand as you hold his in gratitude and overflowing thankfulness.
The quick sand was my life in this world, my past.
The streams of fresh waters that cleaned me, was the blood of Jesus.
The new clothes that wrapped me, was the covering of the Holy Spirit.
The food was the word of God.
Now tell me my friend how can I help myself but fall in love with the
owner of these hands?
The strong hands that rescued me!
The precious hands that lead me to the cleansing waters!
Those gentle hands that clothed me!
Those caring hands that fed me!
Those very same hands that were pierced for me!
My Lord and my God, how can you care so much for me?
I can’t help but fall in love with my savior.
So what’s bothering you?
The abuse?
The abandonment?
The rejection?
Being unloved?
The pain?
The hurt?
What’s eating you?
The suicidal mentality?
The addiction?
The lust?
The hate?
The anger?
What’s scaring you?
The debts?
The demonic powers?
The black magic?
What’s stopping you?
The lack of a job?
The lack of money?
The lack of confidence?
The lack of good looks?
Well guess what?
Been all there and done all that and experienced every single one of it.
That’s what I’ve been rescued from. I’m Free.
Freed, Saved, Sanctified, Redeemed and Sealed!
Sure we are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed.
Perplexed and confused but not in despair.
Persecuted but not abandoned.
Struck down but not destroyed.
In this knowledge I give God glory.
The knowledge that:
I was bought at a price so that I might be the daughter of The Most High.
For while I was still powerless; God in his love sent his son, righteous holy and true to die for me. Me so ungodly.
Now who or what can condemn me when God has justified me.
Who or what can separate me from the love of Christ?
Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
No! In all these and through all these I am more than a conqueror.
I am a conqueror, through Jesus who loved me.
For I know now without a doubt and with absolute certainty that
Neither death
Nor life
Nor angels
Nor demons,
Neither the present
Nor the future
Nor any powers be it governmental or institutional or spiritual
Neither height
Nor depth
Nor anything else in all creation
Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever be able to separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus my Lord.
Because the love and the freedom and the hope that I’ve found in my God is stuck to me. And the best part is it actually works. I should know.
And it works even better than super glue.
So if you are in a situation right now of
Absolute hopelessness or
Absolute despair or
Absolute brokenness or
Maybe even absolute addiction.
Come and experience My God with me.
For no amount of
Therapy, Counseling, Medication, Institutionalization, Money, Power, Drugs, Alcohol, Popularity, Sex, Entertainment, Traveling, Friends or even Family can ever, ever, ever set you free.
So stop wasting your time, your energy and your money.
Simply experience the unconditional love of Christ.
A personal love just for you with no strings attached.
Imagine a father without a personal agenda.
Jesus said come and I will give you rest.
Aren’t you tired?
Don’t you wanna rest?
Let your father take care of it all.
All you have to say is:
Jesus I quit. I can’t go on. Come take control. Take over and set me free. I’m letting go dear father please catch me. Come into my life, into my hurt, into my tiredness, into my sickness, into my fatigue, into my mind, into my body and into my soul. Only you can ever make me whole and remove this emptiness.
I’m tired Lord and I’m gonna just rest in you and love you till you come for me.
I ask this in the name of my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer, my Hope, my Life, my Strength and my God, Jesus Christ.
P.S - Trust me pal it worked for me. I know what I’m talking about.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Beauty from Rags
“ANNIE, ANNIE!!!! I’LL MAKE ANNIE!”
Sandhya hopped around me dancing her tribal dance. Her curls twirled around her little hot face. I had to keep my fingers from pinching her chubby cheeks. Every time I plucked her dimpled cheeks she would complain in an adult tone. ‘Don’t do it Amma. I am 6 years old what would others think?”
Suddenly she froze and her eyes sparkled, ‘Amma you can help me with my art project.” I thanked her graciously and asked what she had in mind.
“Everybody has to make a gift and the bestest gift will be given to Mrs. Joyce Madhan on her birthday.”
I wondered what possible gift a 6year old could give the headmistress of a school?
“ANNIE, ANNIE!!!! I’LL MAKE ANNIE!” she repeated.
I never doubted my daughter’s lung power. I raised a questioning eyebrow but was silenced in my attempt to speak as my highly energized daughter dragged me into her room. And within minutes there I was sitting cross legged on the floor with my daughter snuggling into me as I caught her sweet baby smell. She tilted her head to a side as she eyed the heap of scraps and bits piled in front of us and in complete faith said, “Make Annie, Amma.”
I looked heavenward, sighed, rolled up my sleeves and got to work. We stuck and glued, stitched and tied, plaited and stuffed. Little pudgy fingers got in the way. An hour later I was startled by a gentle snore. I smiled and gently woke my sleeping angel.
“Annie is ready.” I whispered.
Sandhya was up like lightning as she stared at the crudely shaped figure sitting before us. Her big eyes widened like saucers until I feared that they might pop out.
She oohed and aahed over her Annie.
Annie the rag doll that she created.
She beamed with pride and puffed up her chest as she introduced me to Annie.
Polite ‘How do you do’s?’ were exchanged.
All was fine or so I thought until the next day my baby walked in crushed and in tears. It tore my heart to see my little one so sad. She ran into my arms as I hugged her sobbing body. Her hot tears and breath ran down my neck as she wailed on and I helplessly held on willing my heart not to break into pieces.
“Th..they made….f…fun….ammmaaaaaa” she howled.
They ….sniff…c…call…ed….hic…her …st…stupid.” She sobbed on.
My anger mounted as murderous thoughts flashed in my mind. How dare they do this to my baby. And what was the teacher doing when my baby was teased. Wait till I give that woman a piece of my mind. She seems in capable of teaching children to appreciate their peers…..My vision blurred as my temper rose and my mind kept raging. Suddenly soft pudgy hands held my face, tears streaming down her brave little face. “ I don’t care Amma. I will always love Annie. She is mine and she is beautiful.
I eyed the little rag piece. Smiled it was quiet shaggy but Annie definitely had a charm. I carried my little one saying, ‘Let’s show daddy. He’ll love Annie?’
‘Really?’ asked my little on uncertainly as she dried her eyes with the back of her palms.
‘Most definitely!’ and I carried my angel to her father for some comfort and much needed cuddling.
Sandhya hopped around me dancing her tribal dance. Her curls twirled around her little hot face. I had to keep my fingers from pinching her chubby cheeks. Every time I plucked her dimpled cheeks she would complain in an adult tone. ‘Don’t do it Amma. I am 6 years old what would others think?”
Suddenly she froze and her eyes sparkled, ‘Amma you can help me with my art project.” I thanked her graciously and asked what she had in mind.
“Everybody has to make a gift and the bestest gift will be given to Mrs. Joyce Madhan on her birthday.”
I wondered what possible gift a 6year old could give the headmistress of a school?
“ANNIE, ANNIE!!!! I’LL MAKE ANNIE!” she repeated.
I never doubted my daughter’s lung power. I raised a questioning eyebrow but was silenced in my attempt to speak as my highly energized daughter dragged me into her room. And within minutes there I was sitting cross legged on the floor with my daughter snuggling into me as I caught her sweet baby smell. She tilted her head to a side as she eyed the heap of scraps and bits piled in front of us and in complete faith said, “Make Annie, Amma.”
I looked heavenward, sighed, rolled up my sleeves and got to work. We stuck and glued, stitched and tied, plaited and stuffed. Little pudgy fingers got in the way. An hour later I was startled by a gentle snore. I smiled and gently woke my sleeping angel.
“Annie is ready.” I whispered.
Sandhya was up like lightning as she stared at the crudely shaped figure sitting before us. Her big eyes widened like saucers until I feared that they might pop out.
She oohed and aahed over her Annie.
Annie the rag doll that she created.
She beamed with pride and puffed up her chest as she introduced me to Annie.
Polite ‘How do you do’s?’ were exchanged.
All was fine or so I thought until the next day my baby walked in crushed and in tears. It tore my heart to see my little one so sad. She ran into my arms as I hugged her sobbing body. Her hot tears and breath ran down my neck as she wailed on and I helplessly held on willing my heart not to break into pieces.
“Th..they made….f…fun….ammmaaaaaa” she howled.
They ….sniff…c…call…ed….hic…her …st…stupid.” She sobbed on.
My anger mounted as murderous thoughts flashed in my mind. How dare they do this to my baby. And what was the teacher doing when my baby was teased. Wait till I give that woman a piece of my mind. She seems in capable of teaching children to appreciate their peers…..My vision blurred as my temper rose and my mind kept raging. Suddenly soft pudgy hands held my face, tears streaming down her brave little face. “ I don’t care Amma. I will always love Annie. She is mine and she is beautiful.
I eyed the little rag piece. Smiled it was quiet shaggy but Annie definitely had a charm. I carried my little one saying, ‘Let’s show daddy. He’ll love Annie?’
‘Really?’ asked my little on uncertainly as she dried her eyes with the back of her palms.
‘Most definitely!’ and I carried my angel to her father for some comfort and much needed cuddling.
Bastards
Wafts of pungent air seemed to drift in and out of her senses, she could hear a buzz of voices, but they were distant. She lapsed into darkness again. She felt gentle hands lift her.
She hazily remembered a voice so strong that called out to her, “Seema, Seema, can you hear me? Seema open your eyes child.” She grunted a tearing pain. Nausea hit her and she retched. Her mind was reeling. What happened? Confused and tears running down her cheeks. She recalled in flashes. To her horror her memory was in tact. A heart wrenching cry tore from her lips. Shock. She started getting hysterical. The doctor gave her a sedative.
Seema woke to the sounds of gentle sobbing. She opened her eyes and saw her mother weeping over her. Seema attempted to smile, but it froze and died on her lips. The police walked in wanting to take a report. That was the last time anyone could remember her smiling.
Raped! She was gang raped. She was returning home from college through her regular route. It was dark. That spot always made her nervous. But she had to walk through the dark. She needed to get home, when a group of men pounced on her and tore at her body. That was all she could remember.
In a dull haze, numb to everything that went around her. She lived her life. At the medical check ups, she was pregnant. How did that happen? She sighed anything was possible. At the police station they caught the hoodlums. At the court the criminals were convicted. At home she left her family to hide her shame. At her new job curious eyes wandered to her swelling belly. A young girl, with no mangalsutra and no signs of a husband whatsoever, but very pregnant.
Then one day Seema was back at the hospital. A boy, she was blessed with a son. She named him Pavithre which ironically means pure and unadulterated. Her bastard son.
She watched as the baby slept on. An overwhelming wave of pain, sadness and love washed over her. She sighed and wondered why an innocent babe should be called a bastard for the random wicked deeds of men? Her anger mounted as images of their wicked deed flashed at lightning speed. Her jaw tightened ….Suddenly she felt a tug as she watched her baby gurgle and chuckle over a matter of great importance. And then Seema smiled. She knew everything would be alright. Because Pavithre her son had made her smile.
She hazily remembered a voice so strong that called out to her, “Seema, Seema, can you hear me? Seema open your eyes child.” She grunted a tearing pain. Nausea hit her and she retched. Her mind was reeling. What happened? Confused and tears running down her cheeks. She recalled in flashes. To her horror her memory was in tact. A heart wrenching cry tore from her lips. Shock. She started getting hysterical. The doctor gave her a sedative.
Seema woke to the sounds of gentle sobbing. She opened her eyes and saw her mother weeping over her. Seema attempted to smile, but it froze and died on her lips. The police walked in wanting to take a report. That was the last time anyone could remember her smiling.
Raped! She was gang raped. She was returning home from college through her regular route. It was dark. That spot always made her nervous. But she had to walk through the dark. She needed to get home, when a group of men pounced on her and tore at her body. That was all she could remember.
In a dull haze, numb to everything that went around her. She lived her life. At the medical check ups, she was pregnant. How did that happen? She sighed anything was possible. At the police station they caught the hoodlums. At the court the criminals were convicted. At home she left her family to hide her shame. At her new job curious eyes wandered to her swelling belly. A young girl, with no mangalsutra and no signs of a husband whatsoever, but very pregnant.
Then one day Seema was back at the hospital. A boy, she was blessed with a son. She named him Pavithre which ironically means pure and unadulterated. Her bastard son.
She watched as the baby slept on. An overwhelming wave of pain, sadness and love washed over her. She sighed and wondered why an innocent babe should be called a bastard for the random wicked deeds of men? Her anger mounted as images of their wicked deed flashed at lightning speed. Her jaw tightened ….Suddenly she felt a tug as she watched her baby gurgle and chuckle over a matter of great importance. And then Seema smiled. She knew everything would be alright. Because Pavithre her son had made her smile.
How to Murder Hope?
Justice was not served.
But they wish for death. At least one of them does.
To wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night every single day as they remember that horrible day.
Her sobs, the blood and the screeching tires.
I’m sorry but the memories don’t leave.
I’m sorry I stood and witnessed the injustice.
I’m sorry that I drove you to your death.
I’m sorry for burning all your dreams and aspirations.
Oh Happy Day! Gracy nearly yelled at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t believe it. This was the best day of her life. She had finally made it into an engineering college. Purely on merit and nothing else.
She had come a long way, studying under the neon lights during her exam days. Her father and mother were poor laborers who had worked hard to bring their daughter up. It hadn’t been easy. Mohan had to work two to three jobs as a laborer to see his daughter through school. His dear wife Rita worked morning to night as a maid in five different homes. Come sickness or pain, Hail or storm she worked ceaselessly. She was a strong headed woman and had decided that her daughter would become a doctor.
Only now for some reason father and daughter stubbornly decided that Gracy would become an engineer. Rita smiled secretly She knew Gracy’s father couldn’t resist the urge to brag to his friends at the construction site that his daughter was to become an engineer, just like their engineer Saab, who paid them their Roj Gar (daily wages).
Gracy ducked her head and blushed when her father’s friends teased her and called her ‘Memsab’. Her Kohl drawn eyes widened in wonder and awe as she listened from the other side of the mud wall of their tiny house; as the men gathered together over chaai in the evening and discussed with her father on the income earned by the educated people of today.
The women folk sang Rita’s praise, ‘Oh what a blessed daughter!’, ‘The girl will be a blessing in your old age’, ‘long gone are the days when only sons could bring u pride.’, ‘She will definitely with the blessings of the good gods find a worthy husband.’
Gracy thought she would die in embarrassment when the women plucked her cheek and constantly applied kohl on her cheeks to keep the evil eye at bay. But she admired these men and women who had not given up on life in spite of poverty striking its venom into them. Many a time she had seen loved ones and friends succumb to illness and diseases because of the lack of money to treat it.
But trials and losses did not break these people. It only build them into stronger willed and hard working people.
The days flew by and soon it was time for Gracy to attend her first day at college. She could barely conceal her excitement. Her fidgeting fingers gathering her new books. She was dressed in a crisp cotton white Salwar and a lovely Dhuppata that was ruby red. Before she left to catch her bus she sent up a word of prayer asking the Gods for their blessings. Her parents beamed with pride as their daughter waved them goodbye. All the neighbors came out of their thatched homes to see the first child from their slum to attend college. All of them offered up a silent prayer for this young girl who was a symbol of hope to their future.
This was over a year ago. Today Gracy’s ashes are scattered, caught and tossed in the wind, over streams or perhaps even in the soil. Her mother’s ashes blows somewhere over unknown terrains too; having died from a broken heart. Her father locked away at an asylum. A man with shattered dreams and hopes ranting about his daughter’s achievement and is looking out for a suitable groom for his daughter.
Gracy was a victim of a non accepting community. When her poverty was discovered she was mocked and taunted constantly. Unable to bear the shame any longer she tried to run across the road from fellow students who plagued her even at the bus stop. In her attempt to flee the humiliation and fun poked at her she did not see the oncoming bus that ran over her.
Her taunters watched in horror as they watched Gracy’s body crushed underneath. Life ceased. The white cotton Salwar that she wore so often soaked up her blood; matching the ruby red color of her Dhuppata.
They ought to be hung. Justice should be served.
But influential parents. Political connections.
Expensive lawyers and exchange of gifts and promises of well earned benefits.
Gracy’s ashes still flit around somewhere along with her mother’s over unknown terrain, and untold stories.
I end this story hoping never to dream no more.
But they wish for death. At least one of them does.
To wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night every single day as they remember that horrible day.
Her sobs, the blood and the screeching tires.
I’m sorry but the memories don’t leave.
I’m sorry I stood and witnessed the injustice.
I’m sorry that I drove you to your death.
I’m sorry for burning all your dreams and aspirations.
Oh Happy Day! Gracy nearly yelled at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t believe it. This was the best day of her life. She had finally made it into an engineering college. Purely on merit and nothing else.
She had come a long way, studying under the neon lights during her exam days. Her father and mother were poor laborers who had worked hard to bring their daughter up. It hadn’t been easy. Mohan had to work two to three jobs as a laborer to see his daughter through school. His dear wife Rita worked morning to night as a maid in five different homes. Come sickness or pain, Hail or storm she worked ceaselessly. She was a strong headed woman and had decided that her daughter would become a doctor.
Only now for some reason father and daughter stubbornly decided that Gracy would become an engineer. Rita smiled secretly She knew Gracy’s father couldn’t resist the urge to brag to his friends at the construction site that his daughter was to become an engineer, just like their engineer Saab, who paid them their Roj Gar (daily wages).
Gracy ducked her head and blushed when her father’s friends teased her and called her ‘Memsab’. Her Kohl drawn eyes widened in wonder and awe as she listened from the other side of the mud wall of their tiny house; as the men gathered together over chaai in the evening and discussed with her father on the income earned by the educated people of today.
The women folk sang Rita’s praise, ‘Oh what a blessed daughter!’, ‘The girl will be a blessing in your old age’, ‘long gone are the days when only sons could bring u pride.’, ‘She will definitely with the blessings of the good gods find a worthy husband.’
Gracy thought she would die in embarrassment when the women plucked her cheek and constantly applied kohl on her cheeks to keep the evil eye at bay. But she admired these men and women who had not given up on life in spite of poverty striking its venom into them. Many a time she had seen loved ones and friends succumb to illness and diseases because of the lack of money to treat it.
But trials and losses did not break these people. It only build them into stronger willed and hard working people.
The days flew by and soon it was time for Gracy to attend her first day at college. She could barely conceal her excitement. Her fidgeting fingers gathering her new books. She was dressed in a crisp cotton white Salwar and a lovely Dhuppata that was ruby red. Before she left to catch her bus she sent up a word of prayer asking the Gods for their blessings. Her parents beamed with pride as their daughter waved them goodbye. All the neighbors came out of their thatched homes to see the first child from their slum to attend college. All of them offered up a silent prayer for this young girl who was a symbol of hope to their future.
This was over a year ago. Today Gracy’s ashes are scattered, caught and tossed in the wind, over streams or perhaps even in the soil. Her mother’s ashes blows somewhere over unknown terrains too; having died from a broken heart. Her father locked away at an asylum. A man with shattered dreams and hopes ranting about his daughter’s achievement and is looking out for a suitable groom for his daughter.
Gracy was a victim of a non accepting community. When her poverty was discovered she was mocked and taunted constantly. Unable to bear the shame any longer she tried to run across the road from fellow students who plagued her even at the bus stop. In her attempt to flee the humiliation and fun poked at her she did not see the oncoming bus that ran over her.
Her taunters watched in horror as they watched Gracy’s body crushed underneath. Life ceased. The white cotton Salwar that she wore so often soaked up her blood; matching the ruby red color of her Dhuppata.
They ought to be hung. Justice should be served.
But influential parents. Political connections.
Expensive lawyers and exchange of gifts and promises of well earned benefits.
Gracy’s ashes still flit around somewhere along with her mother’s over unknown terrain, and untold stories.
I end this story hoping never to dream no more.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
What I wished for
I finally turned 29 and started on my 30th year…Once upon a time, a long time ago…..when I was 21 I was dying to get older.
I imagined great looks, great clothes, fancy car, great job, Men falling all over themselves at my doorstep, wooing me with flowers, chocolates and song.
Sigh I watched and read one too many romantic movie and book. …how wrong I was.
Great looks hah……You look great at 21 after that it’s just down hill. Well I’ve learnt the art of hiding my wrinkles and grey hair…and sagging skin…transparent glue helps hold it up… trust me it works.
Great clothes…..hah only in books darling…..otherwise it leaves a dent in your savings….its sad. So my advice dress simple…accessorize great….but please invest in great shoes….oh they are the soles of your attire. And besides great shoes speak volumes and add attitude.
Fancy car…..I’m still begging my dad to fund me one…..sheesh he insists I work and earn one….oh the sad life of the working class.
Great job…well I can’t complain….after 7 yrs ….I finally realized what I want to do in Jan 2008. I guess better late than never.
As for men hounding at my doorstep….Lol lets say the people visiting my doorstep have been my maid, the grocery man, and the frequent lost visitors of my neighbors. So my assumption is all these men I dreamt about when I was younger are actually existent in fairy tales and books and movies….sigh.
I imagined great looks, great clothes, fancy car, great job, Men falling all over themselves at my doorstep, wooing me with flowers, chocolates and song.
Sigh I watched and read one too many romantic movie and book. …how wrong I was.
Great looks hah……You look great at 21 after that it’s just down hill. Well I’ve learnt the art of hiding my wrinkles and grey hair…and sagging skin…transparent glue helps hold it up… trust me it works.
Great clothes…..hah only in books darling…..otherwise it leaves a dent in your savings….its sad. So my advice dress simple…accessorize great….but please invest in great shoes….oh they are the soles of your attire. And besides great shoes speak volumes and add attitude.
Fancy car…..I’m still begging my dad to fund me one…..sheesh he insists I work and earn one….oh the sad life of the working class.
Great job…well I can’t complain….after 7 yrs ….I finally realized what I want to do in Jan 2008. I guess better late than never.
As for men hounding at my doorstep….Lol lets say the people visiting my doorstep have been my maid, the grocery man, and the frequent lost visitors of my neighbors. So my assumption is all these men I dreamt about when I was younger are actually existent in fairy tales and books and movies….sigh.
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