Sincerely Yours, Satan xXx

Walk with destruction in my wake
and a shroud of darkness for cover,
spreading death and disease
and unease and decay.
It snakes along the arms
of enemies and cracks like
ancient spiderwebs so that the rot
sinks into flesh and pollutes clean blood
until black and death push through,
oozing form their pores like
the ink of a broken quill.

Women are raped in Iraq
and Afghan girls with leashes ’round their necks
dance for old men in dusty dens
and legions of children wield guns for battle
in the Congo. They’re trained to shoot and to kill.
I’ve got women being killed by their men.
Two per week. And kids getting beaten
by their mothers, until their eyes swell like plums,
lips black like leeches and only melted chocolate can hide their pain.

Earthquakes in Haiti
Tsunamis in Asia
Hurricanes to tear towns apart
and leave inhabitants destitute and dirty—
Tornadoes spin confusion in a neighbourhood and
Kills many. ‘Till no one can recognise a thing
‘Till bodies of children are encased in rubble
and graves are overturned.

The clergy rapes its children. Pastors beat their women.
Elders wanna kill all the gays.

Your God is sick
and evil
‘Cause he runs this world of ruin.
You blame him, every day
for your lives of disarray—
and give me glory all the same.

The best thing I ever did
Was convince the world
I don’t exist.

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Street Witnessing

Today I went street witnessing. There is series of flats on Wood Vale, Forest Hill, which makes a good start for doing that sort of thing. It’s close by to me, so it didn’t take long to go. I went with a group of people from my church: three of us youths, two adults (including my dad) and two little ‘uns.

I used to go door-knocking often with my dad back in the day. I hated it. I never knew what to say, and used to just stand there while he did all the work. I know the ice breakers that he’d use when greeting people off by heart: if he had a tract about the Health Message then he’d introduce himself as a quasi-nutritionist; if it was a book about happiness and well-being then he’d ask about their stress levels and overall mental health. At Christmas he’d start off by asking if they’d had a good Christmas, and if they believed in Christ.

We used the latter one today and I interacted with people for the first time. I mean, I actually spoke to strangers and smiled and everything. It wasn’t scary and I didn’t feel stupid; people were fairly receptive to the Word and even if they didn’t believe, they were still polite and accepted our materials. In this case we gave them Steps to Christ by E. G. White. The whole ‘Christmas’ ice-breaker worked wonders.

We’re planning to make a habit of this; try and go every month—or more, depending on our schedules.I’m actually looking forward to it. This certainly was a milestone in my ‘witnessing’ walk, if anything. So I suppose one of the positives a Christian can take from this more-or-less Pagan holiday, is the opportunity to witness for God. People are more friendly during this time.

‘Tis the season, and all that…

xXx

Just a plug for a great group of people…

Check out this group on Youtube. They’re called The PreachingPlace777. They’re just a bunch of ordinary guys from churches all around London, spreading the gospel and sharing sermons and testimonies. The testimonies are the most inspiring; makes you realise how powerful God can be.

Yesterday evening they planned an evangelistic event at Westfields, Shepherd’s Bush. Quite a few of us went there, handing out fliers for the church; singing, preaching and sharing testimonies. It was fun to take part, but it made the whole thing worth it when I came home and heard that a few people had requested Bible studies.

This is the promo video for the event last night, ‘I Will Preach for Jesus’.

Two unbelievable testimonies:

Dean Cullinane

Andrew Fuller

Go on, take a look! You’ll definitely be blessed.

Starting Again.

I’m so glad for another week.

Last week really was a nightmare. It started off by a wrong decision which meant I was in a situation that had me reprimanded by my friends. I ended up feeling really disappointed with myself and I couldn’t pray for a couple days because I had the burden of what I’d done just playing on my mind.

I also had university work that needed doing (which I still haven’t done) and the memory of my poor performance during my French Oral kept playing over in my head. Being Christmas Week meant a lot of rushing around and doing last-minute shopping and errands for people that had left it too late to get the presents themselves. It was a struggle from the start, but Wednesday was the worst. In fact, it was bloody awful.

I told a close friend that I had feelings for them. And even though I knew I was going to get turned down, it still hurt me more than I admitted—not just to him, but to myself. I moped around on Thursday like an idiot and I felt angry at him for not being clear enough about his own intentions. I wasn’t the only one who found his ignorance surrounding basic male-female interaction a little odd. Bottom line: he led me on. Overtly. And had no idea.

It wasn’t his fault, though. To be fair, I should have been thinking more clearly. I think we’ve all seen through my posts on this blog that I have very confusing and conflicting opinions about men and relationships and marriage and this is something that has caused me stress for a good three years. At 17-18 I actually had NO trust for the opposite sex; church was worse, because I saw a lot of old-fashioned gender stereotypes and borderline misogyny amongst the older men. These sentiments were passed down to their sons and it made me despair for young Christians. Because of these feelings, the few times I’ve had romantic feelings for a guy, it’s left me in a state of self-defeat. I felt this way VERY strongly with this friend of mine because I just couldn’t read him and I couldn’t really describe how I felt about him. I just knew that he was on my mind a lot. And it made me feel vulnerable.

So anyway, I got it out there. I was rejected in a round-a-bout way, but the message was clear anyway. It came with an apology as well. Ugh. We ended the phonecall like we always did, chatting nonsense and whatnot, and I thought I felt better once it was off my chest, but by the next morning I felt awful, as if I was nursing a hangover.

I’m really grateful for my sister, who gave me good advice about it. And two friends who are very dear to me. One of them knows how odd I feel about relaying my feelings to others so he waited patiently while I sat around his table and fiddled with my fingers. He gave me a big hug afterwards. My other friend made me feel a little better; opened my eyes a bit to the major differences between me and this guy—differences that would have caused problems. As in, my ‘radicalness’ 😀

So yeah, not a good week. I’m not going to give a Bible text here. I should, but it’s been a long day and I think it’s time for bed soon. I’ll just say this:

The most important relationship you’ll ever have is with God. Concentrate on that one before anything else, and He’ll provide you with everything else.

xXx

Sometimes…

I didn’t make it in time.
My name wasn’t in the Book
so I had to wait outside
for judgment
whilst you ran your hands
across the words
that told the story of my sin
and my failure
to repent and feel guilty
for what I’d done.

Sometimes
It’s like you’re all far away
sitting by the Pearly Gates
and not thinking
Not thinking
about
my absence.

Dentata

I was hidden.
Under reams and realms of sand.
Hidden.
So that it took a voyage of frustration
to find and open me

They opened me.
Dug black nails into the wood.
Rowan. Sturdy and sure
but soon bewildered with
lines of hate and scratches
that defaced my grace.

Muscles contracted over the lock
that had been given to me by God
and set in wait until that same One
gave me the right key to open it.

Strength comes in desperation, so
anvils, snares; hooks and chains
fall like feathers of a dying bird
in the hands of a starving treasure thief.

Now I’m unbolted
spread wide. With my lock broken and bleeding.
And when I close myself a second time
I won’t open again.

Broken Record.

There’s something that has been bugging me for a while. I daydream a lot. That in itself isn’t the problem, it’s the subject of the daydreams that get to me. They’ve caused a lot of confusion in my head and have left me down and annoyed.

Sometimes they’re inpure thoughts. I’ve actually managed to tackle the worst of these through prayer and resistance, but now they’ve warped into something frightening. I’ve given myself the impression that, because I’ve never been in a relationship before, the one I do finally land into will be a disaster. The same scene of me getting beaten and battered by my future husband plays over and over in my head. It makes me scared of commitment and it’s managed to give me a newfound weariness of the opposite sex.

You must know by now that I don’t agree with gender stereotyping, gender inequality and the way in which women are treated within religion. But my opinions have intensified with time and it’s made me surprisingly bitter. It’s the weirdest thing because the majority of my friends are male and I get along better with men than I do with women. My two closest female friends aren’t the ‘typical’ female either, whatever that means…

But now I’m wondering if I’m guilty of misandry; if the main reason why I’ve always turned people down or ignored courting calls is because I hold a dislike for men? I asked some people to pray for me about it yesterday (I obviously didn’t go into the details of it because I don’t know any of them) but it’s started to get me down. I wanted to resume a ministry that had started up at church but disintegrated—a young women’s meeting group—but now I worry that I won’t be the right woman for the job. I already know how bored my church friends are with my talk about gender inequality.

Maybe I should just shut up and keep my thoughts to myself.

And what’s more confusing is that I actually hold some fondness for a guy. But when I finally told my closest friends about my feelings for him, it felt like admitting defeat.

Jeez. What a messed-up person I am.

A Testimony!

Happy Sabbath.

I love when a Sabbath starts on a high. I still haven’t experienced The testimony, my Damascus Road Testimony, but until then I appreciate the little ones—because in reality, they’re not that little at all.

Quick recap: I was doing Creative Writing at Derby University. I dropped out after first year to pursue a career as a Mental Health nurse but I failed the exam and ended up settling for Sociology at the University of Greenwich. Greenwich requires students to pick up extra courses to make up the points for the year so I chose Forensic Criminology and French—I love the former and hate the latter. I was really down at the start of the year because I thought I had ruined my life and I just wasn’t enjoying university.

The first part of my testimony comes in the form of a final career choice. Even though my dream is to be a published novelist, I still need a day job. One of the reasons I left the Creative Writing course at Derby was because  I couldn’t think of a job that I could do with a Creative Writing degree and my motivation for it started to wane.

Talking to my mum this week it finally dawned on me the job I could do. I would like to work in a Trade Union. I reckon it’s quite competitive these days, but they’re still hiring by the bucketload, plus I have the advantage of knowing how to get into the field as my mum works in the legal department for one of the major unions in the UK (don’t worry, no nepotism here; she can’t get me the job). I started following the work of the trade unions earlier this year when the Tories got in and was both fascinated and horrified by the stories my mum came home with, of the unfairness some people have to face. Finding a career that would be good for me has really got my confidence going and now I’ve started to work harder, because I know where my degree will lead to. I’m still going to pray about it anyway, as I’ve had to twist and change my desire to be a Mental Health nurse quite a lot since I started this degree.

The second part of my testimony is in regards to my French course. No, I don’t like it nor do I understand it and I find the classes boring. I’ve been struggling to retain information it’s made me fall behind in classes more than once. Last week, however, I fell behind in a bad way. I was supposed to hand in a portfolio of work that I didn’t know until it was too late was actually part of a formal assessment. I didn’t understand it so I didn’t do it and decided to give myself an extension for extenuating circumstances (LOL). But then the following week went by and I still hadn’t done it. By this time I was aware just how important the portfolio was and I was bricking myself over how much trouble I would get into. Friday morning came (today) and I very nearly almost stayed at home. So I prayed. I prayed some crazy desperate prayer, pleading with God to soften my French teacher’s heart so she would understand.

I went to class early and told her that I had had trouble with the work and hadn’t done it yet.

“Erm,” she said, “did we agree for you to have an extension?”

“Uhhhhhhh. I—oh yeah! I don’t think we did, did we?”

“You do know I can penalise you for not handing it in on time?”

I then went on a little ramble, saying I hadn’t known who to go to if I’d needed the help; I also hadn’t been able to get to a reliable printer in time; it was really hard work—

“Well it’ll be kind of pointless you coming in class today,” she said. “We’re going to be going through the portfolio together.”

There was a long pause.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said, “Go to the library for an hour and complete the portfolio now. Come back at twelve for the second part of the lecture and I’ll take your work in anyway. I won’t penalise you.”

HUUH? Can I get an ‘Amen’???

I almost cried on my way to the library! It took longer than I thought, though (I told you it was hard); I ended up taking two hours and arriving in the classroom when the lecture was over.

“This wasn’t our agreement, was it?” She said, tapping her foot on the ground.

“I’msosorrysorrytooklongsorrypaperjamsorrywrongfrenchtapesorrysorry.”

And she still accepted it! My prayer was answered. I should have a big red mark next to my name in the coursebook for handing in the work a week late, but thank God it’s all worked out.

But now I must never screw up in the lesson again. She’s gonna be watching me now, I’m sure of it…

xXx