How’d We Get Here

 

It’s dark, there seems to be life everyhwere but no light, breathing sounds, slow movemements, it does smell okay, problem is, you can’t see anything, Fred is trying to work out what happened, he was on a night out, then nothing. He’s been here for days, and time goes so slowly, when you have no idea what to do or where you are, how’d we get here. He wriggles around, there is a spot of light, it’s brighter over there, and, he procedes slowly, the survace is broken, intense light, fred pulls himself up onto the ground, recognises, trees he thinks, and that’s grass, How Did I get here. Barney hawk is flying overhead, out for the breakfast, spots a movment down in the grass, he must be a hundred feet above it, but it does not matter when your eyes are radars. Barney, flies on, anything for the after course, nothing unusual, he swings back. Fred is still trying to get his bearings; adjusting to the new life takes time, said so in the PHD management manual he used to study, that he recalls, his memory is still patchy. Claws extended, one grab, Fred is now having a paraglding experience without the parachute, wow he says, how’d we get here. It’s good to be prepared sighs Fred, having recently increased his life insurance cover; he had a lot of enemies.

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How Many Victims do you Need?

Solomon sighed, the dream, the frenzy, the fear, the blood hatred in the eyes of those seeking justice, the lengths they were willing to go, they wanted their victim, they sought blood. Was this a re telling of the Great Play, by William, The Merchant of Venice, how our desire for so called justice blinds the light inside us.  It was dream time, and he was sharing the worries of another, a young relation of a war victim, as everyone who partakes in war are victims, the winners and the losers, what are they left with; the fields of Vietnam, the concentration camps of world war two, so many victims. Solomon reflected on how the values of an older generation were side lined, as a more modern minded, justice now mind set, took over the leadership of many flocks, and how they used past hatreds to corral the flock into action. None of them held memorials for the millions of children, abused indirectly over the internet, having to digest what few of us could escape unharmed from. How many lives had ended, when the posse was in pursuit, Jesus among them, the thirst for justice becoming a drug as the mob got larger and larger. Revelation sighed Solomon, they might not listen to the words of the Prophets, but they did react to revelation, knowing their day for their judgement could arrive any given day.

Solomon smiled, he caught the dream, listened, saw the spotlight shine on the so called refugee, villain, the light shone for a minute, perhaps less, the mob now has a thirst, the chase over this time, they headed off in search of another. Father, Teach them he prayed. They try to raise the fears in others to justify themselves; and the harm they cause grows like a virus. Solomon say the signs, saw the Spirit, what a sight, and every day since, he was writing rescue remedies, with a lot of success.

Needles

She runs in the door, has a mind filled with anger, she is going to upset the first person she meets, she is as primed as an atom bomb, wants to destroy and do nothing else, a habit she formed, a bit of self a bit of life, needle them they said, what is that.

The image, the pin prick, the drop of blood, the mixture heated over the spoon, the wired vein, the plunge, and that sinking feeling. A long way from the lawyers office, where Mr Big and his educated lawyer conduct their affairs. Expensive brands cut leather shoes, bleached teeth too, a far cry from the uneducated addict, sitting in slum land, taking what he or she can get, used as a toe rag, out of sight of family, they have already forgot.

Needles, the stone in the shoe, the little annoying journalist who wont give up the story, the ache in your heart, the feeling that wont go away. She needles everyone.

Solomon smiled, there was a lot of joy about, the eyes told their own story, many held smiles, a few wore frowns. the needle he surmised, help from above. To imagine that your life really counts, and you are not a statistic after all, despite what you have been forced to believe, in order to stay alive.

How the miracles of olden times, needled the Spiritual leaders of those times. He is stealing our flock, they listen to him, we have to do something about it. 2,000 years later, they are still listening, amen. You have to needle them sighed Solomon, same way you prod at times, amen.

Understanding

She sits in front of her desk, her notes arranged to the side, the stuff she wants to express on the screen; in a full on world it’s not easy to be heard, and it’s more difficult when your a woman, she sighs, all she wants is understanding, someone to say to her, you are not mad, there is nothing wrong with you, you are fine. A child comes in from school, has some art work in his school satchel, is keen to show it to his closest; this is what I done, it’s all I want to say, understand me.

She pushes the chair with her hands, she lost the use of her legs in a stupid accident, and worse, it was preventable, a darn bug she collected. She sighs, that creep inside her, upsetting her life, how dare it. But as sure as the disease came it can be overcome. Every day she reaches out to others, remains strong inside, her Spirit is what drives her, gives her understanding. Yes, she has her moments too, and she has a lecture prepared for her heavenly encounter, you have been warned she says to herself; you cut off a layer of understanding she says, as if talking to God herself.

He checks the schedule, he is a busy man, has a family, company duties and hobbies. Occasionally he lectures others. He goes through the calendar for the month, smiles, few off times, great he says to himself, no gaps in the CV for this month.

Love Me Love me Love Me…

She sulks on the bed, waiting, she is young, he loves me, he loves me, she keeps on telling herself, as if repeating the words will make it real, he loves me, why doesn’t he love, she repeats the mantra, imitating her teacher of yoga from the year before, her former lover. He was big into the mantra, her former yoga teacher, but the lines crossed, lust and need overcame any love that was there, same way the addict needs a hit. I’ll be angry all day unless you give me he says, and she willingly provided, he loves me she said, that was then. Now she waits for her new man to love her even more. A product of the new world, where access to all things, adult or otherwise is easy, she believes as many do, that giving is what love does, it gives. In this mood she repeats her mantra, love me love me, when she has said it a thousand times, it will become permanent in his life, and she will have him. she is an odd woman, born of the modern world.

Solomon sighs, what a conundrum to be in. Say you are of God, as many are, how can you love the Great God unless you love what he or she created. Solomon was reflecting on the words of Jesus; one of the few in terms of global influence among all religions, his words still true to this day. How can you love me if you don’t love those that love me, how can you. Jealous love destroys, real love inspires.

Her relationship takes the familiar pattern; intensity, the burn out, the end. Love only wants the best for you, amen.

Why Should We Fear God? — Just Call Me Pastor… a re blog, all that old stuff is true, and it heals too, just imagine it.

Quote

A couple of days ago I found a site on YouTube that arrested my attention. SermonIndex.net contained portions from the sermons of six preachers whose ministry together spanned more than half a century in different locations. Whatever their geographic locations, their sermons had a common theme. With one voice, they contended that there was a […]

via Why Should We Fear God? — Just Call Me Pastor

Mother and Child

The line is getting close to the check out, she holds her daughter’s hand tight. In a few hours, she will be in another world, a little frightened the way all new visitors feel, when they are somewhere new. Young, too young, she rebelled and ran away from home, that was ten years ago. twenty six now, with a three year old child, she made friends with the first man that seemed okay, she is wiser now, back then she was on the run. She reflects while she stands inline, her life has changed, the small hand in hers, a new responsibility. To be free from the influence, her boy friend so controlling, she hated the life, maybe that’s how a mother feels. She looks at the small human being holding her hand, her life line to the world, yes, that’s me she says to herself. Why has this child taken over my life; she laughed when she heard of friends with children on the way, the way they acted, pretending she imagined; how can one person have such a hold on your life.

The desk assistant smiles when she proffers her pass port. She reaches over the desk, catches sight of the little girl;. going to a new world she says with a smile. The little girl looks at her Mother, hopeful.

Solomon sighed, how many were on the road to freedom across the world. Compassion, love and charity, the very basics required of all those who called themselves believers, amen.