“Where, O Death, Is Your Victory?   Where, O Death, Is Your Sting?”

Apparently the IRS doesn’t know that I exist

“I see a fraction of the grand scheme, But you have Heaven’s point of view…”

Better Way // The Color

I think the really insidious part of the whole "I don't need to forgive the people who hurt me" attitude that's so prominant nowadays, is that it perpetuates the cycle of abuse.

Not every person who does bad things has a tragedy fueling their behavior. But a lot of them do. You can be a victim and also an abuser. Those are not mutually exclusive things. In fact, one of the best ways to become an abuser is to take the pain of the injustice you've experienced and to let it fester inside you. And that is what happens if you don't forgive.

And before anyone tries to tell me that you can't forgive someone because that means letting them to continue hurting you. That's not what forgiveness is. Resuming a relationship with someone who hurt you is Reconciling. Forgiveness is when you choose to let go of the anger and the hate and the bitterness and heal. I know this is an honest misunderstanding, but it's a dangerous one.

You don't have to remain a victim in order to forgive. But if you do not forgive you will become the same as your abuser. That's not a risk, but a fact. The cycle of abuse can be broken but you have to choose to do it.

You have to choose to heal. You owe it others and to yourself.

:) (aggressive)

Independence Day wasn’t the day we became free as a nation.

July 4th, 1776 was the day we declared our intention to be free, whatever the cost.

This day is not about the freedom we possess, it’s about our resolution to obtain and defend our freedom even against insurmountable odds.

That’s the spirit of America: the little guy who won’t back down.

🇺🇸 Happy Independence Day, America. 🇺🇸

Falco Peregrinus, pencil drawing by T. S. R. Hardy, June 1942.

Robert Hardy was a competent artist, and kept a small number of his own pencil and watercolour artworks produced in his later teenage years during the early 1940s.

An incomplete list of Narnia/Bible analogs that are gorgeous and make me want to scream:

Shasta and Moses (They come out of the desert to meet God on a mountain. Raised among strangers and foreigners, without any idea of the glory for which God has destined them, they run for freedom and find themselves leaders of their people. When they ask, “who are you?” the strange voice answers only, “I am who I am; that is, myself.”)

Susan and Martha (Your sister sits at the Lord’s feet and runs to his side every time, as though nothing else matters. Yet you have people to worry about, practical concerns to consider. People need to eat, after all, and who will care for their needs if not you? Should you weep when your Master chides you for the busy anxiousness of your heart? When you come to him crying for your lost brother, you know that he will comfort you.)

Lucy and David (Glittering, righteous children after God’s own heart who are only too fallible. Writers of songs and dreamers of dreams, both of them. You can’t convince me that Lucy wouldn’t have danced before the Lord in a linen ephod, or that David wouldn’t have run at Aslan to bury his face in that golden mane. Stubborn, both of them, yet able to face correction and turn guilt back to praise. Brave, faithful youngest children turned great kings and queens.)

Emeth and Rehab (We ask ourselves how those who never hear the Gospel can have any hope for salvation and are given such small, human answers. The road is narrow, yet here this stranger says “I know your God.” How did He reveal Himself? we want to plead. No answer. The road is narrow, yet these few strangers know His character and His saving power. Someday, we will see them in Heaven.)

Edmund and Paul (“Why are you persecuting me?” calls a voice from above, and just like that the spiteful child is saved. What great things they shall do in the name of the Savior, sure in the knowledge that the Lord came to save sinners, of which they are the worst. They sail across many seas; sometimes, they sail smoothly on and sometimes they are shipwrecked. Still, the King is just and good.)

Reepicheep and Elijah (I am enraptured by stories of a righteous, brave soul who is taken home without tasting death. One is taken in a ship on the water, the other in a chariot of fire. Full of joy and ready to meet the King, both are taken beyond sight. Yet we are sure that their arrivals were safe and that they are in that Far Country even now.)

The prodigal son didn’t come back for the “right” reasons. He came back because his life was a mess and he was starving

He came back for no other reason than he’d hit rock bottom and he knew he’d at least have food back home

Regardless, his father welcomed him back with open arms and threw an elaborate celebration anyway

God doesn’t care why you come back

Just come home