The Blessings we Miss

Our hurt drags us half pass the point of giving up. Though some of us, don't even need the hurt to give up. "But why God? Why did you put me there at that time? What did that young man do to be killed only minutes away from his home? Why couldn't the family have smelt the smoke that led them to their untimely death?" We ask these questions with such confusion in our hearts. This same confusion that blinds us from God's love, and binds us from receiving all the blessings that He has in store for us. We all have our purpose under the sun. The minute we forget this very fact, is the minute we become enslaved to a life full of hopeless wounders and doubt. Where would we be if our Savior asked these questions: But why Father? Why do you tell me to carry such a heavy burden, for those who do not love you? Why do I have to make such a sacrifice to those who only wish to remove your name? Why couldn't we just leave such a wicked world to wait for their untimely death?...Let us not mourn for those who are now at rest. Holding our heads up high until we meet again, away from the wages of sin, hurt, and everlasting stress.

The Shattered Picture

Was I mistaken to have thought that the world knew of a common courtesy to treat a person with respect. Am I Naive to have believed that as long as I walked the paths less taken that I would never have to embrace the hard winds that so often knock me over into a stumbling confusion. Yet here I lay, picturing myself with the young man who intentionally tried to take my last breath. We are but two children, conversing about what and/or who we are going to be when we grow up. We are laughing because we feel so invincible to danger, and we just know that we have our whole lives before we ever come face to face to hurt, sickness and defeat. But, now we are terrified, because we know that soon the day will come where all of our fears that we never acknowledged, now become the reality. In an instance this picture is shattered by a deathly pain in my left hand. Should I then try to reach out to him with my right? Perhaps he too could picture that the grass is greener on the other side. Or am I naive to even try. Who would that make me if I just let him die?

Substantially Big

Life is such a beautiful, complicated and strange thing that God has blessed us with. Each day we wake up, hoping to embrace only the good things that lie within the unknown. We are all unique in one way or another, however we live in a society that says we have to be rich or do something substantially big to be remembered when we leave this life behind. How will the world remember me? This thought perhaps entertained my mind as I laid there in a puddle of my own blood, wondering if what had just happened to me, was something that I dreamt. Though, considering the deathly pain I was in, I figured no pinch of the highest decimal could top what  I was feeling, so unfortunately I couldn’t be woken up from the nightmare I wished it was. The nightmare that I dreamed of as a small child was now my adult reality. I had become a victim to a man who in life, hated me because of the color of my skin. Now that’s substantially big! How will the world remember him? Some will say he was a young man that was confused and depressed, and relied on negative influences to make him feel superior and secure. Others will rejoice in his loss, but will have  beveling emotions because he decided to take another’s life, before considering his own. What do I say? I’m unsure of what his emotional and/or psychological status was, but there was a lot that could be seen behind the barrel of an old shotgun, besides a young white man who was passionate about what he stood for. There were cries between each line to be read, as he gave a brief speech about Adolf Hitler’s birthday, before calling me a “nigger” and pulling the trigger. Maybe there was a cry for help, but the world was too busy waiting for someone to do something substantially big. Take a look around. The strongest ones are those who society view as incapable. But we are all capable, to do what feels good to the soul, we are capable to love. How will the world remember me? Do I want to be remembered by saving people’s lives? Or perhaps, simply being a follower of Christ. Only if These Brown Walls Could Talk.