Steadfast

 I have days when my soul is in rebellion against me. It goes after my faith, against my every resolve, against my hope. Nothing is off limits.
It used to scare me in the beginning but I have been on the battle field with it enough times to learn its strategy. But like Saul's evil spirit was quieted by David playing the harp, I've learned to quiet my doubts with His promises.

“Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him For the help of his countenance.
O my God, my soul is cast down within me: Therefore do I remember thee from the land of the Jordan, and the Hermons, from the Mount Mizar.” (Psalm 42:5-6)

From the land of Jordan, and from the Hermons, from Mizar — not quite in exile yet. The Holy Land is almost out of my view, but I still see Zion. My doubt is chasing me out of my hallowed place, but not quite.

“As with a crushing in my bones, mine adversaries taunt me; While they say unto me all the day: 'Where is Thy God?'
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him For the help of his countenance.” (Psalm 42:10-11)

When you wait, not just for days, or weeks, or months, but years -- long, long years -- it's a bit of a battle to maintain the same enthusiasm and belief for the promises of God. Almost out of sheer self preservation the soul will scorn your hope. It feels cheated. Abandoned alone in a silly hope that maybe was never meant for it to begin with. I don't think disappointment is the right word for it. It morphs into something with sharp teeth and claws ready to shred you, your faith and even your God to nothing. Even so, “The LORD, who delivered me from the claws of the lion and the bear, will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.” (1 Samuel 17:37)
Unlike David killing his Goliath, I can't kill off my soul nor do I wish to. I know it loves God. So I have to sit there with it for a long while and whisper it again into love with God. Sometimes I have to start with 'be'reishit' — in the beginning, and go until I reach the 'amen' in Revelation before it relents. Other times all I have to do is call His Name out loud and my soul is won over. In my darkest moments nothing works, so I have to wrestle it, exhaust it until it cries uncle. Basically I do whatever it takes to make it submit. Why do I do that? Because that's all I have. The fight for God is all I've ever known. I'm not about to lose an inch to an unfulfilled dream or shattered hope. I've determined long ago that He's worth it. Whatever obstacles along the way that will disintegrate my barefoot feet --  I'll cut them off before I'll think it too high a price.
Is it because I'm stubborn that I'll make it? Never. It's because He promised! That if I just believe in Him, He'll take me back home. He made Himself a Way for me. He made Himself bread, so I won't starve on this journey. He made Himself water, so I won't thirst. He made Himself a Door for me, so that I would never knock without Him opening Himself up for me to enter. There's nothing that could have been done that He didn't do, just to have me. I have nothing to give Him. Never did, never will. But I can believe Him, and even that is His gift to me...

“His commitments are always kept. (…) We admire loyalty in people, and we can't imagine a God lacking loyalty. We can count on Him being as good as His word. It is said of Gebhard Leberecht von Blucher that when he was marching to help the Duke of Wellington battle Napoleon at Waterloo, his troops faltered. “It can't be done,” they said. “It must be done!” was his answer. “I have promised to be there — promised, do you hear? You would not have me break my word!” He was at Waterloo according to his word. He would not be hindered, for his promise was given. We praise such faithfulness. We would not think much of one who did not keep his word. Will The Lord God Almighty fail in His promise? No. He will move heaven and earth and shake the Universe rather than not fulfill His word. He seems to say, 'It must be done! I have promised — promised, you hear?!'
In order to keep His promise to us, He spared not His Own Son. He considered it better that Jesus die than the word of The Lord be broken. I say again, depend upon it! The Lord means what He says, and He will make good every syllable of His word.” - According to promise. Of salvation, life and eternity, by Charles H. Spurgeon

by Cristina Pop

I can see!

 I've heard somebody say yesterday, 'I don't know whether I am saved or not, only God knows that.' That's not the first time I've heard people say that. So I've decided to write about it because I don't think a little logic would hurt the people that use that sort of line and think it pertinent or even lofty.

On the surface it seems like such a humble thing to say. I happen to think it's plain idiotic, not because I blame people that doubt their own salvation, but because the theory behind it is ridiculous.
If you have been drifting at sea, about to drown and somebody came along, jumped in the water and dragged you to safety, you wouldn't think it's lofty to sit there panting on deck while the ship rejoices, telling them 'only the person that saved me knows whether I have been saved or not, I do not know.' Are you kidding me? Look around you! You were drowning, now you're not. You were dying, now you're not!
Now imagine spending years on that ship and you're still there telling people, 'I might still be in the waters, I am not sure, ask the captain.' Ridiculous!

I do not know whether you're saved or not. Only you know that and the fact that you're confused makes me think you either fell pray to a lie from the enemy, or some 'theologian' proposed a theory that made you doubt yourself. Or it could be that you are not saved indeed.
It's not rocket science. It never was despite what some people make it sound like. I'll make this as simple as possible, even though I know you'd more readily eat it up if I'd use some Greek and Hebrew terminology. But I shall attempt to address this nonsense. I harbor no illusion that logic will convince you, but let's try it anyway. I'll borrow a passage from John 9 and paraphrase it in terms you might understand.

You were blind. In fact you were born blind. And you spent your life seeing through whatever you could touch or through other people's descriptions of the seen world. You were clueless what they were talking about because you had no frame of refrence for half the things they mentioned. And one day, this Person came along.  Without a word to you He pasted mud on your eyes and told you to go wash. And even just to get the dirt off, you went and you did what He asked. And lo and behold, you saw! And you saw well! Others didn't recognize you because you confused them with your ability to see. When questioned, maybe you didn't know exactly what to answer about the One that gave you sight. You weren't able to describe the atoning power, you couldn't tell them exactly how substitution works or about the two natures of Christ. You didn't have all the facts about baptism, or The Lord's supper, or any notion about eschatology and nephillim. But you knew you have been blind and that now you could see! Now blind people trying to lead the blind are telling you that maybe you either have never been blind to begin with or that it's an illusion that you see, 'no, you might still be blind' Are you serious?! You're a grown up. You can testify for yourself. You have been blind and now you see! Don't ask me or anybody else, 'do you think I see?'-- Do you?! Only you know whether you see or not. And if you're blind then fine, I'll write another post how you can be led to Jesus, but I doubt you need that.

So you had a nasty fall. The kind that is so unbecoming for a child of God that you feel like there's no way you haven't lost your salvation. You were blind (have I overemphasized it?) some things are still foreign to you. You're still adjusting to the seen world. When something feels scary or alien to you, you still find yourself closing your eyes just to get your bearings. Darkness feels safer than the Light. You're gonna fail. A lot! But does that mean that now the gift of sight has left you? If you stumble and fall, and fall to the point where you break limbs and sport a black eye and bruises for weeks, does that make you turn blind again? Am I saying you can't become blind after you've regained your sight? Not at all. What I am telling you is that you would have to hate your sight so much and despise the seen world to the point where you'd go, pick up a sharp object and shove it in both your eyes. But the fact that you fall or that you get dirt on you, dirt which didn't bother you before because you couldn't see it, doesn't make you blind again. It makes you dirty. Go and wash and avoid pigsties in the future.
You might even fall so hard that you end up in a dark whole in the ground and in that case I can see why you would be confused whether you have lost your sight or not. But it's just a dark whole, you're not blind again!
One of my favorite movies, Hacksaw Ridge has a good image that helps my point. There's this fallen soldier among many others that the main character is trying to save and take to safety. He stumbles upon an American soldier that wants to shoot him because he doesn't recognize friend from foe. The main character reassures him that he's a friend and the guy desperately informs him, 'Doss, I'm blind! I can't see!' Doss can see that blood has covered his face and when it dried in shut his eyes closed, so he reaches out for his canteen and washes the guy's eyes and the grateful man latches on to Doss and tells him, 'I really thought I was blind!'
I get that things happen, awful things at that. Some that the world force upon you and others of your own doing, but you learn to dust yourself off and move on. You're not blind!
Short of severing your spirit open and surgically removing Christ from you, He's there. You're not the initiator of this covenant and it doesn't stand in place because of you. If that were the case we would all be doomed. This covenant stands by Him, through Him and for Him. Am I saying now that you should keep on sinning? God forbid! On the contrary, you should feel such gratitude for The One that have paid the price to set you free that you would never wish to go back and put a chain around your neck in service to your wants. Fight and fight hard not just mildly with your inclinations. Go wash, or mend your broken bones and train, train until it hurts, so that you know how to walk with your eyes wide open! I am not telling you anything new. You know all this!

 I apologize for ranting, but I kind of had no choice. If you found this article confusing, that's alright. I doubt it will be the last time I confuse people with something I write :)

by Cristina Pop

Hang in there

“One Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, and a woman there had been disabled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was hunched over and could not stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, He called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your disability.” Then He placed His hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and began to glorify God.

But the synagogue leader was indignant that Jesus had healed on the Sabbath. “There are six days for work,” he told the crowd. “So come and be healed on those days and not on the Sabbath.”

“You hypocrites!” the Lord replied. “Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it to water? Then should not this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be released from her bondage on the Sabbath day?”

When Jesus said this, all His adversaries were humiliated. And the whole crowd rejoiced at all the glorious things He was doing.” - Luke 13:10-17

 I love this story for many reasons but mainly because my King shines so blindingly in it that I simply love Him more for it. 

This woman was beyond despair. For eighteen years she's been tied by Satan like an animal to the point 'she was hunched over and could not stand up straight.' Not because she was unwilling, but because she couldn't stand up straight.
She had to have been whole at some point. She had to have been happy and free. Maybe she liked flowers and despised people who talked nonsense, who knows. But at some point she began to slouch, then hunch over until she couldn't stand up straight anymore. And she had lived with her head down and spine bent for eighteen years. Shrinking into herself more and more. Unable to look up towards heaven. Her vision had shrunk to whatever her feet treaded on. She probably looked as if she was searching for a hole to sink in, or a grave. I don't think she would have minded finding one.

 
There are a lot of people walking about that way. Their disability is mental not physical. People that get burdened with some mental or emotional load that gets so heavy that even if they would want to they can't 'get up'.
There is a passage in one of my favorite books, Everything is illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer, that illustrates perfectly this state of mind:

“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the mid afternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.”

It's hell to even imagine one day living that way. Now stretch your mind as far as it can go and imagine years. Eighteen years.
You might say, 'that happens only to those that don't know God, those that know Him are filled with joy'. I beg to differ and allow me to elaborate.
The woman in the story was a 'daughter of Abraham'. Jesus calls her that. If that wouldn't have been the case, He would have called Satan her father like we know He did when He spoke to the pharisees and sadducees (John 8:39-44). But she was a daughter of Abraham. She wasn't possessed by the devil, that's why Jesus doesn't cast out any spirit. She had just been tied by Satan like she wasn't human anymore but an ox or a donkey. And to her credit, tied as she was, she had a fighting spirit. She didn't hide in her home, she kept going to the synagogue. One little step at a time, Sabbath after Sabbath, month after month, year after year. Satan did the worst he could to her. He managed to tie her, bowed her head and bent her spine. But that's all he could do. I don't believe he was holding back, he's not the type to do that. Just look at Job. Satan doesn't hold back when he goes after someone. He doesn't spare a field, a cow, a child or one's own skin. I don't believe Satan was holding back when he went after this woman either. She was, 'hard-pressed on all sides, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.' (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)
As sad as her state was, she wasn't without hope. She kept going to the synagogue looking for the only One who could help her. And one day He showed up. Not in the way she expected, but there He was. Standing above everybody else, teaching them. And He sees her. No, He didn't just observe an oddity. He didn't just take notice of her presence. He SAW her. Flaws, qualities, potential, tears, despair, worn out … He sees her. The tiny form, a shell of a former self, that probably went in and out of rooms without anyone ever sparing her a second glance. But oh, she had His attention. He traveled the heavens and time itself to reach her in her need. He calls her over and she comes. Just in case I need to point it out for people unacquainted with a synagogue, what Jesus did was simply insane. You have a bimah, a raised platform where the rabbi or the guest speaker stands to speak to the congregation, the aron kodesh, the place where the Scrolls of Torah (Law), Ketuvim (Scriptures) and Neviim (Prophets) are kept. You have the men's section split by a mechitzah (partition) from the women's section. The two do not mingle. Now imagine the rabbi not just looking at the women's side, but calling out to a woman and asking her to come to him. Crazy! Yet, Jesus doesn't care. After all, that's why He's here. “You are free from your disability”, He says to her and touches her, and she's released. Just like that. On the wrong day to do a miracle of course, but Jesus isn't playing any religious games. He unties her and she's free.
As expected, there's outrage. Not aimed at Jesus, but at the woman, “There are six days for work,” he told the crowd. “So come and be healed on those days and not on the Sabbath.”. No knight in shining armor could ever shine like my King when He defends this woman, “You hypocrites!” the Lord replied. “Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it to water? Then should not this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be released from her bondage on the Sabbath day?”
His way of working offends my and your religious sensibilities. But He's alright with that. He's not about keeping my/your delusions alive. He's about setting people free. From whatever ails them. In whatever way He sees fit. It doesn't matter that 'it's not done this way', it doesn't matter that it's not 'scriptural' in my/your view. Hearts take precedence over anything. It's not my business and your business either how He chooses to free anybody. Only He knows how long those long years have been for a broken heart. No it cannot wait until you find it acceptable. It has to be done now!

If you're the woman in the story, I pray you hang in there. Fight even if your battle is reduced to waking up in the morning and getting dressed. Fight even if it means all you can do is put one foot in front of the next. Even if you have to split your existence into minutes because even hours seem to break you. But hang in there! I promise, help is on the way. He knows exactly where you are. Don't stop asking for His help. I know what it's like to have only one prayer for years, 'I am here, everything is pulling me away, even I want to leave, but I am here.' I pray you'll have the fortitude to endure the storm, the perseverance to continue to hope one day at a time and the awareness that He's the only One who can help you.
If you're the leader of the synagogue in this story and you just feel the need to point out the obvious, do me a favor --
no, do yourself a favor and be quiet. You speak of things you do not understand or ever could. Believe me, I know what it's like to have The King of glory look you in the eyes and tell you, 'you hypocrite!' Better to avoid that experience if at all possible, but if you insist I am sure He can oblige you.

Lord, You know I have been both the woman and the hypocrite. You Know all things … Thank You for … everything. One day I'll be able to find a better word that encompasses everything. Or maybe I'll just be quiet. You'll understand.

by Cristina Pop

Prayer

 Look at me, Lord... what do You see? Am I whole or in pieces? If all I can give You is silence, will You understand my silence? Do You see everything it hides and everything it reveals? Of course You do. Your eyes pierce through my contemptible attempts to make sense out of senselessness. Pry my heart open and sort through my insides. Through every thought I disguise as a lofty feeling, through every feeling I camouflage as fact, through every fact I cloak in opinion, through every opinion I colour in certainty, through every certainty ripe with doubt, through every doubt perforated with hope, through every hope sprinkled with faith and every faith drenched in love. Prod, examine, organize and then speak me back to me. Maybe in Your words I'll understand myself. Maybe once I understand I'll be able to pray. Not cajoling, but real praise. Not enticing You with promises in the hope You'll relent. I need a pure prayer. It can't be a way to manipulate You to get what I want, it has to be pure. You'll see right through me. You always do.
 Shall I speak? Craft me new words, the ones I know fail me. Invent me utterances that are able to communicate, feel and believe and think all at the same time. Interpret me to myself like a rabbi interprets the Torah. Sing me to myself, maybe my truth lies in sounds more than words, do whatever it takes but lay me bare before You. Lead me to Your altar and bind me to it (Psalm 118:27). Forgive me for not going there willingly... Still, bind me with cords of love (Hosea 11:4). Bind me tight enough so that even if I was contemplating running, they'll keep me in place. Then listen... My Lord and my God, listen. Not with Your ears, they'll prove me unworthy. Not with Your mind, for it will prove me a liar. Listen to me, through Him that holds Your heart forever. For His sake, on His credit ... don't turn me away. Teach me how to pray so that You'll feel in a conversation, not in a ritual, You'll feel loved, not used. Tame this foolish heart of mine. Teach it to submit to no one else but You. Train it until Yours will be the only voice it will recognize and it will declare strangers all other voices ... even mine. Then, maybe then You will call and I will answer, 'here I am' and I will be. In the wherever You'll be, I'll be there. I won't be in some other reality that I'll dream about. I'll dream and wish to be wherever You are. I won't hide through trees in the garden, or in self righteousness. I'll just … be like You are.

by Cristina Pop

Mind, soul and strength

 The other day I have stumbled upon a quote by A. W. Tozer that I really liked,

“The word of God is quick and powerful. In the beginning He spoke to nothing, and it became something. Chaos heard it and became order, darkness heard it and it became light.”

It spoke to me personally. I felt like being pulled through a tunnel and there I was: the nothing. And in the beginning --my beginning-- The Creator, the Author and Finisher (Heb. 12:2) of all I am, spoke. He, The Word of God (John 1:1) came into my nothingness and hearing it my nothingness could do nothing else but become something. I became something. Whatever I am is not yet known to me, but I know that when I'll see Him I shall be like Him because I will see Him as He truly is. (1John 3:2) For now, I know I have become something that I have no words to define. Even when I wrote that sentence I could hear a hundred quasi-theologians only too eager to point out precisely what my 'something' is. Be that as it may, I refuse to give it a name. I have named my something many things in the past only to discover that it simply didn't fit.

I am no longer young enough to delight in definitions. I don't need to. I am content with mystery. By that I do not mean confusion, but simply accepting God's pleasure to hide things. After all it is “the glory of God to conceal a matter, to search out a matter is the glory of kings.” (Prov. 25:2) I am content with mystery, in fact I welcome it. I no longer feel safe to live like a pseudo-scientific Christian. I no longer find any pleasure in analyzing every little information, whether it pertains to the Scriptures or knowledge in general.

The fact that thunder can be explained like the natural phenomenon that it is doesn't make it less terrifying when I hear it. I still imagine battles in the sky.

The fact that you tell me light is nothing but electromagnetic radiation within the portion of the electromagnetic spectrum that is perceived by the human eye, doesn't make me less impressed with it. I still see it as an entity.

The fact that you can tell me Jesus is the propitiation for my sin and use all theology to describe it to me doesn't make it more unbelievable. I still tremble every time I think of Him enduring everything until the very end just to have me. So no, definitions don't do anything for me anymore. I want to be in awe and at peace with the knowledge that my limited understanding can never comprehend Him. It's scary at times, but I will put up with a little scare for the sake of not losing my fascination with everything He is. People can explain the beginning until their blue in the face and some brave psychologist can even venture to explain my beginning but I will not let it rob me of the fact that it was a miracle!

Definitions do nothing but steal away the pure childish joy. And I want to remain forever amazed. I want to acknowledge Him in all my ways, in everything I experience and not just explain everything away as chance or anything else. I want to see miracles in everything from the most random thing, to the most complex, from the most explainable to the undefinable.

Just as much as I don't want science to explain everything to me, I don't want theology to explain every spiritual thing to me either. I don't want to be like those that have heard the voice from heaven in John 12:28-29. Instead of falling on their knees and praising God because it was clear what had happened, they started to define it, 'I think it was a thunder, no it was an angel talking to Him'. Quick explanations based on whatever people have concluded after their 'laborious' examination: here it is! Instead of bowing down to worship they robbed themselves of the joy by quickly trying to define it. I am more concerned with the honor bestowed upon me, that HE SPOKE rather than how He spoke. That because He spoke I have become something. Whatever I am, I am through His grace and that is what I will focus on.

If I reduce my life with Him to hermeneutics or exegesis or homiletics, even to doxology, or anything else you might think of, then what's the point? As useful as I find theology and all its disciplines and sub-disciplines, it hardly offers me intimacy with God. In all fairness all my studying, both past and present, has nothing to do with Him as a person, but simply my vanity. And oh, I am vain. Knowledge makes one boastful. It puffs up. And I have to admit it, to my everlasting shame, I am proud.

Simone Weill said it best, “An inteligent man who is proud of his intelligence is like the condemned man who is proud of his large cell.”

We are limited to the cell of our physicality. We know and understand in part (1 Cor.13:9) Reason is useful and to some people even advisable, but reason is limited. I am to love The One who spoke into my nothingness with all my mind, all my soul and strength. Loving Him with only one of these is incomplete at best and impossible at worst. Because none of these faculties is infallible. My mind can only explain the mechanics of this love. It can dress it up in concepts, principles and precepts. I love to think and I will use my reason to love Him with it, but not just with it. My mind can only go so far when trying to love Him because it can do so only by comprehending Him and it can never do so. So I will reason my way into intimacy with Him fully aware reason will never keep me there.

When I am kneeling before Him, in awe of everything I can comprehend, my mind will quickly work against me and reason me out of my awe. 'It was a thunder! A shadow! You're imagining things!' I have to use all of my strength to subdue my mind to simply love Him. Yes, The Unknown, frightening, amazing, yet loving God is being loved by me. All of me. I stay there until something more than just thoughts or perceptions occur to me... I wait to be inspired. Inspired to think like He thinks, to act like He acts, love like He loves, even dream like He dreams.

Inspired comes from the Latin inspirare, breathe in. Originally used for a supernatural being imparting a truth or an idea to someone. I need Him to inspire me to be like Him. I am inspired when I love Him. And if His Spirit truly lives inside me, then it will inspire me to act, think in a manner pleasing to Him. Even more, it will inspire me to come up with new and creative ways in which to see Him or serve Him. It will point only to Him. It will not appeal to my vanity and it will not be concerned with how foolish I'll look while I sit there at His feet. It will take my mind, my heart and my strength and focus only on loving Him.

So I will become foolish in the eyes of the world and be like a child in constant wonder of every little experience I have with Him.

I'll hear in every rustle of leaves armies marching (2 Sam. 5:23-24). I'll see in every little cloud and answer to a prayer (1 Kings 18:44) I'll see in every little stone a weapon to defeat giants with. (1 Sam. 17) I'll see in every stranger an angel visiting me (Genesis 18).

Will that make me look like an idiot to the 'academics' of this age? Oh, I have no doubt! But I'm alright with that 😁. 

 ---- by Cristina Pop

Weirdo

This is an article I wrote in March, 2017:

        “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.  

          I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works;   my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” – Tehillim/ Psalms 139:13-16

I am weird. There is no way to sugarcoat it. I know it. People around me know it. Basically it’s not a secret. 

 I read a banner once that said “Sometimes I get so weird, I even freak myself out.” And I thought, ‘Yes! I’m not the only weirdo out there!’

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t set out to be a weirdo. I just turned out to be one. Whether it’s because I was made that way or worked myself out into being one it’s anyone’s guess, but the fact remains, I am one.  And I’m OK with it. For the most part. I guess it becomes a problem when I’m in a group of people and they all seem to agree on some amazing truth or idea and I am always the one with the ‘yes, that’s true, BUT…’ And it’s amazing to see all eyes turn on you like ‘what is wrong with you?’ and instead of pointing out the obvious I choose to own it. I’m a weirdo. Get over it! 

For the longest time I tried to change. I thought, “I need to fix me. To make whatever makes me wrong, right.” So I began to search for people that I could look up to and imitate them. I tried to borrow things I admired about them and tried them on. That was a fiasco. I felt like David HaMelech when he tried on Shaul’s armor on. It didn’t fit. That just made me upset with HaKadosh Baruch Hu (The Holy One, blessed is He). I was like, “Was it such a struggle to make me normal? I can’t walk like other people, or talk or reason like they do. Basically I can’t do anything like other people. I try to be kind and it comes out offensive. I try to be good-natured and it comes out angry. I try to be loving and it comes out harsh. I try to smile and I look like I’m in pain. Seriously Adonai, what were You thinking?” And HaShem, blessed be His name forever, didn’t smite me on the spot for my audacity, but instead gave me time. Yes, time. Unimpressive as that might sound to untrained ears, it was time. And I chose to employ it but looking at all things I deemed weird. I thought, I will not look at people I think are weird because maybe they became that way because of their sins so maybe HaShem didn’t make them weird. So I looked at things in nature. And my goodness, there are a ton of weird creatures out there. You know for sure that Adonai has a great sense of humor just by looking at some of His creation. 

It stands to reason to conclude that if He created such diversity in fauna, flora and wild life in general, He also created humans diverse and some of them, let’s face it, just plain weird. 

 

 
Every now and then, just to make myself feel better I’ll read articles about strange creatures. Last week I was reading on Frozen Planet an article about the Woolly bear caterpillar. It’s got a fancy Ancient Greek name Gynaephora groenlandica, because of course if you give whatever species an Ancient Greek or Latin name, it immediately elevates the creature. 

Anyway, the Wooly bear caterpillar:

"It’s always the first insect to appear after the snow retreats and the story of how it does so is truly astonishing. At the start of spring, the caterpillar eats as fast as it can, as indeed it must, for this far north, the season will be brief.

The days shorten only too soon, but the caterpillar has not yet got enough reserves to transform into a moth. It can’t leave the Arctic, for it can’t fly, so it settles down beneath a rock. The sun’s warmth rapidly dwindles. Beneath the rock, the caterpillar is out of the wind, but the cold penetrated deep into the ground. Soon, its heart stops beating. It ceases to breathe, and its body starts to freeze – first its gut, then its blood.

The following spring. After four months of darkness, the Arctic begins to thaw. And the caterpillar – rises from the dead. By the time the first shoots of willow appear in the early spring, the woolly bear is already eating. But no matter how fast the woolly bear eats, it will not have time to gather enough food this year, either, and the cold closes in once again.

Year after year, the caterpillar slows down in the autumn and then freezes solid. But eventually a very special spring arrives. This one will be its last. It’s now 14 years old – the world’s oldest caterpillar. Its remaining days now become frantic. It starts to weave a silk cocoon. Inside, its body is metamorphosing into one that can fly and search, abilities that will be crucial in the days ahead.

It’s waited over a decade for this spring and now, its time is near. All across the Arctic, moths are emerging. After completing their 14-year preparation, they now have just a few days to find a partner and mate.

No life illustrates more vividly the shortness of the Arctic spring or the struggle to survive in this most seasonal of places." – Borrowed fromThe Frozen Planet, written by David Attenborough

This caterpillar is unlike any other. It dies 7 to 14 times before it lives once. It knows it’s got wings somewhere inside itself, but regardless how hard it wishes or struggles it can’t make them appear. It can’t leave its place because it can’t fly away. So it dies every autumn and gets back to life every spring, hoping against all evidence of past experiences that this year might be the year it lives, only to die again. But one spring its hope is rewarded.

It might be dead for most of its life (yes, I am aware of the paradox) and utterly useless, but it’s got strength. Unbelievable strength. It has the ability to endure arctic cold. It’s got the ability to endure death time and time again. This caterpillar is amazing! Probably it feels every death as yet another failure. It doesn’t even know how amazing it is. Someone decided to take a look at it and record all its struggle and understand that it is amazing everything that this little creature endures and I can promise you, that one day someone will decide to take a look at everything that you endured or are enduring and think you're amazing.

If you judge this creature by its ability to fly when it is still just a caterpillar, you’ll be disappointed. If you judge it by its ability to travel great distances, you’ll be sorely unimpressed. It wasn’t made to travel great distances. It is  just a little weirdo in a frozen place and it does the best it can to be what it’s supposed to be.

Adonai is wise. (I know you’re impressed by my exceptional observational skills. I’m trying, OK?)

I learn a lot about the way He is by looking at what He made. It’s like looking at a painting and getting a feeling about the artist.

He’s OK with creating things that are different. But He’s always just and merciful. He doesn’t place anything in an environment without equipping that creature with everything it needs to be what it has to be.

I might be weird. And my weirdness makes some laugh and others run for the hills, but that’s alright. HaShem knew what He did when He made me. So, I don’t need to look, or act, or think like everybody else. I am beautifully made the way I am. I don’t need to fix my weirdness, because there’s nothing to fix.

You might judge a bird by its ability to swim and you’ll notice it is disappointing because it wasn’t made for that. You might judge me by whatever ability you think I should have and I can assure you I’ll disappoint you every time, because I wasn’t made for that.

I might admire people’s abilities in their environment and even learn from them, but I can’t be them. I am just me. And I am His. And I am weird. And that’s alright.

Bat Melech בת מלך

 Cristina כריסטינה

The battle is His

 Have you ever stood before something so foreign to you and so huge that your mind simply refuses to wrap itself around whatever it is you're facing? So obscure and alien that you can't even define it for you haven't been able to give it a name? Well, I am standing before something like that as we speak. In fact, it is something so big that I haven't found the voice to grunt about it let alone to put it in words. Two nights ago, while I was trying to pray about it, I told The Lord, 'I don't know how to pray about it, it's just in my path and I am stuck and will continue to be stuck. I don't know how to articulate it and I feel small and stupid standing before it. I tried telling it to move but it won't budge... I have faith, but it won't budge, so please help me!'

The earth didn't move and I didn't hear anything, but I had an image in my mind of Joshua and the battle of Jericho. I am scared like Joshua was. He was a warrior but he was scared. A paradox if there was ever one. He fought for God during the time of Moses and won pretty much every single time. He was an able man. But he was scared. Obviously not of battle, but of the shadow of Moses, the shoes he was meant to walk in. God has to go to him and tell him, 'be strong and courageous!' (Joshua 1:6,9) And Joshua decides to trust The One that commands him.

He arrives at Jericho and this thing seems impossible. Never mind they had just crossed the river Jordan in a miraculous way, but he was used to miracles. He passed through the dead sea. He ate manna from heaven for 40 years. He had heard God and saw everything God had done for Israel in the wilderness. But a city like that he was supposed to take over? I mean, look at those walls! Israel lived in tents. Those that had crossed the Jordan had never even seen houses! (Joshua and Caleb excluded) They were as uncivilized as only a nomadic people can be. And now they stood before a civilization that was more sophisticated than anything they've seen. They knew war, but in an open field! How does one even fight with something you have no name for. I can only imagine the Israelites gaping before those walls. But Joshua looked up, or lifted his eyes but not towards Jericho. No. He lifted his eyes, much like Abraham once did at the oaks of Mamre, and he saw 'a man was standing before him with his drawn sword in his hand.' Joshua is a good leader. He takes one look at this 'man' and he knows immediately he's not one of his men. 'And Joshua went to him and said to him, “Are you for us, or for our adversaries?” (Joshua 5:13)

That is a sentiment I carry often when I sit there confused. Whenever I need help because I'm stuck and there's no strategy in sight and I can barely remember all my principles of faith, I look up. Not because I'm that spiritual and I need you, my dear reader to be in awe of that fact. But because that's where I look when I exhaust every other alternative. And God has never let me down. He has come through every time, and I am sad to report that none of those times did I recognize Him immediately. I'm, more often than not, like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. I walk with Him and talk to Him and as familiar as He seems, I can't recognize Him. And in my defense I'll need to point out that He never shows up waving a white flag. That would make things a lot clearer. He always shows up sword drawn and my first instinct is: that's an enemy! But I've learned to ask, 'are you on my side, or on my enemy's side?'

“And he said, “No; but I am the commander of the army of the LORD. Now I have come.” And Joshua fell on his face to the earth and worshiped and said to him, “What does my lord say to his servant?” (Joshua 5:14)

No. You've got it all wrong! This is My fight, not yours. You are but one division in this army I lead. I fight this war, now let Me tell you what your part will be in My fight.

Not every battle I fight is His battle. I wish I'd be that discerning to only fight His wars. Sadly I fight my own battles and sometimes with those that are His people! And then I want Him to choose sides. I'll let you in on a little secret: He NEVER does. He has a plan to fulfill. He leads an army. I am just one part of that army. It's His battle. He's not pleased with silly squabbles between those in His army. Arguments over whether one should clean his sword after every blow, or concerns about the states of one's shoes or belt or helmet that can make two of His own come to blows, are idiotic at best and damnable at worst. No, He's not picking sides for my gain. He has a plan and I am but a piece of the puzzle. It's His Kingdom that He's concerned with, not my own.

I could carry on on the subject forever, but I am more interested in this post I am writing in the strategy God gives Joshua. He tells him to circle the city for six days, once, silently. He appoints seven priests, each carrying a ram's horn to go before the ark of The Lord and sound the shofar once. But on the seventh day he asks them to circle the city seven times and to blow the shofar and on the last long sound, the whole army should shout as loud as they can and the walls will fall down. (Joshua 6) Needless to say they do as instructed and the walls fall down and they conquer the city.

I am taking the same strategy for myself. I look ridiculous of course. To silently walk around a fortress you mean to conquer does look ridiculous. I can't imagine what the people of Jericho were thinking while they were watching this army doing absolutely nothing. Making no threats, scaling no wall, firing no arrow, just silently circling it. I look ridiculous to whomever is watching me. No, I have no plan, thank you for asking! I am just waiting for God to fight His battle. I am silent because He works. It's His battle. Jericho's walls did not fall down because Israel made a great noise. They fell because God was victorious and they celebrated that victory with a great shout. The walls fell down only after they celebrated a victory they did not see. But they believed it. Because God had said so.

I don't have their faith. While I circle my fortress I worry that I will shout and nothing will happen. I'll look even more of a fool than I already do. But even as I worry, He knows I'll shout. Not because I have gained faith in the six days or years that it took me to circle this thing, but because He's worth my embarrassment. There's benefit in being a fool for Christ. People expect nothing
less. But my hope is not in my great shout, but in His ability to win. My voice can break in the process of cheering for Him, but cheering I will! 

by Cristina Pop 

Clearly

 I have always had perfect vision. In 2013 I remember, I really wanted glasses so I have convinced myself that I was basically blind. I was squinting all the time and every time people were handing me something to read or look closely at I kept on telling them, 'I can't see, sorry'. I made an appointment to see an eye doctor and she said, 'your vision is perfect, you don't need glasses.' But because I was so insistent she relented and ordered me a pair of screen protecting glasses, you know, so I wouldn't be blind. This year I did the same. Still perfect vision.

I want to see well. I think in images. I hypothesize, dream, translate concepts in images. I am a very visual person. I take hundreds of images precisely because I want to take in as much as possible. I've had people that have seen said pictures asking me why they are so vivid (colorful). I always answer the same, 'that's how they looked to me.' My point is, I love being able to see. Having said that, I don't trust my eyes. Why? Because they betray me all the time. A few times my blood sugar dropped enough that my vision became blurry and my visual field would tilt enough to communicate to my brain, 'it's unsafe, drop down!' The world doesn't really tilt. My eyes are betraying me and they misinform my brain about the reality. Sometimes when it's not completely dark outside and I try to interpret figures I see, some trees seem giant monsters, planes seem alien ships, smoke passing through the tiniest ray of light translates like ghosts. If water gets into my eyes I see everything blurry. My vision is not infallible. The accuracy of my vision is altered depending on the circumstances I am in.

It's the same for my spiritual sight. It's not infallible either.

Jacques Lusseyran was a Frenchman that fought in the WW2 for the Resistance. When he was 8, he was blinded in an accident caused by another schoolmate. He nonetheless finished his schooling because he was determined to be a part of the world around him. In 1941, when he was just 17 that world in which he wanted to participate got occupied by the Nazis. Lusseyran formed a resistance group with fifty-two boys and used his heightened senses to recruit the best. Eventually, Lusseyran was arrested and sent to the Buchenwald concentration camp in a transport of two thousand resistance fighters. He was one of only thirty from the transport to survive. His gripping story is one of the most powerful and insightful descriptions of living and thriving with blindness.

“Inside me there was everything I had believed was outside. There was, in particular, the sun, light, and all colors. There were even the shapes of objects and the distance between objects. Everything was there and movement as well… Light is an element that we carry inside us and which can grow there with as much abundance, variety, and intensity as it can outside of us…I could light myself…that is, I could create a light inside of me so alive, so large, and so near that my eyes, my physical eyes, or what remained of them, vibrated, almost to the point of hurting… God is there under a form that has the good luck to be neither religious, not intellectual, nor sentimental, but quite simply alive.”
― Jacques Lusseyran, And there was Light: Autobiography of Jacques Lusseyran

I love Jacques' story precisely because his lack of physical sight didn't extinguish his inner light. He used THAT light to create his inner world in more exact terms than a person with the ability to see is able to express in any coherent concepts. But more than anything I love the fact that in that inner world, the way he trained his 'eyes' to see God was not in religious terms, or intellectual, or sentimental, simply alive. That's a goal for me. I confess I am not there yet. I see God sometimes angry because I am angry at a situation and I project my anger on Him. Sometimes I see God all philosophical principles and ideas because that's my mood. Sometimes I feel like a toddler that wants to be picked up by her Father and everything is just feelings, and that's God for me. I haven't matured enough to let God simply be. The I AM. Most of the time He's crammed up in whatever role I need Him to play at that exact moment. And I experience real growing pains in my very psyche every time He tries to stretch a bit, to grow a bit. I want to create inside myself a place where He would love to dwell, where He can simply be. But in order to do that I need to train my spiritual eyes first. To accept as a matter of fact that if my physical conditions change that alters my vision, so is my spiritual vision obstructed by feelings, biases, resentment, anger, wishful thinking. But if I see right, then maybe He won't need to disguise Himself into whatever I want Him to be that moment. If I see right maybe, just maybe, Him simply being will be enough.

by Cristina Pop

My shelter

 I like to listen to some book or documentary until I fall asleep. I don't like to allow my mind to wonder aimlessly so I like to guide it when I can.

Last night I opened up my Youtube app to play something and the first video in my feed was this:

I do watch a lot of Israel related videos and follow quite a few Israelis on Youtbe so it's not that surprising that the algorithm has decided to suggest the video above.

Why am I posting this? Well, because while I was watching this guy trying to show what a home bomb shelter in Israel looks like, I had this verse in my mind: “In the cover of your presence you hide them from the plots of men; you store them in your shelter from the strife of tongues.” (Ps. 31:20)

The word there for shelter, in Hebrew is sukkah, which refers to booth or tabernacle. I've always thought of that verse in the context of Sukkot or the feast of the tabernacles. If you've ever seen a sukkah, you know it's a temporary dwelling, not very fancy, not particularly comfortable, so I always thought “God, on the day I need to run for cover, what can a sukkah do for me?' Last night though, while I was watching the video, although I have seen bomb shelters before, it was the first time that I thought, maybe that's what You are for me, Lord! A bomb shelter! Not a sukkah that a strong wind can tear apart, but a proper bomb shelter. Only it's not made out of concrete but love and instead of iron doors it's Your almighty arms. Even if my world implodes, if I'm in You, I'm safe. I don't live in my bomb shelter. But it's part of my inner building. I haven't made it. You made it when You have decided to dwell within me. It's the place I run to whenever I hear the sirens. It's the place where I cry in tears because the bombs might land on something I care about and destroy it. But even so, I KNOW I am safe. I can rebuild everything. I can heal because You are my Healer. I can repair whatever is broken, because You are The Builder of my world. I can let things die because You are my resurrection. But I am not terrified that I'll ever go beyond Your reach. “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Ps. 73:26)

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth.

Even after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God. I will see Him for myself; my eyes will behold Him, and not as a stranger. How my heart yearns within me! (Job 19:25-27)

Thank you for saving me from me. And as if that hasn't been enough, You've made Yourself into a way under my feet, to run my race. You've made Yourself into my shield, my rock, my fortress! I am Your blessed daughter, because You're my inheritance forever!

By Cristina Pop

I know

 I wrote this on the 17th of may 2017 and something reminded me of it so I decided it bares repeating. 

Our biggest fear is being alone. Whether it is alone socially, alone in our feelings or alone in our faith, we fear being alone. 

When it comes to our walk with Adonai, we get scared as well. We’re in a relationship with an unseen Being that is silent most of the time and sometimes we try to guess His thoughts, because we don’t know for sure. And when we choose to hope in Him for a certain thing or the circumstances we face, we’re often faced with a little voice inside that comes and asks “where is your God? You’ve been hoping and believing your heart out and He’s silent… what if God is not with you in this thing? What if it was just your selfishness that wanted this? What if you thought you’re more special than you actually are? What if you’re on your own in this thing? What if you’re ALONE?” 

Now, I haven’t been on this earth that long and I can’t say that I have learned all that much about life in general. There are so many things I don’t know that it’s daunting sometimes. Even in the things I do know, I haven’t considered all sides and all perspectives so I am not sure how credible that makes me in any of my statements. Do I know everything there is to know about HaShem? (Laughing out loud!) NO. But even I, with the little I do know and understand about Him, I can tell you that the little voice that asks you all those things is lying to you. How do I know that? 

When Avraham Avinu was talking with Adonai, in Bereishit (Genesis) chapter 15, HaShem made a covenant with Avraham. And commentators of the Scriptures will have all kinds of interpretations of that passage, some more accurate than others, but I am not gonna talk about the covenant right now, maybe in a different post. Right now I’m going to focus on verse 12 where it says that while HaShem was making this covenant with Avraham, “and see, a horror, great darkness fell on him.” Why? Avraham was in the presence of Ha Kadosh Baruch Hu (The Holy One Blessed is He), how can it be that He was overcome with horror? And most importantly, He was in the presence of The Light how could he be surrounded by darkness?  And this is not the only time HaShem does this. When He made His covenant with Israel at Har Sinai (Mount Sinai) the people were horrified. There was darkness and loud noises and the people got scared. (Read Exodus 19, Deuteronomy 4)

 

You would think that the moment when HaShem makes a covenant would be the time to shine brightly and use everything at His disposal to attract the person that He wishes to make a covenant with. Why on earth would you turn off the light and use the scary effects? 

Because He knows we’re gonna start a journey with an unseen God in a scary place and unless you learn to know Him in darkness you’re going to walk your entire journey wondering if He has left you or not. 

David Ha Melech said in Tehillim 23 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me”. But how do you know that?! BECAUSE He hasn’t dazzled me with His Light. He instead taught me to read His every feature in the dark, and I’m not scared anymore. He scared my fears away when darkness fell on me, because He taught me everything is smoke and mirrors. The only truth there is, is that HE IS and even better than anything else HE IS with me. 

Does that mean I never get scared again? No. I have learned about myself that I don’t doubt His ability to do one thing or another. I fear my ability to still believe if He doesn’t. I fear losing hope. I fear losing faith. I doubt me, not Him. But when that happens, you know what? I remember that I’ve learned Him in the dark. I remember my training. And I pull on the frailest hope I find within me and turn it into the power to say “This is not real… He is.” I don’t trust my faith to take me home. My faith is fickle. I don’t have faith in my faith. He will take me home. And that’s the only truth I know.  

Bat Melech בת מלך

 Cristina כריסטינה

Thank you for the fleas

I am not the most positive person in the world. I would describe myself as a realist but I've heard others saying I am negative. Be that as it may, I don't like to call good evil or evil good. I don't want to delude myself in any way, shape or form. That is both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because I avoid disappointment and it's a curse because it blinds me to a reality beyond my reality. It can be quite a struggle to summon up faith or gratitude for someone predisposed to making decisions based on facts alone. By that I don't mean being optimistic. Optimism was never and will never be a goal for me. Having a grateful heart and holding onto faith that's what I am after. Optimism gets you nowhere. 

There is a book, 'Good to great' by Jim Collins. In it, the author is interviewing Admiral James Stockdale, the highest ranking officer in US military to be imprisoned in the Hanoi Hilton (1965-1973). He asks the Admiral, “Who didn't make it out?” “Oh, that's easy,” said Stockdale. “It was the optimists. The optimists were the ones who said, “we're going to be out by Christmas. Christmas came and went. Then they'd say, “we're going to be out by Easter” and Easter would come and it would go. The optimists would pin their dates on Thanksgiving, then Christmas again, and eventually “they died of a broken heart”.....

“You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end. Instead you need to confront the the most brutal facts of your reality, whatever they might be.”

When it comes to this faith I've placed wholeheartedly in Jesus Christ, I am not some blind fool that is being led by wishful thinking. I don't believe in Him and follow Him until it feels like my feet are bleeding from trying to keep up with Him because I am an optimist. That's the last thing I am. I don't deny my present circumstances, I don't rebuke them or proclaim them away. I confront the facts. I see them for what they really are. As harsh, as scary and unmovable as they may be, I don't close my eyes and pretend I'm in a happy place. The last thing I need is for anyone to 'bring me down to earth'.

So no, I am not an optimist. I have faith. Not that things will be good for me. I have faith that He is good. My faith is not in some blissful future that He has for me because I follow Him. My faith is in Him that has crossed the heavens to make me His and come hell or high water will not let go of my hand until He gets me home safely. My hope is that all things work together for the good of those that love Him, even if I fail to recognize that good for what it is.

Corrie Ten Boom and he sister Betsie were two Christian Dutch women who helped harbor Jews from the Nazis in Holland during World War 2. After the sisters were arrested for doing so, they were imprisoned at Ravensbruck, a German concentration camp. The barracks they were assigned to were so awful that it almost broke their spirit. So awful in fact that Betsie died because of the conditions in those barracks. Now, there were no great barracks in any of the camps to be sure, but those that Corrie and Betsie were in had an extra blessing. Fleas. Those drove Corrie crazy. In an attempt to lift her spirit, Betsie tells Corrie to open the Bible they had smuggled in, and turns to 1 Thessalonians 5:14-18, “Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all. Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus …” “That’s it!” Betsie interrupted. “That’s His answer. ‘Give thanks in all circumstances!’ That’s what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about these barracks!”

Corrie stared at her incredulously, then around at the dark, foul-smelling room. “Such as?” she inquired.

“Such as being assigned here together.”

Corrie bit her lip. “Oh yes, Lord Jesus!”

“Such as what you’re holding in your hands.”

Corrie looked down at the Bible. “Yes! Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank You for all the women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages.”

“Yes,” agreed Betsie. “Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we’re packed so close, that many more will hear!” She looked at her sister expectantly and prodded, “Corrie!”

“Oh, all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed, suffocating crowds.”

“Thank you,” Betsie continued on serenely, “for the fleas and for …”

That was too much for Corrie. She cut in on her sister: “Betsie, there’s no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.”

“Give thanks in all circumstances,” Betsie corrected. “It doesn’t say, ‘in pleasant circumstances.’ Fleas are part of this place where God has put us.”

As the weeks passed, Betsie’s health weakened to the point that, rather than needing to go out on work duty each day, she was permitted to remain in the barracks and knit socks together with other seriously-ill prisoners. She was a lightning fast knitter and usually had her daily sock quota completed by noon. As a result, she had hours each day she could spend moving from platform to platform reading the Bible to fellow prisoners. She was able to do this undetected as the guards never seemed to venture far into the barracks.

One evening when Corrie arrived back at the barracks Betsie’s eyes were twinkling. “You’re looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself,” Corrie told her.

“You know we’ve never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room,” Betsie said, referring to the part of the barracks where the sleeping platforms were. “Well—I’ve found out. This afternoon there was confusion in my knitting group about sock sizes, so we asked the supervisor to come and settle it. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?” Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice as she exclaimed, “Because of the fleas! That’s what she said: ‘That place is crawling with fleas!’ ”

You see... this irrational faith God has given us, is not for a happily ever after on earth. It has nothing to do with how good or how bad things work out for me. Even as I write this I have prayers before my King that He will work a miracle. I wish it more than anything I've wished and I have wished for a great many things in my life. But whether He does as I've asked Him or not, it doesn't change the way I see Him, love Him or follow Him. He is worth a tear or two, a broken heart or a missing limb.

There is a Romanian Christian song that my mom used to sing and it says, 'Lord, may I never be able to let go of You, even if I have to leave a buried love every step of the way.'

I hate pain. I hate loss. I hate suffering. I hate the fleas. I don't see their purpose. They are just an extra thing to torment me on top of many other things. But maybe... Just maybe, the fleas are a blessing in disguise.

By Cristina Pop

Real

 “The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.”-- The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams Bianco

Thank You Lord, for making me real. Not because there's anything special about me, but because Your love made me Real.