This Sunday, we had a guest speaker at our church. Of course, I love the pastor we usually have, but this guy's sermon was incredible. I wanted to write down a few key points since I'll need to be reminded of this. (Actually, I should probably get a baseball cap and tape the key points to the bill so they're always in my face.)
Anyway, the sermon was "Why The Cross?"
I'd never really thought about that - really thought - I just assumed it didn't matter why, it only mattered that, if you know what I mean. So anyway, he started off by saying "why would God choose such a gruesome way to show His Love? Why not just write "God Loves you", or "Jesus Saves" on the moon? No one could deny it was God who wrote it, and it'd be a beautiful display every month when the full moon shined." At this point, I turned to the friend sitting next to me and said: "because sometimes you need something gruesome to see the picture of what love really is." For the most part, I was right. But what he went on to say drilled the message so powerfully and effectively that I'm sure everyone in that church understood if they were listening. See, God had the idea in His Head since before the world began - He was going to save us - and He was going to do it by dying a horrible death on a cross. If He'd written on the moon instead, although we'd know He loved us, we wouldn't know who He was. If a person gives you a beautiful piece of jewelry, and another gives their life to save yours, which loves you more? Surely, the one who gave their life. The minister told us a story about his son, too. His son, you see, was born with a heart condition, and when all the other boys were off to basketball camp, or were rough-housing on the playground, he couldn't join in. It pained his father, and he just wished he could give his heart to his son, and have the heart condition himself. That's only a milligram of the love God showed us with the cross. Jesus was beaten beyond recognition, nails driven through his wrists and feet - then lifted up for that cross to stand, splinters digging into his pierced back. There isn't a way for us to understand this kind of extreme pain. But on a cross, one doesn't die of pain - they eventually suffocate on their own blood. Yet this is the sacrifice that had to be made in order for us to go to Heaven. This is what had to happen. He lived a perfect life - never sinning once, while we sin every day. I'm not trying to offend anyone, it's the plain Truth.
You see, in every other religion, it's man trying to get to God. Christianity is the only one in which God came to man. Every other religion is do, do, do, and just maybe it'll be good enough. Christianity is the single one with the message: Done.
This has always been my attitude - well, ever since the wave, it has. Before the wave I was a brat. But seriously - I noticed this book, "Stick A Geranium In Your Hat And Be Happy" (Barbara Johnson) at my great aunt's house and although I never read it, I thought it was a great title. Happiness is something you choose, not something you're dealt. You can be happy no matter what happens to you - and that should go double for me, because I am blessed, I really am. For me, a blog is usually a place to rant, but I've decided not to do that anymore. Or, at least not to post my rants to bring others down. I'm always preaching the choose happiness bit, and I don't always do that myself. That stops now - I know that doesn't mean I'll never wallow again, but I'm not going to complain so much, for goodness' sake.
So . . . I used to get ideas like mad for new stories, but I'd only write a few pages before I abandoned them for the next idea. Then I got one idea, and stopped getting strong ideas (just little ones, which I'd simply wave off or, better yet, absorb into my current novel as scenarios.) And I was able to focus on my novel and write steadily. I thought I was maturing as a writer. Oh contrare! Now I'm getting all these ideas, and while I like having ideas, they're too different from one another to be absorbed, and too interesting to wave off, and so I just kind of try to write everything and nothing moves slowly. Not looking for sympathy or comments, just looking for a place to rant.
Okay, I know this is lame. It's not a big deal at all, but have you ever done something nice for someone and have them see right past it and scold you? Well, that's just happened to me and I was in such a good mood before, even though I had to get two shots two days in a row. It doesn't matter, I can deal with that, easy. But I was happy! After yesterday's stupid depressed mood! And I hate having a good day ruined. So much.
Okay, so I have patellar tendonitis, insomnia (not that that's weird), double jointed elbows (usually a good thing, but leave it to me to find something it would hinder me in), and, I thought, some simple asthma. I had to go to a specialist yesterday in my state's capital and apparently, I have exercise induced asthma (surprise, surprise,) and, (actual surprise) some kind of weird vocal chord narrowing thing, caused by (what do you know?) stress. What's worse is that I'm pretty sure my inhaler makes it worse, because the albuterol makes my heart race and I can breathe worse, rather than better. So anyway, I just thought I'd blog about it.
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