When Religion Turns On Us

     If you haven't been paying attention, there is looming what the NY Times is calling an, "ISIS Crisis". In the wake of this and other current events, we as the American people are starting to get spooked. Ever since 9/11, the "impenetrable barrier" around our nation is being slowly broken down. The borders have holes in them that are held open by our government. All manner of persons can slip through with inscrutable intentions.

     I don't know what's happening in your neck of the woods, but here, we are pulling out our Survival Guides, starting to learn from Bear Grylls and Fat Guys in the Woods. We are beginning to dig in, rallying with friends and family, gathering supplies and ammo for when the world is turned on its nose and all of the signs building toward The End finally rear their heads.

     "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and pestilences. And there will be terrors and great signs from heaven... Alas for women who are pregnant and for those who are nursing infants in those days! For there will be great distress upon the earth and wrath against this people" - Luke 21

     Now, I'm not even close to being a firearms expert. Even though I've dreamed of being Robin Hood and I've read World War Z and several blogs on guns, it's not my forte (It's not even my twen-te). But, one thing I know is, when I'm choosing a defense system, I'm looking for maximum stopping power. 

     Stopping power, or the ability to incapacitate, mainly depends on your enemy. According to Max Brooks', "Zombie Survival Guide," a zombie feels no pain. To them, pepper spray might as well be water to the face, and an RPG or assault rifle is too loud and inaccurate to be of much use. You need precision in the form of a silenced rifle and/or a machete, along with the skill to use them effectively.

     In most situations against a human (fully possessed of his faculties), an imposing threat of pain has all of the stopping power that you should need. However, we may very well face foes that aren't deterred by mankind's normal sense of self-preservation, and so we must make extra precautions. 

     Advanced Military Personnel, or for the sake of brevity, "AMPs," are able to infiltrate, overpower, capture and/or kill all but perhaps 4.7% of American Citizens at will, regardless of their level preparation. Unless you've been training for most of your entire life, you're in the 95th percentile. 

     Even if AMPs aren't initially a threat, we may face the abstract enemies brought on by various levels of economic collapse. Along with looters, these foes include, hunger, thirst, and the elements themselves. So we train with the Fat Guys in the Woods (FGWs?). Yet, when only equipped the level of society that they could personally bring to bear, more initial American colonies failed than succeeded. So, how will we, the self-inflated, educationally-cushioned elite of the world, survive when our chairs are pulled out from under us?

     Let's imagine this guy, for example:

     

Let's say he came to your home, with four other guys, armed with handguns, bent on stealing your food with or without your consent, fully prepared to, and even banking on, taking it over your dead body.

     What's your best bet for greatest stopping power?


     Traps? Snipers? Assault Rifles?

     What if, instead of four guys, it was this guy?

     HA-ha, just kidding. But look at Luke 8:


     "For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he had not lived in a house but among the tombs. When he saw Jesus, he cried out and fell down before him and said with a loud voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me.” For he had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many a time it had seized him. He was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the desert.)"

     So, my question is, which of these two has the greatest stopping power?
     

          - A high- powered assault rifle, or a command from Jesus Christ?

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven"

     Jesus taught an interesting form of Non-Violence.

     In John 18, though the mob was coming to take Jesus to his death, he rebuked his follower's offer of protection, instead healing the wound that Peter had dealt.

     In Matthew 5:39, Jesus says "But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well."

     To be clear, I'm not against arming yourself. Apparently, there is a time and place for it, too. However, let's consider who we follow, or at least who we claim to follow.

     In our preparations for the end of life as we know it, are we also preparing our daily, personal relationship with "EL Shaddai," the "All-Mighty" so that when Emperor Palpatine comes knocking, we know how to face him?

     Do we walk with Jesus closely enough or hear Him clearly enough to know when to be bold, when to show compassion, and when to defend the helpless through force of arms? We are told not to be conformed to this world (or the view of our favorite pundit), and we sure as anything can't trust our own opinion. Yet we are guaranteed the opportunity to rejoice at the glory of sharing in Christ's suffering.

So, when we encounter trials of various kinds,

"Blessed is the man who remains steadfast [to the truth] under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." - James 1:12

Be strong and of good courage. Set your feet on The Firm Foundation, fall into step behind The Way, the Truth, and the Life of the Narrow Path.

Legends of the Apostle - Part 1

 Not too long ago, and not too far from here, an old man sat alone on a park bench. Head in his hands, gentle sobs shook his shoulders. The cold wind chilled the tears as they fell from his cheeks. He was very alone.

A small hand on his shoulder startled him. Looking up, he saw a small boy, his blue eyes wide.

“What's wrong, mister?” the boy asked. In the playground, the boys mother was watching cautiously, her attention split between the boy and two girls playing tag in the grass.

“Nothing,” the man said, "You run along now, don't mind an addled old fogey.”

The boy's brow scrunched together seriously, "I don't know what a fogey is, but nobody cries about nothing." he hesitated,"but you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Mom always says I ask too many questions.” The boy wrapped his small arms around the old man's knees. He looked into the man's tired, careworn eyes and smiled a young and joyful smile. 

Tears sprang to the man's eyes again, "It's my son, he's disappeared."

"Did you tell the police?"

"It's not like that. I just can't remember him anymore. I know I had a son. I can remember camping trips and birthday parties. But I can't see his face, or remember his smile, hear his laugh, or recall anything about him. Worst of all, I can't find him and everyone I know tells me I don't have a son, never have. I'm afraid I... I might be losing my mind." The man broke into sobs again.

 “You should talk to the Apostle,” the boy patted the man's shoulder gently, “He'd probably be able to help.”

“The Apostle? He's not a shrink, is he?”

“I dunno." The boy shrugged. "He's the Apostle, he helps people with getting what they need. He helped My mom find her keys one time.”

“Oh really?” The man chuckled. “Do you have his phone number?”

“He doesn't use a phone,” The boy said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, “Write a message on this, sign your name, and throw it to the wind. He will meet you here tomorrow.”

“I don't think it works like that, son.” The man smiled sadly.

“Sure it does,” The boy smiled and turned back to his mom and sisters, “You just have to believe.”  

Is "Jesus" Really the Answer?

   

  “Alright everyone, close your eyes really tight!”

     Mrs. Poplin couldn’t help but smile at all of the little grunts and grimaces as kids screwed their eyes closed. Kevin’s eyes were glinting out between scrunched cheeks and a wrinkled forehead.

     “Now, I want you to picture in your mind all of the animals getting onto the ark with Noah. There are the horses! What sound do horses make?”

     The kids whinnied and flailed their hands, imitating horses with the abandon only kids can muster.

     “Oh, what are those, climbing in the trees?”

     The kids loved this game. Guesses of, “Monkeys!” “Sloths!” and even, “Tarantulas!” rang out.

     “I’ll give you a hint if you promise to raise your hands. They’re small. They have big bushy tails and they eat nuts. Yes, Joy? What’s your guess?”

     Off to one side, the little girl piped up, “I think it’s a squirrel, but I’m going to say… Jesus.”

     Is, “Jesus,” really the answer?

     It’s raining outside. Dark and heavy. The clouds spray icy drops of water at the upstairs windows of the church. Inside, several young men are in close conversation around a small table. The room looks to normally be used for children’s Sunday school, but on this dreary Wednesday, the small chairs force the men into somewhat attentive, if uncomfortable, postures. Three bibles lay at random, unopened, on the table.

     One man, perhaps a handful of years older than the rest, reads from a copy of the paper they all hold. 

     “All around you, the battle rages. Demons lay to your left and right, gutted by the armies of the Most High. You see men equipped in all of the armor of God, swords flashing when the lightning strikes, raising their voices with the mighty trumpets and charging fearlessly toward the battle lines.’

     “Looking down, you see that you have no sword. You have no armor. In fact, your pants are around your ankles. You are chasing after a seductress’ call, in the middle of a warzone!’

     “All around, the enemy is falling, the kingdom is coming to earth, and you are chasing an orgasm!”

The group leader looks up, half-smiling and making eye contact with the few boys who grin back.

     “How many of you guys can identify with that picture? There are totally times that I can.”

     A chorus of quiet agreement.

     “But let’s keep reading.” He says, looking back down, “John 1:2 says you are God’s child. There’s more to life than addiction. Romans 5: 1 says you’ve been justified. Romans 8:28 says God loves you no matter what. All of these verses,” He pauses to count, “all thirty five of them, say that we need to stop looking for the harlot on the battlefield. We need to open our ears to the trumpets! We need to fix our eyes on the Commander leading the charge! We need to pull up our pants, grab our armor and get in the fight! We don’t need sex, we need Jesus!”

     Is, “Jesus,” really the answer?

     Even we, the Lord’s men, are rapidly and in increasing numbers falling to pornography. Our addiction leads to late nights and lost hours that sap our desire to be with anyone but our minds and our hands. As the hunger grows, even that fails to satisfy and we turn to sexual experimentation. Soon, we hate who we have become, a shell of the good man we seem to be, not enough substance within us to cast a shadow. Left unchecked, our cravings will lead us to strip clubs and whorehouses. Downward this addiction will spiral, its claws sunk tightly into our chests until we have lost all notion of the way to the surface and, gasping for air, we drown.

     At some point along this path, before the end, we will realize the trap has sprung. We turn to books, then pastors, then friends, maybe even to family, but to no avail. The hooks are set deep. No program on our computer, no insightful book, no accountability meeting, seems to help us escape from the trap waiting just around the corner. We are evil men and our desires are continuous.

     Time and again, we are told that Jesus can help. “Give it to Jesus and you will be free!” But is “Jesus” really the answer? If so, why is it that so many who claim, “Jesus” are still bound and gagged to their god called sex?

     You cannot serve two masters.

     Yet, I have found freedom.

     Rather, freedom has found me. His name is, was, and will forever be, Emmanuel, or “God with us.”

     Before my first thoughts turned inward and prepared my heart for these evil hooks, he overpowered them. The chains no longer drag me down. If I waste away in front of the computer screen, eyes glazed, mouth slack, heart pounding until judgment day with a flat-lined conscience, I will be counted innocent of it all.

     Christ died for sin, once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring them to God. 1 Peter 3:18

     However don’t be deceived, when I come to him prepared for a mansion and golden streets, I will hear,

“Be gone from me, I never knew you.” Matt 7:23

Wait. What?

     Even before Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection he told the paralytic,

     “Take heart, your sins are forgiven.” Matt 9

     Why did Jesus come to earth? To die? To rise again? To forgive sins?

     Jesus came so that God could be with us. “Emmanuel.”

     The answer is Emmanuel.

     There is one source with the strength to reverse the undertow of addiction, one escape from the perversion of our evil hearts. One person is the way and the light shining in the darkness.

     He knows you. Do you know him?

     What is his favorite color?

     What does he like to do with his free time?

     Why does he let sin run rampant?

     Sheeple, what does his voice sound like?

     Get to know him, let his love grow through you, he will lead you to freedom.

     Without vision, all people perish.

     Before you can hope to transform, you need to look to what you will become.

     Now we see as through a mirror, dimly, but then we shall see him face to face. We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.

If you don't know Casey

Ahem.

Gentlemen,

If you're seeking a girl 

with that chrysoprase sparkle,

whose eyes swim with lightning, 

bold joy and delight

whose looks will inspire 

soft men into battle

and strengthen the timid 

to run to the fight,

Then if you don't know Casey

you're sure missing out.

If you don't know Casey

then without a doubt,

your life missing Casey

is dreary and dull

but it sucks to be you, ha! She's mine.

If your thing is a smile 

like a springtime green meadow

and teeth like the moon 

on it's thirty day climb,

one that lightens your heart 

and quickens its beating

each time that she chooses 

to let its light shine,

Then if you don't know Casey

You're sure missing out

If you don't know Casey

then without a doubt

your life without Casey

is incredibly dull

But I pity you dude, 'cause she's mine

You'll have to keep looking, she's mine.

The Call from Thailand

A small boy sits alone on the street corner, head in his hands. Tear-streaked and bruised, little Khun hides behind fingers that are, “too delicate to be a man's hands.” His mother hates him, his father doesn't know him. An outcast, discarded and rejected, he collapses within himself, one small, cracking soul among countless millions. The masses surge by, uncaring, expending their lives in the whirling metropolis of Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Twelve years later, that little boy is no more. Years ago, he chose to become the woman Kamala. “Born of a lotus” and “desirable”, (s)he flags down passersby for a night of exotic pleasure. (S)he offers them a night with Kamala, who was Khun. A ladyboy, a mistress of the night, a lost soul in the darkness, bereft of hope, (s)he is clinging to life because it's all (s)he knows.

We go to Thailand to rescue the Kamala's. We go to find the Khuns who were lost long ago. Light Himself has promised to go with us into the darkness. Hope, rescuing the despairing. Joy, lifting the downtrodden. Purpose, choosing the ignored.

When I say we, I mean we three. The Lord is in the field, seeking workers for the harvest. I am traveling the miles from home, taking you along with the written word. We're looking to understand the raw truth of the need. In America, the demons are concealed and subtle. In America, miracles are quiet and the voice of the Lord is easily mistaken. I'm going to a place where good and evil are bursting the seams of the physical realm, to catch a glimpse of the truth. I hope that my discoveries from Thailand will help you see the reality of the people near you. Americans suffer as much as anyone, but they hide behind the walls of wealth and prosperity. Through the stories we find, maybe we can see a deeper layer of reality, a layer that equips us to bring life to our own world.

A life only gains weight when it is given away. So I'm giving what little I have in order to expand the Kingdom. But, a single strand is easily broken. I need you to stand with me. Where one can put a thousand to flight, two can defeat ten thousand. Together, we can bring change to this world.

As I head to Thailand, I'll be working with Lighthouse in Action to meet the needs of the people of Chiang Mai. MyDead Heart Lives, an online, servant-hearted community, has agreed to sponsor me. They are a viral group of Christ-followers based around the concept that, “Once Jesus is in control of my life, I don't have to worry about being perfect. I can focus on changing the world around me.” They use unique coins to track random acts of service, each serv-er passing the coin to the serv-ee. The coins have the URL printed on the back to direct people back to their home page. Each act of service is a marketing tool that gets servant-hearted people connected with servant-hearted opportunity. You can learn more and get involved at www.facebook.com/MDHL12.

Together, we're working to raise $5,000 before December 1^st, but we need help to start up the movement. Currently, we're taking pre-orders for the coins, so that we can get them minted and circulating. We need 150 of them spoken for, and then we can create the first batch of coins. After that, 75% of the profit from the movement will go to supporting me in Thailand, until my need is met. In total, it'll cost from $600 to $1000 a month for me to live over there. So, if the Spirit is prompting you to help, buy some coins on their website, go join the movement, or send me an email. Let's get MDHL up and running so that the world can taste the power of the Lord.

If you have questions about anything, I'd love to talk with you. Shoot me an email at hikingpeter9000@gmail.com. Join me in this branch of Kingdom work. Help me change the world.

Blessings to you all,

Peter

The Power of the Almighty Sea

I stand before the almighty sea, its tides lapping my feet

Wading on the edges of that endless giant, my soul has found peace.

As my gaze turns to the distant horizon, I know in my heart all will be well.

But as I stroll in the shallows I can't help but notice the crashing of the waves.

A dozen yards out, the almighty sea grasps toward the beach.

Time and again, with all of the force of a falling tree, its fingers beckon.

Dumfounding power resides in the water.

How would it feel to encounter that power?

Step by step, the pull of the tide draws me further;

it calls me deeper, it's subtle voice irresistible.

Stride by stride as the tow increases,

more of my self is allured

Suddenly, reticence grips me,

as my body rebels against the chilling grasp.

I can no longer continue in comfort.

The decision looms, retreat or continue?

Cost weighed,

In a moment of conviction,

the indomitable pressure triumphs

and I dive into its waiting embrace.

I am at one with the power of the almighty sea,

submitted to its whim and enveloped by its might,

It's no longer a relentless bludgeon, but a coercive current.

I burst to the surface to stride boldly deeper.

Wave by wave, it draws me further,

each passing swell lifting me from my feet

as my head bobs up and away from the earth

I am momentarily and inexorably abandoned

to the will of the almighty sea.

But the wave soon passes,

and dominion returns to me.

Yet no further do I venture?

Do I fear the almighty sea?

I have heard tell of men pulled out so deep that they could no longer touch the ground. They were lost to the almighty sea. There, in the midst of the endless water, they were completely at its mercy. One man in particular was swept out and lost to the world forever. I think his name was Enoch.

I too want to be lost to this world, adrift and beyond all footing. There must be some way, somewhere, to lose myself in the undiminished majesty, in the relentless, roiling power of the Almighty... sea.

How Do You Love Me?

How do you love me?

I am an animal, chasing down hateful desires as if my salvation meant nothing. Like Israel before me, my flagrant whoring reeks from the high places. Yet the Lord is faithful? His love carries on. My family remains faithful. My friends still love me and accept me. They see my lewdness, my blantant disregard of the gift I've been given, and yet they love me still. Why?

This is the best I can do to explain:

“Death. I am death. I hunt, molest, and kill. I prey on the weak and unsuspecting, luring them into abandoned trust before ripping their heart out. I destroy because it is what I do.

My name is Peter and I hate.

Love. I am love. I spend my effort, time, and thought for those around me. I give to anyone and everyone that I come in contact with, seeking their benefit with no reserve. I give because it is who I am.

My name is Peter and I love.

I am two men, polar opposite yet struggling for dominance over the same life. I am chained to death, yet living still. The things I long to do, I do not do. I do the things I hate.

My name is Peter and I am wretched.

There is a man who offers life. I chose to follow Him. He gave his life for me, I gave my life to Him. He is my hope. He is my freedom. He is the life in my soul.

My name is Peter and I am forgiven.”

People can love me because they see the life in me. I am reborn. I fight so that the good may defeat the evil inside, but I no longer want the evil to win. The ones who know me best will see my fight and love me for it. Death lives in my body, but I am no longer death. I am love, and I am loved.

-Rock Darkwater