With Hands to the Plow

January 2, 1411

     My cozy recliner by the fire is getting harder to resist. The warm crackle of burning pitch, soft fur of the dogs, and the soothing smell of woodsmoke beg me to stay with them. God, why is it so cold?

January 15, 1411

     It's official. Plowing season should be warmer. Gisele has enough fat on her to pull and not mind the cold, but it kills me. It's like pushing a knife through cold cheese. Acres of cold cheese. I just want it to be spring.

February 3, 1411

     Day in and day out. Hand to the plow. Pushing and pushing. Every few feet, lug a millstone off the field and trudge back. Hand to the plow. Push. Trudge. Push. Trudge. Another stone. Acres and acres of field left to go. Blistered fingers numb. Toes chilled in my boots. If I just make it through the day, there's a fire waiting.

February 10, 1411

     Even the fire has lost its appeal. At the end of the day, exhausted and frozen, it just reminds me that early tomorrow I'll be out there again. In the cold. Tired hands pushing through the field again. Where is the spring?

February 11, 1411

     Woke up this morning and thought to take the day off. Realized it would be dense not to get ready for spring. No other choice but to plow. I bundled up and went back to the field.

February 24, 1411

     I hate this. Can I just stop being? Existence is a drudgery. Nothing to do but plow. Spring will come and go. Winter will come again, and with it more plowing. Will there ever be an end? It doesn't really matter. Hand to the plow. Push. Trudge. Stone. Push. Trudge...

Jake Audette, Core Advisor*

     To say it was hot outside would be like saying a swallow could migrate south while gripping a coconut. Ridiculously assumptive, but nonetheless, ever so quotable. I sat in my easy chair, the sun pouring through the window behind me, transforming the plush interior of my high rise office into a sweaty hothouse. It could be the sun's doing, but then again, the a/c might have busted again...

The door clicks open and in walks my newest client. He's a young kid, fresh out of high school. He's got that look about him, that one that says, “Help, I can't open the lid to the pickle jar.” I motion him in, tell him to take a load off, and introduce him to the other guys. It's what I do. They're all variations of the same hand. A bit fuzzy on the rules, but holding the makings of a royal flush. I teach 'em how to win. Kinda the Mister Miyagi of the place.

     Who am I, Daniel-San?

     I'm Jake Audette, Core Adviser.

     These tough cases are my cup of tea, literally. They're my cup of sugary, over-syruped, cafeteria-brand, sweet tea. It's my drink of choice during these meetings, it calms the nerves, focuses the senses. Inspires confidence.

     I got my C.A. license eight months ago, authorized to guide these young hearts, showing them the value of the hand they hold, and pointing them toward truth in this crazy world. It's a tough job, but hey, it's gotta be done. I do it 'cause I was in their shoes once, not too long ago. Lost and alone in a huge world, no friends within a thousand miles and no idea what I was going to do with myself, I found a local C.A. and he helped me cope. I learned to hear God's voice, to act with honor, to treat women with chivalry and respect. Eventually, I graduated to the big leagues. That's when I decided to take up the mantle, make the oath, sign the dotted line, start out on the path, and all those other epic metaphors that come with the title.

     Who am I?

     It's not who I am, it's what I do that defines me.

     I'm Jake Audette, Core Adviser.

*Jake Audette is not an actual HA Core Advisor nor do all CAs resemble 1920's gumshoes. 

A Soul Cry

You know the feeling

it's way down deep in your soul

There's a knot or a tangle

and you cannot feel whole

Because you know you've been wrong

but you can't help it, can't fight

and your heart aches and bleeds

for what's wrong to be right

Dirty and tarnished

Abhorrent and trashed

darkness eats your horizon

and your whole future has smashed

down to the ground

your will, it isn't that strong

in these shimmering halls

you just don't seem to belong

Cause you know you've been wrong

but you can't help it, can't fight

and your heart aches and bleeds

for what's wrong to be right

way down deep in your soul

yeah, you know there's a light

But this darkness is blinding

it's obscuring your sight

Is there end to the struggle?

Perhaps some freedom to find?

Or will your failures torment you

and drive you out of your mind?

Can you ever be free

of these chains that constrict

or these habits that hold you

and then cut to the quick

Your sin ends up creeping

back around to your door

and before you can blink

your tripping, down on the floor

Cause you know you've been wrong

and you can't help it, can't fight

and your heart aches and bleeds

for what's wrong to be right

Down deep in your soul

yeah you know there's a light

But this darkness is blinding

and it's obscuring your sight

In the pit of despair

when your future is bleak

and all hope it has fled

from each place that you seek

emotions they strangle

the words that you scream

from spirit to sky

in a cry for relief

The tears they pour out

down your face unrestrained

releasing the pain

that you cannot contain

Till slowly a stillness

enters into your soul

for what once was barren

has now become full

Cause you know you've been wrong

and you can't help it, can't fight

and your heart aches and bleeds

for what's wrong to be right

But the King took the blemish

with his death on the cross

and He's presenting you holy

purged clean of the dross.

Have You Been Deceived?

     In my travels to obtain truth, I have constantly run up against a particular inanity.


     It is a message that Christians of our day cling to, and usually sounds something like this:

"God is perfect.
You are not.
Hooray for grace,
But do better."

     As an example, I present the classic 1 Corinthians passage on love. "Love is patient, love is kind, etc."

     Your typical sermon would go something like this:
"How horrible we are at this! We have fast food, instant entertainment, premarital sex, and it's all for instant gratification! What I'm telling you people is to SLOW DOWN!! In the Greek, the root word for patient is "snailicus," meaning "like a snail." We have to take a step back, and be patient with each other. Let that lady at Starbucks take the whole ten minutes to pay for her 8 a.m. coffee. It's called Love, people!!"

     Now, although most of this little sermon is completely accurate, it is also completely ineffective. It addresses the symptoms of the condition, but leaves the root virus intact.

     The cold truth is, I cannot "do better" enough. You cannot "do better" enough. According to Jesus, our best is still not good enough, even our righteousness is "filthy rags."

     Wait, what the heck?

     Righteousness, like the stuff Jesus had in spades. It's filthy rags? Even the stuff we do right?

     Not only that, but Paul says that God sees us as having Jesus' perfection. So, what's the point of  trying to do good?

     Most will tell you, "Being good brings you closer to God, it makes Him happy. It's like saying thank you."

     They lie. God may not even know you.

No Dog, Seriously...

     Let me explain.

     Let's say you read my blog, lets say you even follow me. I have a nifty little tool that tells me how many page views I get per day. However, I only see your visit as a little number. Although that number puts a little joy in my heart, your contribution, changing a 5 to a 6, does nothing for me. I have no idea who you are, or what you thought about the article. Although the fact that you regularly read my writing will definitely result in lots of page views, it doesn't help me get to know you. If you truly wanted to connect, you would leave a thoughtful, heartfelt comment on something I've written.

     It's the same with God. He could care less if you let an old lady go in front of you for coffee. What matters to him is seeing your heart. Knowing you. Spending quality time with you. Having quality conversation. Following the rules doesn't help you get closer to God. Getting closer to God helps you follow the rules. He said, "He who loves me will keep my commandments." While most interpret this as a command to obedience, it was meant as a thermometer. Keeping the commandments comes naturally to those who love God.

     Not keeping the commandments? You don't really love God.

     So clear your schedule. Crumple up your to-do list. Hang out with God. Have a conversation. Talk a bit, listen a bit. Get to know each other. Sooner than you think, you'll discover what everyone means by, "what a friend we have in Jesus."

     Do it. I dare you. And stop being mislead.

The Protectorate (Intro)

To whom it may concern,

     There is a spiritual war going on around you. The unseen forces of good and evil in the world are locked in a titanic struggle for dominance. Yes, but you know this already. Angels and demons have been fighting since the creation of man. There is the physical and the spiritual. We are physical. They are spiritual. But there is always a third. Like the Holy Trinity, the third member is the one that crosses over. The spiritual made physical. That is where I come in.

     My name is Magnus. God has seen fit to open my eyes to the war here on earth. It is as real as the world wars or Vietnam. Our enemy is also just as real as the Viet Cong or the German SS were, but just as they were detached from the life of the everyday citizen, our enemy, who call themselves Gehennan, works from the shadows. I am telling you this because we need your help.

     I lead the force known as the Protectorate. We are a group dedicated to the preservation of the Bride of Christ. We work to thwart the machinations of the Gehennan, and further the Kingdom on the unseen fronts of the earth. I have seen your zeal. Because of your fervent desire for the return of the Lord and the furtherance of his kingdom, as the Protectorate's Seer, I have deemed you worthy to join our cause.

We, like any organization, thrive off of the individual skills of our members. As a member of the Protectorate, you are pledging to answer any call for help that comes from our leader, the Apostle. The call may come for you to leave your home. You may be asked to give up money, friends, family, even your very life for the cause. Know that we do not take your commitment lightly. Neither should you. It is no less than Jesus asks his followers. Dangerous times are fast approaching. We will need your help.

What say you?
Will you stand up for the truth?
Will you join us to combat the plans of Satan?

Sign your name below in agreement and we will contact you.

-Magnus, on behalf of John, The Apostle

Waiting on the World to Change

      Here's the picture.

     I'm sitting at an intersection. The light is red. It's been red for quite some time now. My radio doesn't work, so I'm left alone with the clamor of my own hollow thoughts. It's probably close to 80 degrees outside. The AC doesn't work. Oh, and did I mention it's raining? Yup, windows up, I'm suffocating.

     I know I'm headed somewhere air-conditioned. It's only just around the corner. I only have to hold on for a few more minutes. If only this blasted light would change. God, why is it taking so long? Is it my fault, some sort of grand-scheme karma thing? This is ridiculous. Technically, I could just run it, there's no one in sight. Nope. That conscience thing. Gotta love it. Ugh.

     Waiting.