The One Where I'm A B*tch

Yeah. Ugly title to match the ugly attitude it went with.

As someone who shares her life and thoughts freely on a blog, I have tried and tried to be authentic, transparent, real...

But that doesn't always happen.

In an effort to convey a message and the way I am growing in my faith, the good, fluffy, candy-coated stuff often takes center stage.

So allow me to introduce you to the real, ugly, vicious me that lurks just around the corner and simmers just below the surface of the smiling pictures you see of me on Facebook.

Saturday night found me in a fowl mood; fried, mentally exhausted from being a mom, and needing a vacation STAT.

Joe came home from work and wanted to immediately go mow the lawn.

Yes, I agreed the grass needed mowed. It was literally at least a foot high. And by grass I mean weeds. So our yard looked like Sanford & Son. It was time.

And truth be told, I am not jumping up and down to mow it myself. It takes at minimum 2 hours to mow.

So, while I was thrilled to have it mowed and even more thrilled to not have to do it myself, I just wanted a break and to tag my partner to jump in and help me with the parental responsibilities.

I asked Joe to forego mowing.

That frustrated him.

Which frustrated me.

Which led to an awful argument about way more than mowing the lawn. We rolled eyes, we raised voices, we said the F word.

Okay, I said the F word.

I also said something like "I absolutely hate you right now."

And then we stopped speaking or making eye contact for the rest of the night.

And then the sun rose on Mother's Day, Sunday.

I was feeling better until Joe went out to mow the lawn.

I sat down to do my Bible study and get rid of my rotten mood (which had followed me through the night) and--as is the nature of the universe--my kids would not leave me be for a second when I needed it most.

Instead, I felt my insides start to boil again.

I decided to journal my thoughts in the notebook I'd bought for my study. I don't normally journal.

I filled 2 full pages front and back and half of another with all the vile, awful, evil, mean, hateful thoughts I had about Joe.

I raked him over the coals for every single imaginable fault he has and even some that I know he doesn't. I was on a roll. It felt cleansing, therapeutic. I wrote all the things that rolled around in my brain, but I would never say to him or anyone else.

And then I put the notebook away and went about the day (which did end on a wonderful note celebrating with his mom and sister...)

Sunday night went much better than Saturday. We were friends again and I forgot about the notebook of vile contempt that sat innocently enough in my kitchen.

Monday morning I barely remember Joe waking me up to tell me he was leaving for work.

I tried to squeeze in a couple hours more of sleep despite the babies yelling at me from their beds. Finally, I rolled out of the bed and grabbed for my phone (embarrassingly, the first thing I check in the morning).

I saw a text from Joe first. He told me he emailed me a link to an article. There'd been an accident and he had pulled a woman from her car and called her husband. He said the other woman was pretty banged up.

I couldn't open my email fast enough. I read the article, saw the picture, and frantically texted back to Joe to get more details.

Here is the picture:

photo source: kdka

Seeing that car in pieces was eye opening.

Hearing that Joe literally slammed on his brakes and fish tailed to avoid being a part of it was hair raising.

Learning that he left from home later than he wanted to because our 6 year old wanted to show him something made me sick.

The realization that I barely remembered him leaving that morning and the awful words I had spit in his face only 24 hours earlier scared the crap out of me.

And then I remembered the 2 1/2 pages of angry, hateful words that were resting on my kitchen shelf.

I ripped them out and tore them to shreds.

I realized that I can spend hours focusing on all the areas I think Joe sucks in or I can celebrate every single day we have together.

No, I don't suddenly think he's perfect and I still think my angry feelings were valid, but I don't have to dwell on them. I don't have to think my husband is piece of crap because he's human and flawed.

Instead, I choose to love him and do my best to be respectful of him, regardless of whether or not he's "towing the line"

I'll still get mad. I'll still say things I regret later, and I'll probably still drop an F bomb here and there...

But that's not going to define my marriage or how I see my husband.

As exhausting as it is, I'll do my best to cherish every moment with him and with my kids. They are fleeting and can be gone in the blink of an eye.

And all those other cliches that make you want to scream and stop time.

So, we celebrated last night.

It took a car accident to make me realize my husband is pretty friggin terrific.

He's a hero in every sense of the word in my eyes.

So we treated him as such last night when he got home from work. :)

The banner that said "You're Our Hero"

The kids greeted him in their Super Hero masks

Our hero

With My Hand Frozen To The Sword

I've mentioned the Beth Moore study I'm doing a few times. It's about David.

David the shepherd boy turned king.

David the king turned adulterer.

David the adulterer turned grieving father.

David the grieving father turned restored sinner.

David the restored sinner turned righteous king once again.

David was fierce in battle. He was known for his many conquests and successful wars.

But after decades of fighting, he grew tired.

One day he just couldn't do it anymore.

He was exhausted; he wanted to run away from the enemy that plagued him.

It was then that a brave man stepped in and saved him. Eleazar fought when David couldn't.

"...but he [Eleazar] stood his ground and struck down the Philistines till his hand was frozen to the sword." (2 Samuel 23:10a)

I underlined that verse in my Bible because it struck me. I want to fight like that.

Sure, I might not be wielding an actual sword, but every day I take up a battle.

A battle with my own will.

A battle with my kids' wills.

A battle with the world.

A battle with my husband's will.

A battle with the enemy.

And I am wielding the Sword of the Spirit.

Ephesians 6:17 says the Sword of the Spirit is the Word of God.

In this world filled with hate and greed and selfishness and evil I sometimes get so totally overwhelmed. I want to run away like David.

How many times had he stared across a battlefield littered with bloody bodies and thought, "How much more can I take?"

The headlines on the news and on Facebook bring me to my knees.

A toddler killed by her mother when she wouldn't stop whining.

Women kept in chains for 10 years by a man who wanted to use and abuse them.

A wife killed by her husband for insurance money.

A woman killed and her baby stolen.

A young girl brutally murdered because she annoyed someone.

A man shot because he cut someone off in traffic.

A man imprisoned and beaten in Iran for sharing his faith.

Teens bullied and belittled until they can't take it anymore and decide to leave this planet.

Women in Kenya ostracized and belittled because they were raped and had a baby out of wedlock.

Girls stolen and sold into slavery to the highest bidder.

Children assaulted simply because they're easy prey.

Babies murdered because they aren't wanted.

And on and on and on.

And I find myself looking at the bloody battlefield that is our world and I think "How much more can I take?"

I don't understand. And I'm weary of trying to.

I want to forget about these things and stop worrying about them.

I want to flee and close my eyes, bury my head in the sand.

But I can't.

I know that's not the answer and that's not what I am called to do.

I know there is a purpose for me on this planet--just as there is for everyone--and I know I have to yield to it. Even if I may not always understand what that purpose is or how to yield to it.

And I want to be like Eleazar.

I want to fight until my hand is frozen to the sword.

I'll grip the Word of God and cling to it until I can't let go.

I read a blog once that detailed how a woman stenciled her wall using a stencil pattern, a sponge and some paint. She worked on it so long, and with so much intensity, wanting it to be perfect, that she had a hard time opening her hand afterward. She called it having "claw hand" because her hand was fixed in the position of holding the sponge. But it paid off. When she stood back and looked at her wall it was exactly as she wanted it to be and the few mistakes she made were hardly noticeable.

I want claw hand from holding onto the Word of God--my sword in battle--so tightly and with such intensity.

I want laser sharp focus so that when my time on this earth is over and I stand back and look at the design of my life, I won't see the mistakes. Surely they'll be there, but I want the areas of practiced patience and effort to be most evident.

And then I hope it can be said of my efforts, like Eleazar: "The Lord brought about a great victory that day." (2 Samuel 23:10)

And Sometimes You Just Walk Away

From it all.

TV

Facebook

Twitter

All the negativity.

And sometimes you have to walk away from people.

Maybe not forever.

Maybe not for a long time.

But for a while.

Until you can get yourself together, get your head on straight.

Until you can hear only the voice you should be listening to.

Even Jesus told the disciples to shake the dust from their sandals when they were not welcomed. (Matthew 10:14)

Sometimes in your effort to love and share and forgive and show grace, the other person chooses to take advantage, use, and manipulate.

At what point do you step away, take a breath and regroup?

How much of your precious energy is wisely used in a situation where you are the only party trying.

At what point does the other person's problem become your own?

When does offering support cross the line into enabling?

I don't have hard and fast answers to these questions.

I don't think they're rhetorical, but I think the answers are different based on each situation.

You can stick around and have the very life sucked out of you or you can take a break, and come back later.

At what point do we stop allowing any goodness, mercy and grace we offer from being syphoned from us?

I think it all begins and ends with prayer.

And the occasional frequent glass of wine.

Jen Hatmaker wrote a much more eloquent and impactful post about this very subject. Click HERE to read it.

Pastor Saeed

I am sitting on my living room couch tonight, sipping a glass of wine. My kids are all tucked in bed and the last calls of "goodnight, mommy!" have ceased.

Joe is snuggled on the sectional next to me "watching TV", AKA: sleeping.

The dog is snoring at my feet and the food network is on on the background.

And my heart is absolutely heavy tonight.

By all counts, I should be enjoying life. I should be relaxing.

I live in a beautiful home. My husband is by far the most amazing man I know. My kids are precious and the absolute delight of my life. I am warm, dry, and fed.

But I can't stop thinking about Pastor Saeed.

If you're not familiar, he's an American Christian pastor who is imprisoned in Iran. His crime: he was building orphanages and preaching about Christ.

So, now he's in prison and being beaten regularly.

He has internal bleeding and he's being refused medical treatment, including receiving the medications he desperately needs, as well as pain medicine.

Because he is "unclean".

He is a Christian and that makes him "unclean" in their religion.

And as I sat here in my cozy, beautiful home, watching cable TV on my 50 inch plasma screen, I read a letter Saeed wrote to his family while in that prison. While his every breath and movement causes him excruciating pain.

He scratched this letter in the margin of a torn newspaper page and then gave to his family when they came to visit.

The letter can be found by clicking HERE. PLEASE--GO READ IT.

As I was reading through tears the words he wrote about forgiveness and love, hate was boiling inside me. Anger, resentment, loathing.

All the things he cautioned against feeling.

And as much as I want to rail-- I want to break things and scream-- I can't because Pastor Saeed is absolutely right.

If I let that anger and hate take control, Satan wins.

And that can't happen.

It's not lost on me how very much Pastor Saeed's situation parallels Paul's.

Paul spent most of his ministry in prisons for preaching Christ. He was also beaten and left to die on many occasions.

But he continued to praise the Lord.

There's a song by Ray Boltz that never fails to move me. I encourage you to watch the video and read along with the words. The video is a little cheesy maybe, but the message is so beautiful.




And I think about all the things I am doing every day that I take for granted.

I lose my patience when my kids call my name too many times.

Pastor Saeed would give anything to hear his children's laughter and hear them call out "Daddy!"

I am annoyed that Joe has fallen asleep again while we're supposed to be spending time together.

Pastor Saeed sent his love to his wife on a wrinkled piece of newsprint, across continents, probably aware he will never see her, feel her, or hear her voice say she loves him again.

I feel frustrated as I look around at the mess of toys the kids left in their wake today.

Pastor Saeed is gripped with pain while listening to sewer rats in his room.

And it all just seems absolutely unfair.

A horrible tragedy.

A farce.

This man was building orphanages.

He was preaching the love of Christ to others.

And now he is being tortured.

His wife probably replays a million times in her head the day they said goodbye. They thought it would be for a few weeks. Little did they know that he probably will die in that cell.

I wonder if she wishes the embrace would have lasted longer, her hand on his face a moment more, and her lips on his a beat longer.

How many nightmares does she wake from calling out his name?

How many times has she pleaded with God to save him? To let her take his place? To let them see him if only one more time?

He thought his ministry was in building orphanages, but perhaps his true ministry is in the way he is handling this persecution. The way he is showing unshakable love to his captors, even after they beat him. The way he spent hours speaking to a fellow captive about the love of Christ and how he had to let his anger and hatred go.

I don't think I could do what he is doing and handle it with such unimaginable grace, dignity, and most importantly, love.

His mercy is astounding.

God can do anything.

He can knock down the walls of that prison and bring Pastor Saeed home.

But I don't know that He will.

Perhaps Pastor Saeed's ministry didn't truly begin until he set foot in that prison and the first blow made contact with his face.

And I think, "God use me!"

But could I do it? Could I be a martyr?

God bless Pastor Saeed.

Please don't click away from this post without signing the petition to have Pastor Saeed released.

I pray he is released and that he gets to look upon the faces of his wife, the love of his life, and his babies and tell them he loves them at least one more time.

I pray he gets to hear his children tell them they love him.

I pray his children get to see him and snuggle into his arms again.

I pray that his valiant attitude and perseverance are rewarded this side of Heaven as well as after he dies.

And I pray for a heart that loves Jesus as much as Saeed's so obviously does.

Feel free to share this post. Not for any glory for me, but to get awareness out. Implore our government to take a stand for this man.

Regardless of whether or not you agree with his religion, he is an American citizen being beaten and tortured in another country as well as refused medical treatment. It's time we took a stand.

To share this post, click on the title at the top first (unless you clicked a direct link to this post) and look for these icons at the bottom of the post:

The imPerfect Storm

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So God speaks to me in themes.

I think I've said that before.

I've heard Beth Moore say that before about herself.

When God plants a seed in my head, he confirms it through several different sources.

For a while it was David.

I bought a study about David (Beth Moore) in March of 2012. I did a week and got off focus, so I put it away.

Exactly a year later (almost to the day) I found it and started doing it again.

It has not stopped applying to me or speaking to me since.

Here is an example of a couple of crazy weeks during study:

*Started David study
*My niece wrote a devotional and referenced David fighting Goliath
*We visited a new church and the message was about David & Goliath
*Our lesson at church in the preschool room was about David & Goliath
*The sermon at our regular church the next week referenced David.
*The hit miniseries The Bible was on and the next night's episode was about David.

There are more, but that's all I can think of right now.

It was amazing. Everywhere I turned I was seeing something about David.

I am still figuring out exactly what the message was from that...be brave against the "giants" in my life? Trust that God has it all worked out despite the way I feel or the way things look? (Like when David was hiding in caves for years to keep Saul (the king) from murdering him even though God had told David he would be king).

And along the way, God has been speaking to me in smaller themes.

But a new one has begun.

Yesterday Joe and I taught the preschoolers. We did a skit about Jonah and the "big fish".

The story was that Jonah told God "NO!" he would not go to Ninevah to tell the people there to STOP doing bad things.

So, as Jonah was running away from God, God sent a storm. Jonah was thrown out of the boat he was in, and swallowed by a "big fish".

And spit out until he agreed to go to Ninevah.

So what in the world does that have to do with the price of tea in China?

Here's the thing...

I have had a long-standing tug-of-war with God.

It's about my kids.

I am fiercely protective with them.

Mama Bear X 1,000,000.

As most mamas are.

That instinct was placed in me, I believe, by God.

He considers children precious. (Matthew 19:14, Psalm 127:5)

I am so fiercely protective, however that I often place them above God's will.

I told Joe yesterday that my last "hold-out" with God is concerning the kids.

I want to say "Your will be done, not mine"

BUT....

as long as that doesn't include ANYTHING uncomfortable, dangerous, hurtful, or fatal happening to my children.

Just a small caveat.

So, God, I am allllllll yours. 100%

*unless it involves anything negative concerning my kids, in which case I am O.U.T.

* = The fine print I added to my relationship with God.

The problem with that is God is a "Go Big Or Go Home" kind of 'guy'.

He's a 100% IN or 100% OUT kind of God.

He doesn't want my half-assed devotion. (Revelation 3:16)

I think of a boiling pan of water. If you add a cup of freezing water to it, it's no longer boiling.

I can claim to have a fire in my heart, but if I douse it with the freezing water of my doubt (doubt that God will TRULY take care of my family) then that fire is dampened, at best.

I prayed, multiple times, to be a "sold-out believer".

Not being afraid what others think.

Not being afraid of being un-friended literally or virtually.

Not being looked down on for raising my kids to be believers.

Not being afraid to stand up for the unborn and their right to life.

Not being afraid to stand for God when the world wants to stand for everything but.

And so on...

So God is calling my bluff.

Do I REALLY trust Him?

Do I REALLY believe it should be His will, not mine?

Well, that's what I am asking myself.

Here's where the rubber hits the road.

After teaching yesterday, I was looking at a blog last night and reading some of the comments on it when I clicked over to read another woman's blog. It was a random chain of events. I scrolled through her most recent posts and found she had just recently written about..........Jonah.

When Jonah said no, and ran away, God sent a storm after him.

What storm will God send my way if I continue to tell Him no?

I don't know that He will. I don't believe He will "smite" me. I don't believe He's a mean, vengeful God.

But I do believe He's a Just God.

I do believe that He detests liars.

And I do believe He'll hold me at my word.

For me to say I want to be sold-out, trusting and on board--only to withhold an area of my life--makes me a liar.

Thing is...I can argue this case single-handedly in my own head! (Again...it is exhausting being in here.)

God loves me.

I love my children.

God loves my children.

Where is the disconnect??

WHY do I continue to doubt??

I think we know why.

Doubt is a seed sown not by God.

The fruits of the spirit are: love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control.

I like the Message version of Galatians 5:22:


But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.

Legalism is helpless in bringing this about; it only gets in the way. Among those who belong to Christ, everything connected with getting our own way and mindlessly responding to what everyone else calls necessities is killed off for good—crucified.


The kicker here, the absolute jaw-dropping Truth is that the MOMENT I turn over my faith and Trust in Him to be faithful (as He says He will be) is when I will get peace. Not before. Call it God's Trust Fall, if you will. I won't truly believe until I obey. I pray for peace, but it comes when I trust.

So, that realization seems to be the easy part.

The actual act of "Faith-ing" is where I have trouble. :(

It's not always as easy as flipping a switch.

I think *just my tiny opinion so take it for what it's worth* that sometimes the act has to come before the feelings.

If I say with my lips that I trust and then live as if I do and capture every thought that comes into my head that is contrary, I believe God will provide me with the peace to continue those activities and that commitment with my heart.

It's the letting go that kills me.

But it's the holding on that may kill my spirit.

Hit-And-Run Evangelism

I have started and stalled at least 2 other posts in the past weeks.

I have SO MUCH and NOTHING on my mind and I can't seem to get it together enough to present those thoughts in one coherent, non-offending post.

Just know that going in.

I can't promise this will be non-offending, but it's on my heart.

Nothing spurs a good, passionate blog post for me quite like Facebook.

I hate Facebook.

I love Facebook.

Tonight, I want to address something that is so prevalent. Something that most, if not all, of us have done or do on a regular basis. Myself included, unfortunately.

Why is it that we feel so absolutely free to spew condemnation onto others?

Why do we feel so comfortable tearing others down as we look down on them from our ivory towers?

Do we really think we can bully someone into Heaven?

How many sinners did Jesus bitch-slap into repentance?

He was stern at times, and forceful at others, but always Just. And I cut Him a great deal of slack since He was the son of God and all. And perfect.

That's the key. He was perfect.

Not like John Q. Public who casts his pearls of wisdom from behind his laptop screen.

Or Susie Q who lashes out with her daggers of scripture from her iPad.

I have a reeeeeeal problem with those kinds of "Christians".

In my opinion, those are the very people that the "lost sinners" avoid. And the very reason "Christians" get labeled with names like Hate Groups and bigots.

You know that saying "Don't judge another man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins"?

I want to scream that from the rooftop.

One especially annoying sentiment in posts I've come across in multiple locations is about marriage.

Marriage is a covenant.

No doubt.

And it is a decision, not a feeling.

Got it.

However, when you post or preach things about marriage vows and referencing divorce in such a way that you cast judgment over those who have been divorced, it can have a really awful effect.

Speaking God's Truth is one thing,

Speaking God's Truth while looking down your nose at your audience is quite another.

How many testimonies are silenced and how many journeys of repentance and healing are smothered by harsh words and rebuke that's given out of line, out of context, and out of relationship?

How many souls are won to God by sanctimonious, self-serving opinions attached to a scripture?

And this isn't just about comments/posts about marriage.

Anything.

Anything that is said with an air of "I'm so glad I'm not committing this heinous sin and you'll surely burn in hell for it" will never win souls. Never.

I don't typically believe in using 'always' or 'never', but in this case, I believe I'm right.

Is divorce wrong?

Absolutely. 100%.

God hates divorce.

The Bible is clear on that. (Malachi 2:16)

But I take this very personally because I have been divorced.

Twice.

And you can imagine how proud I am of that bit of trivia.

For the longest time, I tried to hide that from everyone who didn't know my past.

I was embarrassed.

I felt like I couldn't be taken seriously if people knew I was a divorcee.

Because "good" Christians don't have big sins.

"Good" Christians only sin in ways like saying "damn", watching 'R' rated movies, or not tithing 10%.

"Real" Christians have never had affairs, been divorced, had an abortion, struggled with sexual identity, killed someone, had sex before marriage, stolen something, gotten pregnant outside of marriage, been to prison..."

We draw a line in the sand as to who we think is "good enough" to be invited to Christ's table.

Nowhere is that written in the Word...No...we have taken it upon ourselves to add that in as a footnote.

And just in case someone is daft enough to think they could be accepted into Christ's fold, we make sure they understand what they can and cannot have done to qualify.

We stand up on Sunday with our hands raised in the air, praising God with the very fingers that type status updates and Tweets that make it very clear that WE are in the clear, but woe to you who don't toe the line.

And it makes me sick.

It makes me sick for so many reasons.

One, because I have been there--the one on the receiving end of those barbs-- and two for being the one thinking those same things, all the while polishing my halo.

How many people will we chase away from the Pearly Gates because they don't measure up to the same impossible standards that we ourselves don't measure up to?

How many testimonies will we silence because they are too "damaging" to the cause and could make the rest of us "Christians" look bad?

How many souls are we chaining to hell because we tell them they will never be good enough?

It angers me and I feel my blood pressure rising.

I have so many skeletons in my closet.

So many.

Some I've blogged about and some I still hold tightly to myself.

One of those skeletons that was shoved back in my closet--one I had not told ANYONE in 18 years...I shared with a friend just this past week. I confessed. And do you know how my friend responded?

She loved me anyway.

She didn't cheer and champion my sin. She didn't scowl and tell me how awful I was. Neither did she blow it off like it was no big deal. But she loved me. And she reminded me that I am forgiven.

I promise you if that conversation had gone any other way, I would have started building a wall up between myself and her and myself and God.

And any good that could come of my sin (like ministering to another who has experienced what I have) and the way I have asked for forgiveness (and received it) would have been silenced. Gone.

Instead, I would have been filled with shame. And shame is not a tool of God. Shame is very clearly a tool of satan.

Let's look at Paul in the Bible...Paul was a Christian killer. He spurred on the stoning of Stephen (the first martyr) among many others. He took great pride in his work.

But he also became one of the most (if not the most) prolific champions of the faith. Jesus forgave him. It didn't matter what he had done. He was made new. And it wasn't as if he stopped sinning after he met Jesus on the road to Damascus. He's human. He even admitted in Romans 7:15 that he struggled with doing the exact opposite of what he wanted to and knew he should do. And that was AFTER he became a Christian.

So I am more aware now. Something God has really been working on in me is judgment and how I am so free with it.

2 Corinthians 10:5 says to "take captive every thought" and make it "obedient to Christ."

I'm exhausted at the end of the day at the thoughts that run amok. The thoughts of how fat that girl is or how ugly that guy is...what a bad mom she is and what a rude guy he is...

Yes. It's a cancer.

So I am inviting you to take captive every thought. I encourage you to think before you speak, especially when it comes to speaking about sin. As I will.

None of us are good enough. Nor will we ever be. We have only one thing to boast about.

1 Corinthians 1:31: "Therefore, as the Scriptures say, 'If you want to boast, boast only about the LORD.'"

Let's not be the ones who kick the guy trying to limp over the finish line.

That's Why There's You.

Inspired by Matthew West's song Do Something

Can't turn on the T.V.
Too afraid of what I will see.
Facebook is much worse by far
where what you post makes you a star.

This world is crumbling deeper
Selling out is by far cheaper
Than standing firm on the Word,
Not believing all you have heard.

No value placed on human lives,
Baby girls turned into wives.
Children robbed of childhoods.
We call it choice, we call it good.

In the name of diversity,
we live our lives unethically.
Where baby's lives are discounted,
simply because they're not wanted.

Bombs placed on a city street,
silence the sound of innocent feet
We cry, we rail, we shake our fist.
Did Jesus not warn us of this?

Complacency that's so much in vogue,
while evil lurks about all rogue.
We "send our prayers" but is that all?
To our knees we never fall

We cry out loud "God fix this mess!"
For our children's sake, we accept no less!
God answers back with tear-filled eyes,
"Children, I fear you bought the lies,"

"That politics can change the heart
But laws and change--so far apart
No decree or rule will end this mess
No, you must turn and then confess."

"The place where you'll finish and start
begins and ends with the heart.
You must not look down your nose
Pray for your neighbor, love your foes"

"Keep yourself free of pride
your flaws you'll no longer hide
Love the one who's full of hate
Be strong, no matter what your fate."

"The blood that's shed by evil men
is only quelled by more blood then
a life it takes to create peace
a life not filled with any ease."

"A thankless, grueling, uphill fight
is what it takes to end this plight.
My Son He died to pay the price
anything less would not suffice."

"What started up above on high
is now being fought before your eyes.
It's not with man you really war,
This battle is for so much more."

"It will take great bravery
to stand firm to the end with Me.
This is not a fight for the weak
but for those willing to speak."

We shake our heads and look around
who'll do the work, where is he found?
And as we look from left to right
Looking for who'll fight the fight

The answer comes so very clear
It is just what we all had feared
The awful job that's left to do


"My child, that is why there's you."