"Jeshurun grew fat and kicked; filled with food, he became heavy and sleek. He abandoned the God who made him and rejected the Rock his Savior." Deuteronomy 32:15
Allow me to begin by introducing to you a young woman from Brentwood, Tennessee by the name of Katie. Katie, according to American standards, had everything a teen could want; she had rich parents, lived in a nice house, drove a cute car, and got dates. But it was not what God wanted. When she was seventeen years old, Katie felt called to go to Uganda. Knowing that she was only thinking short-term, her dad dropped her off at a safe mission institution, where his daughter could fulfill her call in Uganda and return home in one piece. When she did return, however, Katie horrified him with the news that God had called her to Uganda to live perhaps permanently! Thus, this courageous young woman set out for the impoverished country of Uganda with God as her compass, striding into whatever adventure there awaited her.
And what an adventure it has been! Still in her early twenties and not yet married, she is raising 12 or 13 (I forgot which it was) children she adopted as her own and feeding about 300 other little ones twice daily. In many different ways, God has already used her young life to bring Himself to the people of Uganda. She gets frustrated sometimes, yes, but keeps in close touch with God, Who, through signs of his approval, has shown her that she is exactly where He would have her be.
When asked if she ever feels threatened in a place such as Uganda, Katie answers blatantly that she believes America is the more dangerous place, with the souls of sinners masquerading behind our never-ending cycle of strive to obtain, obtain, become unsatisfied, and strive to obtain again. She thinks it suffocating to live in a country which so hypocritically seems to gain happiness through material items instead of God.
Many Christian Americans would protest to the aforementioned remarks, arguing that it is equally difficult to follow God no matter where one is, and perhaps also that God is the number-one Thing on their to-do list, so they are finding the most happiness and satisfaction from Him that they can. But if we truly examine ourselves, do we find this to be true?
When I was in Guatemala, many "trials" worthy of a modern American freak-out occurred: it rained all the time, I was almost never warm, the roads were slushy and made my feet dirty, one of our hotels didn't have water daily for almost the full day (which meant no showers), my outfits got washed twice over three weeks' time, full vanloads of us nearly died several times driving on the mountain passes (which really taught us to pray), had to wash our hands in the same water the church-dwelling families brushed their teeth, washed their clothes, and did the dishes in (hand-sanitizer serving as our only soap), and I could go on.
And yet I consider that trip the best experience of my life. From Ester's hearth-side meals to K'anjob'al lessons, the little girls in the pew behind me singing out to their heavenly Father to the joyous singing we enjoyed within our own circle. We never argued, and, in a short span of time, we became a family to make up for the ones we had left behind. We were given a tri-cultural experience (Jamaicans joined up with our team in Guatemala City). And, surprisingly, though I had left nearly all my earthly treasures at home, I found myself spiritually blossoming as I relied on God for the necessities I lacked.
You see, as the verse mentioned at the top of this post says, we become spiritually obese if we allow ourselves to chase after the things of this world. No matter what we might think, theybecome our gods, not God Himself. It is an interesting "coincidence" that I grew closer to God than I have ever been while still deprived of modern American household posessions, is it not? Or perhaps Katie is right, and America's self-absorbed habits are spiritually stagnating the growth of believers.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Where is God?
I can see them now, trapped beneath the rubble. Conscious for days but unable to move. All around them, they hear the noises of others being pulled from similar predicaments. They try to scream, but the sound is silenced by the wreckage. In breathless patience, they hope that they won't have to be under there for much longer. They think of their families and wonder whether they survived. Some cry out to God. Others doubt His presence even more.
In view of the amount of attention Haiti has received these past few weeks due to the devastating earthquake that ravaged Port-au-Prince on January 12th, perhaps it is a little cliche of me to speak of it now. But for the present, it provides a great example of God's great hands quietly working in the background of such razement.
Yes, it's a bit hard to believe that God was involved in something as terrible as the Haitian disaster, but we must remember that the whole world is His, and He has a plan for everyone in it. I think that whether we recognize it or not, most American Christians have settled for belief in a fair-weather God. When everything is going great for us, halelujah! God must care! But as soon as our sheltered lives demand us to step out upon the raging waves, we rush to the helm, knock God out of our way, and quickly steer ourselves as far from the storm as possible, not realizing that we are missing some of the greatest chances to let God shine through us.
When people look at situations such as Haiti, it is not uncommon for them to ask themselves where God was. As Christians, we must understand enough about God's dealings with mankind to recognize His will playing out in the earth. God most likely was saddened for those thousands that lost their lives and loved ones. But He never tooks His eyes off the big picture He has envisioned for the world's redemption. He knew that, in the end, we would be better off because of it. Already, many people are hearing the Gospel as Christian survivors worship and pray. One congregation even placed benches outside of the church building for those affected by the earthquake. It is said that the glorious noise was wonderful, the wounded singing to the Savior along with those who remained relatively unscathed. In a land of death and darkness, a torch of life and light still burned strongly. In the blur of confusion, God is making Himself clear to the world.
Also, with the sudden inflow of personnel from developed countries, attention is at last being given to the financial state of Haiti, which is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. God, while drawing the world to Himself, might also be drawing us out of our comfortable slumber and awakening us to the needs of others.
We are children of God. Since the Bible commands us that we are supposed to strive to be like Him, we are obligated to carry out His qualities in every area of our life. This does not exclude looking at the big picture, or, in our case, looking for the big picture. Only then will we be able to answer non-Christians (and ourselves!) with truth when confronted with the question "Where is God?"
In view of the amount of attention Haiti has received these past few weeks due to the devastating earthquake that ravaged Port-au-Prince on January 12th, perhaps it is a little cliche of me to speak of it now. But for the present, it provides a great example of God's great hands quietly working in the background of such razement.
Yes, it's a bit hard to believe that God was involved in something as terrible as the Haitian disaster, but we must remember that the whole world is His, and He has a plan for everyone in it. I think that whether we recognize it or not, most American Christians have settled for belief in a fair-weather God. When everything is going great for us, halelujah! God must care! But as soon as our sheltered lives demand us to step out upon the raging waves, we rush to the helm, knock God out of our way, and quickly steer ourselves as far from the storm as possible, not realizing that we are missing some of the greatest chances to let God shine through us.
When people look at situations such as Haiti, it is not uncommon for them to ask themselves where God was. As Christians, we must understand enough about God's dealings with mankind to recognize His will playing out in the earth. God most likely was saddened for those thousands that lost their lives and loved ones. But He never tooks His eyes off the big picture He has envisioned for the world's redemption. He knew that, in the end, we would be better off because of it. Already, many people are hearing the Gospel as Christian survivors worship and pray. One congregation even placed benches outside of the church building for those affected by the earthquake. It is said that the glorious noise was wonderful, the wounded singing to the Savior along with those who remained relatively unscathed. In a land of death and darkness, a torch of life and light still burned strongly. In the blur of confusion, God is making Himself clear to the world.
Also, with the sudden inflow of personnel from developed countries, attention is at last being given to the financial state of Haiti, which is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. God, while drawing the world to Himself, might also be drawing us out of our comfortable slumber and awakening us to the needs of others.
We are children of God. Since the Bible commands us that we are supposed to strive to be like Him, we are obligated to carry out His qualities in every area of our life. This does not exclude looking at the big picture, or, in our case, looking for the big picture. Only then will we be able to answer non-Christians (and ourselves!) with truth when confronted with the question "Where is God?"
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Excerpt from The Blood of the Lamb
Note: So I thought it was about time I posted another one of my excerpts. The book is still the same one as I previously posting from. This one is slightly lengthy and probably a little rough in spots, but it'll be in shape soon enough! Anyway, enjoy!
The scent of roasting deer steamed from the carcass simmering on the spit. Smoke curled into the air, marring the starry, flawless presence with its black eminence. Stomach growling as he turned the juicy hunk of meat, Castor glanced through the flames at his companion. She sat, hand tucked neatly beneath her chin, leaning forward eagerly.
Slowly, the boy released his breath, rubbing his red, chaffed hands near the hearth. Casting his eyes away from hers, he concentrated absently upon a diminishing branch, watching its once-vibrant life perish completely beneath the merciless fire.
The juicy fat of the deer hissed as it simmered down its side. Jerking, Castor pricked the darkening hide with the tip of his sword. Like butter, it slipped into the innards, releasing a steady stream of smoke. The scent of fresh, sizzling meat steamed out with it, permeating the air with its mouth-watering temptation as Castor peeled back the skin. Healthy, brown flesh grinned back at him with faint glow.
Withdrawing his weapon from the animal’s side, he removed the spit from over the hearth and braced it between his legs. As he rummaged along his belt in search of his knife, he caught Arrenia’s expectant gaze. Quickly, he averted his attention.
Gahh! Cut himself on that stupid blade again!
Smearing his bloodied finger upon the hem of his shirt, he extracted the bothersome knife from around his waist and set it upon the waiting meal-to-be. Shaved hastily off the bone, chunky slices of meat tumbled one-by-one into the young hunter’s callused hand.
With a haphazard toss over the flames, he threw one to Arrenia. “Here. Eat. It might be a while before we have a good meal again.”
Sinking her teeth into the recesses of the fleshy dinner, Arrenia allowed the delicious tenderness to erupt in flavor upon her tongue, chewing mechanically. Not for a second did her eyes leave her companion. She set her portion aside. “You know, Castor, there’s no reason for us to hide anything from each other.”
He continued to saw away at the carcass. “What do you mean?”
She leaned forward. “We are on this journey together, Castor, whatever it is. I told you my dream.”
He sighed, resting the half-hacked hunk of meat gently against his leg. Slowly, the knife slipped from its cleaving grip and hung limply in the mid air, reflecting in its blood-stained sheen the spitting, cackling flames. Rising and sagging with breadth of a sigh, his body wrestled with the weariness threatening to overtake him. He ran his thumb and middle finger over his eyebrows, methodically massaging his tumultuous thoughts into order.
Why, oh why, now?! he wondered.
“Castor?” Arrenia said, her voice riddled with concern.
The boy sighed again. “Hmmm?”
“Is everything all right?”
Mustering whatever courage he could salvage from the wreckage of his mind, he dragged himself to a more erect posture. Arrenia’s lips parted slightly as she saw sleeplessness’s indelible lines encircling his eyes. For the first time in the entire night, he held her gaze. “You must understand, Arrenia, that many things have changed this night. Our future is uncertain. Nothing may ever be right again.”
He held his breath, watching her smooth, delicate face for some indication of emotion. Illumined by the fire, it surfaced softly from the dark abyss, shining in its fragile innocence yet strengthened by a courage beyond compare. No expression of happiness adorned her features, yet neither did oppression nor discouragement. The vulnerability of a woman graced her every move, yet the determination of a man palpitated in her heart. Even now, her jaw dangled slightly agape, as if she was already drinking the cup fate had placed in her hand.
He burrowed his brows. “You are not afraid?”
Running a dry tongue over her lips, she hung her head, employing her hands in the mindless caress of her food. “We must make the best of the future.”
His heart skipped a beat. Had the world ever seen a girl with so much tender resolve? With so much reserve and yet so much passion? With so much of the essence of life itself? Even enough to throw it into this journey, without even thinking twice! His arms ached to hold her. His heart longed for her own.
But sweet serenades and expressions of his growing adoration would have to wait. She was a princess of Lydacia. He, a prince of Sleyvink.
What an ironic coincidence, he beamed to himself, that we, politically sworn enemies, should here be unified by such unusual circumstances.
Bending down, he tossed another stick into the flames, trying to redeem its dwindling embers enough to warm the chill shivering within him. The night wrapped about his being like a cold blanket as a slight breeze rustled the peace of the glade. Jumping sharply back into life, the fire first embraced, then consumed the new source of life sacrificed to it.
Releasing his pent-up breath, Castor abandoned his seat. Arrenia sat up, confusion knitting her brows as she observed him. Darkness hid him as he walked farther away from the glow of the hearth, shrouding his actions in a black veil of mystery. As the seconds drew on, her pulse accelerated.
“What are you doing?”
No answer.
A small tingle tantalized her spine. Her skin prickled with premonitions as the boughs of the trees began to slowly dance in the wind’s hypnotic sway. Clamorously, half-formed hypotheses churned in her brain, each raising its vociferous cry above the others. She covered her ears, but the rain of incessant suppositions only drummed louder upon her mind.
Oh,, why am I here? Why did I come?
The mare was slumbering blissfully when Castor approached her. Inserting his hand carefully into the sack she carried, he groped his way around the vast recesses of the canvas bag, his touch alighting upon one unseen object after another. Disturbed, the creature shifted her weight around and snorted. Tenderly, Castor ran his fingers down her soft, silky neck, whispering comfortingly to her in fluent Sleyvinkian.
“Nytok sino nar, yin lint unik. Ogek ta peel.” The night is fair, my little one. Go to sleep.
Blinking, the animal stared back at him before bringing her head to rest upon her hooves once again. Castor patted her back, saying to her as he returned his attention to his previous search, “There’s my little lady.”
Moments passed by, the precious minutes of the night beginning to slip beneath his fingertips. The boy risked a glance up into the recesses of the zenith. How much longer did they have until dawn? Merrily, the starry hosts winked down at him, giggling at his imploring wonder. Flaunting their glistening, silver robes, they snickered between themselves, as if they received gratification for keeping the answer just out his reach.
Deftly, Castor yanked ajar the mouth of the bag, allowing these playful children of the sky to be of some use and cast at least one enlightening ray into the depths of his confusion. A glimmer caught his eye. Reaching into the sack once more, he followed the canvas wall downward just a bit until elation seared up his arm. He grabbed the two halves of the medallion, returned quickly to the fire, and lowered himself upon the arboreal stub.
“So?” Arrenia pestered. “What were you doing?”
He held up the separate objects, so that the light of the hearth would fall upon them. Gasping, she jumped backward, gripping her seat until caps of white hallooed her knuckles. The color drained from her countenance, turning her lovely, vibrant cheeks into gray, ashen wastelands.
Without uttering a single sound, she rose. Taking short, tentative steps, she approached her partner, the two golden objects never leaving her sight. She kneeled to the ground, bringing them at eye-level with herself. The words coherent enough to escape being snagged in her throat perished upon her tongue as her mouth dropped open. Cautiously, she stroked their shiny, flawless surfaces. She shook her head.
Two medallions, almost identical in every way. Two halves of the same medallion. Seemingly made for one another, the jagged lines corresponded directly. Where one ended, the other began.
Two halves of the same mystery, she thought, sliding the pieces into each other. A perfect Lamb. Two halves of the same puzzle.
She looked at Castor. “Where did you get this?”
“In Sleyvink, we have an annual sparring tournament. It is a rigorous test; a true test of manhood....”
“And you won?”
He nodded. “ ‘I was informed in a dream to give it to the one who conquers,’ the man told me. ‘Run and find the girl. The prophecy…is you.”
Arrenia grasped his knee. “But what does it mean?”
Slowly, he turned his head towards her. Eagerness waltzed with fear upon the radiant ballroom of her expression. Moonlight gently flooded the glade, lighting every object with a fragile glow. As if about to snap beneath the pressure of the nearing future, the whole earth seemed to tremble.
Embracing her dainty hands with his caressing grip, he looked affectionately down at her. She started slightly at his touch, but then relaxed under his gentle care. In one moment, he smiled. For this last instant in time, everything seemed perfect.
But only seemed. There were still a thousand woes to be crossed, a thousand atrocities left to tell. And all in the breadth of a single night.
His smile vanished.
Arrenia tightened her grasp around his own. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
He tapped his foot. Finally, he said, “Oh, Arrenia, how can I tell you this? It will change everything you’ve ever known. It-”
She laid a hand over his. “I’m ready for it, I promise.”
Gulping, he sucked the oxygen into his lungs. “It’s about the medallions. You and I are…well…fated to be together.”
Little furrows ran into her brow as she cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
The fire tossed estranged rays of light upon the boy’s countenance, his features dancing in and out of the shadows. Lapping at the air, the tongues of flame drank the atmosphere into a breathless silence. As soon as it surfaced, cold sweat tingled Arrenia’s skin, bathing her in its aroused waters. She shivered.
Dragging the precious oxygen deep into his lungs, Castor said, “Arrenia, what if we’re more than we think we are? What if someone, generations before the birth of our grandfathers, foresaw our being and foretold our futures?”
Her fingers coiled themselves around his, the cold sweat of her palms bleeding onto his own. “Castor, don’t frighten me.”
Sweeping a stray piece of hair away from her countenance, his fingers lingered, caught in the thickets of her lovely tresses. “It’s the truth, little maiden. Like it or not, someone has predicted our existence…and installed our fate.” He searched her face. “You have a thousand questions. I see them in your eyes, and I wish I could answer them…Oh, Arrenia, so much is left unsaid! It troubles me greatly. I want to protect you, yet the road is perilous, and the world is against us. I am only one man. How can I live up to the responsibility?”
Her lips vanished in a thin white line as her brain slowly gnawed upon this information. Removing her grasp from his own, she laid her hand on his cheek, wooing his gaze back into hers. “No man can stop a warrior who sets his mind to the task before him.”
The stress burdening his countenance evaporated like a veil of mist shrouding his face. Water droplets glistened in his eyes almost as quickly as he could blink them away. One or two even cut meandering paths on his soil-laden cheeks. Sniffing, he smeared them away, struggling to maintain the stability of his voice. “Thank you, Arrenia.”
Without replying, the girl took up his half of the medallion, watching the light snag different facets of it as she turned it slowly. The golden surface shone with a brazen polish; not a spot marred its beautiful complexion. The glowing illumination emanating from the hearth playfully extracted the tiniest details from the shadows of intricacy, revealing their hiding places.
She allowed her fingers to gently brush its fine mounds and valleys, tracing every element in speechless wonder. In the center, the face of a lamb stared back at her. It’s shallow, sculpted eyes stared back at her with a depth that escaped the skill of any artist she had ever seen. Certainly, they seemed to truly seek her own. To capture her with the spirit of their penetrating gaze. To draw her in and hold her fast, perhaps never letting her go. She stared at it, marveling at the mystery set before her.
“So delicate and lovely,” she said, almost to herself. Then, turning to Castor, “What do you think is the meaning of it?”
Castor braced his elbows upon his knees. Distance glazed his eyes as he stared off into the flames. Rocking slowly, he rubbed his coarse clothing gently, subconsciously trying to ward off the chill that was settling in. A breathless moment passed….
Like standing upon a precipice, about to fall, thought Arrenia. Though she had no tangible proof, the sickening knot of premonition wrenched her stomach. Already, she could feel herself falling through thin air, hurtled from the cliff by a cruel hoax of fate. Already, the water below drummed in her ears. And then…the impact. Cold liquid rushed over her, filling her mouth, her nostrils, saturating her very being as it enveloped her in the cool clutches of darkness. And rest. Rest forevermore from this world that had wronged her so. No more Lucrious, Isabel, and step-mothers. No more hurt, no more loss, no more pain. Only darkness.
Finally, Castor wedded his gaze with hers. Solemnly, he began to speak. “Arrenia, this may not be what you want to hear, but listen. The fate of our countries, the fate of the world, rests on our shoulders. You and I will be embarking on a journey. I do not know the details, but I do know that we will be hunted, perhaps even killed in the process…You tremble.”
“I’m scared.”
Her voice cracked into the deadly silence which surrounded them. Castor sighed, leaning in closer and trying to keep her steady gaze. “We can’t shy away from fate, Arrenia. Look,” he cupped his hands about hers. “These medallions bind us together, and together we will stay. I will make sure of it. On my honor as a warrior, I will make sure of it!”
For a long minute, she looked into his eyes, the words wiped from her mouth. True sincerity ran through his fingertips, electrifying her with its simple purity. She sat back, smiling to herself, content to be in his embracive presence. Suddenly, she threw her arms about his neck and felt with sheer joy his arms slowly wrapping about her.
“Thank you, Castor,” she said.
Pushing her softly away, he glanced upwards. “Ahh, but look how the sky grows light!” He rose. “We must hurry little maiden, if we are to reach our destination before sundown.”
Picking herself up, Arrenia scooped up the dirty plates. “Where are we going?”
Castor went over to the mare and gently dragged her to her feet. “To the home of an old and wise friend. If anyone will be able to tell us the full secret of the medallions, it’s him.”
The scent of roasting deer steamed from the carcass simmering on the spit. Smoke curled into the air, marring the starry, flawless presence with its black eminence. Stomach growling as he turned the juicy hunk of meat, Castor glanced through the flames at his companion. She sat, hand tucked neatly beneath her chin, leaning forward eagerly.
Slowly, the boy released his breath, rubbing his red, chaffed hands near the hearth. Casting his eyes away from hers, he concentrated absently upon a diminishing branch, watching its once-vibrant life perish completely beneath the merciless fire.
The juicy fat of the deer hissed as it simmered down its side. Jerking, Castor pricked the darkening hide with the tip of his sword. Like butter, it slipped into the innards, releasing a steady stream of smoke. The scent of fresh, sizzling meat steamed out with it, permeating the air with its mouth-watering temptation as Castor peeled back the skin. Healthy, brown flesh grinned back at him with faint glow.
Withdrawing his weapon from the animal’s side, he removed the spit from over the hearth and braced it between his legs. As he rummaged along his belt in search of his knife, he caught Arrenia’s expectant gaze. Quickly, he averted his attention.
Gahh! Cut himself on that stupid blade again!
Smearing his bloodied finger upon the hem of his shirt, he extracted the bothersome knife from around his waist and set it upon the waiting meal-to-be. Shaved hastily off the bone, chunky slices of meat tumbled one-by-one into the young hunter’s callused hand.
With a haphazard toss over the flames, he threw one to Arrenia. “Here. Eat. It might be a while before we have a good meal again.”
Sinking her teeth into the recesses of the fleshy dinner, Arrenia allowed the delicious tenderness to erupt in flavor upon her tongue, chewing mechanically. Not for a second did her eyes leave her companion. She set her portion aside. “You know, Castor, there’s no reason for us to hide anything from each other.”
He continued to saw away at the carcass. “What do you mean?”
She leaned forward. “We are on this journey together, Castor, whatever it is. I told you my dream.”
He sighed, resting the half-hacked hunk of meat gently against his leg. Slowly, the knife slipped from its cleaving grip and hung limply in the mid air, reflecting in its blood-stained sheen the spitting, cackling flames. Rising and sagging with breadth of a sigh, his body wrestled with the weariness threatening to overtake him. He ran his thumb and middle finger over his eyebrows, methodically massaging his tumultuous thoughts into order.
Why, oh why, now?! he wondered.
“Castor?” Arrenia said, her voice riddled with concern.
The boy sighed again. “Hmmm?”
“Is everything all right?”
Mustering whatever courage he could salvage from the wreckage of his mind, he dragged himself to a more erect posture. Arrenia’s lips parted slightly as she saw sleeplessness’s indelible lines encircling his eyes. For the first time in the entire night, he held her gaze. “You must understand, Arrenia, that many things have changed this night. Our future is uncertain. Nothing may ever be right again.”
He held his breath, watching her smooth, delicate face for some indication of emotion. Illumined by the fire, it surfaced softly from the dark abyss, shining in its fragile innocence yet strengthened by a courage beyond compare. No expression of happiness adorned her features, yet neither did oppression nor discouragement. The vulnerability of a woman graced her every move, yet the determination of a man palpitated in her heart. Even now, her jaw dangled slightly agape, as if she was already drinking the cup fate had placed in her hand.
He burrowed his brows. “You are not afraid?”
Running a dry tongue over her lips, she hung her head, employing her hands in the mindless caress of her food. “We must make the best of the future.”
His heart skipped a beat. Had the world ever seen a girl with so much tender resolve? With so much reserve and yet so much passion? With so much of the essence of life itself? Even enough to throw it into this journey, without even thinking twice! His arms ached to hold her. His heart longed for her own.
But sweet serenades and expressions of his growing adoration would have to wait. She was a princess of Lydacia. He, a prince of Sleyvink.
What an ironic coincidence, he beamed to himself, that we, politically sworn enemies, should here be unified by such unusual circumstances.
Bending down, he tossed another stick into the flames, trying to redeem its dwindling embers enough to warm the chill shivering within him. The night wrapped about his being like a cold blanket as a slight breeze rustled the peace of the glade. Jumping sharply back into life, the fire first embraced, then consumed the new source of life sacrificed to it.
Releasing his pent-up breath, Castor abandoned his seat. Arrenia sat up, confusion knitting her brows as she observed him. Darkness hid him as he walked farther away from the glow of the hearth, shrouding his actions in a black veil of mystery. As the seconds drew on, her pulse accelerated.
“What are you doing?”
No answer.
A small tingle tantalized her spine. Her skin prickled with premonitions as the boughs of the trees began to slowly dance in the wind’s hypnotic sway. Clamorously, half-formed hypotheses churned in her brain, each raising its vociferous cry above the others. She covered her ears, but the rain of incessant suppositions only drummed louder upon her mind.
Oh,, why am I here? Why did I come?
The mare was slumbering blissfully when Castor approached her. Inserting his hand carefully into the sack she carried, he groped his way around the vast recesses of the canvas bag, his touch alighting upon one unseen object after another. Disturbed, the creature shifted her weight around and snorted. Tenderly, Castor ran his fingers down her soft, silky neck, whispering comfortingly to her in fluent Sleyvinkian.
“Nytok sino nar, yin lint unik. Ogek ta peel.” The night is fair, my little one. Go to sleep.
Blinking, the animal stared back at him before bringing her head to rest upon her hooves once again. Castor patted her back, saying to her as he returned his attention to his previous search, “There’s my little lady.”
Moments passed by, the precious minutes of the night beginning to slip beneath his fingertips. The boy risked a glance up into the recesses of the zenith. How much longer did they have until dawn? Merrily, the starry hosts winked down at him, giggling at his imploring wonder. Flaunting their glistening, silver robes, they snickered between themselves, as if they received gratification for keeping the answer just out his reach.
Deftly, Castor yanked ajar the mouth of the bag, allowing these playful children of the sky to be of some use and cast at least one enlightening ray into the depths of his confusion. A glimmer caught his eye. Reaching into the sack once more, he followed the canvas wall downward just a bit until elation seared up his arm. He grabbed the two halves of the medallion, returned quickly to the fire, and lowered himself upon the arboreal stub.
“So?” Arrenia pestered. “What were you doing?”
He held up the separate objects, so that the light of the hearth would fall upon them. Gasping, she jumped backward, gripping her seat until caps of white hallooed her knuckles. The color drained from her countenance, turning her lovely, vibrant cheeks into gray, ashen wastelands.
Without uttering a single sound, she rose. Taking short, tentative steps, she approached her partner, the two golden objects never leaving her sight. She kneeled to the ground, bringing them at eye-level with herself. The words coherent enough to escape being snagged in her throat perished upon her tongue as her mouth dropped open. Cautiously, she stroked their shiny, flawless surfaces. She shook her head.
Two medallions, almost identical in every way. Two halves of the same medallion. Seemingly made for one another, the jagged lines corresponded directly. Where one ended, the other began.
Two halves of the same mystery, she thought, sliding the pieces into each other. A perfect Lamb. Two halves of the same puzzle.
She looked at Castor. “Where did you get this?”
“In Sleyvink, we have an annual sparring tournament. It is a rigorous test; a true test of manhood....”
“And you won?”
He nodded. “ ‘I was informed in a dream to give it to the one who conquers,’ the man told me. ‘Run and find the girl. The prophecy…is you.”
Arrenia grasped his knee. “But what does it mean?”
Slowly, he turned his head towards her. Eagerness waltzed with fear upon the radiant ballroom of her expression. Moonlight gently flooded the glade, lighting every object with a fragile glow. As if about to snap beneath the pressure of the nearing future, the whole earth seemed to tremble.
Embracing her dainty hands with his caressing grip, he looked affectionately down at her. She started slightly at his touch, but then relaxed under his gentle care. In one moment, he smiled. For this last instant in time, everything seemed perfect.
But only seemed. There were still a thousand woes to be crossed, a thousand atrocities left to tell. And all in the breadth of a single night.
His smile vanished.
Arrenia tightened her grasp around his own. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
He tapped his foot. Finally, he said, “Oh, Arrenia, how can I tell you this? It will change everything you’ve ever known. It-”
She laid a hand over his. “I’m ready for it, I promise.”
Gulping, he sucked the oxygen into his lungs. “It’s about the medallions. You and I are…well…fated to be together.”
Little furrows ran into her brow as she cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
The fire tossed estranged rays of light upon the boy’s countenance, his features dancing in and out of the shadows. Lapping at the air, the tongues of flame drank the atmosphere into a breathless silence. As soon as it surfaced, cold sweat tingled Arrenia’s skin, bathing her in its aroused waters. She shivered.
Dragging the precious oxygen deep into his lungs, Castor said, “Arrenia, what if we’re more than we think we are? What if someone, generations before the birth of our grandfathers, foresaw our being and foretold our futures?”
Her fingers coiled themselves around his, the cold sweat of her palms bleeding onto his own. “Castor, don’t frighten me.”
Sweeping a stray piece of hair away from her countenance, his fingers lingered, caught in the thickets of her lovely tresses. “It’s the truth, little maiden. Like it or not, someone has predicted our existence…and installed our fate.” He searched her face. “You have a thousand questions. I see them in your eyes, and I wish I could answer them…Oh, Arrenia, so much is left unsaid! It troubles me greatly. I want to protect you, yet the road is perilous, and the world is against us. I am only one man. How can I live up to the responsibility?”
Her lips vanished in a thin white line as her brain slowly gnawed upon this information. Removing her grasp from his own, she laid her hand on his cheek, wooing his gaze back into hers. “No man can stop a warrior who sets his mind to the task before him.”
The stress burdening his countenance evaporated like a veil of mist shrouding his face. Water droplets glistened in his eyes almost as quickly as he could blink them away. One or two even cut meandering paths on his soil-laden cheeks. Sniffing, he smeared them away, struggling to maintain the stability of his voice. “Thank you, Arrenia.”
Without replying, the girl took up his half of the medallion, watching the light snag different facets of it as she turned it slowly. The golden surface shone with a brazen polish; not a spot marred its beautiful complexion. The glowing illumination emanating from the hearth playfully extracted the tiniest details from the shadows of intricacy, revealing their hiding places.
She allowed her fingers to gently brush its fine mounds and valleys, tracing every element in speechless wonder. In the center, the face of a lamb stared back at her. It’s shallow, sculpted eyes stared back at her with a depth that escaped the skill of any artist she had ever seen. Certainly, they seemed to truly seek her own. To capture her with the spirit of their penetrating gaze. To draw her in and hold her fast, perhaps never letting her go. She stared at it, marveling at the mystery set before her.
“So delicate and lovely,” she said, almost to herself. Then, turning to Castor, “What do you think is the meaning of it?”
Castor braced his elbows upon his knees. Distance glazed his eyes as he stared off into the flames. Rocking slowly, he rubbed his coarse clothing gently, subconsciously trying to ward off the chill that was settling in. A breathless moment passed….
Like standing upon a precipice, about to fall, thought Arrenia. Though she had no tangible proof, the sickening knot of premonition wrenched her stomach. Already, she could feel herself falling through thin air, hurtled from the cliff by a cruel hoax of fate. Already, the water below drummed in her ears. And then…the impact. Cold liquid rushed over her, filling her mouth, her nostrils, saturating her very being as it enveloped her in the cool clutches of darkness. And rest. Rest forevermore from this world that had wronged her so. No more Lucrious, Isabel, and step-mothers. No more hurt, no more loss, no more pain. Only darkness.
Finally, Castor wedded his gaze with hers. Solemnly, he began to speak. “Arrenia, this may not be what you want to hear, but listen. The fate of our countries, the fate of the world, rests on our shoulders. You and I will be embarking on a journey. I do not know the details, but I do know that we will be hunted, perhaps even killed in the process…You tremble.”
“I’m scared.”
Her voice cracked into the deadly silence which surrounded them. Castor sighed, leaning in closer and trying to keep her steady gaze. “We can’t shy away from fate, Arrenia. Look,” he cupped his hands about hers. “These medallions bind us together, and together we will stay. I will make sure of it. On my honor as a warrior, I will make sure of it!”
For a long minute, she looked into his eyes, the words wiped from her mouth. True sincerity ran through his fingertips, electrifying her with its simple purity. She sat back, smiling to herself, content to be in his embracive presence. Suddenly, she threw her arms about his neck and felt with sheer joy his arms slowly wrapping about her.
“Thank you, Castor,” she said.
Pushing her softly away, he glanced upwards. “Ahh, but look how the sky grows light!” He rose. “We must hurry little maiden, if we are to reach our destination before sundown.”
Picking herself up, Arrenia scooped up the dirty plates. “Where are we going?”
Castor went over to the mare and gently dragged her to her feet. “To the home of an old and wise friend. If anyone will be able to tell us the full secret of the medallions, it’s him.”
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Wait for the Sun- a Tribute to Haiti
Weeks ago, the small island of Haiti was hit with a disaster that shook the world...a 9.1 earthquake, centered at Port-au-Prince, the nation's capital. In a single day buildings crumbled, the national palace, and, in the words of the first lady, Port-au-Prince was "...completely destroyed."
More devastating than the loss of the city, however, was the loss of life. Conscious and unconscious, living, breathing people are trapped beneath the rubble. Amputations of trapped limbs is becoming a common practice. 200,000 people are suspected dead, thousands are wounded, and with the collapse of a hospital? The Haitians are in need of much medical help.
Thankfully, the world rose to their rescue.From all over the world, doctors are flying into the country with medical supplies, orphan children received expedited passports to come to the United States and either meet their families or be put in foster care, and even ordinary people leapt at any chance they got to raid their medicine cabinets for anything they didn't use and/or donate money.
And yet, because of her previous financial afflictions, Haiti will take a long time to rehabilitate. We must remember to always keep the Haitians in prayer, that God would protect them and be with them, and shine brightly in the midst in their darkness.
It was with this mindset that I wrote Wait for the Sun, which emphasizes our need to hold out for the better times ahead during hard times, and the assurance that God will be there for us. Enjoy!
When the earth shakes,
And your whole world breaks,
Will you be crushed by the insanity?
When the bright day ends,
And the darkness begins,
Will you surrender to reality?
Well, don't give in,
At least not now.
There's a day ahead,
Without any clouds.
Chorus
Just wait for the sun,
For it will shine,
Upon the earth anew.
And it will smile,
With the sweet sign,
That God has not forgotten you.
So hold on now,
Though the day is done,
Hold on now,
And wait for the sun.
When the four walls,
You're livin in,
Slowly give way,
Will you cave on in?
When the way's unclear,
Will you live in fear?
Or will you take your life,
In stride?
Chorus
When you can't see,
Your destiny,
Will faith be your only guide?
Or in your despair,
Will you not see it there?
In the darkness will you hide?
Chorus
'Cause this day ain't done,
Wait for the sun.
More devastating than the loss of the city, however, was the loss of life. Conscious and unconscious, living, breathing people are trapped beneath the rubble. Amputations of trapped limbs is becoming a common practice. 200,000 people are suspected dead, thousands are wounded, and with the collapse of a hospital? The Haitians are in need of much medical help.
Thankfully, the world rose to their rescue.From all over the world, doctors are flying into the country with medical supplies, orphan children received expedited passports to come to the United States and either meet their families or be put in foster care, and even ordinary people leapt at any chance they got to raid their medicine cabinets for anything they didn't use and/or donate money.
And yet, because of her previous financial afflictions, Haiti will take a long time to rehabilitate. We must remember to always keep the Haitians in prayer, that God would protect them and be with them, and shine brightly in the midst in their darkness.
It was with this mindset that I wrote Wait for the Sun, which emphasizes our need to hold out for the better times ahead during hard times, and the assurance that God will be there for us. Enjoy!
When the earth shakes,
And your whole world breaks,
Will you be crushed by the insanity?
When the bright day ends,
And the darkness begins,
Will you surrender to reality?
Well, don't give in,
At least not now.
There's a day ahead,
Without any clouds.
Chorus
Just wait for the sun,
For it will shine,
Upon the earth anew.
And it will smile,
With the sweet sign,
That God has not forgotten you.
So hold on now,
Though the day is done,
Hold on now,
And wait for the sun.
When the four walls,
You're livin in,
Slowly give way,
Will you cave on in?
When the way's unclear,
Will you live in fear?
Or will you take your life,
In stride?
Chorus
When you can't see,
Your destiny,
Will faith be your only guide?
Or in your despair,
Will you not see it there?
In the darkness will you hide?
Chorus
'Cause this day ain't done,
Wait for the sun.
Friday, December 18, 2009
A Song that I Wrote
Hey, guys! So I feel I need to do a little explaining on this one because it is kinda different than my usual songs. I wrote it completely without a story to back it up, but it's about a girl who just broke up with her boyfriend but can't seem to get him quite out of her mind. So please don't think that when I say the term "haunting" that I mean actual ghosts and spirits...more of an image as to how she's feeling.
In this song, I wanted to capture a bit of the feeling of Daughtry's Ghost of Me twisted nicely with the echoing, poppish break-up sounds of Kelly Clarkson's Already Gone. I love both of those songs immensely, so I was a little skeptical in attempting to make my own. By the grace of God, I got through it, however.
Well, here is my latest song, "Haunting Me Tonight". Enjoy!
When we said goodbye,
Didn't think I'd try,
To get you back one last time.
I tried to find,
Some peace of mind,
To spare me from my memories.
Chorus
So why does your stare,
Still haunt me,
With the way you looked in my eyes?
I can feel you there,
Beside me.
Why is thin air your one disguise?
Baby, you're haunting me tonight.
I look around,
And all I see,
Is the shadow of your memory.
You're in my heart,
And in my head,
Like you're just another part of me.
Chorus
I must be insane,
For calling your name,
And tryin' to ressurect the past.
I don't know what to do,
Can't live without you.
I'm trying to let this feeling pass.
Chorus
In this song, I wanted to capture a bit of the feeling of Daughtry's Ghost of Me twisted nicely with the echoing, poppish break-up sounds of Kelly Clarkson's Already Gone. I love both of those songs immensely, so I was a little skeptical in attempting to make my own. By the grace of God, I got through it, however.
Well, here is my latest song, "Haunting Me Tonight". Enjoy!
When we said goodbye,
Didn't think I'd try,
To get you back one last time.
I tried to find,
Some peace of mind,
To spare me from my memories.
Chorus
So why does your stare,
Still haunt me,
With the way you looked in my eyes?
I can feel you there,
Beside me.
Why is thin air your one disguise?
Baby, you're haunting me tonight.
I look around,
And all I see,
Is the shadow of your memory.
You're in my heart,
And in my head,
Like you're just another part of me.
Chorus
I must be insane,
For calling your name,
And tryin' to ressurect the past.
I don't know what to do,
Can't live without you.
I'm trying to let this feeling pass.
Chorus
Friday, November 27, 2009
Giving Thanks to God
We give thanks to You, O God, we give thanks, for Your Name is near; men tell of Your wonderful deeds. Psalm 75:1
Let's not deceive ourselves, we have a lot we can be unthankful for. The market crashed last year, many of us don't have jobs, money is precious, our families and freedoms are threatened by belligerent Islamic radicals who would rather see us dead than the world at peace,friends and loved ones dying, uncertainty as the government tries to "ameliorate" our situation with a much-debated healthcare plan...the list goes on and on. But God never meant for us to fixate ourselves in what we don't have. Rather, we were made to honor and glorify Him with everything we DO have, even if it's very, very little.
Despite the good intentions of our well-meaning citizens, I am certain that God must chuckle at our inconsistency during the holiday of Thanksgiving. To demonstrate what I mean, take the example of the average American family. Bobby and Josephine sit down to enjoy an elaborate dinner with their two children, Billy and Suzie. After a quick prayer that usually mentions the things they forget to be thankful for save for once a year, they proceed to make their way around the table as each individual verbalizes that for which he or she is most thankful. Following these traditional ceremonies, they indulge in the vast feast set before them, filling their already contented stomachs with yet more food, commenting on the dishes, and topping it all off with a generous slice of pie. Oh, and come midnight? Josephine and Suzie will forget that just a few hours before they had all they ever wanted and hit up the mall for some earlybird deals, which, of course, is furnished by the money God has put in their pockets. Thanksgiving has now become Thanksglutton.
Tell yourself no falsehood...we often fall short of the grateful, contented human beings God made us to be. Just as it is our nature to resist God in every aspect, it is our nature to constantly want more. This nature is also boistered by modern American Materialism, which has effected every United States citizen in some way. It is only through Jesus Christ that we can be truly content. We must learn throw our full selves upon the cross, and surrender our lives to Him. Only then will He be enough for us, and the things that He gives will be all we need to do His will.
It's not that I'm determined to forever oppose and antagonize the aforementioned indulgences of Thanksgiving. I realize that most are just trying to have a good time with friends and family. The harmless fun that occurs should not be shunned, and indeed if I were condemning such activities, I should be sorely guilty. But I also believe there is a point to be made here; a very fine but very important line that must be recognized. The joys of any time of year, or even any day, should never overshadow our priority to praise and give thanks to our Creator. Much has changed since the pilgrims bent their knees in thanksgiving, but that doesn't mean that our sentiments have to. The Creator we were born to glorify, and we can do this by reminding ourselves, day-after-day, of everything He's given us.
As a little tributary to God, I would like to include the things I'm thankful for:
1. God's love, mercy and salvation, without which we would have no hope.
2. My loving parents who have cared for me and loved me since my very first breath.
3. My three wonderful siblings for the laughs and good times.
4. My three best friends, Katie, Ellen, and Bekah for accepting me and loving me just the way I am.
5. My new friends at Harvest Fellowship church.
6. The opportunities I have been given.
7. A house, our safety, that I was born in America where I am free to worship God, free to be homeschooled, free to have opinions (and free to have a blog on which to post those opinions!).
8. That English has a Bible printed in its language!
9. My gifts and talents.
10. All of my earthly possessions.
Now, I challenge you to write down today at least ten things that you thank God for, even if it's just little things, and be sure to let Him know how truly privileged you see yourself as for being blessed with these things. Keep it where you know you'll see it, and every time you think of something you wish you had, remember your list and everything God has given you.
May God be with you this holiday season!
Let's not deceive ourselves, we have a lot we can be unthankful for. The market crashed last year, many of us don't have jobs, money is precious, our families and freedoms are threatened by belligerent Islamic radicals who would rather see us dead than the world at peace,friends and loved ones dying, uncertainty as the government tries to "ameliorate" our situation with a much-debated healthcare plan...the list goes on and on. But God never meant for us to fixate ourselves in what we don't have. Rather, we were made to honor and glorify Him with everything we DO have, even if it's very, very little.
Despite the good intentions of our well-meaning citizens, I am certain that God must chuckle at our inconsistency during the holiday of Thanksgiving. To demonstrate what I mean, take the example of the average American family. Bobby and Josephine sit down to enjoy an elaborate dinner with their two children, Billy and Suzie. After a quick prayer that usually mentions the things they forget to be thankful for save for once a year, they proceed to make their way around the table as each individual verbalizes that for which he or she is most thankful. Following these traditional ceremonies, they indulge in the vast feast set before them, filling their already contented stomachs with yet more food, commenting on the dishes, and topping it all off with a generous slice of pie. Oh, and come midnight? Josephine and Suzie will forget that just a few hours before they had all they ever wanted and hit up the mall for some earlybird deals, which, of course, is furnished by the money God has put in their pockets. Thanksgiving has now become Thanksglutton.
Tell yourself no falsehood...we often fall short of the grateful, contented human beings God made us to be. Just as it is our nature to resist God in every aspect, it is our nature to constantly want more. This nature is also boistered by modern American Materialism, which has effected every United States citizen in some way. It is only through Jesus Christ that we can be truly content. We must learn throw our full selves upon the cross, and surrender our lives to Him. Only then will He be enough for us, and the things that He gives will be all we need to do His will.
It's not that I'm determined to forever oppose and antagonize the aforementioned indulgences of Thanksgiving. I realize that most are just trying to have a good time with friends and family. The harmless fun that occurs should not be shunned, and indeed if I were condemning such activities, I should be sorely guilty. But I also believe there is a point to be made here; a very fine but very important line that must be recognized. The joys of any time of year, or even any day, should never overshadow our priority to praise and give thanks to our Creator. Much has changed since the pilgrims bent their knees in thanksgiving, but that doesn't mean that our sentiments have to. The Creator we were born to glorify, and we can do this by reminding ourselves, day-after-day, of everything He's given us.
As a little tributary to God, I would like to include the things I'm thankful for:
1. God's love, mercy and salvation, without which we would have no hope.
2. My loving parents who have cared for me and loved me since my very first breath.
3. My three wonderful siblings for the laughs and good times.
4. My three best friends, Katie, Ellen, and Bekah for accepting me and loving me just the way I am.
5. My new friends at Harvest Fellowship church.
6. The opportunities I have been given.
7. A house, our safety, that I was born in America where I am free to worship God, free to be homeschooled, free to have opinions (and free to have a blog on which to post those opinions!).
8. That English has a Bible printed in its language!
9. My gifts and talents.
10. All of my earthly possessions.
Now, I challenge you to write down today at least ten things that you thank God for, even if it's just little things, and be sure to let Him know how truly privileged you see yourself as for being blessed with these things. Keep it where you know you'll see it, and every time you think of something you wish you had, remember your list and everything God has given you.
May God be with you this holiday season!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Day 18, June 23rd, 2009
*My alarm went off bright and early this morning (5:30, to be exact) to awaken me from the realms of slumbering night into those of dawning day. It being already in my hand, I pushed its little button and arose. Packing and preparing myself for the day, I managed to get everything ready before seven, when Arvid had demanded we be down at the church for breakfast.
We ate a hasty meal, went into the kitchen to thank our cooks and their helpers, and then went out in front for group photos. This was it. The time was approaching....
I embraced Ester, her arms about me as well. We hugged for a few moments, both very well knowing what this meant. Finally, I let go of her, farewelled a few more people, then took my place with those who had finished their good-byes.
As we were turning to go to the gate, we spotted Ester. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she swiped at them hastily as she hurried to her next task. I felt so incredibly sorry to be leaving her, but did I have a choice?Her place is here, with her people, and mine, for now, is with my people. It saddens me that I shall most likely never see her again on this earth, but we can rest assured that our loving Father is One and the Same, and that He has a perfect plan for our lives. And, in the end, we shall be gathered to Himself, and there see each other.
I would also like to pray a blessing over the children of Guatemala. Such sweet, innocent little things they are. I pray that God would bless them abundantly, put His guardian angels over them, bind the devil, and prosper their lives. I also would lie to bring forth in prayer the falsities of ancestor worship. God, please make these people realize the Truth of Your Word minus the extras they add to it! Oh, and the witch whose house we passed on the road, help her to find you.
That being said, I shall proceed with the events of the day. After breakfast, Hannah and I walked to the tortilla factor, but there was really nothing of interest there, so we went back to the hotel to get a few last minute things ready. The vans were here at 8:05, and got us all safely to Huehuetenango, thanks to God. We checked in the hotel quickly, then made our way to the Zaculeu ruins- which are remnanats of the ancient Maya! Upon rich, green grass rose temples, a ball court, quarters for priests, and the like. We were shown what is thoguth to be the bowl where they placed the hearts of their human victims, walked up the very steps the victims did...and lived to come down. We also saw the museum and did some shopping where I got a notebook for myself and a bookbag for my mom.
At 4:30, we gathered downstairs in the hotel and made our way to the dining room, where we met Jeff and Marille Nelson. They shared a bit about what they do- mostly train people to share the faith with others here in Guatemala. Some are trained as storytellers to go around telling Bible stories and then eliciting from their audience a few questions that probe into the story. Others are trained as pastors, etc.
We ate a long inner with them and then decided to have a pool party. More like a fool party- the water was too cold and everything much too miserable make us want to remain longer than thirty minutes.
Thanks be to God- they have internet here! That meansFacebook! I posted two status updates!
In Christ,
Brittany Goodrich
*I'm having a hard time capturing these, but in case you're wondering, the reason I took a pciture of just the sky was because it was right over where the Mayans were thought to have placed the hearts of their human sacrifices (which is pictured above it). We weren't sure where exactly the sacrifices actually took place, but I wanted a picture of the sky because it is the last thing many of my fellow human beings saw.
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