Life stinks. I am not looking for a fight.But brother bring it on. The lament of someone called and commanded.
Peace be in you and the Spirit part of you.
There are good folk who just want to convert and they are tiresome.
I have no cause to convert anyone. My wife converted. Well no that is a lie. She was like me. We did not come to Jesus. He came to us. He took me biting and screaming and denying love. When he smashed my head onto the concrete and broke my face I yelled "I will not repent". I whipped out a gun in a fist fight. And He said shoot me! I said wait one minute and caused my fist to break one more man's nose. Bar fight back a few decades.
Well I got my commission and I did not go willingly into the night. I chose and was granted a right to fight.
I do declare that I have met only a few Christians that have been commissioned. Every one of them been told to love and comfort or go out and convert. Not me.
Should we assume that is why I only preach the Gospel of Love? Because I am burdened with the Gospel of turning tables over and breaking out a whip.
But my friends I am spectacle. Not normal.
When does a warrior get to REPENT?
And then He took me and laid me to die in pain
He put me flat out, getting a blood transfusion in my 8th week of chemo for lymphoma. And He appeared like a light bolt of energy. Turned off the transfusion. And scared the medical folk to death. And he told me that He did not make me neither All American in sports nor let me race with Olympians for my edification. He provided me with my wits and doctoral education.
The physical ability to compete was only to teach me the realities of defeat. I declared "damn my Lord" and fought to live. And then He sat with me in the snow in the dead garden of my life. And I saw the battle plan. And the role He had for me in it.
Assume I get to stop fighting, then who will?
Real Christians do not get called. No my friends that is not how it works.
We get commanded. We do not look for we are found.
I would love to quit and learn the ministry of money making and organized religion. I got no qualms with them folk. I got no beef with bible thumpers. And I love every atheist that I meet. And a scientist engineer is like fresh air to me, though I still look for bees and the honey.
But!! My Lord did not give me re-passe.
He gave me a blessed commission.
If atheist 1 is beating up on Christian 1004 that is my commission. If Jane sits in a pew alone because her hubby is off to war, that is my commission. If one person is being slammed for belief it is my commission to come and attack the slammer. I do not get to rest because it is Sunday. I am called to war every time someone bashes our Christian beliefs. I am a sacrificial lamb. I get it. I do not like it. I want to rest. But the jawbone has been put in my hand and the Lord stands in judgment.
Oh my gosh, He does not stand in judgment of you. He just loves you. And He just wants you to love your neighbor, enemy and yourself. I want you to also. I was born a homeless bastard. I shall die one. My pillow is not made for you. You can rest. I am made not to.
Some were made to fight and others just to love. I feel other's love and I try to give it.
Give me peace. I am not worthy to carry the mantle.
Grandma please intercede
I need a rest. Oh bull. I need a decent fight. These who attack lovers are lame at best. These who attack my congregation are weak of spine. These who are small of faith and lack belief in other than themselves are but cartoon characters to me.
So when you see me seem small and fight let me be alone and go back to love. Leave me be and pay no mind. Go to the well and drink the water that I pray to keep safe until the end of love. Know that though my face is snarled in a wicked warriors mask and my sword held high in death blow stance that I pray that I am you. Giants of peace and calm and love. Know I want to come home and sit at your hearth.
Know I want peace and that my weapons burn my hands and that my heart aches for old age and a desire to sit and rest and drink tea with you.