#I know this aching in my heart is the Holy Spirit telling me to not settle in my search for the truth

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things (preview) cw: (soft) dom/sub; mentions of god & church; nsfw

“You’ve ruined my spirit,” Steve giggles, dodging Eddie’s hand as it whips out to tap his cheek. “Defiled my soul!”

“Don’t say it like that,” Eddie laughs, snatching a pillow up and hitting Steve with it as Steve laughs, trying to catch it. “Like I’ve corrupted you.”

The word does something to Steve, who falters as he grabs the pillow from Eddie and hits him back. Eddie hides his face, laughing in that way he does, his nose scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. Steve looks at him, hesitating. 

“...What if I’m… Like. Into that?” 

Eddie looks at him, flicking his hair back and raising his eyebrows. Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment, but it fades after a moment when Eddie reaches for the pillow and tosses it aside, pushing Steve back against the armrest of the sofa gently, leaning over him. 

“Well, in that case,” he says slyly, smoothly, leaning down to kiss Steve’s lips chastely. Steve’s chin tilts up, and his eyes flutter for a brief moment. He looks up to find Eddie gazing down at him, eyes shining, lips curved into a small, soft smile, and after another moment Eddie kisses him again, his hand lifting to hold the side of Steve’s face as their lips part. Steve reaches to hold his waist, fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt.

They’re both panting when they part, lips wet, and Steve opens his eyes to look at him.

“You like that I fucked you up?” Eddie asks softly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, nodding. 

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Yes.”

Eddie smiles at him, caressing his face. 

“I want…” Steve trails off, eyes trained on Eddie’s lips, his heart pounding. Eddie nudges their noses together, still smiling. 

“What do you want, baby boy?” he whispers. “Tell me.”

“I…” Steve shifts, and Eddie lets him sit up, leaning back to sit across from him. Steve looks at the sofa between them, his fingers tangling anxiously. “I want…” He takes a short breath, closing his eyes as he exhales, finding his words. 

“I wanna belong to you,” he says slowly, still looking down, “the way… the— the Church thinks I belong to them.” He pauses, biting his lip, cheeks hot. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters almost to himself, but Eddie interrupts before he can apologize. 

“That makes sense,” he says, his voice light, gentle and quiet. “...Look at me.”

Steve is helpless to obey, lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s, throat suddenly tight, and Eddie’s expression is soft, head tilted. He reaches out to touch Steve’s cheek, running his fingertips down to his chin to lift it as he leans in to kiss him softly. Steve melts into it, shoulders slumping. 

“You know you don’t have to be ashamed of what you want from me,” Eddie says gently, still holding Steve’s chin. “Right?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says weakly. Eddie’s smile widens a little. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “Now look at me,” he says more firmly. “And tell me what you want.”

His hand falls. 

Steve’s eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, and he takes a deep, slow breath, pausing for a moment. His fingers are still tangled in his lap, and he wants to reach out and hold Eddie’s hand, but he can’t make himself reach out to him. 

“I w—” His voice cuts off, and he looks away as he swallows nervously before he meets Eddie’s eyes again. He sees the brief shine of approval in Eddie’s expression, a slight smile and a nod. “I want you to… to remind me that I’m yours.”

He takes another breath, and Eddie waits. 

“And no one else’s,” Steve adds, his voice soft and weak. “…Not even God’s.”

Eddie blinks at him, quiet. 

Steve’s heart is beating so fast it might jump out of his chest, and he can’t really catch his breath, even when he inhales slowly and deeply, it’s like his lungs don’t quite fill all the way. After a moment he realizes Eddie’s eyes are shining like he might start crying, and Steve’s chest tightens even more, aching as he leans a little bit closer, longing to reach out and touch him. 

Eddie beats him to it, hands raising to Steve’s face, holding his cheeks as he leans in and kisses him hard, their mouth crashing together as Steve gasps. It’s a lingering kiss, softening after a moment, and Steve finally touches him, lifting a hand to hold his wrist. 

Eddie presses their foreheads together when they part, breathing hard, and then he lifts his head, looking at Steve. His eyes are still shiny. 

“I want you to go to my room,” he says quietly, firmly, “and get naked. And I want you to wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve breathes, eyes falling to Eddie’s lips as his brain fuzzes. Eddie smiles softly, kissing him again before he lets his hands fall. 

“Go on,” Eddie says, lifting his chin in the direction of the door, and Steve exhales, leaning in to kiss him one more time before he stands shakily and leaves the room. 

His hands shake as he lifts his shirt over his head and folds it before setting it on Eddie’s desk chair. His chest still feels tight, but he can still feel Eddie’s lips on his, Eddie’s hands on his face, Eddie’s whispers ghosting over his skin. And it all makes him feel better. Makes him feel like God isn’t glaring down at him. Makes him feel right. 

He shivers when he’s bare, making sure his clothes stay on the chair before he looks around the room, pausing, unsure of where he should wait. He eyes the bed for a moment; it’s made neatly, the blankets smooth, pillows organized, but after a second his gaze falls to the floor next to it. 

He kneels. 

The wood makes his knees ache, but he sighs in relief, closing his eyes, hands folding over his lap as he waits for Eddie. The skin of his thighs is warmer than his fingertips. 

He opens his eyes when he hears the floor creak outside the bedroom door, a slight shift in weight, and Eddie is coming in, eyes trained on Steve. His hair is tied up now, and his sleeves are pushed up to reveal his inked forearms, and Steve feels his blood rush. Eddie closes the door behind himself like they need privacy from the rest of the apartment, and something about the way he does it makes Steve’s head feel too light for his neck. He exhales slowly, lifting his chin to look up at Eddie as he approaches him. 

Eddie touches his face, holding his chin, sighing softly. 

“Did so well waiting for me,” he murmurs. 

“I like being good for you,” Steve says without thinking, his voice slow and sleepy. Eddie smiles down at him, and then he’s moving down to the floor, kneeling in front of Steve, their knees touching. 

“I know,” he whispers. “‘S why you’re my good boy, right?” Steve is nodding before the last word is even out of Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling. “Always so perfect,” he adds, murmuring, his hands touching Steve’s face. Steve’s eyes close. 

They open when Eddie’s hands disappear from his face, desperately looking for him even though he’s right in front of him. Eddie is pulling off his flannel, eyes downcast, and his shirt rides up his stomach a little bit as he reaches up to set the flannel on the bed. Steve’s eyes get stuck there, gazing at the strip of pale skin, at the whisper of dark hair and the tiny bit of visible ink, and then Eddie’s shirt falls again, hiding it. Steve’s eyes fall to Eddie’s lap, to the bulge under his jeans. His face flushes with heat, with want and something he can’t name. 

He swallows when he finally lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Eddie is looking at him, half-smiling, and Steve feels even more bare than he is. He can’t hide the way Eddie is affecting him, not when he’s naked like this. And Eddie’s eyes keep scanning his body, sliding over his spotted skin like he wants to eat it. (Steve would let him probably. Eddie tends to make him feel a little crazy.) His eyes linger on Steve’s lap, and Steve’s cheeks burn with shame. 

Eddie’s smile grows and he moves close. Reaches to touch Steve’s face with a feather-light touch that makes Steve close his eyes, makes him turn his face into Eddie’s hand. But Eddie’s hand doesn’t linger, slipping over his throat teasingly, over his neck, to the back of his head, where it buries itself in Steve’s hair and tightens. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as Eddie pulls gently. Steve’s vision blurs when he opens his eyes, looking at Eddie’s face longingly as Eddie leans closer.

His voice is quiet, dangerous, tender, when he whispers, his breath on Steve’s face. 

“Do I tempt you, Steve Harrington?”

And Steve nods dumbly, eyes stuck on Eddie’s mouth, lips parted. 

“Yes. I…” He shivers when Eddie traces a line over his jaw with his other hand, then a line on his cheek, connecting two moles that Steve knows are there, that he knows Eddie looks at a lot. “I want you.”

Eddie leans closer, and their lips brush, and Steve keens, closing his eyes as he aches with it, with the desire. It’s in his bones, hot and molten, making him melt against Eddie’s body, falling against his chest, and Steve knows his own heart is pounding, but now he knows Eddie’s is too, and he suppresses a smile when their lips brush again. Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair. It hurts. But Steve just sighs, lifting his head into Eddie’s hand, and the next words that come from his throat are weak and breathy and fucking desperate.

“I need you.”

-----

Steve is from a small town; less than 3,000 people, and he's been lonely all his life. When he leaves for college, his parents warn him against the heathens of the rest of the world, but his eyes find someone interesting, someone his parents would hate, hide from, pray for. And Steve finds that he can't really bring himself to care what they'd think. As his faith fades, so does his loneliness, and something else takes their place.

permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist <3 (comment to be added to permanent taglist or taglist for this specific fic when i start posting it)

#ta da #hopefully ill be able to work on this lots even tho im going back to uni soon #im so so so excited ab this fic yall #may take a while #also this may be slightly heavy so there will be content warnings etc but lmk if i need to add any :) #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

[sidprescot]

love me forever, a yenralt fanmix 23 songs, 1hr 53mins listen on spotify here tracklist and lyrics under the cut

YENRALT APPRECIATION, VOL 2. -> prompt: forever + two colors

poison, alice cooper

I wanna love you but I better not touch (don't touch) I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop I wanna kiss you but I want it too much (too much) I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison

be my druidess, type o negative

Around the pyre, a circle of thirteen Throughout these woods, ecstatic screams I look deeply into your eyes I smell your hair, caress your thighs Now we'll make love by fire light A blaze so high it lights the night

love is a fire, subvision

Baby, listen, I'm sellin' my soul to the devil in you So give me, give me the strength and I'll push it through Love is a fire, and it's ragin' out of control Love is a fire And it's burnin' up my soul

love walked in, thunder

So tired of waiting, I walked an empty land I was looking for something to help me understand But bad luck kept turning my dreams into sand I didn't want pity, I had my share of friends I wanted somebody more special than the rest I was aching inside like I was approaching the end Just about that moment the timing was so right You appeared like a vision sent down to my life I thought I was dreaming when I saw you that night

spell i'm under, winger

Woman, never before Without a word I hear so much Woman, under the spell Every sin holy in your touch It's all I feel, it's all I see And all I know it must be you You're the spell I'm under

prisoner of your eyes, judas priest

When I saw your face I became a prisoner of your eyes And I would do just anything To stay and be with you

love me forever, motörhead

Love me forever, or not at all End of our tether, backs to the wall You give me your hand, don't you ever ask why Promise me nothing, live 'til we die

hold on to my heart, W.A.S.P.

Take away the pain, inside my soul And I'm afraid, so all alone Take away the pain, that's burning in my soul Cause I'm afraid that I'll be all alone So just hold me, hold me, hold me

love you to death, type o negative

In her place one hundred candles burning As salty sweat drips from her breast Her hips move and I can feel what they're saying, swaying They say the beast inside of me is gonna get ya, get ya, get

dance macabre, ghost

How could it end like this? There's a sting in the way you kiss me Something within your eyes Said it could be the last time 'Fore it's over

sleeping (in the fire), W.A.S.P.

Touch, touch in the flame's desire Feeling the pain's denial And your finger's in the fire Look, look in the candlelight See in the flame of life And my spell is our lie

darling, mcc

Been on my way so many times I walked away so many times From you But in the end you held the key And as it seems the fate of me In you It's ashes and dust Where are you now? I need you now You're lost somehow Where are you now?

jasmine and rose, clan of xymox

The air tastes just like you, it's the smell of June A sensory shock that jolts my spirit, I slowly swallow you A spray of little droplets, a fragrance so refined The spirit of nostalgia is passing me by

darkness at the heart of my love, ghost

There's a darkness at the heart of my love That runs cold, runs deep The darkness at the heart of my love So bold, so sweet

one more fucking time, motörhead

Both your eyes wide open You see the shape I'm in It wasn't of my choosing It's only bones and skin And I will plead no contest If loving you's a crime So go on and find me guilty Just one more fucking time

hell is living without you, alice cooper

Try to walk away When I see the time I've wasted Starving at a feast And all this wine I've never tasted On my lips your memory has been stained Is it all in vain? Tell me who's to blame, yeah

mama i'm coming home, ozzy osbourne

You took me in and you drove me out Yeah, you had me hypnotized, yeah Lost and found and turned around By the fire in your eyes You made me cry, you told me lies But I can't stand to say goodbye Mama, I'm coming home I could be right, I could be wrong It hurts so bad, it's been so long Mama, I'm coming home

only my heart talkin', alice cooper

Anybody's dream can fall apart Anybody's mask can break Couldn't tell you how I wanted you Enough to make you want to stay I never said the words out loud I guess I couldn't get' em straight Baby, give me one more chance Before you walk away

this heart of mine (i pledge), pain of salvation

I lie awake watching your shoulders Move so softly as you breathe With every breath you're growing older But that is fine if you're with me I pledge to wake you with a smile I pledge to hold you when you cry I pledge to love you 'till I die 'Till I die

i don't want to live without you, sleeze beez

I find myself in a strange situation And I don't know how What seemed to be an infatuation Is so different now I can't get by if we're not together Ooh can't you see Girl, I want you now and forever Close to me I'm longing for the time I'm longing for the day Hoping that you will promise to be mine And never go away

save your love, great white

I wake in the night To find you on my mind Deep in a dream, You'll always be Until the end of time I look in your eyes They touch my soul My love is hard to hide I'm never alone when we're apart. I feel you by my side

angel, judas priest

Angel, put sad wings around me now Protect me from this world of sin so that we can rise again Oh, Angel, we can find our way somehow Escaping from the world we're in to a place where we began And I know we'll find a better place and peace of mind Just tell me that it's all you want, for you and me Angel, won't you set me free?

life eternal, ghost

Can you hear me say your name forever? Can you see me longing for you forever? Would you let me touch your soul forever? Can you feel me longing for you forever, forever?

#thewitcheredit #yenraltsource #the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #yenralt #geralt x yennefer #playlist #fanmix #rj.gif #i have not felt like giffing lately rip #so have this silly little fanmix instead

[nanda-writes]

Paternity Test

“I think my dad is a demon.”

“Not unheard of.” Carlos, the exchange demonology student, replied.

Liz frowned.

“I'm serious. My mom never talks about him and now there's this weird… spirit thing, following me.”

“Do you feel hot?”

“What?”

“Hot, angry, headaches, skin reddening?”

“No?”

“No signs of a hellspawn then, you're clear.”

“Come on Carlinhos, help me here, you're the only one from that weird magic uni I know.”

Carlos sighed.

“Okay, tell me what happened.”

“It all started 3 months ago.”

I had just arrived home from school. Mother sent me a message saying she wouldn't be home but lunch was in the fridge. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw Mom in the kitchen, frying rice. (my favorite!)

When she noticed me walking in she turned to me with the brightest smile I ever saw on her face. She rushed me to the table saying I should eat my lunch before going to work. And that's when I started to notice some weird stuff.

First of all, her fried rice didn't taste the same. It wasn't bad, but it didn't taste like mom's fried rice.

Second, she would not eat with me, just… stare. It freaked me out. She kept smiling while looking at me, and when I asked if she was going to eat she said:

“Oh no, human food give me stomach aches.”

She said that with a straight face, I didn't know whether to believe she was joking or not.

Once I finished my food she stood up and gently held me by my shoulders. With tears in her eyes she said:

“My daughter, my beautiful daughter.”

Do I need to say that's not something my mother does regularly? She continued:

“I missed you so much.”

And kissed me on the forehead.

It was at that moment I heard the entrance door being unlocked and the distinct voice of my mother saying:

“I'm back early sweety, did you eat already?”

My “mom” froze.

When my real mom finally reached the kitchen, they stared at each other for a moment.

“You again?!” My real mom yelled, throwing the shopping bags on the floor “I told you to leave us alone! Get away! Go! Go!”

She was slapping my “other mom” in the back and rushing her out of the house. I remember the pitiful look on my other mom’s face, she was silent as she left the house.

When I, rightfully, asked my actual mother what the hell just happened, she said we should talk after my shift, so I went to work. When I got home that day, she simply acted like nothing ever happened! She's gaslighting me to this day!

***

“Oh!” Carlos interrupted “Was it that day? The one you were so tired you thought your hand was turning gray while working the coffee machine?”

“Yeah”

“Hm…” he squinted his eyes at her “Crazy, sorry, go on”

***

And then I started to notice weird stuff happening.

First, suddenly I noticed a strange aura on the snake that always follows me around…

***

“Wait, wait, sorry again, the hell you mean the snake that follows you around? Are there even snakes in this region?! Isn't Ireland a snake free country?”

“Yeah, I didn't notice at first, there were plenty of snakes in my hometown, I hadn't realized they weren't common here.”

“And you were not worried that a specific snake followed you around?”

“It wasn't a venomous one, it's a milk snake, cute, like a pet.”

“Holy Shit.”

“Can I?”

“Yeah sure, go ahead.”

“Okay so…”

***

There was this weird aura around it.

Out of nowhere the snake tried to curl around my leg so I grabbed it gently, I looked at its face and I shit you not — I recognized it! The way its mouth stood… it looked like it was smiling, the same smile my “other mother” had at that time!

No need to say I dropped the snake and ran away.

Three days later my math teacher started acting weird as well. You know, don't you? Mr. Walker hates my guts! But suddenly he was being very nice to me. He wouldn't complain about my lateness anymore nor scold me for sleeping in his class. A sudden change of heart was weird but I wasn't complaining. Until I noticed.

His smile. He would always smile at me, with the same smile.

The same as the other mother. The same as the snake.

I wasn't having it.

After school, I cornered him in the parking lot.

“Who are you and what did you do with Mr. Walker?!”

He looked surprised for a moment.

“What do you mean, Miss Ferreira? I'm Mr. Walker.”

“No, you're not.” I rebuked “Mr. Walker can't pronounce my last name for shit. You're not him. What did you do?”

He smiled. The same sly snake-like grin.

“I believe we should discuss this in a place a bit more… private.”

“I'm not going to your fucking second location, you weirdo.” God knows what he had done to Mr. Walker. I wasn't risking it. I watch true crime documentaries, I'm not dumb.

He looked genuinely hurt. Maybe I was being rude. But fuck politeness.

“Maybe you could… choose a place and time? So we can discuss it properly. I swear your teacher is fine.”

He looked pathetic at this point. I was starting to feel bad.

“Okay…” I said and gave him a place and time.

***

We met at a diner. It wasn't late, I had just gotten off work. The sky was gleaming orange on the horizon, streets busy with workers heading home. It was fine. I was fine. I was not nervous. Not a bit.

I wiped the sweat out off my hands as I waited for him.

He showed up. At the exact time we planned. He had the same big smile on his face, it felt… silly.

“I'm glad you chose a more isolated seat,” he said to me and winked, “Let me show you a trick.”

And then the man wearing Mr. Walker's skin suddenly wasn't anymore.

I'll spare you the details of the transformation, but you know how snakes shed their skin? Yeah. That's what happened.

The new… person in front of me was very pale, although their skin had red and black spots all over, very androgynous also, and very lanky. Their hair and eyes were black as the night sky, I could not see their pupils, but I was sure they were slits and I just knew that if I touched their skin it would be cold and damp. The smile was the same though. It felt… comforting, for some reason.

I was shocked of course. And disgusted. Not by their appearance but the “trick” was nauseating to watch.

They grabbed my hands. As I expected, cold and damp.

“Lizzzzz…” they said “I know this is weird, but it's been 17 years and you need to know the truth.”

My mouth dropped to the floor as he said:

“I am your father.”

***

18 years ago, Maria, my mother was living in the Bahian Caatinga. She lived a simple life. Not so good, not so bad. Her parents wanted her to have a good education, so she went to the capital to study biology in college.

Mother had a special interest. Growing up in the caatinga she was used to seeing and handling a fair share of regional snakes. But what most people thought as just a regular inconvenience was her deepest passion.

She loved snakes and would never let her father kill the ones that sometimes sought shelter in her house. She would always hold them carefully and release them back to the wild, leaving the old man to pout and rant “They'll just keep coming back!”.

And that's cute, right? I'm all for helping the local species but… it caused her to receive some… unusual attention.

Suddenly, — no matter where she went — there would always be a snake around. She didn't notice at first, after all, what are the chances? But it was the same snake every time. A male milk snake, very common in the area but, That's weird… she thought, yet, what could she do? Even if she was superstitious, wouldn't that be a good sign anyways?

She got used to it eventually. And everything was normal. At least until St. John's day.

It was during the June holidays. Her village was going all out for the festivities that year: colorful banderoles from pole to pole, stands of all types in the street, the laughter of the children in their costumes filling the air together with the winter smells of corn, peanut, stews and alcohol brought by the cold breeze, the music never stopped, from the sanfoneiros at the plaza to the home speakers blasting all genres of music.

It was night, but the village shone as if the sun had never set.

It was during the festivities that a strange man, who later claimed to be called Conrado, approached her.

Extending his hand he said:

“Care for a danssssssce?”

Oh, he must be nervous, Mom thought, how adorable. And took his hand.

The dancing leads to flirting, and that leads to kissing, and kissing leads to… well, you know.

He promised to go see her the next day, at the cathedral by morning. She accepted, of course, after all, she had to explain that she had a boyfriend in the city… oopsies. But when she went there… there was no man, only that same snake that always followed her around.

And that was when he realized, and oh boy was she pissed.

Seriously? A snake demon?! A STALKER SNAKE DEMON?!

The snake did its best to be understood, to explain itself. But it could not talk, so I guess it didn't work.

What made Mom angrier was the fact that she didn't get her period the month later… neither the next month, nor the nine months that came after. And then I was born.

Years later, when I was… uh… five? she moved to Ireland — the only place with no snakes she could think of — to further her education, claiming I would also be safer here.

It took a while for “Conrado” to find us, most specifically, me. But he is very happy he did. He's been watching over me ever since.

***

“Wait, you said she had a boyfriend back in the city?” I asked.

“Hm? Yessssssss… I didn't mind though…”

“That means I could also be his daughter.”

He gave me a sad look.

“Yessssss but, I feel you aren't…” He looked even sadder. “But you musssst have notisssssssed, right…? That you are different.”

“No. I didn't.”

Was my skin a little weird? Yes, but I'm a teenager. Do I have some speech impediments related to s and z sounds? Yeah, but lots of people have it too! Was my sense of smell stronger? Yeah, but that's not out of this world. Was I a bit stronger than normal for my build? Yeah, well actually no, y’all are just a bunch of wimps.

He looked at me with the saddest expression I ever saw on a man, he looked… pathetic. Exactly my mom's type, that I can't deny.

“Okay, then…” he sighed, “but if you notice something… anything, you can call me, alright? I'm staying in the woods next to your house, just scream into a tree and I'll find you.”

He was about to leave, but then realized something and turned back to me.

“Also, take this,” he handed me a rock with a hole in the middle “You might not be my daughter, but I still want Maria's kid to be safe.” aw

And he left.

***

“And that’s it.” Liz finished her story with a sigh. “He can’t be my real dad, right? I would have noticed it…”

“Liz,” Carlos said in a deep voice “Did you notice that you didn’t blink a single time in this conversation?”

“What?”

“And that your hands and arms have camouflaged themselves on the table?”

“What?!” Liz looked down and sure thing, the color of her hands was completely changed, blending in with the table. Liz's mouth was on the floor.

“Also, everyone thinks I am enrolled at a regular university, no “weird magic uni”, for the institution is spell protected.”

Liz was flabbergasted “Then how? I…?”

“Only special humans or magical beings are able to know the truth about the university.”

“...”

“You should call your dad.” Carlos said “Also, you're almost finishing high school, right? I think you'll be getting an email soon…’’

“I… don't I need to apply first?’’

“The mystic arts university works differently, it's more like they come for you, no application needed.”

“I… I'll get going.” Liz stumbled.

Needless to say, a certain snake was very happy that evening. And feelings aside, Liz could not help to feel relieved to have a uni waiting for her already, admission exams were such a pain in the—.

#original #mystical uni shenanigans #writeblr #writing

[apollolovescheesecak]

we aren’t speaking.

a good omens poem, through aziraphales pov.

my heart cries out for yesteryear, when you first tempted me at the gates of eden.

the aching melancholy and the absence of you both beg the same question. where did all the memories go?

caught in the forefront of my mind, enveloping me with wings of nostalgia, the same wings that sheltered me during that starstorm when i looked into your eyes, overflowing with joy the same way a glass overflows with water. 

your eyes, your hips, your way of speaking, all the same yet so unique in the way you presented yourself to me. the very personification of sin itself, yet your body and words were more holy than god herself. 

we traveled through the years, always pulled together in an ineffable sort of fashion. the way we followed each other was more faithful than the priest to the temple, each of us both the worshipper and the worshiped. our companionship ran deeper than the eyes you cast to me, as yellow and golden as the love we had.

the extreme of the blacks and whites of our mortality blend into a gray ocean of blurred lines, all good and evil mixed together to create the flaws and strengths of humanity incarnate. light and dark hues exist inside said ocean, but mellow and dulled. through your eyes, true evil and good do not exist, context the only value judging the grayscale, as impossible as it seemed to me at the time.

 i see, now, the world is truly a menagerie of color and hue only to be compared to the fruits and fauna of the garden of eden, tragically and forevermore judged by colorblind eyes, our minds so inclined to point out the extremes instead of the subtle.

we never spoke about it, the simple truth of the fact we loved each other was a spirit, invisible and never quite enough proof to others that it existed, but nevertheless still hanging thick in the air. 

the vastness of your affection and availability to me, and i to you, was more meaningful than any words alone. our avoidance of our true feelings was both the highest blessing, and the most torturous curse. 

i wish i could tell you. i wish i could go back in time to tell you how much i need you, truly and deeply,  the other half of me. my light cannot exist without your shadow, my sin cannot exist without your salvation. how i want to kiss you, not in an act of desperation and destruction, hoping it will bring you back to me, but in an act of kindness and mercy, knowing you are already there, willing to spend your last second by my side.

you are my best friend, my lover, a stranger and my enemy all at once. the words our relationship required to be described and understood, are hidden away from me, locked in a book in the tightest safe in my mind. 

i’ve already forgiven you. i’ve forgiven most everyone i know. the only person that remains to be forgiven is myself. i can only hope that someday, you may forgive me.

but we aren’t speaking.

inspired by dreams i’ve had with these word in them, and the poems (mostly “do you remember”) of @ineffabildaddy. it’s been a while since i’ve written poetry so i hope you guys like it!

#poetry #trying something new hope y’all like it #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #kind of based on the “we aren’t speaking” comment #neil gaiman #text #angel #demon #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #ineffable lovers #might add more to this

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

By Sharon Brous

Rabbi Brous is the founding and senior rabbi of Ikar, a Jewish community based in Los Angeles, and the author of “The Amen Effect.”

A somewhat obscure text, about 2,000 years old, has been my unlikely teacher and guide for the past many years, and my north star these last several months, as so many of us have felt as if we’ve been drowning in an ocean of sorrow and helplessness.

Buried deep within the Mishnah, a Jewish legal compendium from around the third century, is an ancient practice reflecting a deep understanding of the human psyche and spirit: When your heart is broken, when the specter of death visits your family, when you feel lost and alone and inclined to retreat, you show up. You entrust your pain to the community.

The text, Middot 2:2, describes a pilgrimage ritual from the time of the Second Temple. Several times each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews would ascend to Jerusalem, the center of Jewish religious and political life. They would climb the steps of the Temple Mount and enter its enormous plaza, turning to the right en masse, circling counterclockwise.

Meanwhile, the brokenhearted, the mourners (and here I would also include the lonely and the sick), would make this same ritual walk but they would turn to the left and circle in the opposite direction: every step against the current.

And each person who encountered someone in pain would look into that person’s eyes and inquire: “What happened to you? Why does your heart ache?”

“My father died,” a person might say. “There are so many things I never got to say to him.” Or perhaps: “My partner left. I was completely blindsided.” Or: “My child is sick. We’re awaiting the test results.”

Those who walked from the right would offer a blessing: “May the Holy One comfort you,” they would say. “You are not alone.” And then they would continue to walk until the next person approached.

This timeless wisdom speaks to what it means to be human in a world of pain. This year, you walk the path of the anguished. Perhaps next year, it will be me. I hold your broken heart knowing that one day you will hold mine.

I read in this text many profound lessons, two particularly pertinent in our time, when so many of us feel that we are breaking. First, do not take your broken heart and go home. Don’t isolate. Step toward those whom you know will hold you tenderly.

And on your good days — the days when you can breathe — show up then, too. Because the very fact of seeing those who are walking against the current, people who can barely hold on, and asking, with an open heart, “Tell me about your sorrow,” may be the deepest affirmation of our humanity, even in terribly inhumane times.

It is an expression of both love and sacred responsibility to turn to another person in her moment of deepest anguish and say: “Your sorrow may scare me, it may unsettle me. But I will not abandon you. I will meet your grief with relentless love.”

We cannot magically fix one another’s broken hearts. But we can find each other in our most vulnerable moments and wrap each other up in a circle of care. We can humbly promise each other, “I can’t take your pain away, but I can promise you won’t have to hold it alone.”

Showing up for one another doesn’t require heroic gestures. It means training ourselves to approach, even when our instinct tells us to withdraw. It means picking up the phone and calling our friend or colleague who is suffering. It means going to the funeral and to the house of mourning. It also means going to the wedding and to the birthday dinner. Reach out in your strength, step forward in your vulnerability. Err on the side of presence.

Small, tender gestures remind us that we are not helpless, even in the face of grave human suffering. We maintain the ability, even in the dark of night, to find our way to one another. We need this, especially now.

Here’s the second lesson from that ancient text. Humans naturally incline toward the known. Our tribes can uplift us, order our lives, give them meaning and purpose, direction and pride. But the tribal instinct can also be perilous. The more closely we identify with our tribe, the more likely we are to dismiss or even feel hostility toward those outside it.

One of the great casualties of tribalism is curiosity. And when we are no longer curious, when we don’t try to imagine or understand what another person is thinking or feeling or where her pain comes from, our hearts begin to narrow. We become less compassionate and more entrenched in our own worldviews.

Trauma exacerbates this trend. It reinforces an instinct to turn away from one another, rather than make ourselves even more vulnerable.

There is another important lesson from that ancient text. On pilgrimage, those who enter the sacred circle and turn left when nearly everyone else turns right are grieving or unwell. But the text offers that there is another who turns to the left: the person sentenced to ostracization — in Hebrew, the menudeh.

Ostracization was a punishment used sparingly in ancient times. It only applied to people who were believed to have brought serious harm to the social fabric of the community. The ostracized were essentially temporarily excommunicated. They had to distance themselves from their colleagues and loved ones, they were not counted in a prayer quorum, and they were prohibited from engaging in most social interactions. And incredibly, they, too, entered the sacred space, where they, too, were asked: “Tell me, what happened to you? What’s your story?” And they, too, were blessed.

This is breathtaking. The ancient rabbis ask us to imagine a society in which no person is disposable. Even those who have hurt us, even those with views antithetical to ours must be seen in their humanity and held with curiosity and care.

We desperately need a spiritual rewiring in our time. Imagine a society in which we learn to see one another in our pain, to ask one another, “What happened to you?” Imagine that we hear one another’s stories, say amen to one another’s pain, and even pray for one another’s healing. I call this the amen effect: sincere, tender encounters that help us forge new spiritual and neural pathways by reminding us that our lives and our destinies are entwined. Because, ultimately, it is only by finding our way to one another that we will begin to heal.

#NYTimes #Tribalism #spiritual direction #Sharon Brous #community #humanity #humanism

[walkswithmyfather]

“Why would God leave the 99 to find 1?” By Gotquestions.org:

“Both Matthew 18 and Luke 15 record Jesus’ parable about a shepherd who leaves 99 sheep in the fold to go in search of one that had wandered away. Jesus gave this illustration in response to the Pharisees who were incensed that Jesus “welcomes sinners and eats with them” (Luke 15:2). The religious leaders in Jesus’ day had structured their system to exalt the self-righteous and exclude anyone who did not live up to their often arbitrary standards (Matthew 23:28). They had added so many rules and regulations to God’s law that no one could keep them all, including the ones who drafted them. When Jesus came along, His methodology confused them. He seemed to be from God, yet He rebuked the outwardly righteous and welcomed the wicked. How could this man know God?

So Jesus told them a story, as He did many times in order to explain spiritual truths: “What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish” (Matthew 18:12–14). The people of Jesus’ day understood the relationship between shepherds and sheep, but the significance of a shepherd going in search of one lost sheep is sometimes lost on us. It seems strange that a shepherd would leave his flock to search for one missing sheep.

We might consider the shepherd leaving the 99 to find the 1 this way: a father and his five children are asleep in their home when the smoke detectors go off. The father awakens to find his house filled with smoke and the sound of flames and crackling timber coming nearer. Panicked, he races to his children’s bedrooms and begins to rouse them. Calling to some and carrying others, he stumbles down the stairs and out the front door. He deposits the sleepy children on the grass a safe distance away and then turns. Gasping for air, he squints through the smoke to count kids: “Tim, Sally, Angel, Jojo—where’s Lilly!” He is missing his youngest, three-year-old Lilly. Four children are safe, one is not. What will this father do?

God is a Father. He counts His kids. He rejoices that some are safely in Christ, prepared for eternity and nestled near His heart. But some are missing. Where’s Karen? Where’s Abdul? Where’s Jose? The Father sent Jesus on a rescue mission “to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). God does not abandon the 99. They are already safely in His kingdom, attended by His angels, and guided by His Holy Spirit (Romans 8:14; Hebrews 13:5). But His heart aches for those not yet in the fold.

So the Good Shepherd pursues the lost sheep, woos them, calls to them, and allows circumstances into their lives designed to make them look up. It is often in the bleakest of circumstances that we finally surrender our demands to have our own way. We finally submit to our Shepherd, who carries us back to the fold (Luke 15:5). In John 10, Jesus again refers to Himself as the Good Shepherd, saying, “I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd” (verses 16–17). Then in verses 27–29 He says, “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand.” The 99 are still important to Him, but He knows the flock is not complete without the lost sheep. And a good shepherd always goes after the lost sheep.

In Luke’s gospel, two other parables follow the one about the one lost sheep, and both of them reinforce Jesus’ main point, which is the value of individuals. The parable of the lost coin (Luke 15:8–10) and the parable of the lost son, also known as the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32), continue the theme of God as a pursuer of lost people. We were all lost at one time, and the Lord came after us. If He had not taken the initiative, no one could be saved (John 6:44). So, when our Good Shepherd wants to pursue another lost lamb, the 99 who are in the fold can joyfully support the rescue.”

[theartofsorrow]

Sometimes your tenderness hurts. (It cuts right through me) An ever-turning blade Lodged dead-centre Between the bruised fingers of my ribs My heart chants your name like a prayer. (A sinner's prayer) Your love feels like something holy Something sanctified Cleansed by the blood of The Lamb (The Father) (The Son) (The Holy Spirit) Tell me something, darling Is it blasphemous to say that? Is it blasphemous to love you? I will gladly condemn myself. (My love for you is more than love) I don't think you know I don't think you ever knew (My darling) I ache for you in my bones.

#how to live laugh love in these situations #poem #poetry #my poetry #original poetry #poetblr #writblr #writing #creative writing #original writing #my writing #poets of tumblr #writers of tumblr #love #romance #sapphic #lgbtq #religious imagery #aesthetic #sad #pain #lust #pretty words

[heavenssexiestangel]

Find the Word Tag

I was tagged by @writingpotato07 and my words are: STRAY, SHATTER, HEART, DRIFT, RING

So I didn't understand if it was for only one WIP or all my WIPs so uuh I went with the latter:

STRAY

Cat's in the Cradle, Chapter 16

Dean wanted to scream. Instead, he pulled up the sleeves of the hoodie he was wearing and observed the scars and burn marks on his arm. Alastair had given them to him as he taught him different methods of torture. Many more were on his back, and on his thighs. He had taken the pain and, at first, he didn’t want to become like Alastair. Didn’t want to torture for fun. In the end, he had done it, mostly to please his ba’al.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself. A stray tear rolled down his cheek, and he let it fall. He didn’t care anymore. He had fallen for Alastair, had let him convince him he loved him.

What a fucking joke, he tightened his jaw and sniffled, closing his eyes. It was all a fucking lie. Adonai, am I so unworthy? How could I fall for his lies?

Love and Gunpowder, Chapter 1 (Coming Soon)

“Yes?” Worry colored his adopted uncle’s voice, and Dean sighed in relief. If there was anyone he could trust with this, it was Bobby.

“I have something to tell you. But please, don’t laugh.” He gulped, playing with a stray strand of hair.

“This sounds serious. I’m all ears, son.” There was some noise on Bobby’s end, voices, and Dean heard him walk away and close a door.

SHATTER

Nothing with exactly "Shatter"

HEART

Of Prophecies and Love, Part 2 (and many more parts but uh, we're keeping it simple)

As saliva dripped down from the hellhound’s mouth, it corroded the ground it fell on, ruining the marble.

“Fuck,” Dean said, eyeing Gabriel. The witch’s gaze was fixed on the shield, his hands closed into parallel fists.

Is he keeping the shield up that way? He wondered, his heart beating faster.

“Dean,” Gabriel turned slightly towards him, “you have to kill it.”

“How?” The prince’s blood pumped in his veins, his temples, his heart; Gabriel’s voice sounded far away. Still, courage traveled through his body, his muscles tense and ready to strike. He was ready to fight.

“Your sword is made of holy silver, right?”

Dean nodded.

Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Chapter 1 (Coming soon-ish)

“I made Lucifer human. I want you to teach him about Humanity, and how to love it,” God smirked at Dean’s incredulous look and chuckled. “I’ve come to see you as more than Michael’s Sword, Dean. You’re so very human, so very… Perfect, in your imperfections.”

“How do you know I won’t just kill him?” Dean took a long breath to calm his furious heart, his mind urging him to run.

“You can’t. I’ll protect him,” God tilted his head, much like Dean had seen Castiel do a thousand times now. “You will learn from one another, and you’ll save my son from his own destruction.”

Beauty and Rage, Chapter 1 (Coming soon)

“You said you saw me with Mr. Crowley and Mr. Ketch.”

“I did,” Lucifer made a small laugh. “And I enjoyed every single moment of it. You… You’ve got spirit. And from what I learned about you from the gossip going around, I do think we would be a nice pair.”

“Oh.” Dean’s foot slid on the pavement, and he lost his balance, but Lucifer was there to grab him. Now chest to chest, Dean felt the beating of the Alpha’s heart. “I, uh,” he gulped, “I swear I’m usually more eloquent than this.”

Cat's in the Cradle, Chapter 4

“Dean…” Gabriel started, but the Hunter interrupted him.

“I can’t betray him,” he said, resolute. “He sees me. Loves me. Cares about me...”

It sounded like a mantra the young man was repeating to try and convince the other. Or himself. It made Gabriel’s heart ache.

“I have my doubts,” the Angel started, gently, “but you do. And I guess that’s what matters now.”

“I guess…” A tear ran down Dean’s face. Gabriel wanted to wipe it away, but it felt too much like overstepping.

Why is he getting so much under my skin? He internally punched himself, then decided it was time to go.

Family Seder, Chapter 2

Gabriel grabbed onto Dean’s shirt, pulling him closer, and the heaviness Dean felt before was gone, together with the doubt and the fear. Instead, his heart hammered in his chest, and he could only think marry me, marry me, marry me.

He must have said it out loud, because Gabriel smirked into the kiss and parted from him just to wink and say: “With pleasure, Dean Winchester.”

Love and Gunpowder, Chapter 1 (Coming soon)

Dean stormed inside his apartment, slamming the door shut.

His heart hammered in his chest and, as he closed his eyes, images of the dark-haired Alpha he just met flashed in front of his mind. Dean had observed him closely and had seen grey hair in-between the jet black. That made him even sexier.

Tell me to stay, Chapter 1

Dean observed the professor write down the physics formulas on the board. There was no reason for him to copy them in his notebook: a few days and they’d move once again, this school forgotten and a new hunt for his father. Still, he decided to be a good student. After all, he enjoyed school – not that he’d tell that to Sammy, but the fact they moved constantly had put a halt to Dean’s will to bother.

Sighing, he let his gaze wander around the classroom. When it stopped on Gabriel Novak, Dean’s heart skipped a beat and he gulped, unable to look away.

The boy was drawing something in his sketchbook; a focused frown adorned his endearing features as the pencil slid with careful strokes on the paper. The long earring he wore on his left ear shone brightly against the light of the sun.

Your Soul Sang to Me, Part 1

As Dean’s green eyes sparkled in amusement, they took a light hue, almost like jade. Gabriel thought he could write a song on that alone. His heart raced for a moment. What? C’mon, it’s a guy you just met!

“Nah,” the blonde laughed, “I’m here alone. And- Er, well, I am alone,” shaking his head, Dean lowered his gaze. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Sorry. What about you?”

Gabriel shook his head.

DRIFT

Nothing with exactly "Drift"!

RING

Cat's in the Cradle, Chapter 7

Lilith picked up the phone at the third ring, smirking when she saw the name on the screen.

“Lucifer!” She beamed, turning the key in the lock. “How are you? We haven’t heard from you in a long while…”

The Demon entered her house and took off her heels. She put them tidily next to the door, humming happily.

“Yes, it’s been too long, it seems,” the serious tone of the man put her on guard, her back straightening. “See, I may have to fix the problem you and Alastair caused.”

No pressure tags: @fpwoper @fictional-affairs @callalilycas @mansplainmanipulatemalewife and anyone who wants to do it!

MY WORDS ARE: ANIMAL, LOVE, FAMILY, HATE, DEMON, RARE

#writing game #wip game #my fanfics #my wips #thanks for the tag!!!

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Jesus Is My Doctor

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

 + Psalm 150:6: "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!"

=========================

VERSE OF THE DAY

========================

+ Mark 2:17 On hearing this, Jesus said to them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.

=========================

** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM WELL BECAUSE OF CHRIST

I AM HOLY

I AM RIGHTEOUS

I AM SAVED

********************************

THOUGHTS:

=======================

 When we go to the doctor, most of the time something is wrong, maybe it is an ache, or bruise or something, usually well people dont go to the doctor because one, it takes too long, two maybe the fear of needles 3, maybe even because they are well, but when we are sick go to the doctor . We usually go to a specific doctor, maybe an ob-gyn, cardiologist, or gastroenterologist, because they specialize in those areas. They won't send someone who needs a cardiologist to the gastroenterologist because it would be pointless, and they won't be able to diagnose them right.

 That's like Christ; he came here for the sick and specializes in heart and mind regulation. Jesus didn't come back for the well; he came back for the ones who needed help, and that was broken, hurt, and bitter, so dont let anyone tell you God doesn't want you when this verse clearly states he came for the sinner not the righteous he came because he knew you needed him and I need him ,he came because he saw what we need, God sees our needs and want to take care of them.

  "1 Timothy  1:15-16 The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life."

 Paul wanted us to know that Jesus came for sinners. Paul said I am thankful for many reasons; I am thankful for the mercy; he said I am thankful for the patience of Christ, of some people would have been given up on us, some of us have had family to give up on us and tossed us to the side. Still, Paul is saying that in Jesus' patience, we have the example to know to believe in him for eternal life; we dont need any other examples because Jesus is right here showing us through his word that he will see about us.

 Luke 19:10 For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost."

  When we go to the doctor for sickness sometimes, it might be an infection or a cold; whatever it is, the doctor writes us a prescription and tells us this is what we must do , we have to follow it to get well, but it's up to us to do it, when Jesus died on the cross for my sins ,for your sins he left us a book called the Bible and in the Bible it will tell us how not to be infected by the things of this world, it tells us this when we walk in darkness that's when we are gratifying the flesh, it tells when we follow Jesus in the light that's when we are living a righteous life.

  Our instructions tell us to seek me first, and all these things will be added. It also says when we seek him, we will find him; we dont have to run and scream to find Christ, but he's right there, and better yet, he left us a comforter to help see us through it to do what the great doctor says it's up to us to read our manual. If we have a question, we can talk to the Holy Spirit. He will guide us into all truth; we dont have to worry about insurance when we go to this doctor; we dont have to worry about being lost with this doctor because, with this doctor, he wants to help us; this doctor wants you to ask a question, this doctor wants you to stick to the plan because he told, you what to do it is up to you to follow or be lost.

    Luke 15:10 Some of the Pharisees near him heard these things and said to him, "Are we also blind?"

    The Holy Spirit is saying today, I love you, and I want to see about you; he said today that if you give me all of you, I can heal you, but it's up to us, friends. It's up to us what we do; we must follow Jesus, who wants to heal us.

  *** Today, we learned that Jesus is a healer and can heal any of us at any time. Sometimes, we deal with what we are sick with because we figured it would go on a sin, but some of us carry things we weren't meant to carry and keep. Some of us are wondering why we react to certain things because we are carrying something only Jesus can heal, but we won't let him; we have to let go so he can; we have to go to our spiritual specialist, which is Jesus he has a resume better than any doctor you ever met.

•The Healing of the Leper Matt 8:1

•Man born blind John 9:1

•Woman with issue of blood Matt 9:20

   See, Jesus touched these people's lives and so many more. It's up to us to accept his word when we read it. Do we apply it, do we live by it, or are we saying I read it, but I don't believe it; I have gone to many doctors. They would tell me things I don't believe because I didn't trust the doctor; if you trust in the Lord today, believe that when he said I never leave you or forsake you, he meant it when he said that I love you with endless love he meant it. The word of God can be trusted over anything you ever heard. ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

========================

PRAYER

========================

Heavenly Father, we thank you for your grace and mercy. Forgive us of any sins we have done knowing and unknowingly, Lord; we are coming to you today asking you to walk with us and show us the way. Lord, we want to learn how to be healed by you, Lord; we believe in your word; help us trust in your word; we want your word to penetrate our hearts. Please heal us of all our bitterness, sickness,  malice, and anger. Lord, create in us a clean heart and renew a right spirit; in Jesus' Name, Amen

========================

REFERENCES

========================

+ Titus 2:14 who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his possession who are zealous for good works

 

+ Acts 20:21 testifying both to Jews and to Greeks of repentance toward God and of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.

 

+ John 9:34 They answered him, "You were born in utter sin, and would you teach us?" And they cast him out.

========================

FURTHER READINGS

=========================

 Proverbs 10

Matthew 24

Exodus 4

Revelation 6

=========================

#bible #bible quotes #christian quote #daily devotion #daily devotional #inspiration #scripture #bible verse #christian life #christan life

[jilljacket]

The Mystery Lacey Sturm Book

2:31 in...

In the midst of this doubt I thought of my first promise ring. I thought of the way I used to turn it around on my finger so only the smooth part of the band showed and I would tell the customers I waited on at Shownies? I was married if they asked. "Yes I am married to Jesus" They would look either confused or horrified at my answer. It used to make me laugh. I didn't care what they thought. My heart began to burn when I thought about Jesus. It ached. I missed him so desperately, I thought about how being married to Jesus was a good way to show you love sick and committed I was to God. I had made so many "forever" statements in worship about my commitment to God, I thought about those worship songs I used to sing to him. I began to hear them in my head. I started to cry as I sang them softly through my sobs. I had to make a choice. In the middle of this silence, in the middle of my uncertainty, in the middle of all the rational reasons I had to doubt, disbelieve, and walk away from God. I had to make a choice. Would I choose to believe in a God I can no longer feel, understand, hear, make sense of, or in many ways even remember. Or would I choose to make this decision based off of the same thing that I based every other decision in my life on, my feelings. Would I choose to believe my feelings of God not being real and my feelings of doubt? Or would I choose to put my faith in the God I had committed my life to. The God I believed saved me from suicide. Our choices define us. I remembered a scene from a book I had read years ago when I first met God, it was a book about the importance and power of faith. The author Lee Strobel tells the story of Charles Templeton. A close friend of the great evangelists Billy Graham. Both of them worked as evangelists speaking to in arenas tens of thousands of people about faith in Jesus Christ. But eventually Templeton began to doubt, he and Graham had deep discussion over things like the reliability of the Bible. But Graham held on to his faith. And despite the challenges to accept things like the biblical account of creation, he would choose to believe the bible was Gods word. "I believe that Genesis the account of creation because it's in the Bible" said Graham. "Ive discovered something in my ministry, when I take the Bible literally and proclaim it as the word of God, my preaching has power. When I stand on the platform and say " God says or the bible says, the Holy Spirit uses me. There are results. Wiser men than you or I have been arguing about this for centuries. I don't have the time or intellect to exam all sides of the theological dispute. So I have decided once and for all to stop questioning and to accept the bible as God's word. "But Billy you can not do that" replied Templeton. "You don't dare to stop thinking. about the most important question in life. Do it and you begin to die. It's intellectual suicide.." "I don't know about anybody else" Graham said, "But Ive decided that's the path for me." About 50 years later, Strobel interviewed Templeton for his book. Templeton said he still didn't believe in God or the Bible. Stroble asked, "What do you think about Jesus at this stage of your life?" The question revealed a softness in Templeton. "Jesus was the greatest human being who had ever lived, he was a moral genius. His ethical sense was unique. He was intrinsicly the wisest person that I have ever encountered in my life or in my readings. His commitment was total and led to his own death, much to the detriment of the world. What could one say about him besides this was a form of greatness?"...

[destinyimage]

Bill Johnson: ‘Mario Murillo Changed My Life With THIS Book’

Around 35 years ago, my friend and mentor, Mario Murillo, told me about this little book by Charles Price called The Real Faith.

At the time, I was a pastor in Weaverville, a young father and husband, and I remember The Real Faith having such a great impact on me. The way Price teaches on faith unraveled my understanding of the subject in the most profound ways.

I’ve gone on to recommend this book to countless others, because I believe it is a significant masterpiece. I still find myself discovering new things, like peeling back layers of an onion, because of the profound nature of Price’s teaching. The Lord is so kind when He teaches us things. Every revelation comes with an invitation: “Here is the truth. Now, come and know Me.” That is the invitation I’ve encountered in this book. It is the invitation to surrender, to encounter God as the Author and Finisher of our faith.

I thought faith was something I could work for, an aspect of walking with Jesus that I could choose to manifest in my life. My prayer life used to be so focused on outcomes. I was desperate to see certain diseases eradicated, for a breakthrough to come, to see specific miracles take place. Not all of that has changed. I still long to see those things happen, but it’s no longer the focus of my time with the Lord. My focus has shifted to Him. I really just want to be with Him, to interact, to hear His heart, to be close to Him. When your focus shifts, you don’t grade yourself on the outcomes. You don’t punish yourself for not seeing this or that result. You’re in it for the relationship.

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Many of the things we ache for in life—the encounters, the experiences with God, the breakthroughs—are products of the faith-filled life. So often, we can slip into a striving, anxiety-filled connection with the Lord. We begin to focus on our own efforts, evaluating our faith in God by the results we see. But when we’re born again in Christ, our natures are changed. Our hearts are aligned with Him. The faith we so often feel like we’re fighting for is actually a gift of the Holy Spirit. It is the faith of God, given to us.

When we are born again, we are actually given Jesus’s own heart of absolute surrender to the Father’s will. We are given an invitation to know Him deeply, to understand the hope that is in Him to such an extent that all of our anxiety-filled efforts fall away. In exchange for our striving self-governance, we are given the gift of the Person of God. His heart, His faith, His strength, and His hope are now available to us through Jesus.

In the parable of the Sower, Jesus tells us about “he who received seed among the thorns” (Matthew 13:22 NKJV). The picture is of a garden choked with weeds. The seed represents the living, present word of God; the soil is the condition of our hearts. In the parable, we are shown four different kinds of soil, three of which were not compatible with life. The seed is consistent, but in these unhealthy soils, fruit could not develop. In the soil with the thorns, the good seed was planted, but the weeds competed for nutrients, absorbed the moisture, and eventually overshadowed the plants that were supposed to bear fruit.

The word of the Lord is the same way. The Bible says that “faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God” (Romans 10:17 NKJV). It doesn’t say that faith comes from hearing the Word of God. If it did, we could all just go home and put on a recording of Scripture being read and play it for 24 hours a day. We’d have the faith of Smith Wigglesworth in a few days!

But it doesn’t work that way. Faith comes from hearing Him. It’s our connection to the voice of God, our intimate relationship with the Father. Steeping ourselves in His Word trains our ability to hear Him, but it doesn’t supplant the relationship. When God speaks a word over us, the challenge is to not let all of the other voices in our lives—other ideas, disappointments, criticism, complaints—compete for the same nutrients in the soil of our hearts. The Bible says that the cares of the world can actually “choke the word” of God (Mark 4:19 NKJV). We have the ability to choke that seed of faith, given as a gift from God, with our other interests, burdens, and the sheer busyness of life. Learning to dismantle the obstacles and come to Him fully surrendered is our challenge and our joy as believers.

Faith is not about striving; it is about surrender. The Holy Spirit is not something we struggle to obtain, but rather Someone we surrender to. The shift, as small as it may seem, has had a huge impact on me and continues to speak to me to this day. I wish I could say this truth is fully evident in every aspect of my life, but I am still walking it out. I am still peeling back layers of revelation found in Price’s book.

Faith is not complicated. Jesus said His yoke is easy, His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). We don’t have to be geniuses to walk in the kind of faith that moves mountains, because it’s not our faith to create. Faith is a gift from Jesus, a product of our complete surrender. It is not a concept obtained by our intellect; it is a gift received into the soil of a surrendered heart.

God has made Himself available to us. It is almost unfathomable, but true. He wants to pour His love, His peace, His righteousness, His faith into us. Our job is to receive, to stay humble and surrendered to Him, walking in full dependence on our Creator. Only then will we begin to reveal to the world what Price calls, “the living, pulsating reality of His diving indwelling.” May we all learn to walk with Him in this way.

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[vf-thompson]

Book Review: Content Warning: Everything Will Fuck You Up and It Will be Your Fault

It seems odd that i'm sitting down to write a perfect review of a book that has, as far as a book can screw up a life, sent my own careening wildly off track.

My introduction to Emezi was the diabolical little YA spec fic Pet, which was assigned reading in my Transgender Literature class i took a few semesters ago. i was struggling with my academic workload, and admittedly only read pieces of that book, enough know what was going in class discussions, but shelved it to finish later. i did not realize at the time that i had one of the writer's other books in my possession already, a threatening little collection of poems that my best friend had gotten me for my birthday right before beginning the semester.

It sat on my shelf patiently, biding its time, dreaming its sick little dreams, until i needed it.

i can't tell you how the explosion happened, only that it did. Call it a gas leak, maybe. Entropy did as entropy does. i was separated, overnight, from everything smelling and tasting of home, born on Christian hands and pagan winds into the wild to be taught the true ways of the world. Apotheosis knocked for the third time in my heathen life, and this time i let the sonuvab!tch inside at last to make herself at home.

i found myself in a hotel room, on the other side of a bombing, stranded. This book was in my hands, had made it instinctively into my bag as i escaped the slithering fire that consumed my house and my life. i read the title, read the author's name, realized i had heard the name before. i ached for familiarity, and opened the book.

Everything was inside waiting for me inside, as Emezi warned. i blundered into the bloody-berry red thickets of their serpentine prose, joining them in their dirty, dismal trek up the Holy Mountain. i found, immediately, in her words, a kindred spirit, crimson as my own sin-stained soul. i can only be frankly honest: the poems in this collection seemed to resonate with my own life and its events to a degree that is uncanny, almost abject. The second poem, "christening", tore me open, and i understood, feverishly, wrongly: i too could speak the truth.

i took to my notebook, trying to put my frayed and desperate grief into words, grief at my sudden exile from Eden, using Emezi's words as model. i crafted my own imitative poems in the key of confession and launched them into the sky like a rocket, hoping to explain away the pain with meter and meaning. But like our viperous little narrator, the ouroboros sharing their tale with us, i swallowed myself with my own words, burned up in my own stomach acid, vomited myself out somewhere worse than before. My confessions did not cleanse me; they branded me Barabbas. My attempt to reach for the sky left me falling back towards earth, landing in a black muddy river, washing up somewhere by Bethlehem with venom in my eyes. As the book warns at the top, the urge to explain can often only make things worse when you see the world wrong.

It has since taken me five months to finish a book that is 45 pages long. i can't blame the book. It told me its mission on the front cover, warned me as well as a book can. It told me what was waiting inside: Everything, undiluted, unadulterated. This book blew my mind in the worst kind of way, which is of course the best way, which is of course the only way. Books are here to challenge us, to change the way we see. There is nothing comforting or safe about the work here, blowing past trigger warnings in a way that no edged-out Netflix comedian could hope to touch.

If you can handle it, allow Emezi to take a scalpel to your life, as they did mine. Inside you will find ruminations and meditations on what is means to be a pagan, to be spirit, to be of any faith or no faith, to be less than a man and more than a god and to do-se-do around the black heart of a dying, diseased brain. Big thanks to the bitch who bought it for my birthday, who read it and decided i should too. She's never let me down with a recommendation, and i'm happy to say this book continues that trend. It has been a campfire to sit beside in one of the darkest periods of my life, throwing shadows of hope against the wall even as the cave threatens to collapse down on top of us all.

#poetry #book review #poetry review #akwaeke emezi #religion #writing #bookblr #content warning: everything #queer poetry

[curleyq]

Holy Healer

Dear, apothecary I am but a man with less of a dream than an empty whim. Thus be told that I am none more than a shell. The blood that freezes my bones and does even less to warm my heart is far colder than any wicked sentiment sent by scorn. I'm riddled with shivering that shall never end, for the sun had left my side many years ago. When all warmth stilled and my mind became a wisp. So deal me a remedy to this hateful heart. Draw the light from my spirit and heal my soul's aching. Make this wicked man a saint and cleanse, for I know not a fixing to this never-ending winter than tears at my flesh. Call to me on some night when the dark is most woeful, and draw her out. If only to kill her with a spiteful arrow. Take your quiver and shoot her down as a feast for the flames. Fight her with my will, which was lost long ago. Bury her bones deeper than any resting place. Trap her with earth and life which she may never touch. Hear her cries and silence. She has not a right to call for such mercy I am not to give. When she is buried and I am more than this shallow husk, bring me to the light which has dimmed. Take me away from her sorrowful place, oh healer son. Find me a star and sentence me to my knees. I am but a man of lofty ignorance, when I see the light I shall run for fear of my vacant heart. Nevertheless, shove me to my knees as a man under god. Tell me to pray and fill my spirit. Warm me. spare me my cursed end, Son, tear my pride from me. split me in two, and let me stand as the better half. with your brewing and scheming, bless my dreadful circumstance. I am but a man, a man of weak will and vain wishes, but spare me still. bless me with a holy hand. mend this shadowy flayer that claws me with agony. take this broken man and fill his cracks, for your mercy for me is unending.

[jdgo51]

Living Loved

Today's inspiration comes from:

Uninvited

by Lysa TerKeurst

I can’t expect any other person to be my soul oxygen.

"I can’t live as if my next breath depends on whether or not they give me enough air for my lungs not to be screaming in pain. Because here’s the thing. People don’t mind doing CPR on a crisis victim, but no person is equipped to be the constant lifeline to another.

We must respect ourselves enough to break the pattern of placing unrealistic expectations on others.

After all, people will not respect us more than we respect ourselves.

No, it’s not wrong to need people. But some of our biggest disappointments in life are the result of expectations we have of others that they can’t ever possibly meet. That’s when the desire to connect becomes an unrealistic need. Unrealistic neediness is actually greediness in disguise. It’s saying, “My needs and desires deserve to tap into or possibly even deplete yours.” This will never set a relationship up for success.

Here’s the secret shift we must make:

Do I walk into situations prepared with the fullness of God in me, free to look for ways to bless others?

Or…

Do I walk into situations empty and dependent on others to look for ways to bless me?

People prepared with the fullness of God in them are not superpeople with pixie dust sparkles of confidence oozing from the pores from which normal people simply sweat. They aren’t the ones who walk into a room with the boisterous, “Hey, hey, hey! The party can start now, because I have arrived!” And they certainly aren’t the ones who circle the room, making sure their agenda is the agenda of every conversation.

No, the fullness of God is tucked into the sacred places within them. The full taking in of God is their soul oxygen. It’s not that they don’t need people. They do. God created them for community. But the way they love is from a full place, not from an empty desperation. They are living loved.

But living loved isn’t just their mind-set; it is a choice they make daily. It isn’t just a possible thing they should try. It’s the only solution that actually works. We have to tell our minds to live loved. But then we must also tell our flesh no.

The more we fill ourselves from His life-giving love, the less we will be dictated by the grabby-ness of the flesh.

I want this. And I suspect you do too. Being full of God’s love settles, empowers, and brings out the best of who we are. On the other hand, the more full of the flesh we are, the more we grab at anyone and anything to fill that ache for love and acceptance.

I don’t like to ache. In any way. One of my aches is from my deep Italian fondness for anything pasta. I mean for real, I love pasta, but it does not love me back. So, I have to make the choice not to risk the temporary pleasure of my taste buds for what will surely be hours of rebellion in my stomach. My flesh begs me to believe that short-term happiness is worth the long-term misery.

But I’ve discovered something about defeating the flesh. If I fill my stomach with healthy foods before being tempted with the pasta, I can say no. It’s so much easier to turn away a dish of pasta if you’re completely full already. But if you are desperately hungry, a dish of just about anything is hard to turn away. Our souls and our stomachs are alike in this way.

You are full because Christ brought the fullness to you One of the most beautiful descriptions of the fullness of God is found in Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians:

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge — that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. — Ephesians 3:14–19

My favorite part of Paul’s prayer is him asking that we have the power to grasp the fullness of the love of Christ… for then we will be filled with the fullness of God. It is impossible to grasp the fullness of God without grasping the fullness of the love of Christ.

At the core of who we are, we crave the acceptance that comes from being loved. To satisfy this longing we will either be graspers of God’s love or grabbers for people’s love.

If we grasp the full love of Christ, we won’t grab at other things to fill us. Or if we do, we’ll sense it. We’ll feel a prick in our spirit when our flesh makes frenzied swipes at happiness, compromising clutches for attention, paranoid assumptions with no facts, joyless attempts to one-up another, and small-minded statements of pride. We’ll sense these things, and we’ll be disgusted enough to at least pause. In this pause lies the greatest daily choice we can make. Am I willing to tell my flesh no, so that I can say yes to the fullness of God in this situation? Here’s where I get in trouble. And here’s where I bet you get tripped up as well.

I grasp the love of Christ.

I sense when I’m making choices that don’t reflect God’s love.

I’m disgusted by those choices.

I am willing to tell my flesh no.

I’m just not sure how to tell my flesh no.

When past rejections make me so prone to satisfying or at least numbing the flesh to avoid more pain, it’s hard to resist.

When you’re lonely and you see your ex-boyfriend post a picture with a new girl, laughing, holding hands, and looking like the happiest they’ve ever been, your flesh will want to grab at something. It’s hard not to comfort yourself by texting another guy to grab a little attention and make yourself feel better.

When you’re listening to other moms talking about all the progress their children are making in reading and your child can’t even identify letters yet, your flesh will want to grab at something. It’s hard not to throw out a statement to one-up the bragging moms in an area where your child is excelling.

When your husband isn’t answering his cell so you call his workplace only to learn he left early for the day, your flesh will want to grab at something. Paranoia seizes you, and by the time he walks in the door you all but accuse him of having an affair.

All these things we’re tempted to grab at? They won’t fill us the way we think they will. In the end, they only make us feel emptier and more rejected.

Yes, the concept of telling our flesh no can sound so good on paper, but in the midst of rejection’s painful pricks, we can often feel so very powerless. That’s where we have to know we aren’t expected to just put on a brave face and hope for the best. We have the power through Christ, who is over every power, including the pull of the flesh and the sting of rejection. When we have Christ, we are full — fully loved and accepted and empowered to say no.

This is true on the days we feel it and still true when we don’t feel Jesus’ love at all. If we live rooted and established in His love, we don’t just have knowledge of His love in our minds, but it becomes a reality that anchors us. Though winds of hurt and rejection blow, they cannot uproot us and rip us apart. His love holds us. His love grounds us. His love is a glorious weight preventing the harsh words and hurtful situations from being a destructive force. We feel the wind but aren’t destroyed by it. This is the “fullness of God” mentioned in the verses from Ephesians 3 that we just read.

There is power in really knowing this. This isn’t dependent on what you’ve accomplished. Or on another person loving you or accepting you. Nor is it because you always feel full.

You are full, because Christ brought the fullness to you.

Yes, I am fully loved, fully accepted, and fully empowered to say no to my flesh. Speak that truth in the power He’s given you. Believe that truth in the power He’s given you. Live that truth in the power He’s given you. That’s how you tell your flesh no. That’s how you live fully prepared in the fullness of God."

Excerpted with permission from Uninvited by Lysa Terkeurst, copyright Lysa Terkeurst.

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Reminisce

“This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel: ‘Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord Almighty.” Zechariah 4:6NIV

May I reminisce with you? Holy Spirit is awesome. His power is beyond imagination.

One of my dearest friends was 19, dying of cancer. His friends feared for his life. They’d heard about a tent revival in Tennessee, across state lines, many miles away. Someone had a ten-wheel vegetable truck, where they laid John on a mattress.

Three boys carried John in under the tent, like the men who lowered their friend through the roof, see Mark 2:4. The evangelist told John, ‘God’s going to heal you tonight.’ Charles, the evangelist, continued with the meeting. Afterwards— healed— John was dancing, singing and praying in tongues.

There have been many services where Holy Spirit began playing with His children. Preachers would merely blow lightly at a person and that person stumbled around laughing. Before long almost everyone attending were laughing uncontrollably, even sliding off chairs onto the floor. First time I was in such a service, I asked God why. He replied, ‘These people are needy, “…Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength” Nehemiah 8:10NIV. Many times my sides have ached for several days from laughing.

I attended another church where the tent evangelist was preaching. Before giving any kind of altar call, he came to me, beginning to tell me specific incidents from my past. Holy Spirit was correct. Charles even knew what I’d been asking God for— see 1Corinthians 12: 8. Afterwards Charles told me, ‘someday you’ll write your story,’ the year was 1984.

My mentor, in Holy Spirit and spiritual things, was an elderly woman. She related to me about a woman in California at a tent revival. The woman was very obese, going to have her leg removed for gangrene. That California tent evangelist told the woman her weight caused her sickness. Then he grabbed the waist of the woman’s tent style dress, beginning to twist it. As he twisted, she changed sizes down to a small body size, with her leg healed. Holy Spirit is powerful. I believe my friend’s story, because God has healed me.

A girl ran around with my granddaughters. She wanted to go to church with them, but her dad said no. I went over to the glass/body shop where he worked, to get a piece of glass. No other customers were there. He reiterated, he didn’t want his daughter to go with me. Suddenly, I saw a picture of him in just past toddler age, frightened, locked into a dank cellar with rats running around. Telling him what I saw, I added, ‘the man who locked you in there was supposed to be a Christian, but was very mean to you.’ This father turned white as a sheet, started trembling, asking— ‘how did you find that out?’ ‘Holy Spirit wants you to know, He kept the rats from biting you. He loves you,’ again, see 1Corinthians 12:8. After that his daughter attended church every time we went. Her daddy was changed.

The worship leader was leading the song portion of the service. Holy Spirit began to rain conviction down over the audience of several hundred people, including many preachers. A lone lady, dressed to the nines, walked the aisles waving a small handkerchief lightly in the air. As she walked people ran to the altar in the front falling on the floor in front of God. Sobs broke out wracking the bodies of young and old alike, ‘Forgive me God.’ “Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,” moved with conviction breaking down the proudest hearts. Do you want to see these things? Prayer will take us there? Will you go? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Holy God we need to see Holy Spirit real, moving in power, showing us Your love again. Please send Him in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2022 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #reminisce #healing #power #conviction #word of knowledge #love #hope #faith

[digitalblutbad]

God, I miss the beauty of the past. I swear, every time I pass by a generic Protestant church, my heart aches. There’s no holiness, no reverence, no history, no... Beauty. And I’m sure I’m not the only person starving for an experience that will take me from the vanity and obscenity of this reality, even if it’s just for a moment in front of my eyes, to remember me that there is for sure a higher place than this insufferable sinful world. People will argue saying that God will accept any type of worship, but I... I, myself, don’t want to give God “any type” of worship. As Jordan Peterson once said “the Church does not demand enough of young people and by not demanding enough it doesn’t indicate its faith in their possibility.”

#christianity #modern world #I know this aching in my heart is the Holy Spirit telling me to not settle in my search for the truth #I know I will end up converting to Orthodox Christianity or Roman Catholicism