We need Heroes!
It doesn't matter if you can fly or run at super speed. The only superpower you need is compassion and an ambition to do good!Calling all heroes. We need you to save the world!
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land
Not a creature was hoping, not a single man.
The temples were hung with an aura of guilt,
But unknown to all, a Kingdom would soon be built.
The people were settled all snug in their inns,
While it was Mary and Joseph whose worlds began to spin
But a keeper, so kind, gave them his stable to stay
Where they had to settle amongst all of the hay
When out in the fields there arose such a chorus,
I looked with my sheep to see what was before us.
Down from the heavens they flew like a flash,
Tore open the veil as though opening a sash.
High above all they gave off such a glow.
They gave the illusion of mid-day to shepherds below.
Then, what to my wondering ears should be heard,
But a resounding declaration of hope to be stirred.
With such gracefulness, as lively as youth.
I knew in a moment it must be the truth,
More rapid than eagles His angels they came,
They sang, and they sang, and called out my name!
“Now hear, all! now hear, all! now, a baby is born!
On, Earth! In David’s town! on his body cloth only worn!
Joy to the world! Shepherds hear our call!
Now dash away! Dash away and tell them all!”
As fast as they came, back to the heavens they did fly,
They met not an obstacle, as they mounted to the sky.
So up to the heavens the messengers they flew,
With the good news of God, of Jesus Christ, too.
And then, with a twinkling, a star above roofs
Which caused the pawing of all my sheep’s hoofs.
As I raised up my head, and was turning around,
Down from the town my brothers called what they found.
He was wrapped all in cloth, in the manger he was put,
And his parents seemed tired from a journey on foot.
A bundle of joy as he laid on his back,
And he looked so peaceful, for being in a hay stack.
His eyes-how they shined! his hands reached for Mary!
His skin was so soft, his nose like a berry!
His small little mouth, he opened up so slow,
And the yawn of his lungs was more pure than I know.
The thumb of his hand he held tight in his lips,
And my heart could not keep from its skips
As his smile covered his face, what did he utter,
But a beautiful laugh, which caused me to stutter!
He was chubby and round, a healthy baby boy,
And I cried when I saw him, for I was filled with joy!
Such a silent night and holy halo above his head,
Soon gave me to know I had awoken from the dead.
He spoke not a word, but stared intently at us all,
And lifted up our hopes, for he would never fall.
And waving his hand at us, I knew for sure,
Jesus’ love for me and my soul was already secure!
The first Christmas has come and now I write this epistle,
As I think about my Lord and my sins’ dismissal .
For He came to say a blessing for more than a day,
He came to say, “I am the life and the truth and the way.”
I think I may have just taught myself a lesson. Inconsistency is the biggest way to alienate anyone. I’ve been inconsistent in posting on this blog. I gave up at one point. But I will not fail to remain loyal to those that do read my blog. I want to be here to offer food for thought for those that are chasing after the same goal as I: Revival. My revival is Jesus. The one truly consistent person in my life. I love Him, and because of my love for Him, I want to love on all of you. So what do you say? Give me another shot at speaking to your hearts?
I’m going to do my very best to offer a consistent flow of creativity for you, check back more often, I promise there will be something at least once every few visits you make.
God Bless,
GJ
Gunfire was flashing in the distance.
I had been kneeling for some time behind the wreckage of a tank in the middle of a street trying to sum up the courage to tread alone in the open. Explosions from buildings over miles away put me on edge. Anxiety swelled in my soul.
How had I become so helplessly alone? The unit I had been ambushed and somehow I had been knocked unconscious and left for dead. I awoke to see my companions with the flesh torn from their bones by bullets.
I whispered a silent prayer for each of them.
I had come to this place of terror as a journalist. I wanted to shine light on what was going on. Why? I don’t know. To give hope? Courage? Perhaps I was being selfish and just wanted an adventure. Either way I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Jesus, I need your peace.
After quickly cleaning off a handgun that had been lying nearby, I said a prayer and rushed to the wall of a building parallel to me. No one shot at me. I peered through a blown out window. Still, no one shot at me. I climbed through the window into the room. Again, no one shot at me.
When you’re on a roll, you’re on a roll.
The room was some type of lobby. Rubble was scattered around the room and patches of the walls and ceiling were blown out. It didn’t seem to want to collapse though.
I ventured further into the building, through the first door, it led to a hall. This building had a familiar feel to it, though it looked strange and abandoned. The last door on the right was the only one left unlocked, I carefully inched the door open. It was dark. I pushed the door open the entire way.
Upon the floor, someone had fallen, blood was evident. I lowered my gun.
The figure stirred, moving me to raise my gun, but as I did so the person turned over and I could see the face clearly in the light from the hall.
A child. A beautiful little girl. She didn’t seem scared though. I once again lowered my gun, feeling guilty. Her eyes were saddened more than anything. Being in a foreign country, I wasn’t sure how well she would be able to speak English, so I spoke slowly.
“Hello, I don’t want to hurt you, where are your parents?”
She, to my surprise, spoke English quite well. “They are gone, they were fighting against you’re Americans, but lost, they are dead.”
I knelt down next to her. “I’m sorry,” What I said felt like a begging whimper, “is there anything I can do?”
“Bring them back.”
My heart broke. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. I went to pick her up to take her for medical help, but she refused, saying, “I don’t want to leave, I’m in my Father’s house. He will take care of me.”
“But I thought you’re father was dead?” I asked gently.
“My Father is alive,” she pointed upwards at the wall.
A cross. This was a church building. The war that I was supporting was killing my brothers and sisters. I felt as if I had pressed some kind self-destruct button on the Body of Christ.
The little girl, reaching out with her arms, grabbed the crucifix around my neck. “Why do you kill us? Is not the christian way to be a peacemaker, for they will be blessed?”
This time, tears welled up in my eyes and I began to sob. The little girl drew herself to her knees and embraced me.
She whispered into my ear, “It’s okay, America, I forgive you and I still love you.”
