Two

[It's a little long, and though it looks like two separate poems, they are meant to be read side by side. It just didn't want to get formatted that way. =)]

I get up before the sun,

walk a mile to get a bucket of water;

add a little more to last night’s dinner

            to stretch it out, just a little longer.

Throw a couple of sticks on the meager fire:

it’s a little cold.

I don’t have to break through snow to get to 

where I need to go.

Sun’s shining, birds singing…

Almost don’t notice the man with the gun.

He asks my business: I say, “School.”

To help me along, he shoves the tip of the

gun—a bayonet point—in my back

and pushes.

I feel blood trickle down my back,

but keep my head up.

I get to school, and immediately peace 

washes over.

My God is here.

I can’t read, but I can listen.

Songs, stories, prayers…

            All rush forth without ceasing,

From me, my friends, people I don’t 

know.

We’re all His children.

My hands and arms greet Him, tears stream 

down my face.

I bow down and bury my face to the ground.

I’m not worthy, but He loves me!

There’s the man with the gun, again.

More of them.

Discovery: school isn’t what they 

thought it was.

He recognizes me, smiles, walks over.

Looks at me, tears still fresh on my face. 

Tilts his head and asks: “Do you believe in 

Jesus?”

I say: “Yes.”

He aims at my head and pulls the trigger.

I am home.

Do I have to get up? It’s not even 10 am.

Shuffle, shuffle three feet to the bathroom.

Open the fridge, cupboards, what to eat?

            So many choices. Eh, nothing today.

Little cold: check the thermostat, who turned

it up? Mmmm, comfortable.

Mom, my car’s in the shop: gimme a ride.

            Such a pain to ask for rides.

Why are those birds so friggin’ loud? Wish 

it weren’t so sunny today.

            People who have to walk are such

losers. Haha.

Why is every light red? Drive better, mom.

Doesn’t matter—it’s just school.

            No one cares about being there.

I think I have a test in history.

            Good time to catch up on sleep.

Crap. Here we go again. Another stupid day.

            I wish I didn’t have to go.

No one’s here; did all my friends ditch 

and not tell me? Bitches.

Talking, lectures, reading…

            Won’t they just shut up?

            Why is everyone in my face?

            I don’t even know you; what crap are

you telling me about your boyfriend?

He came to me, so if you have a problem, it’s your problem.

Oh, no you didn’t just hit me! I’ll bury your 

face in the dirt, stupid ho!

Seriously? The principal’s office?

            Wasn’t even my fault. She started it.

What’s that noise? What’s going on?

Gunfire? Oh, God!! What’s going on?!!

Hey, I know that guy…he just shot that girl!

            Oh, please don’t come in here!!

He walks in and asks: “Do you believe in 

Jesus?”

I scream: “NO!!!”

He points the gun at me, then walks away.

I am lost.

Letter to God

One night, in the middle of trying to pray (I say trying because sometimes I start wandering all over the place), I just decided that instead of talking to God, I'd write to Him.  Same idea, just different format.  Helps me keep my mind a little more focused on what I want to do, which is conversate with God.  This is just stream-of-consciousness, meaning, as I was thinking, I was writing. It got kind of messy, so I typed it, because it was something I wanted to share.  Obviously, it relates to my life, job, situation, etc, but if it reverberates or touches even one other person, that was God's purpose. 

July 13, 2011

My Lord,

I work in a job that doesn’t allow an overt display of my relationship with You, AND seems to allow a demeaning of it. If I admit that I pray to the Almighty God, I feel that I would be automatically reduced to a whacked out, Holy Roller, proselytizing about unreal prophecies and damning everyone to hell.

So, I run covert ops.

I try to portray You in my everyday actions. I try to live the way You would live.  I have students who recommend me to others.  I have students email, asking to crash MY class because I’m the “only” one they’ve heard good things about. I’ve had students fail my class, only to register for the same class with me the next semester.  And none of this is ME.

It’s all YOU, Lord.  I may not be able to say it, but I can show it.

I fail constantly.  I don’t give all the attention to things or people as I should, when I should.  I put things off to the detriment of myself, though when that happens with work, I don’t make my students suffer for MY failings and I own up to when things have happened that are MY fault, and I try to do that when I fail my friends and family, too.  Sometimes it’s easier to be nicer to strangers, though, because you know your family will always be there.  Not an excuse though. I don’t always call out to You for help, nor give You the praise You deserve when You deserve it.

But I ask for Your forgiveness and start anew the next day.  And I probably ask for forgiveness every single day, because every single day, I fail.  And when I fail again, I know You’re there to, once again, pick me up. Because I am never the reason I succeed. I work hard, but not for my glory, even if I mistakenly accept it as my own.  The success I have is ONLY because You’ve led me down those paths and opened the doors, giving me those opportunities. I give You great thanks for that.

You make me strong when I feel like I’m not, make me humble when I’ve gotten too big for my own head, give me heart when I try not to have one.  I want You to be seen through me.  And even when it doesn’t turn out the way I thought it should have, doesn’t mean it didn’t turn out exactly the way You planned it. 

I don’t always know the reasons, but I don’t always have to know.  That’s easier to understand when I’m not questioning the reasons behind something that just happened, but it does help me get through tougher times.  What I do know is that I want to keep working for You.  Whatever I can or can’t do, I want to always show Your glory.  And I try to pray for that strength every day.

Your faithful daughter,

Olivia

Christian McNuggets

Hey Boys and Girls, it’s time for “Cooking With Uncle Jer’.”  Our recipes for today all use the same main ingredient: snake!  We have Snake Adobo, Snake Guam Style (Coconut Milk), even Sweet and Sour Snake.

Doesn’t that sound yummy?

Easter

Pain

Crowd
Hammer
Spikes
Wood
Suffering

It Never Was...

There are times I rage and scream.
Shake my fists
and cry out to the Heavens.
I plunge myself into
Misery
with my “what if’s” and “why me’s”
slipping and sliding, full speed ahead,
into an abyss of my own making,
all the while
yelling “Where are You?!!”
I wrap the dark like a shroud.
I keep only silence and depression as my company.
My suffering is
Great
and
Pathetic.
NO ONE knows what it’s like…but me.
Til I reach my end, that last
Pitiful strand of
Self.
I lash out one last time—
Shrieking—
I finally give up…
I stop the screaming, the pity.
I simply stop.

And then I hear…
                                                  …that still, small Voice.
                                                  Reminding me that it’s not my fight.

                             It never was.

(July 11, 2011)

Olivia

Hi. My name is Olivia Samaniego, and I’ve been attending Remnant for about a year. I think it was the second time I came to church and heard about Renaissance that I felt drawn to it. I jumped on the chance when I saw that Renaissance seemed to need a bit of help. I consider myself a writer, and a few of my pieces have been uploaded to this blog. I am very interested in the writing field, publishing, editing, etc., and would love to have my work published someday. I’m also a writing teacher, which means that I know how many people claim to hate writing, to not be able to write, or to be horrible writers. Occasionally, I’ll hear someone tell me they like to write. Rarely do I hear anyone tell me that they love to write and they know they are good. However, I do see many people put themselves down far below their real skill or ability. Part of the reasoning behind that is that writing has been given such a bad reputation through many seemingly torturous teaching methods. However, I think a bigger part of the reason is that writing takes time, and we, as a whole, don’t like to do things that take time. (I just felt I needed to give a little background about myself.)

The goal of Renaissance is to take back the Arts for Jesus Christ. First, a lot of people are put off by the word “art.” Many believe that to be an “artist” means that one is completely awesome with words, paint, clay, photos, etc. But I think that we’ve created a skewed idea of an artist. This is not to say that those who call themselves artists aren’t, nor does it mean that people who are great artists shouldn't be proud of their abilities. But, so many people out there have so many different kinds of talents, and it’s when we compare ourselves to others that most people feel they fall short—whatever that actually means. We’re not trying to find the best artists; it means that whatever comes from you, comes from a heart that knows the talent and the skill is a gift from our God.

Okay, okay, I’ll get off my soapbox. I’m good at lecturing; it’s my job, so sometimes it happens even when I’m off the clock. I asked Athena for writings and drawings from Remnant Kids, so you'll be seeing them sporadically. She told me that they were also doing a series on the Ten Commandments, and this is the first lesson they had. The kids were given a verse, John 2:5-6, and then they were given three questions to answer. (I’ve written the questions the way I saw their answers; I didn’t have the actual questions given.) What I like about kids is that, up to a certain age, while they certainly know how to lie, they can be some of the most honest people you will ever meet. Also, I left spelling and wording the way it was written. Anything I needed to clarify is in brackets.

John 2:5-6

But if anyone obeys His Word, God’s love is truly made complete in Him: whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.

1. Why are the Ten Commandments important?

2. How do you follow the Ten Commandments?

3. Do you break the Ten Commandments?

Lauryn

1. so you can have a [heart].

2. don’t do them

3. yes i do but i ask God to forgive me.

Elena

The ten commandments are important because u need to live by them or u got to HELL.

You follow the commandments by using them in every day life.

Yes, I break the commandments. [sad face]

Anonymous

The 10 commandments r important because it teaching you a lesson about going to heavan.

You follow them by not breaking them.

NO. I don’t break the ten commandments.

Alysia

The commandments are important cause they help us later on in life.

I follow them by doing the rules of them.

Sometimes I do brek them but when I do I apologize to God.

So, if you see me coming your way, you know what I'm looking for. If kids can do it...okay, I'll leave that alone. But seriously, I know you have something to write, a picture to take, a drawing to make...give the glory to God, and show it off.

I don’t dance. I don’t polka, don’t waltz, don’t do the bump or the frug. I don’t do the electric slide or the moonwalk, either. I’ve seen people country line dance and I have no interest in it. To me, line dancing looks like some bizarre adaptive PE class or something. The bottom line is that I don’t dance.
It’s not that I have anything against it, necessarily. I just don’t look good doing it. Have you ever watched a rhino dodge bullets? If you have, you’ve seen me dance! If not, imagine it and you’ll laugh out loud. I know I do. I’ve never figured out how God could get any glory out of a spectacle like that, so I don’t dance.
Church music has come a long way since the Gregorian chants. Years ago I went to Dallas, Texas, for a worship seminar and saw all kinds of dancing and heard all kinds of music. There was one guy that just kept spinning around and around as soon as the music started. I kept a pretty close eye on him because I was waiting for him to blow groceries all over the worship band. He never did, and I must admit I was kind of disappointed.
Now, before I go any further, let me explain that I am all for being excited in church. For too long the church has been, well, kind of dead. We’ve all been in services that were about as exciting as watching paint dry. And if God touches your heart and you want to dance, by all means cut a rug! Do the holy boogie all over the sanctuary.
Just don’t expect me to or look down on me because I don’t.
The great thing about God is that He’s not “one size fits all.” Take it from a fat guy, one size doesn’t fit all. It might fit most or even almost all, but nothing fits everybody.
God didn’t take away my individuality or my sense of expression when I became a Christian. There is no holy cookie cutter making all of us the same once we meet Christ. Thank goodness.
I am the third generation of ministers in my family and we are all different. My grandfather had a different preaching style from my uncle, and I have a different style than either one of them. Is one of us right and the others wrong? No, we’re just part of the Body of Christ.
Paul told the church in Corinth, “I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn't just a single part blown up into something huge. It's all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, ‘I'm not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don't belong to this body,’ would that make it so? If Ear said, ‘I'm not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don't deserve a place on the head,’ would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it. (1 Corinthians 12:14 18 MSG)
Can you imagine life without a nose? Or what if you didn’t have ears? How would you wear sunglasses? God knew what He was doing when He designed our bodies.
He also knew what He was doing when He designed the Body of Christ. Each of us is different, yet we are all still part of the Body. I don’t want to be the same as you, and Lord knows, you sure don’t want to be the same as me!
So the lady who called me an “example of ignorance” in church once because I wouldn’t hop around just didn’t understand. She may have been rude, but she just didn’t understand. I may not dance or hop, but I am still part of the Body of Christ. I may be a part that doesn’t move, but I’m a part nonetheless.
Not shining up my tap shoes.... Jerry