Love is here

This is a short poem, bit of writing that I wrote years ago for the Jewels of Jesus magazine. I thought I might share it with you all, I hope you find it encouraging :)

Here.
Right Now. Love is here.
The Love that wept is here. Love is here.
Storms are swallowed here.
Here, all in One Who names Himself, I AM. Sickness lies at His feet in its twisted forms, hugging the ground in terror.
Life is here; the remains of death mark His hands. Loneliness is imprisoned in His shadow, the moans of defeated darkness faintly try to pierce the peace...

Evil lies in tattered ribbons on His back, faint scars, reminders of what it once was. Passion is here, wrapped about Him like a cloak. Power ripples through the air, strength is radiated from Him, mingled with spasms of light.
Love is here, wild and forever true. Tenderness resonates from eyes shot with wisdom and blended with grace. Justice marks the sword that hangs at His waist. Mercy sharpens it’s keen edge.
Love is here—it hums it the very air; waves of freedom collide with oceans of joy.

But yet He is there. Behind you. He is there in the corner of the room; outside the door, unnoticed by many. To many, He is not dressed in robes of scarlet, but rags. To many His body is withered and voice weak. By thousands He is left behind. —and yet His voice calls, “Here I stand at the door and knock…” Love is here, it has so much to offer, will you chose to follow It?
To take the paths riddled with danger and hardship? Will you choose to take it with the One Who loves you?
I leave that for you to tell Him… 

A strange life

Christianity

How are we meant to live with a name so mangled? This religion that has a history so marked?

We are so human…

Atheism vs Christianity google an article on either and you’ll see ragged back lashing from either side. Except the Christians claim to love them, Christians say it, but don’t seem to show it.

Where is Jesus?

I am a 17 year old girl living in rural New Zealand.  A backwater compared to the rest of the world I’m sure. I spend most of my time studying and working, realizing that this what is expected of a middle class woman and that I’ll probably be doing one or the other for the rest of my life.

How does this all relate? I’m not sure; maybe it’s a young person who’s trying to point out what is wrong in the world, what’s wrong with her religion, and what’s mixed up in the fact that in the academic world my opinion is nothing. That my life must somehow be the same because I don’t have enough money for a P.H.D. the only thing that lets you have an opinion.

That because I am a ‘good Christian girl” nobody is ever going to want my advice, my help, or my words.  That because I've never been raped, tortured, attempted suicide or been beaten I can’t legitimately help in things I believe need it the most. That no prostitute is ever going to listen to me because I know nothing. And maybe things are meant to be that way. Maybe I’ll live my life, get a job, get a house, get married have kids and die in a rest home.   

Or maybe there is a God out there who is bigger than my circumstances, who say it doesn't have to be that way. That it could be a lot more adventurous, a lot more giving and a whole lot harder.

Or maybe I’m meant to wait in a pew until I get my calling thrust upon me.

I’m pretty sure the guy who said give yourself as living sacrifice didn't have passive waiting in mind. Not that waiting is a bad thing. But for me it’s never really worked.

I guess what I am saying to myself and every Christian out there is we have to do something real. Regardless of the fact that someday the world will end. Regardless of the fact that goodness and heaven are somehow linked.  We have to find it in ourselves to reach out for the good of ourselves and the good of the world.

Rant over

Me Today

Today: April 10th, 2013

Outside my window: Chick/Chickens digging in the garden, tuna pink and aqua blue sky- Its dusk and getting cold

I am thinking: about what to write for JOJ -truly

I am thankful for: the wedding that's coming up, that my friend has been to a wonderful wedding in America

From the kitchen: ah.. not much, I made tea several days ago- forgot what though. 

I am wearing: my normal black pants, with a sea green top

I am creating:bunting for the wedding

I am going: ah.. count cars from 8am-5pm tomorrow

I am reading: The Moral Revoultion, very interesting. And the Bible :)

I am hoping: That Esther will get back safely. That Petra's jelly will work out -coca cola

I am hearing: The kettle boiling, and Mum tipping water on the garden

I am pondering: Trusting and obeying... all we have to do... so easy, so hard

My goals: To act in a passionate love to others, not out of duty. And to do all this when my heart is breaking...Daddy!

Jesus

“Jesus gave up his reputation 

so you wouldn’t be defined by yours.” 

~Jason Sterling

Source Christ is Write

Frustrations

Just recently I've been thinking. Thinking about a lot of things
like why are we still here? If God has so much in supply what on earth are we doing here? Staying where it is nice and comfortable - when human trafficking has reached 27 million.
Why aren't we taking to heart what Jesus said? He told his disciples to go -with only the clothing on their backs. Why don't we give scandalously?

There are other things like -why do we go to church every Sunday, to get encouraged when we are given encouragement to encourage others - there never seems enough time between Monday and Saturday. Why aren't we doing anything? Why does everything have to be so P.C?
Jesus said to go free the lost- since when did material things come into that?

But I know that we aren't perfect. But every person could do so much. and yes we're all on different levels of selfishness. But God? Doesn't that mean something? If he supplies all- why is there such a thing as normal? Why on earth do we wait? Why don't we love passionately?
Why don't we teach children to give? 
- I guess Jesus just came to seek and save the lost, not to make the earth perfect. Why do people let themselves be bogged down- why does fear exist? Why don't people reach out and say that there is a meaning to life? Why aren't we listening to God? Why does God let us do this? I guess we will know when we get to heaven? Why on earth do we have to wait that 
long? Why do we try and scramble for God just to make us feel better?

I guess I just typed the Christian ideal, but this is what I was thinking about on Sunday. But there was several things I realized after hounding about our imperfections one of them was that we need to strengthen people regardless of what they do to us. 
That of course is really hard and I might get there one day - but it is what Jesus does.
But one thing is for sure I would far rather walk on water with my Jesus than grow old in a rocking chair wishing I had. And there will be times when I'll be a Bilbo Baggins and wish for my nice cosy home. But for the moment as this song says I don't want to go through the motions.  
  
The Motions
This might hurt, it's not safe
But I know that I've gotta make a change
I don't care if I break
At least I'll be feeling something

‘Cause just okay is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of life

I don't wanna go through the motions
I don't wanna go one more day
Without Your all consuming passion inside of me

I don't wanna spend my whole life asking
What if I had given everything 
Instead of going through the motions?

No regrets, not this time
I'm gonna let my heart defeat my mind 
Let Your love make me whole
I think I'm finally feeling something

‘Cause just okay is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of this life

‘Cause I don't wanna go through the motions 
I don't wanna go one more day
Without your all consuming passion inside of me

I don't wanna spend my whole life asking 
What if I had given everything 
Instead of going through the motions?

Take me all the way
(Take me all the way)
Take me all the way
(‘Cause I don't wanna go through the motions)
Take me all the way
(Lord, I'm finally feeling something real)
Take me all the way

I don't wanna go through the motions
I don't wanna go one more day
Without Your all consuming passion inside of me

I don't wanna spend my whole life asking 
What if I had given everything 
Instead of going through the motions?

I don't wanna go through the motions
I don't wanna go one more day
Without Your all consuming passion inside of me

I don't wanna spend my whole life asking 
What if I had given everything 
Instead of going through the motions?
Take me all the way
(Take me all the way)
Take me all the way
(I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go)

Take me all the way
(Through the motions)
Take me all the way

I don't wanna go through the motions
-Matthew West

I am starting again

I am starting writing again. I haven't written for my story in nearly a month. My story is in a mess (more or less) and will need heavy re-writing. I don't know how to end it. And I may have to change my characters. -If you know anything about writing that is really hard. Honestly I don't really want to write another word but I want to continue discovering their story+ I'm pretty much at my "heroine's" lowest point I love her to much to leave her there in short. Prayer for inspiration p.l.e.a.s.e -also for how to weave God into this.
So after asking for so much I guess I must give you some idea of what you are praying for. Warning it (hopefully) will contain romance.

(don't have a title yet), a Summary:

Beatrice is from East-End London 1885. One night she is attacked, in a battle of self defense an important person is accidently killed, Beatrice flees to New Zealand, she is pursued by the dead man's hired killer, Martin.

Her life gets no better when tragedy after tragedy hits Beatrice begins to break down, suicide becoming her only hope. But it all seems as if something stronger is pulling, pulling her to Jesus.
But behind all of this her killer is still seeking, ready to work his revenge. 

Excerpt from (don't have a title yet):

Last updated on 11/27/2012

He began to undo her top buttons, clearing her neck. She knew then that he would kill her... Her fears were confirmed when he wrapped his fingers around her wind pipe, at first gently pushing as though to test her vulnerability, then he dug in his fingers, and she had the odd sensation that he'd done this before... And was certainly not afraid to do it again.

(haha that's pretty much the best scene -thought that is going to change)

Anyway thanks very much

-Tiffany

Was it about modesty after all?

Ha! I know that is some title! And I know a lot of you have very different opinions on it.
But I have been wondering was the cut of our clothing "the point"?

Low tops, collar-bone scrapers, mini shorts and long skirts. These things are all very different... here I want to refresh you on some of them:

                                                        (Source: Christina Pernes on pintrest)







                                                     (Source: Paula Bidle-Stear on Pintrest)
         


                                                    (Source Paula Bidle-Stear on Pintrest)




                                                    (Source: Paula Bidle-Stear on Pintrest)


Long skirt? you think High neck? Both of them look see through! 
Well yeah I tried to get ones that were "Fashionable" and not too "ugly" 
I mean honestly I could have pasted on a heap like this:


                                                           (Sharon Yarnell on Pintrest)
But it doesn't really matter. Fashion isn't the point. "Worldly-ness" or "Unworldly-ness isn't either. Well it has nothing to do with what I am talking about. 

I at the moment strongly believe that one should only wear clothes that suit one's body, here's a non-example:
                                          (Source: AainaA-Ridtz A R on pintrest)



But then I noticed what is flattering tends* to reek with sex appeal in books like Trinny and Susannah's "What not to wear" and after alot of looking and talking to Mum it really after all isn't about modesty- it isn't about protecting men, as the above picture is no security guard against lust (normally underneath their as modern as us). Men are men (remember they are human and emotional too; not wolves ready to eat a woman what ever books say) But if you take the men issue away and see why (I think) modesty was invented, to stop objectisim. (I think I just made up a word :D ) 

Take another look at all the pictures. All of them. They have three things in common: they are clothes, they are considered "feminine" and they all make women look like objects. And that is the problem. Women should never dress to be something to look at. You are a person. 

And I think a good way to avoid this is by dressing in a style that you like. That seems to reek what you love, that is a extension of you- not your body. Dress to show you are a woman, but make sure its lose enough to show you are a lady. Dress so you have a sense of self respect - don't give a toss for what anyone else thinks.    

Then you will be able to add the men part back in. And you will be absolutely fine. Sure you can't stop the occasional stares, but by now that is something well out of your hands - you dress in a style that is you and nothing else.

P.S what's this about thinking that you have to meet your Fathers approval? I believe that your Daddy in Heaven is inthralled with you when you dress like you. So be fearless. Be you. And don't ever worry about clothing again. 

                                                (Source Maelily Edmond (me) on Pintrest)





*not always but dresses shouldn't fit your shape like a too tight glove 

-Miss Tiffany
hmm maybe I should do something on makeup next and way this blog is here to air my thoughts :)

Secret

I'm practicly (sorry) bursting to tell.....  Bbuutt [but] I can't really, something to do with blogs and a magazine   Don't read that or you'll know

a secretive
Miss Tiffy

Part Four

and a belated four

The Battle Surrendered

Part Four

Storyteller SilverLoom

     He shouldered the coiled rope and strode into the forest.

     I scurried after Him, calling, “Wait! Where are we going?”

     “Follow me.”

     I halted. “Did You just quote Yourself?”

     Thankfully, He understood my sense of humor and laughed. “Yes, I tend to do that. It makes it easier for people to see things the way I do.”

     “And that’s supposed to mean…?” I asked as I again hurried to keep up with Him.

     “That I never change. I am the same at this moment as I was two-thousand years ago, and as I was at the creation of the universe. Today, tomorrow, and yesterday, I remain the same. And so I can quote Myself in everything.”

     We continued walking. And walking. And… walking. The forest floor was uncommonly free of debris, and a soft carpet of moss covered the earth, much to the glee of my bare feet. But after several hours of walking, and walking, and… walking, I finally said, “Ok, don’t get me wrong. I want to follow You wherever You go. But can You give me some clue as to where we’re headed? Please?”

     “We are going home,” Jesus replied.

     I gasped audibly, feeling both excitement and fear. He took one look at my face and cracked up. “No, dear heart! I mean your house. It’s not your time yet.”

     “Oh,” I said. Then I saw the funny side of it and laughed along with Him. After a few minutes, it finally occurred to me what He had said. “Hey! Why are You taking me back home? You said You were going to train me!” I cried.

     “No worries,” He replied. “We won’t arrive until you’re trained.”

     It took me a while to try to sort that out. “So… You’ll be training me on the way?”

     “Yes. We won’t get there until you’re trained.”

     “Oh, ok. Gotcha.” Little did I suspect that I had no clue what He meant.

     We walked some more. And walked. And… well, you know. But it wasn’t as boring as it sounded. The forest was beautiful and peaceful, and I was walking beside the Prince of Peace.

     Presently, Jesus remarked, “We’ll stop here and make camp. We’ll continue your training in the morning.”

     I can’t deny that I gave Him a funny glance. Continue? I wasn’t aware that we had started. I hadn’t even touched a sword or a bow yet!

     He stripped the lower branches off some nearby trees and soon had a small fire going. We ate bread and drank water that came from the pack He carried on His back.

     We slept on the soft moss under some light blankets from Jesus’s pack. The weather was perfect. I didn’t feel cold until early in the morning.

     Shivering, I pulled the blanket more tightly around me. My eyelids fluttered for just a second, but what I saw in that moment made me sit up and scream.

     The shadow creatures were back.

Well how 'bout that?

And three

I'm just whipping this on and running off to a ballet practice exam -prayers please.
Anyway... here 'tis

     The Battle Surrendered 

Part Three

Storyteller SilverLoom 

     I lifted my shackled wrists up and said wistfully, “I’m chained. I don’t know where the key is.”

     He reached into a pocket on his tunic and took out a tiny gold object. “You mean this key?” Grinning at my surprise, he quickly bent to unlock the chains on my wrists and ankles.

     “How did you know I was here?” I inquired as he unbound me.

     “Well,” he replied, “I’m here to train you. And I can’t train you if you’re locked up like this.”

     I decided not to push the question he had obviously avoided and let the conversation carry on. “Train me? Why?” I had read many stories of kids who were sucked into fantasy worlds and trained to be warriors for special missions. The thought that I could be like them filled me with jittery excitement.

     “‘Why?’” he repeated, letting my final shackle fall to the floor. “You think you don’t need training?”

     “No, no! It’s just that… why me? Why was I chosen to be trained? Why were those creatures after me?”

     He looked me in the eye. “They are after all of you, dear heart.” With that, he turned back toward the rope, leaving me to follow and wonder what he had against direct answers.

     It was fairly easy to climb out of the dungeon with my feet braced on the wall and my rescuer beneath me to give me a lift if I needed it. Soon, he and I were treading the green grass outside my prison. I shaded my eyes from the sun as I turned to look at the dreadful place. It was a single, tall tower without any doors or windows that I could see from this side. No banner flew from the top of this lonely turret, so I had no emblem to associate with the enemy who had captured me. The tower was set in the middle of a forest.

     “Um, so, Sir…?” I let my sentence trail off and turned to look at my rescuer, who was busy coiling the rope. “Sorry. I didn’t get your name?”

     “Jesus,” was the calm reply.

     I balked. His grin returned as He added, “You wanted directness.”

     Now I had to decide if it was a complete miracle or complete lunacy. The fact that He could read my mind pretty much ruled out insanity, but could it really be Him?

     Before I could say anything, He stretched out His hand toward me. One look at the ugly scar marring His skin was enough to convince me. My mind spun.

     He pulled me out of my circling thoughts by pointing out, “You were about to ask Me something?”

     “Uh, yeah. When do we start… um, that is, when are You…?”

     “When does your training begin?” He prompted.

     I nodded, still dumbfounded.

     “When you are ready,” He said.

     I managed to squeak out, “Am I ready now?” 

     He smiled. “You tell Me. Are you?”

     “I think so.”

     He waited.

     “Yes. I’m ready.”

     “Good. Then let’s get to work.” He shouldered the coiled rope and strode into the forest

Isn't it sad? Five more stories to go :(
-Miss Tiffany