A Message To My Brothers In Christ

 

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Photo by Wesley Eland on Pexels.com

I want to take a moment to address you, men.
The strong ones;
The brave ones.
I want to address you as my brothers in Christ.
I plead with you on behalf of the girls in my life:
Stop for a moment,
And listen.

Too many of us have bad opinions of you,
And perhaps many of us have a right to;
You have a responsibility as men to take care of our hearts,
But too often you play or you steal or your tear us apart;
Too often you treat us just as you view us—as objects to take pleasure in
Or simply persons to ignore.
And while that sounds harsh, I want to set for you a higher standard,
To encourage you to be the men that God will first and foremost admire.

We may not always admit it to you,
But we’re weak—
Just as you may not always admit to us.
We may not always say it, but when you open the door wide for us our soul smiles wider;
When you take the time to just listen to us,
We admire your endeavor to honor us;
And when you ask us how we’re doing,
The whole world seems all right again.

Men, we might act casual, but you are important to us.
We often look up to you hoping we can trust,
Hoping we can trust you to be truly good men.
Don’t ignore the power of sensitivity—
To us, it’s the highest form of masculinity.
Be interested in who we truly are inside, not merely what we are on the outside;
And while this may be a lot to ask,
View us as your sisters in Christ—good friends whom you will never marry;
And when we see the deep respect you carry,
Your selflessness will teach us more of God and His glory.

Men, don’t settle for less than your best;
We challenge you to be truly great men.
Dare yourselves to be the men you want to be;
Dare yourselves to be good, strong, and free.
Don’t compare yourselves to those around you;
Compare yourselves to Christ who is in you,
And you always see that you can be something more.

“[Treat] younger women as sisters, with absolute purity.” — 1 Timothy 5:2b

“Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers.” — 1 Peter 3:7

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” — 1 Corinthians 13:4-5

Thank you for reading, and look out for my next post, A Message to My Sisters in Christ!

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My Childhood Best Friend

black and white photo of holding hands

Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

Don’t be bitter.
Even if your friend walked away
As you stood with your hand reaching out
And your voice about to shout,
Don’t be bitter.

These words I tell myself
Whenever I think of her.
I’ve mourned for her as I mourned for my dog when he went away,
But it’s even worse.
I can’t be bitter.

We planned to be best friends forever,
Because as children we couldn’t imagine being without each other.
We shared laughs, we shared dreams;
There wasn’t much of a thing she didn’t know about me.

She won my heart from the start with her wild game plans;
She knew how to have fun like no one else I’ve ever met.
And when the day was over, and our laughter died,
We talked of deep things, the kind that make you cry.

I’d always ask her what she wanted to do,
She’d say, “How about this?”
And I’d let her choose.
We poured out our hearts like cement,
And I don’t know about hers,
But mine’s been stuck since.
Our sisterly love was like nothing I’d ever known;
She was my hero, she was my home.

When she drifted away, I felt rejected;
I felt like a worm being dissected,
Unworthy and small.
I guessed our personalities weren’t right for each other at all.

I blamed her for things that weren’t really her fault;
I opened my wounds and poured out the salt.
And when I finally gave up trying to make her be my friend again,
That’s really when I looked up from the ground,
And God got my attention.

He told me I was clinging to a plant that would die;
He told me I was missing out on His Son who was crucified.
He grabbed hold of my shoulders and looked me in the face, said: “Now you’re done with your best friend being your idol in My place.”

I want vs. I have

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With God, relationships with Him and others are an outpouring of His love. ❤

I want a connection

My mind is awake
I want a deep conversation
From a guy or a girl—
Either one, I don’t care.

I just want real interaction
All I hear is
“Hello” and “Goodbye”
“How are you?” and a laugh
But that’s it and I’m drowning
Yearning for a connection
I just want a connection.

The human connection
That grows a soul
The touching a heart
The filling a hole
Deep inside me.
I want that.

We hide in the dark
But we want the light
Friendship means nothing
If we don’t really know
One another
If we think we know them
but never feel that we need each other.

I want meaning to this ritual
Of smiles and hugs and politeness
I want to understand you
I really do.

I want, I want,
This selfishness wired inside me
It’s taking control; it’s becoming a desire
I can’t withhold.

I want love to bind us
Because without love,
We’re only a pair
Of separate individuals
Yearning for something more.

 

I have a connection

My heart is awake
In a deep conversation
With my Savior and Lord
He’s the One who cares.

This is real interaction
Not just
“Hello” and “Goodbye”
“How are you?” and a laugh
If that was it I’d be drowning
Yearning for a connection—
But I have a connection.

The supernatural connection
As He grows my soul,
Touches my heart,
And fills a hole
Deep inside me.
He does that.

When I hide in the dark
He guides me to His light
Our relationship with God means nothing
If we don’t really know Him
If we think we know Him
But never feel that we need Him.

I want meaning to this ritual
Of prayers and songs and kindness
I want to understand Him
I really do.

I want, I want
This desire fires inside me
It’s taking control; it’s breaking the boundaries
Of my restricted soul.

His love binds us
Because without love
We’re detached from our Creator
Yearning for something more.

Never Alone

Dearest friends,
Don’t look at me as too quiet to care,
Too innocent to know,
Or too happy to sympathize.
I am here to laugh with you on the good days,
But I am also here to help you on the bad.
If you don’t feel comfortable to talk to me about the bad,
It makes me sad.
Maybe I don’t know how to be a friend to you,
Maybe I’m learning.
But I hope I can be better and stronger and kinder towards you,
Because each moment with you is precious to me;
Each second gives me a chance to smile
Or to ask you what’s wrong.
I am not loud or especially smart or particularly good at comforting you,
But I care
I know
And I sympathize.
Because God is so much more than loneliness;
He is the light in the darkness,
And He is here for you.
I started this poem pleading you to spill out your troubles
To me,
And that burden I would gladly bear
If it could set you free.
But I should urge you to first spill them in the gracious hands of God,
Who takes them and kills them
With His Shepherd’s rod.
Just as His Son trampled the serpent to death,
So His presence can now be our place of rest.
He is our Father
Who sent His Son to die in our place,
So you would have eternal comfort and grace.
He is your Father.
I am your sister.
The church is your family.
Even if you’re far from home,
We are here for you, so you never have to be alone,
And neither do I.
Together we can endure the storms
That slay our hearts
And rise up into the light
Whole again,
And stronger,
With a friendship that
Will never die.

“3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” – 1 Cor. 1:3-4 (NIV)

An Excerpt from The Thrall’s Sword

Here’s the excerpt, as promised!

The following day, he caught me crying as we hiked up a cliff.
“Sigrid, are ye doin’ all right?” he said from behind me.
I brushed back tears. “I’m doing wonderful,” I said as I stumbled over a protruding rock. Every memory of Mum lay trapped in the center of my mind. Today the thought of her had entered my head when I had picked her favorite flowers, lavender primroses, and now I could not push my grief out of my mind.
I kept walking, faster now, trying to draw closer to Lars who strode through the thick pines in the distance, energized by his morning breakfast. The last thing I wanted was this pathetic boy discovering my own weakness.
“Did ye find those purple flowers ye was lookin’ for?”
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t eat them, so there’s no point in having them.”
The truth was, I’d looked everywhere for them, but couldn’t find them. I was as if the gods themselves were ruining everything I tried to do.
“Are ye… are ye not enjoying yerself on this noble adventure of ours?” he asked gently.
I shot a glance at him. “I don’t even know why I came on your ‘noble adventure’ in the first place. To ruin a friendship and become a burden? To defend a country I have no reason to love?”
“Ye didn’t have to—”
“—I didn’t have a choice, really. It was the only way to do it.” I walked faster, but Erik drew alongside me.
“The only way for ye to do what, lass?” he asked, his forehead creased with anxiety.
We stared at each other, motionless, my heart trembling at his gaze. I wanted to cry again, but I withheld my tears. I could never tell him why I was truly going to Ireland. “I… I just want to go home.” Not to Bergen, but to my mother, my real home.
I turned away and hurried to catch up with Lars, feeling Erik’s eyes locked on me the whole way. He would never understand.

And I was beginning to fear I would never be able to go home.

Uncle John’s Mansion

An excerpt from a novel I wrote when I was twelve and thirteen.

The train jolted. She woke up from the pleasant dream. Looking at the train clock, it appeared that several hours had passed by. And outside the window she saw the sun slowly setting in the west. She had slept practically the whole day!

From the window she could see the train was rumbling over a tall bridge that hung over a dazzling canyon.

The train started to sway. Continue reading