Beyond the Boundries

If you live in Michigan, you probably know that almost everyone is either a Michigan or State fan. For those of you who don't live in Michigan, University of Michigan and Michigan State are the two biggest universities in our state, and a large majority of the people pick a college to root for in the sports games.

Now, I know a lot of people from both. And usually around the time of the annual Michigan/State football game, I ask some people which team they prefer. When I get a response, I usually think Oh, I can see that. or Yea they look like that kind of fan. But a following thought is usually that they honestly could be either one and it seems just as much like the person.

Then recently, I found myself judging a person. Then I thought of the most likely explanation as to why they are this way, the generous likely explanation. But then I realized that there was a huge multitude of possible explanations, and I would most likely never know which one was correct.

I finally took a bird's eye view and looked at this. I realized that God was trying to teach me something through this. The words from scripture surfaced in my mind. Do not judge, or you too will be judged. I thought of Ted Dekker's The Priest's Graveyard. I remembered how much I promoted the book. Could I really have been that much of a hypocrite?

I realized that I didn't want people judging me, they have no idea who I am. And likewise, I have no idea who they are. Even more importantly, these boundaries didn't exactly fit, either. All humans have the same basic attributes. We are curious, we want to love, we want to be loved. Everyone has different circumstances, and everyone deals with them in different ways, and this is what allows us to categorize people? This somehow doesn't seem fair.

Let me ask you another question: what does human judgment accomplish? Nothing. In fact, it hinders blessings. So get over it! We are all humans, and we are all beautiful. Rather than point out the flaws, point out the pluses, because the ground you stand on is not a whole lot different. And if it really bothers you that much, or even if it doesn't, try to help this person move towards the better. Be bold and look beyond the boundaries.

A Poem of Elyon's Love

I wrote a rather short poem about Elyon's love. I wasn't really intending to post it on here, but I figured I might as well.

Elyon's love. The peace that always calms no matter how harsh the storm. The light of dawn I can always cling to, the keys of freedom that can always break the chains. The joy of the deepest sorrow, and the purpose of mortal breath. The courage of the weak, and the blood of the righteous. It is by Elyon's love, I am free. It is by Elyon's strength that I have the courage to draw breath. It is Elyon, whom I truly love.

A Glimpse Through Elyon's Eyes

I'm not going to pretend to know how Elyon sees the world. After all, He is infinite, He is a god, in fact the God. So being a mortal, I will never fully understand how he sees things. But sometimes, I feel like I get a glimpse. Perhaps it is only a glimpse, but it is still a wonderful thing. And on that occasion when I am gifted with a glimpse, it is always a view of Elyon's most treasured creatures. His very favorites, humans.

We all know that Elyon looks at the heart, not the outward appearance, yes? We also know that as humans, we are corrupted at the heart, we have been ever since Eve's teeth penetrated the flesh of that forbidden fruit. That forbidden fruit was from the tree titled "The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and evil." We already had knowledge of good, but through this tree, we really did receive knowledge of evil. Ever since then, at the heart, we are at battle. It seems as if humans are torn between the two. It's not only ourselves, though. Angels and demons (Roushium and Shataiki, for you Dekkies) fight over each heart, in hopes that Elyon or Satan (Teeleh) might win over, respectively.

So if we have a partial desire to do evil, and Elyon looks at the heart, He can see the inky blackness. It can be erased by only Yeshua (Oooh, I so badly want to say the BoHC name, but I don't want to ruin anything. If you know it, you know it, though.). But we continually sin, even after our drowning in the red lakes. This is where my point comes through. It is my belief, anyways, that when Elyon looks at one of his beloved humans, He knows the evil is there. He is God, it cannot be hidden. But when He looks at us, the ones he died the ultimate death for, we are not creatures of sin. We are beautiful and pure, as we were originally supposed to be. He looks at us as our sum of good, not of evil.

I am not saying He ignores our evil, please don't think that. But His beautiful beloved is perfect, through him. And He see the lost horde as they could be. Sometimes, I get a glimpse of this. When a young child does a fully selfless act out of pure kindness. When there is pure laughter and joy. I see a person, in this state, and now I can truly understand why God loves humans. We are beautiful. The problem is, this state fizzles. I always try to see people through to that potential goodness. It is a big help when you are trying to love the unlovable, to the extent of unconditional love.

Here is a photo collage I made to help you get an idea of what I'm talking about. The center is a type of physical form of His presence, Elyon's Green Waters. The people are in this state I am talking about. Their eyes are green because.... you really need to read the Circle Series, but they are green because that is the color of Elyon, in the Circle Series. ;)



Just a side note, most of these photos, had other people in them. "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." -Proverbs 27:17

A Glimpse into Elyon

First off, I just want to clear things up in case there is any confusion. All the content posted on this blog, including the last two short stories, is my own material. I wrote it myself. Unless I note other wise, it is penned (or typed) by me.


You are probably wondering who Elyon is. Well, allow me to bring you up to pace. Elyon, is my Savior, my Hope, my King, my Redeemer, my Peace, my God, my Love. He is known by many names, including the ones Yahweh and Jesus. Elyon is one of the original Hebrew names for God, a derivative of El Elyon, meaning God Most High.

I favor Elyon as the name I call God, simply because it has a deep personal meaning to me. This is due to Elyon being the name for God in Ted Dekker's Books of History Chronicles.

To give you an example of this Elyon I know, below I have posted an excerpt fro Ted Dekker's The Circle Series: Book #1: Black. Yes I know, it is not from the Bible. But this is how I picture God's ideal relationship with us. Please do note that I typed this section up. If it is not exactly identical to the content in Black, I sincerely apologize. Well, here it is. An excerpt from Black:

"

Elyon.

How he was certain he did not know. But he knew. Elyon was in the lake with him.

Tom opened his eyes and found they did not sting. Gold Light drifted by. No one part of the water seemed darker than another. He lost all sense of direction. Which way was up?

The water pressed in on every inch of his body, as intense as any acid, but one that burned with pleasure instead of pain. His violent shaking gave way to a gentle trembling as he sank into the water. He opened his mouth and laughed. He wanted more, much more. He wanted to suck the water in and drink it.

Without thinking, he did that. He took a great gulp and then inhaled unintentionally. The liquid hit his lungs.

Tom pulled up, panicked. Tried to clear his lungs, hacking. Instead, he inhaled more of the water. He flailed and clawed in a direction he thought might be the surface. Was he drowning?

No. He didn’t feel short of breath.

He carefully sucked more water and breathed it out slowly. Then again, deep and hard. Out with a soft whoosh.

He was breathing the water! In great heaves he was breathing the lake’s intoxicating water.

Tom shrieked with laughter. He tumbled through the water, pulling his legs in close so he would roll, and then stretching them out so he thrust forward, farther into the colors surrounding him. He swam into the lake, deeper and deeper, twisting and rolling as he plummeted toward the bottom. The power contained in this lake was far greater than anything he’d ever imagined. He could hardly contain himself; he cried out with pleasure and swam deeper.

Then he heard them. Three words.

I made this.

Tom pulled himself up, frozen. No, not words. Music that spoke. Pure notes piercing his heart and mind with as much meaning as an entire book. He whipped his body around, searching for its source.

A giggle erupted through the water. Like a child now, Tom grinned stupidly and spun around. “Elyon?” His voice was muffled, hardly a voice at all.

I made this.

The words reached into Tom’s bones, and he began to tremble again. He wasn’t sure if it was an actual voice, or whether he was somehow imagining it.

“What are you? Where are you?” Light floated by. Waves of pleasure continued to sweep through him. “Who are you?”

I am Elyon.

And I made you.

The words started in his mind and burned through his body like a spreading fire.

Do you like it?

Yes! Tom said. He might have spoken, he might have shouted, he didn’t know. He only knew that his whole body screamed it.

Tom looked around. “Elyon?”

The voice was different know. Spoken. The music was gone. A simple, innocent question.

Do you doubt me?

In that single moment, the full weight of his terrible foolishness crashed in on him like a sledgehammer. How could he have doubted this?

Tom curled into a fetal position within the bowels of the lake and began to moan.

I see you, Thomas.

I made you.

I love you.

The words washed over him, reaching into the deepest marrow of his bones, caressing each hidden synapse, flowing through every vein, as though he had been given a transfusion.

So then, why do you doubt?

It was the Thomas from his dreams-from his subconscious-that filled his mind now. He had more than doubted. That was him, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He thought he might die after all. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” he moaned. “Please . . .”

Sorry? Why are you sorry?

“For everything. For . . . doubting. For ignoring . . .” Tom stopped, not sure exactly how else he had offended, only knowing that he had.

For not loving?

I love you, Thomas.

The words filled the entire lake, as though the water itself had become these words. Tom sobbed uncontrollably. "

The below is now my own commentaries.

Now, here is a song that makes me feel close to God:

Seriously, I realize that this is a really long post, but if you take a single thing away from this entire blog, let it be this: God.

Hope's Tears

I didn't mean for this blog to be all short stories, but it seems to be the way I best translate things that I want to say, without making them terribly cheesy.



I am sitting next to the woman I love. Her very presence fills me with joy. But I also know that she is about to die.

She is driving to Starbuck's to have coffee with a friend. I am trying to convince her to do otherwise.

The windows are down and her beautiful blonde hair is blowing in her face. Her eyes are crisp blue, and all her features are perfectly formed. But there are tears streaming down her face. The saddest part is, she doesn't even know why. Even sadder, I do know why. But she keeps ignoring me.

I speak her name as sweetly as possible. She snorts, looks out the window, and smashes her hand into the radio button, blasting music.

She hates me, I know this. But I love her, and I don't want her to die.
"Please, you have to trust me."

She pretends as if she can't hear me, and turns the music up louder. It is a song about cheap fake romance, but she views it as true love. She tries to focus her mind to her first kiss, desperate for an escape. Then she remembers that I was there watching her, warning her. She only now remembers that the guy stole her purse. She sobs even harder, looks at me in rage that I can read her thoughts.

"All I ask for you to do is trust me."

She smashes the radio again, this time too hard. She flicks her hand to unsuccessfully numb the pain.

"Trust you? Really now?" Her tone is sarcastic and mocking. I know what is coming next, but I let her continue anyways.

"Do you remember last time I 'trusted you'? A random fool busts into our house when I was seven years old, mind you. You said the same exact thing then as now, to trust you. And I did. He points a gun at my head, then at the last second shoots my entire family. All of them, except me. I wish he had killed me. And then you tell me you will always be with me!? Like that's supposed to mean something, you sick bastard! You've never done a single thing for me, except make life harder." She is screaming, and takes a deep breath to catch up. People are staring through their car windows, and she is too enraged to notice.

"You never help me. You've made me life Hell, and you are Satan torturing me."

She is shocked at the deep, endless rage within herself.

I look ahead at the swerving semi headed for us. She doesn't have much time. I can't let her die. I love her more than anything in the world.

I could tell her that the semi is heading towards us, but she won't listen. I tell her anyways.

She looks straight at me, ignoring the road. She won't waste her breath to speak to the scum of the earth.

Tears pour down my face. I whisper her name. "I love you."


I watch out the window of Starbuck's sipping on my mocha frappuccino. I sneak another glance at my phone. She is now 23 minutes late. We've been best friends since high school, and she'd never once been this late.

I look back out the window. A full-size semi is swerving down the road. My mouth opens in horror. I sprint out the door and start screaming. I look to see who is in the semi's path and am horrified to see it is my friend's old beater. I almost faint, when I notice an attractive man in the passenger seat. I instantly feel guilty at my surprise she could land hot guy. She has only has an okay personality, and is, to be frank, ugly. I shove the thought aside though, she does not deserve to die.

There is now only a meter between the two vehicles. At the last second, the man reaches over, and jerks the wheel just enough so that the semi hits him full force. The two spin, and eventually stop, as does all traffic. I run to my friend. She walks out of the car without a scratch, and falls to her knees, rubbing her face in the dirt. I look inside for the man who sacrificed his life for an almost unlovable woman.

The Last Glass

Here is a story to illustrate a point to you:

In a third-world country, there had been a severe drought going on for five years. All the crops in the land had withered, all the animals had run off in hopes of food. All that remained of life was a little oasis with a few suffering vegetables and fruit-bearing shrubs.

A small village of about fifty people cautiously lived off the pond, knowing that their end was just around the corner. One morning, their chief looked at the pond, a puddle really, afraid of what he knew was true. Every villager had a simple glass; blown in times of prosperity. It had been months since any had drank a full glass, but today that would change.

Before anyone could take a sip from the water, the chief gathered his people and spoke to them, "Brothers and sisters, family and friends, we have been through much together. Times of joy and laughter. Times of danger and sorrow. We had all hoped that this too, would simply be a time, but there is no more denying that this is the end. We have done all that was possible, so we now know that this is God's will.

"Look friends, there is but a puddle remaining. We could all have a sip, and die in a few days. Or we could give the children one final bliss, and a small hope for a new future." The chief paused, dwelling in the bitter sweet moment. "Children, you may fill your glass one last time."

All the children ran to the pool, shrieking with delight, not quite understanding. All except for one boy who looked at his momma teary eyed. "Son, why do you cry?" she asked, "Enjoy that which has been given to you." So he filled up his glass. He was last, and his glass was really half mud.

Many children shared a little with an older sibling, some even half of their drink. All except the little boy. He couldn't stop watching this one old man die. One drink wouldn't save him, but it would ease his suffering. Filled with compassion, he filled the old man's glass full when he wasn't looking.

The little boy sat underneath a palm, trying to fall asleep for the last time. He took a final look at his glass, hopeful for a drop. What he saw almost made him shatter it. The glass was filled to the brim with crystal clear, cool water.

Why Do We Exist?

Why do we exist? Though I wasn't entirely aware of it, I have asked this question my whole life. And quite closely related is the question what is our purpose?

The answer I have always received is that God created us to worship Him. On the surface that seems accurate, however, that logic has some flaws: If God already had angels to worship Him, then why bother to create humans? God was already worshiped. Another thing, if that was our only purpose, God would be quite similar to Muslim Allah. Demanding obedience and severely punishing those who rebel. And finally, it seems quite the selfish act, following the reason the pagan gods created humans.

So why did God create us? The answer is simple. Why do people buy pets? Because they want something to love and (if applicable) cuddle with, in addition to being loved in return. Why do people get married? Because they are in love and they want their love to love them back.

Now, here is the key: we are created in God's image. So if we want to love and get love, it stands to reason that God loves and wants love.

Did and does God want love? Absolutely. But he also wanted to love. So he created innocent creatures in His image to love him and for Him to love.