The Tech War

Steemit

This could be a scary and dangerous topic. Some of you are shutting your ears and walking the opposite direction right now because, as one of the men in our church would comment, I'm about to make your toes quite warm.

Perhaps that is true. But you see, this is more of a testimony than a sermon. Just lately, I went through a season where I was a lot more lax with technology—or more specifically social media—than I had been for awhile. A lot of it was because I was tired, and some was simply for a distraction, but I have learned a lot in the process. 

Number one, it wasn't completely worth it. Although I got some spiritual food out of some of the better channels, I got to a place where I was begging God for more of His Spirit. Mercifully, He showed me the importance of having enough quiet space in my mind for His Spirit to speak.

Second, I have come to see how easy it is to drown things out with whatever social media platform we pick. It's more fun to watch some funny guy make jokes online than to think about the fact that I feel unloved or hold anger towards someone in the deep recesses of my soul. 

A third thing I have discovered is that it is very easy for us as a generation to become lazy spiritual seekers. It's simpler to type a question into Google and find a pat answer from a variety of sources, than to actually take time to sit before God, search His Word, and hear His voice on the matter. The consequences of too much of this will be a generation of confused, anemic Christians who have only the opinions of others to stand upon.

Fourth, what you take in is what you think about. If I watch documentaries on trafficking, guess what my dreams are about! Now in no way am I downplaying that good movies can be beneficial. Neither can we avoid what is true, but I've found it essential to siphon what I put into my mind so that it remains lovely, pure, honest, and of good report. 

I have come to believe that just like many other things in life, social media and the internet is being monopolized by Satan as a subtle and crafty means to attack the Church of Jesus Christ. If he can't get us to believe untruth in outright lies, He'll bring it to us in sugar-coated entertainment. 

Each one must decide for himself, but as soldiers of the Cross of Christ, it is crucial to consider every single area that is open to attack. Even the strongest soldiers die in battle if they aren't alert and are missing some pieces of armour. 

Am I perfect? Absolutely not. I don’t have all the answers or have it altogether. As I told my students recently, I fight the war every day too. But perhaps this is an issue we need to start facing. Not in shame, not in fear, but in honesty and courage. Together.

A Life of Purpose

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Many people tend to wander through life aimlessly, taking each day as it comes and letting things happen as they will. Others fly through it like a tornado, trying to find excitement in each moment before that grave day when their breath falls silent. And the question begs to be answered... What is our purpose? It breaks my heart when I observe people who have no passion for living. They simply exist. They breathe and take up space in life because that is all that they know how to do. They live the life of least resistance, blending in to the surrounding vibes with little thought of what matters or is true. They've never entertained the thought that they could make a difference in life and so they don't even try. Life is simply a set of events that happen as they will and need to be survived.

Then there are people who take life by the handles and make it work for them. They are the investors, the planners, the get-it-done-on-timers; always responsible, always volunteering, always making a difference. And yet catastrophe hits even them, and they are forced to ask, "What is life really about? Is success guaranteed by promotions, good job interviews, raising a large family, making a lot of money, or staying on good terms with the people around you?"

This past Thursday morning, we skimmed through the book of Acts during our school assembly devotions. We looked for places where the Apostles displayed a life of zeal and courage, and the instances were many. I asked my students, what made the disciples do those things? What made them risk their lives like that? One student replied, "Because of Jesus." And I have to agree. They had been given much and they were willing to give much in return. 

I am convinced that in order to live life well, one must have a vision, and, I think it's safe to say, that the higher the vision, the deeper the dedication. Everyone wants to be part of something important in life. Nobody really wants to reach the end of their life and realize it was wasted. Unfortunately, too many people wait until it's too late to begin living a life worthwhile. As our Saviour Himself stated, "Life is more than food and clothing." It was obvious in the way He lived. 

Were all the things He did grand and glorious? Were all the things He did oustanding? I would venture to say it depends on what scale of measurement you use. You see, He spoke. He cried. He gave. He blessed. He burned with righteous anger. He healed. He listened, and loved in the small moments as well as the great. And then He died the most influential death on the planet. Whether small or great, every single thing He accompished was done for a purpose.

So, perhaps if you feel unfulfilled and unsure of what life is about, you ought to ask Him. He seems to have had a vision higher than any human I have ever met. The interesting thing is, that He is able to pass it on and his followers seem to end up in the same life of zeal and self-sacrifice that he did. Just ask Him. I think He'll have a pretty good answer for you. 

For The Child Who Survived

There's a saying that states, "If you treat everyone like they're hurting, you're right 99% of the time." I've been doing a lot of thinking, and processing lately, and this post is for those who were never heard, those who were unloved, those who were hurt, and those who remained deeply scarred. The following scenarios contain a mixture of fiction and nonfiction. If any of them resonate with you, just remember God loves and cares deeply. 

I was the one who shrivelled inside because I was never good enough. I wanted to please you Daddy, but somehow I could never reach the target. The chores weren't done right. I should've been able to play baseball like my brother, and I was never as good at things as you were when you were young. 

I'm sorry, Daddy. Really, I am. I keep hoping that one day I'll be the son you always wanted.

 

I was the one who stood up tall and took care of my Mommy when she couldn't take care of me. Outside I was strong. Everyone told me so. When Mommy became a crying mess, I calmed her down and then held my siblings, so they would feel safe. I turned 16 and took her to psychiatrist appointments. I talked to the doctors and helped her with meds. Sometimes I was tired, but I kept doing my job.

Maybe someday I'll get to be a kid again, but not for now.

 

I was the middle child, the forgotten one. It seemed my older brother got everything. He got to ride a bike first, and I got the hand-me-downs. He got to help Daddy fix the shed roof, but I had to pick up nails from the ground. Sometimes I wondered if Mommy and Daddy really loved me. Daddy was happy when my oldest brother turned 11 and could drive the tractor. But when I turned 11, he said I was too young and so my oldest brother just kept doing it. Daddy said I'd probably hit a fence post anyway.

Maybe someday I'll do something great in life, but I doubt I really matter anyway.

I was the one who wasn't normal. I would have loved to run and jump like everyone else on the playground, but cerebral palsy kept me stuck in my chair. Mom and Dad said I was special, so I tried to smile at everybody, but some days I just wanted to be like the others so badly. Why couldn't I do high jump and play King's Base? The other day I said I wanted to get my license, but Mom just got a weird look on her face. Whatever that was all about. 

I just wish I could be like everyone else.

 

I was the one who protected everyone. I don't know what you had against Mom, Dad, but somehow it made me spitting mad when you'd criticize and yell at her. Is there no way we can be good enough? I hate the fact that we have to look good in public and pretend everything is fine. Maybe one day I can forgive you, but at this rate, I'm afraid I'll turn out right like you. 

But then, I never was much of anybody anyway.

 

I was the one who starved myself. When Mom and Dad went through a divorce, I lost it. I remember the screaming and yelling, and the nights I hid under the covers, pinching the fat on my body. I hated it. If I would just be good enough, surely all this ugliness would go away. I lifted weights and jogged for miles. I avoided sugars and limited fats, and then... I almost died. The nurses told me I had anorexia and made me eat a lot of that gross fattening food.

I still hate myself. If I'd just be a better daughter, they'd surely get back together.

I was the one who was adopted. I love my new mom and dad but it hurts that someone didn't want me. I wonder where my real mom is anyway. I must've been some horrible person for her just to pitch me like that. Who disowns their own kid anyway? People tease me at school too. 

I wonder what's wrong with me? I should never have been born. 

 

And somewhere you have a story. The one that eats at your insides and keeps begging for attention. Some children grow up with love and protection; others do not. Life is difficult, and people let us down. The list of stories above could have gone on for a long long time. I've heard enough people's heartbreak, and had enough of my own to know that there is a vast variety of stories that people carry. 

This weekend I came across the shortest verse in the Bible, John 11:35 - Jesus wept. I looked at it and was flooded with the overwhelming compassion and love that Jesus has for all of us. He doesn't always provide easy and quick answers to our situations. (Many of our whys may never be answered on this side of eternity.) But I do know that He is the One that has come to sit with us in our pain. He is the One that binds up the broken-hearted and brings sight to blind eyes. He delivers captives and brings freedom to the oppressed. There is no situation too hard or too deep for His love. Sometimes it takes years to truly heal, but He will do it in His timing and His way. Trust Him. ❤️

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