Monthly Archives: March 2015

If You Choose to Accept . . .

What is life? In Greek there are three different words that mean life, Bibles for America states it well,

1. Bios, in Luke 8:14: “…anxieties and riches and pleasure of this life.” This Greek word refers to the life of the physical body and is where we get the word biology.

2. Psuche, in Matt. 16:25: “For whoever wants to save his soul-life shall lose it.” The Greek word here refers to the psychological life of the human soul, that is, the mind, emotion, and will. It is where we get the word psychology.

3. Zoe, in John 1:4: “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.” Here the Greek word refers to the uncreated, eternal life of God, the divine life uniquely possessed by God.

For more information go to:

Jesus came to save us from our sins. He came and died to give us life. Not just life, but LIFE.  Eternal life. Zoe life. What interests me is how John 10:10 has many different correlation of a Zoe life.

John 10:10 (NIV)

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

Now, the main part I want to focus on is the second part of ‘I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’ Here are some other translations.

John 10:10 (KJV)

 The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.

John 10:10 (GW)

A thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy. But I came so that my sheep will have life and so that they will have everything they need.

John 10:10 (MSG)

A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.

All the verses say that we may have life – some translations say eternal life, but the second part is what I’m interested in. Having life to the ‘fullest’, have it more ‘abundantly’, have everything they ‘need’, ‘real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of’. If you think about it, they are all different.

Why does different versions have something totally different from ‘needed’ to ‘abundantly’, but still all have Zoe life? I don’t know, but here is a commentary of the verse to help make sense from Andrew Wommack Ministries

‘The Greek word translated “life” here is ZOE, and it means “life in the absolute sense, life as God has it” (Vine’s Expository Dictionary). Everyone who is breathing has life in the sense of physical existence, but only those who receive Jesus can experience life as God intended it to be. Jesus came not only to save people from the torment of eternal hell but also to give them this ZOE life, or God-kind of life, in abundance. The life of God is not awaiting people in heaven but is the present possession of all born-again believers in their spirits (Joh 5:24 and 1Jo 3:14). Believers can release this ZOE life and enjoy it now by losing their natural lives (Mt 16:24-25, Mr 8:34-37, and Lu 9:23-25) and finding this supernatural life. The way believers lose their lives is to deny any thoughts, emotions, or actions that are contrary to the Word of God, which is life (ZOE in Joh 6:63). When they line their thoughts, emotions, and actions up with the instructions of God’s Word, then they’ll find this ZOE life manifest in their bodies and souls as well.’ For more information:

John uses the word ‘life’ in the book of John 36 times, while no other New Testament book uses it more than 17 times.

Jesus came and died so that we may have his kind of life. The uncreated, eternal life of God, the divine life uniquely possessed by God kind of life. The Creator of the universe died so that you could live; how are you going to use that gift today?

Reflecting Poetry

The speed of light, the speed of life

The speed of sound, the speed of time

As bright as day, as dark as night

As dark as day, as bright as night

The light at the end of the tunnel

The tunnel at the end of the light

You are the love of my life

You are the life of my love

A dagger in the heart

A heart in the dagger

As loud as thunder, as quiet as a mouse

As quiet as thunder, as loud as a mouse

Without a care in the world

The world without a care

As brave as a lion, as weak as a kitten

As weak as a lion, as brave as a kitten

A diamond in the rough

A rough in the diamond

A mirror image

An image in the mirror

A day in the life

A life in a day

I still have a soul

If I still had a soul

When life gives you lemons

Lemons give you life

Go out and face your fears

What is the face of your fears?

True love’s first kiss

The first kiss of false love

A twist of fate

The fate of a twist

My Fangirl Opinion of Astonishing Adventures

“I think fiercely, concentrating, imagining concentric circles of telepathy emanating from my forehead like an old drawing of Professor X. But if Cal’s picking up on my vice, he doesn’t show it. I’ve gone and lost my best friend in the world.”


If you love comic books of any kind, read this book. If you are tired of stereotypical characters, plots, writing style and endings; read The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl written by Barry Lyga.


The plot of Lyga’s book is something like everyday life. The main character, who is referred to as Fanboy is fifteen and he lives with his pregnant mom and stepdad. Cal, Fanboy’s only friend secretly loves comic books but appears to everyone else as a sports jock. Fanboy is writing his own graphic novel, that has a unique storyline and the non stereotypical characters. When Fanboy is getting beat up during Gym class, someone is watching and is takes pictures; eventually the two meet up and go on many astonishing adventures. For example, they meet my favorite comic book writer: Benis.


Some of the amazing qualities I love about my new favorite book is the ambiguity of never learning the protagonist’s name. Also, there is a whole page with no punctuation except quotation marks. Surprisingly, the book does not end with a happy ending.

There is unexpected twist and turns that every teen know, but even more so every geek knows. Fanboy’s challenges and emotions are real and raw, leaving you – the reader – feeling even more so.

Time Piece

What will happen to all of us? What will happen when time is no more? What will happen when time ceases to exist?


When does time end?


A clock is a circle, but is time? No hour is the same, but it is painted the same on the clock. Time never stops, but clocks do. Clocks run out of batteries, when will time’s? Or is time like a pendulum clock moved by gravity? But when time exists no more, will gravity?


What keeps us grounded yet afloat? Time and Gravity.


If time ends, will it end all at the same moment, or will it happen differently like when the shadow passes the earth?


If time ends, will we still be alive or departed – in any sense of the word?


If time ends, will time remember us?


If time ends, will we still remember time?


Will we feel infinite?


Or will we feel crushed because all of time is giving it’s blessings and curses upon the earth?


What is it like to feel TIME?


Is time TRULY indefinite?


If time ends, it will be a different kind of murder.


Frozen in time? Stopped time? Kill time?


Questions, questions, questions. Only in time will they be answered.


We’re not counting numbers. No, we’re contemplating infinites upon infinites.


We die and time lives on, but what if it wasn’t the case? What if we live, but time does not?


We will meet our maker, and we will conclude:


Whatever was, is.

Whatever will be, is.


When time ends, I will still have a soul.


Is a smile saying that you’re ready to face the world or that you’re ready to face the world with a smile?

A old man who has dementia. His face is like a waterfall of wrinkles. He has no teeth and there is a gaping hole leading to his mouth. He can’t even remember his doting wife’s name. But he smiles. The wrinkles now become warm, comforting, and welcoming.

The little girl in Mali with her adult teeth first starting to poke through. Her life dire with war going all around her. Her parents are dead. She had no idea what those just beginning adult teeth will have to endure, but she smiles.

Eccdentesiast – one who fakes a smile. We all fake smiles. When we say that we are happy to see someone when we are really not. When we are trying to get something. We smile at a child’s joke to make them feel better. We smile to say that everything is all right, when it isn’t.

What is the difference between a fake, pasted on smile and a real truly joyful one? Is it the eyes? Their crinkle in the nose? The upturn of mouth a little more?  How do you make pure joy appear on one’s face?

The interesting thing about memories is that you don’t remember the actually memory, but the last time you recalled that memory. A study by Northwestern Medicine concluded the following, “This study shows how memories normally change over time, sometimes becoming distorted. When you think back to an event that happened to you long ago — say your first day at school — you actually may be recalling information you retrieved about that event at some later time, not the original event.” (More information at

Knowing this, doesn’t it make you almost not want to remember your favorite memory – in case you distort it?

We can’t remember parts of our childhood, but it seems like we can through pictures. We look back through pictures and only remember what we saw in the picture not the experience. In the pictures everyone is smiling, but we don’t remember the event enough to tell if that was a fake or real smile. Everything begins to blur together because our distorted memory.

Look at a picture of someone you know well who is their only reason for smiling is for a camera. Is it their true smile? It almost looks like the smile they give you when they truly mean it, but it’s not. What’s missing?

Now think of their real smile.

But I couldn’t. The person I’m closest to, and I couldn’t remember her real smile. Is it because I can remember her so well crying with tears streaking and heaving breathes? I can remember her angry face. I can remember the absolute terror to overwhelming love. But I can’t picture one face of her’s that shows complete and utter happiness.

So that’s why I said ‘someone you know well’ because I can picture my friends and family with their truest and real smiles, but not the person I’m closest to. I think this is because we know them too well. You know their intricacies.

Does the fake picture smile and real smile start to blur together because you are remembering it too much? Does life do this to us also? Does life turn and flip and distort what is real and what isn’t? Does the fake petty life start to take over the real? Do you lose the twinkle in your eye?

Is it worst to be told that you never had a twinkle in your eye, or that you had a twinkle but lost it?

Have we never had the real life or have we lost it?

Fake verses Real.

Peering Through a Mist

 “We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!” 1 Corinthians 13:12 Message

I love this verse, but so many people miss it because it’s stuck right in between the love chapter in 1 Corinthians. I love the description of the mist and fog in the Message. Here are some other descriptions from other versions:

  • “dim image in a mirror” Good News Translation
  • “blurred image in a mirror” God’s Word Translation
  • “reflection in a mirror” Common English Bible
  •  “For now we see in a mirror, darkly;” American Standard Verison
  • “cloudy picture in a mirror.” Contemporary English Version
  • “For now we see through a glass, darkly;” King James Version

To give a more explanation here’s the Living version:

 “In the same way, we can see and understand only a little about God now, as if we were peering at his reflection in a poor mirror; but someday we are going to see him in his completeness, face-to-face. Now all that I know is hazy and blurred, but then I will see everything clearly, just as clearly as God sees into my heart right now.”

Just think about it, all the









Just plain bad

Will make sense. We will understand everything that doesn’t make sense. Our ‘dirty window’ will be washed clean and we will be able to understand why everything happens the way it does. The mist will lift and the sun will come out.

James 4:14 (NIV) says:

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

We are the mist that will lift and we will understand everything in the world with God. We are looking at heaven and God through a dirty window pane – unable to see their greatness. We are the temporary mist that God will lift from our window pane.

When we die and go to heaven, not only will God wash away our sins; but also wash our window to see how GREAT he is.

We are mists. Our earthly understandings are mists. We are earthly understandings that will vanish like mists before God’s morning light.

The Great Had A Name

“I had a name.” Tears fall. “I had everything, yet nothing at all. I had breathe.  I had blood pumping through me. I had warmth to my skin. I had hair that would grow. I had . . . life. I had acids in my stomach to digest what I had for breakfast. I had finger and toe nails to be cut. I had a pulse. But now . . . I don’t.”

“Did someone take these . . . qualities from you?”

“No, I took them from myself.”

Tears fall.

“But I’m still able to cry. I wasn’t suppose to be able to cry.”

Stares off in the distance, then comes back to whatever reality this is.

“I was suppose to lose everything, but my name, and I was okay with that. Truly I was. But I lost my name. I was suppose to lose all the bad. But I lost . . . everything,” said shaking.

“What were you to gain?”

“Everything. I had to lose everything to gain even more. I was to gain greatness. I ask you, what is the difference between good and great? The notoriety of it. I want to be notorious.”

Tears fall.

“But can I? Am I able to anymore?”

For a lack of better words, breathes deeply, even though there is no more breathing.

“If I have no name, what will they call me when I am great? The Great one? But I am not he. The Great? Of what I ask? Who am I?” Stretching out the words.

“They will call you by your name.”

“What name is that? A name makes a person. I am no one, nothing, unless I have a name.”

“Your new name is, ‘The Great Had A Name.’ For then they will have know what you have lost and will follow you because they have lost their’s as well.”

“But they lost their’s to others. I – somehow – took mine. Will they follow me then?”

“No one has to know.”

“But I will know. I will be lying. I wasn’t suppose to be able to.”

“Just be glad you can, The Great Had A Name.”

“It has a ring to it doesn’t?”

“Go be notorious.”

Part 7 of 7 Though Outwardly We Are Wasting Away

Groggy, Peter wakes up around midday, and decides he can have some sheep to get protein. Peter checks on his wound and finds it no worse, but not better either. He tests how strong his is, and he is not ready to stand, but can crawl on all fours.


I lay there with nothing to do or entertain me but a spider. The spider crawled slowly, like I did, but with more . . . confidence? It didn’t know the exact terrain, but the spider knew it could compensate for any misstep. I wish I could be like that, okay with not knowing the exact future, but knowing I can handle it.


The delicate tentacles sprawl out in every direction, searching, searching, searching. The digits feel their way along the rough, yet smooth surface. They try to control everything that is in their reach, and have no variables not accounted for. But the dip in the surface is not accounted for and the fingers fall.


The spider crawls along side the mountain ledge next to me, but the inlet is too hard for the spider to hold on to and it falls. We, humans, think we’re so much better because we’re bigger. But there is so many lessons to be learned from the these tiny species. We’re all just trying to survive, and we crush them just because we can. It feels like I’m the spider and I’m being crushed from trying to survive.


Peter goes and finds the soldiers and his friend. He moves more quickly than yesterday, but still slowly. The soldiers didn’t have much on them, other than weapons and canteens, but Peter gladly took the water. He makes many trips back and forth from the soldiers in various area and back to the camp, taking the water, weapons, and their clothing.


Peter bear crawls over to his friend, Bernard, one last time and dragged him as best he can to the rock pile and starts to bury him in the rocks. After an hour of heavy lifting, Peter is tired and his stomach hurts, so he takes a nap – which turns into his night sleep – by his friend’s grave.


Peter stirs at just before dawn. His back hurt from laying on the rocks. Peter bear crawled over the rock pile and to the camp just as the sun was coming out, record time for him. He ate a breakfast of dried fruits and goat. Peter checked his wound and it was getting better, but not fast as he hoped. With nothing else to do, he took another nap; hoping the wound would heal better if he slept and conserve energy.


He aroused sometime during the night.


I wonder if the soldier’s commander will come looking for his soldiers? If he does, I’m done for. But the commander doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to worry about a few men in search of a scientist. He said for the soldiers to contact him, if they found the scientist. Of course! The radios! I have to find the radios! But the refugees didn’t have any radios with them. But none the less, it’s something I should have.


Peter searches around the two tents, but finds no sign of a radio. He doesn’t want to go out during the dark to try and find it on the soldiers bodies. Deciding there is nothing he can do until morning, Peter finishes his sleep.


In the morning, Peter searches and finds a radio. All day he tries to figure out if he can contact anyone to let them know that he is alive, but there is no luck. He listens to the talk of the soldiers, but no useful information is passed on.


Peter tries his strength at standing, and though it still has a slight more pain than when he’s crawling, it durable.


It’s been six or seven or days since the fight. By now the refugees have found routine in their schedule of the cave. They wouldn’t  come out of the cave, until the time we agreed for of four to five weeks. Looks like it’s up to me to find them. I’ll stay here for maybe two or three more days to gather my strength, and then I’ll start to head my way up to the cave. It will probably be five or six days at a medium pace with how I’m healing. A week or a bit more at a slow pace, which will most likely be. I need to pack for a least ten to twelve days. Good thing the soldiers eat a lot, and I don’t.


Days pass which are filled with gathering any other food he can find, and strengthening himself. Peter favors his stomach, but still working at it as much as he can without hurting himself. Peter listens to the radio, which the only useful informative is that now all the refugees who stayed at the camp, are now dead. All his friends . . . are dead.


I lay on my back just looking up at the magnificent stars above me.  I think of the old saying of ‘what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.’ I’m becoming stronger, but there is something missing. Something totally wrong, I almost feel dead inside. This everlasting hurt taking over me. I feel the saying should be changed to: ‘what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, but what if it kills you partly?’ I’m alive and surviving – becoming stronger, but I’m dead inside. I doing exactly what I told Gwendalyn not to do. I’m surviving, but it’s so hard to strive to thrive – to LIVE. I’m just so tired at having to work to . . . to try? It was so easy with Gwendalyn at my side, but now?  I’m dead inside, and there is no way to cut it out. I have to survive while being dead. But what is it like to die? Am I truly dead? Or does it just feel like it?


I have to have hope. I’m leading a path to inspire others. That was one of my reasons to do this, so I have to even if I’m not all the way dead. But how do you fight the death of reality? I need to hope again. I have to inspire hope.


Finally after three or four days of getting prepared, Peter believed he was ready. He started out in early morning, just as the sun was coming up. Peter could faintly see the outline of the path and rocks ahead of him, but it was enough because the beginning path he knew well. Peter had to become a spider. He walked slowly, but didn’t crawl anymore, which was good for his hands were beginning to heal from the days of crawling and being raw open flesh from the hard rocks. Every hour to a hour and a half, Peter would take five minute breaks to drink some water and chart out his next path up the mountain. Peter’s days were long and tiresome, but he knew he would be with the refugees, his new family, soon.


Peter rounded the cliff, ready for the next long leg of his hike, when he saw the cave.


I’m going to see my Gwendalyn! She won’t have to live without me, and –

“Gwen . . . Gwen . . . Gwen, it’s Peter. Gwen? Gwen! Gwen, what happened in here? Gwen!”

Part 6 of 7 Though Outwardly We Are Wasting Away

It’s like when you’ve been crying and you take a washcloth and get it wet with warm water. You fold the washcloth into the size of covering your eyes, and press the warm water into your eyes. The water seeps in and makes the redness and puffiness go away. The warm water feels good against your itchy eyes, and you take deep calming breaths. You turn the washcloth over and new warmth enters. Slowly, you take away the washcloth, but still keep your eyes closed. You open them, but because of the pressure against them, everything is blurry for a couple seconds. The fuzziness of what you’re seeing matches how fuzzy you feel in your brain. You lean against the counter of the sink, and blink a few times to clear your vision.


That is how Peter felt and saw things when he woke up and turned to see his best friend’s dead eyes staring back at him. Peter blinked a few times to focus and sees the morning flies crawling all over his friend’s face and in Bernard’s mouth. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. When he leaned forward to try, he felt the unimaginable pain in his stomach.


The bullet.


He laid back down and tried to figure out how he survived. He looked over at his friend and by the limited knowledge of how bodies decay, he guessed it must have been two days since the fight. How could he have survived?


The human body can only live without water for three days, and I haven’t had any in two, and especially being wounded. Why am I still alive? There is no logically response, but: though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. God has taken care for me. I need to find the others. First, I need to take care of my wound.


Peter looks over at his friend. Bernard’s eyes are still open.


How can his eyes still have emotion, when he is not alive? They are so . . . sad. So desolate. His brow is knitted together in pain and of sorrow. He is dead, and I live.


Peter reaches over and gently closes Bernard’s eyes. Peter shoos away the flies from his friend. Peter tears Bernard’s shirt into making a gauze for his stomach. But before putting it on he has to take the bullet out.


The squishiness of his flesh and searching for the small hard bullet was almost all Peter could do. He found it, but it was a disgusting task, when all he wanted to do was sleep. Peter wrapped himself as best as he could and decided he need to crawl over to the other side of the rock pile to find food from the soldier’s camp. He slowly and painfully crawled over the rocks, with the sharp rocks jutting into his hurt stomach. He guessed it took almost an hour to make it down to the other side of the rock pile. And when he got there, the soldier’s encampment was another 500 hundred feet. Peter looked around for any source of water, and just about twenty feet more there was a small puddle.


But it hasn’t rained for days, well at least my clothes are not wet.


Painfully, he makes it over to the dirty puddle. He laps up the water like a dog, until the last drop. He wants to rest, but he doesn’t trust himself not to fall asleep, so he keeps on going.


Two hours pass and just 100 more feet. Peter starts to scope out where he wants to go first. He decides he needs water the most and then food, then medical. Peter crawls into one of the soldier’s tents and finds an extra canteen. Peter drinks half of it, not knowing where his next water might come from. Peter permits himself to sleep.


Peter awakens, and guesses it must be just before evening, by how much sunlight there is. He’s thirsty again, but only takes two small sips from the canteen. Peter looks at wound in his stomach, and it looks like it’s getting worse. He looks around for some alcohol to disinfect it and to ease the pain. He finds some in the far corner, no way the soldiers would go anywhere without their booze.


He pours some on his wound and it smarts real bad, and takes a swig. Blah! First time he’s ever tasted alcohol, and it’s nasty! At the refugee camp, alcohol is illegal and he has lived there ever since he had turned twenty.


Peter goes over to the other tent and finds a medium amount of food. There is bread, cheese, goat, milk, sheep, and dried fruits. Peter eats a little bread, not wanting to overwhelm his stomach for not eating for so long.


Once he finished his meal, Peter find the first aid kit and properly bandages and stitches his bullet wound. Feeling happy that he completed all that was on his list, Peter eats a little more bread and water, and falls asleep.