and my head

Maybe I have one of these or one of these or have this or maybe even this. What's clear is at the very least I have this. The long and the short of it is that I feel miserable.

In the garden, under intense suffering and knowing what was about to come, He still took the time to heal the soldier's ear. When I'm miserable, I take it out on everyone else. I gotta tell ya, I don't know what is wrong with me -- but hopefully it's more curable than all the above.


the branch cannot bear

I dreamt it was snowing. At the same time I feel this branching in my overstuffed head. Something's covering something but I don't know what.

i lost not one

So I missed a post yesterday. I thought it would be a bigger deal. Being OCD and all, I thought maybe I'd wake up with an urge to stop doing this whole thing since I missed a day. Refreshingly enough, I don't care. This is for me, not you, me. And me? Me doesn't care.

Alright, me cares a little but me cares more for a day alone. Me cares more for me.


comes to the light, so

i think it's clear that whoever's bringing the sleepiness isn't for me that there's a somebody behind the sleepiness is clear beginning to notice that whenever i'm getting sleepy i'm also getting turned away from the light and tonight night feeling the lullaby a lullaby not in the least melodious to me i turned away turned back clear then that this isn't a sleepiness maybe at all worried about another sleepiness when maybe this is just a long lullaby designed for against me maybe i'm close to something bright opening my eyes in the middle of it i saw that it was just a lullaby light the light still up ahead and as Saul says will soon crush crush under your feet


I stand at the door and

By later I guess I meant a few hours. This whole knocking thing has been knocking around my noggin for a bit and still not gone -- like a persistent Jehovah's witness, except this one's not hysterically crazy and wrong.

Besides the whole Rhoda thing, the NT has a few other listings of knocking incidents. M and L have what was quoted earlier (scroll down, lazy; I'm not requoting -- if you can't keep up knock elsewhere). L has another mention of a much more negative degree: Jesus saying He's not answering the late or pretend doorknockers. Then we have Him revving with a promise of dinner for an answer. I'm thinking OT has similar references of a knocking nature -- to wit, I think of Samuel and Eli with knocking replaced by whispering through a window.

In any case, that's the thing of it all. He's not simply an answerer, but also the Knocker. It's one thing to be up so high you only have a one-way upward relationship. It's another thing entirely to be the one the One initiating the conversation and saying knocking's my thing. Two-way, all the way, and that's worth something.

who enters by the door

I think I'm at my creative best when I'm not intent on being my creative best -- when I write rather than try to write. The lesson here is that the fount of inspiration is more and better filled by unkempt and unkept emotion and thought than by planned, plotted intentional manipulation. It's why these things might be random or incomprehensible or misspelled or simply wrong. I don't care to find out what happens otherwise, however. I'll take quality over suspect artsiness any day.

The rambling intro here is to mention that I like perusing these things for the first time. I suppose I should do it prior to the whole sending off but reminder: the whole unkempt and unkept thing.

I noticed a similarity between two recent ones of these things: knocking (Rhoda and nameless readyman for those with amnesia or just joining). I think there's something here which I should explore some time, so this is one long mental note. He calls Himself the gate. He says knock and it will be opened. I feel like I'm always knocking and some time there's no answer and other times I'm supposed to answer the knocking but don't get off my hay pallet.

Again, something in all this for later.


was wrapped around

A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

I don't know who first used that line, but maybe they were talking about Saul in Rom 7-9. It's not so much the mental linguistic acrobatics as it is the spiritual gymnastics required to grasp even a tenth of what he's saying here. He lost me at hello. I gathered something about elect and sin and law and may it never be but beyond that it was like playing "Who's on First?"

I don't think it was so much that he was incoherent or that he was simply babbling. I think his whole life after Damascus Road was a leaky faucet. Tweren't his mind leaking, no. It was his opening the Holy Ghost like a tap, a drip alone containing more wisdom than he could contain. Hence the gushing forth of Rom 7-9.

Not babbling, bubbling.


all things had already been

It might be that terrible ABC theme in my head being Monday night and all but the idea of readiness is in my noggin. Good segue and topic sentence for our next minor. Up to bat is that guy, another nameless. The best minors usually are -- otherwise they're practically major. Frankly, Rhoda might be the last named minor we have seeing as how if you have a name maybe you're not so minor and you can stay unpicked with the rest of the kickballers.

The theme of identity and names is big in the Bible, a topic we'll cover at another juncture. But a few quick thoughts on it while the ditty plays on:

* It's important enough that Jesus changes a few people's names (Cephas, for one)
* It's important enough even to those bringing the sleepiness -- cast out by name
* I AM, need I say more?
* weptover ain't for nothing

Back to nameless in this instance -- by instance I refer to Mark 14. Da vinci makes famous the Last Supper (though really the Holy Roman Catholic Church might want to claim this fame first). But someone set this all up -- answer, our hero. He has a furnished room, all ready for a big meal, this being Holy Week and all. And two strangers come to him and tell him The Teacher (their attribution not mine) needs the guest room. And without hesitation it is given up.

I suspect another back story here. Someone who has been preparing this room every year, not knowing why, just knowing he needs to be ready just in case. This guy is the patron saint of OCD sufferers like me. And every year, maybe he's a little disappointed to only have friends and family over. And maybe last year like Linus in a pumpkin patch he really, really felt that it was his year and he hears that knock at his door and the servant comes up and it's just the servant reporting the water's ready and he half-smiles and knows it's only for family. And the next year comes along and here's this other knock, and he hears half-whispers of strange men at the door and he comes down the stairs and they look like they could be disciples, dirty and ragged duo that they are and before they can even ask, it's yes yes the room is all ready yes its ready ready when is He coming is He coming is He coming?

Are you ready?


going there again

Just finished (re)watching Return of the King again -- by my count 32 times all the way through. No depression this time, just finishing it with my beloved. All my favorite parts remain intact. That's half the fun of (re)watching it these days -- figuring out which part will move me most that time through (for those of you tracking this, "For Frodo").

Sometimes I fear that watching the movie while not sleepy would bring about sleepiness, an adverse Pavlovian effect since I have used it to mask the screaming so often. There's always this fear that I'll trigger some chemical imbalance. Fortunately, that has yet to ever bear out. Perhaps these have all been pre-emptive strikes.


also does in like manner

one of those days where I feel off and on days or weeks rather still hard to decipher whether the light or the dark is the winner tried playing 18 today and if the result was any indication of the state of things it isn't the light which brings up a strange similarity where last week or days rather the 18 was as fine as fine could be as was i and what if this is the pattern 18 as metaphor for life shall i be swinging more simply to gauge the state of my soul or swinging less because really i don't want to know


will be turned into joy

throughout his journeys Saul met stiffness wherever he turned in many cases it must've seemed like he was turning into what he turned away from seeing as how a few times they followed his turning in an attempt to re-turn him before he returned speaking about His return

something like that

the problem with low self-esteem is that you think you're not worth the re-turning from those being turned away from that you're not worth all that following but that's not the way He sees it He sees it as something more common as common as someone walking down the street and simply turning look out for the turners intent to turn you the secret for you is turning to face His return turn to that and the other turners won't turn up

something like that


do you not understand

What's the lesson here? My prediction comes through and the Sox pull off a miracle in the ALCS and head toward fulfilling my prediction of a World Series victory, and yet my day is not joyous?

Reasons aplenty:
* An enemy who's joined my rooting interest
* A hero cooperating with an enemy who's joined my rooting interest
* An awful coach being hired for my other rooting interest apparently destined to toil in the cellar for the length of the new coach's contract
* An election headed toward disaster for the believers

Aside from not caring this strongly about sports in the future and about winners and losers and about forgiveness and about focusing on the joy and not on the anger not on the anger not on the anger and about not losing hope and praying and praying and praying what's the lesson here?


speaking of literal sleep

Sometimes I suppose I can surprise myself. Even out of anger even out of frustration even out of tiredness I can overcome the intent with something approaching the gentleness and tenderness required of me. I think it's sad that there is any surprise at all -- though it's understandable considering I know who I am, an abyss of intent I wish I could put down as easily as a crying son.

loved them to the end

I'll tell you right now what my problem is: there is no group of people I can think of (outside of immediate family) where I'd undergo an optional surgery just to better fit in and not stick out. Especially surgery dealing with certain parts of my anatomy.

How much must you love an unknown group of people, people you've never met, to do such a thing? I suppose the answer is that it has nothing to do with your love for the people, but for the peoplemaker. And I suppose it would have to be an endless, unconditional love.


we know that his testimony is true

The thing of it, hardheart, is that I don't care for your perspective on the reality of it all. I care for the reality of it all. There are two things I appreciate that to me make it all the more real: the little details and the listed faults.

On the first, details like someone running away naked from the fray, the medical proof of the suffocation, the crestfallen smiles, or the grimaces or the unbridled joy. To me these aren't boring moral tales, but stories I have lived and can see and can feel.

On the latter, the heroes that we understand in all their warts. We don't get the impossible standard (although there's that); we get the identifiable weakhearted ones, challenged ones, discouraged ones, angry ones, lost ones. These are the ones we're called to learn from. And we can because we've been there.

Today we see two friends parting because of another friend (sorry, you're not psychic -- Acts 15). Just a few simple sentences that mask over something larger, I'm sure. They both end up successful, but the longing, the wondering. Still there.


and no one will take away your joy

Another minor for you: Rhoda -- not the sitcom, the narrative-carrier. In Acts 12, Cephas gets arrested, but for the second time in a short while, he gets a six-winged chaperone holding an orange chance card with no monetary value. In the middle of the night, knowing his plight, he heads to some friends' house and knocks.

Knock, knock.
(Enter our minor) Who's there?
Hello in there?

No joke, no answer, bailjumper. Our minor is in action. She recognized his voice whether or not he mentions his name and because of her joy she runs from the door to tell everyone who was there. Imagine being so joy-filled you don't even open the door to the person who filled you with joy?

I think that's part of the lesson here. Still on the joy/trial ladder match (and still no countout), the caution is not to let the joy overwhelm your sensibility in dealing with the joybringer. Shutting him out to celebrate is the opposite reaction you want.

Lesson#2 follows. Though they questioned her sanity and her judgment, she kept insisting what was so. She clung to her knowledge. I imagine there's a deep backstory here between Rhoda and Cephas, how she grew up with a secret crush on him how she watched him fish with her master how she served him with extra width in her smiles how she missed him on his journeys with her Master how she was dismayed to hear of his capture but how she was overwhelmed by his escape and how when she was just then thinking about him and how he smiled at her that one time here comes this late knocking knocking who is it and just from the sound of his voice a voice she maybe carried with her for lo this many years daydreaming of a life together with the joybringer well no one could crush her joy or her knowledge of what was true.

The second lesson in there is yours for the taking. Hint: it involves you, joy, Joybringer, and unbridled affection.


if you believe, you will see the glory of God

I've wondered before whether tis easier to see God during trial or during joy. I took a mulligan on the question and looked at both sides (the whole spitclay-eyes episode). I don't know why I bring this up again if I'm only taking another mulligan; I just want to describe something remarkable.

In John 11, Martha loses a brother but gains eternity. Asked a direct question, in v 27, she worships. Doesn't matter that she lost Laz; doesn't matter that she partially blames God; doesn't matter that she has no clue what is going to happen. She knows one thing, and that one thing she clings to it, clings to it, in the midst of loss/trial.

SJ are going through something right now. SJ lost something. This loss and trial, I don't know what I'd do. I don't know if the whole clinging is what I'd be taking with me in someone else's post. But today in the midst of a congregation, SJ worshipped in a way that twists something inside you.

That's what worship is: clinging. And to do it during trial doesn't answer the earlier question (the first), but it answers the direct question. SJ, eternity is on line one for you for pickup.


is accursed

If you believe that there is a Grand Design, it's hard to imagine also believing in curses. I'm not going to argue the predestination/free will question -- not relevant here, hardheart. Back to curses: one mortal man cannot be the focus of all bad luck, simply can't be. The bigger question is: can a collective group of people be that focus?

Case in point: Sox-Yanks. The former built for the postseason; the latter looking tired, armwise. The end result? 2-0, tired arms.

My fault, with $30 riding on the outcome? Or the fault of a region of pessimists hoping against hope, hoping against fear?


you may remember that I

I'll take minor characters for $600, Alex.

Who is Barsabbas?

Great question, better answer. Matthias probably thinks he's the headliner, the answer to some Biblical trivia. Who replaced Judas as the twelfth disciple? The early church would consider him a leader. He probably received special honors and recognition whenever he showed up. There he is -- one of the twelve! I vaguely recall twelve seats or such in New Jerusalem, but I'm not revving yet so that's a crapshoot. My point is that he won the head-to-head primary, so round of applause for Matt.

Give me Barsabbas, though. Still on minor kick, yesiree. But here's the thing: I can't imagine Barsabbas getting anything less than the above as well. Trivia? Sure thing. Who was the other disciple nominated to succeed Judas beside Matthias? Still reckoned a leader, I reckon -- to be nominated from the 120 required something special, I'd imagine. The honors? Considering the pattern of success after humbleness, and the recognition can be yours for $6. And the seats were imaginary anyway.

The edge lies in the lack of recognition as one of them. Let me do my job, and go. I don't need to stay for the rest.

Peter, turning around

I played 18, which is maybe why this metaphor is in my head -- or it's the right comparison at the right time. Regardless, three outings ago, had you offered me 150 yards down the fairway I would have traded you five balls each time. That's $6 an offering so don't downplay the trade. Nevertheless, several online articles and a crooked right and a straight left later and that $6 is staying inside my pocket. My point? It was an immediate change. Gradualness is for suckers; give it to me straight up.

Cephas in Acts is like my driving -- outright flopped, steps suckered. He has the confidence of Bonds, the power of Bonds, and the persuasion of Bonds (that's Robert, Barry, and two Jims for those counting at home). Only a few weeks removed from the rooster debacle, he's clearly the driving force behind a new movement.

No online articles for him; the power of God.


and He calls His own

They aren't the same favor; I think they're all separate. That's the reason He asks three times. It really isn't because He didn't know. Even Cephas knew He did. I think He asks in triplicate because he wanted to make sure Cephas knew it and felt it and really knew it. Secondly, it's a perfect reparation for the rooster humiliation from before. Deny thrice, acquiesce thrice, that's the deal. Lastly, let's get back to my initial point: those are three different favors.

The first deals with lambs -- not adults but babies. That's spiritually as well as staturely.

The second deals with shepherding -- guidance, protection, provision. Its the practical and dirty and humbly servile upkeep.

The last is the tending -- nurture, encourage, adore.

Great. 0 for 3. Add that to the other 0fers, please. I'm running a tab.

the two were running

Cephas is the Bible's true rollercoaster. He went from hill to dale more often and more quickly than anyone else. And that's what makes him easy to identify with, and ultimately so endearing -- to me and to Jesus.

Case in point: John 21. In v 7, he drops everything (taking the time only to put on a shirt) and hurls himself seaward in order to reach shore faster than everyone else. Not competitively, mind you, save with himself. A perfect response, sure, would have ignored the shirtlessness and bothered not for the shocking cold. But the response was golden as is.

The reward, a private conversation with God after breakfast. This days after the humiliation with the rooster. Exaltation after humbleness -- I think there's a pattern there.

are you weeping

There are a number of reasons why Jesus weeps over Lazarus in 11:35, but I'll cover only one of them here. He wept because He knew that prior to His own death, all death was futile; all death separated man from God; all death without His work on the cross hurt on a spiritual and eternal level that man could not grasp.

The proof of this can be seen in the almost joyous questioning that greets the two Marys on Sunday morning. What is the first thing said to Mary by the angel guarding the tomb? "Woman, why are you weeping?" What is the very first thing Jesus asks Mary when she sees Him? "Woman, why are you weeping?"

The question is asked (in my mind) incredulously. Don't you understand what just happened? Don't you understand that death is no longer eternally futile? Don't you understand that through Me there no longer is separation between God and man? Don't you understand that it doesn't hurt, it doesn't have to hurt anymore?

Don't you understand?


sickness is not to end

frustrating so frustrating unable to see whether this is the start of something new in which case why is it so close to the end of something old? or whether this is the end of something old in which case this is the longest something there has been or whether this is nothing nothing then why do I feel something?


will come to you

Reading John is like a trip to Best Buy -- what do you choose, what do you choose? The possibles fly at you so you just stick out your hand and hope something sticks. I'll just grab one and go. Just go.

In 14, v.6 gets all the press (natch), but v.18 is the one that stuck just now. Eleven words, but the gist is much:

* A promise to return (in another form)
* A foreshadowed promise to return
* A likening of self to dad
* A tender reassurance

The way is felt-lined, I gather.


was one of those reclining at the table

The follow-up to one of the greatest stories in the history of the world is less than a grand event; rather it's intimate, and thus all the more moving to me. He doesn't merely command the unbinding and the coming forth and the letting him go. No, he stays.

John 12 has Lazarus reclining and eating and staying. Imagine how much he already owed Him. Second life. But to also get the closeness of a meal, too? Salvation and a side order of friendship? Give me two of those.


as it is day; night

I have a whole series on minor characters in the NT that I want to start soon. By soon, I mean soon. Like now.

The easy reading of the Gospels is that the main character is Jesus (obviously). I think this is in some ways not the perspective that He would hold reading about Himself. Two reasons: as God Almighty, He is the main character in everything -- that's how He wants it [Lord of all]; secondly, part of the importance of MMLJ is how you and all others respond. The minor characters -- trust me, you are minor -- become, in effect, the true narrative-carriers.

The world works today via these minors. Leaders take the headlines while their nameless ones take the load. And the NT functions, really, as the lessons learned by these minors and these nameless ones. Side note: one of the benefits of eternity to me is removing their -less.

Let's start with spitclay-eyes (John 9). In v. 12, he is asked the question that defines him to me. His answer: he has no idea. In inarguably his greatest moment in life -- not regaining but gaining something lifeshattering -- the excitement of the great overwhelms him to the point of lostness (lost being defined by being nowhere near Him).

I've always seen trial and joy as two sides to the same coin. During trial you feel apart because of the crushing weight of suffering; but you also feel the comfort and can focus on the knowledge that all this, too, shall pass away. During the joys, you get the thankfulness, so there's that; but you also get the effervescence of it all, and the accompanying celebrations often envelop the Joybringer.

Spitclay-eyes fortunately gets the second chance, and he takes it and runs with it and gets it right, forehead to ground.

father, I thank you that

Happy Birthday, Ba.

I love you.


the light is not in him

My assumption all along has been that all is not shadows, that some must be light. What if the light is also shadow; false light, true shadow?

I've never done one sacrifical thing for anyone. Self-sacrifice requires positive self-worth. The sacrifice is giving up the worth for something else, someone else. One cannot do that if the self-worth is something less than worth. Then nothing is given up for the someone.

That's not sacrifice -- that's a poor trade.


if we let him go on like this

Have you ever tried to fix something that was broken and actually made it worse? Like trying to sop up spilled paint on a carpet and discovering yourself spreading the stain and ingraining it? You wonder what would have happened had you simply let the problem remain: would the remaining truly have been better than the worse?

I don't speak of my condition(s) or the details around it(them) simply because I want to avoid the inevitable response. You know they have medicine that can treat that now. It's not that I'm unaware of the existence of these (false) balms. It's that I don't believe in their usage on a fundamental level, and I fear the potential staining and ingraining.

On the first point, if you believe in evolution (fool) then mental illness is a way of thinning out the weak. No reason to subsidize what shouldn't be. If you believe other than foolishness, then mental illness is your cross to bear. Bear it, bearer.

On the second point, I know who I am and know how to deal with me (for the most part). I don't know how to deal with me after the sopping, or even if there would still be a me. And while some of them may be shadows, some of them are also light; losing the shadow at the cost of losing the light is no small risk. I'll keep both if it means keeping the one.


if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles

If you want to read something that will change your perspective on things, read The Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis or This Present Darkness by Frank Perretti. Reading those two books gave me a different perspective on the shadows within me.

Anyone who knows me or meets me will know/meet someone exuding confidence. Publicly, I am never unsure, never self-defeating. And little would they know how often I torture my own conscience, create my own fissures of doubt and self-loathing. But it's not me. Not me. Someone's bringing the sleepiness, but it's not me.

if he has fallen asleep, he will recover

Sometimes obsessions aren't what they appear to be. Sometimes what's being repeated isn't the action itself but some underlying feeling. Sometimes they're another XXX-ion. Maybe for instance diversion.

I've seen the Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King in its entirety an obscene number of times: 31. 15 times in theaters; 5 times on hotel pay-per views; 7 times on DVD on my laptop on the road; and 4 times at home. And those are just the times I've seen the movie from start to finish. There are particular favorite scenes I've seen literally a hundred times. On its face, I'm an obsessive fan, one to be genially teased and mocked. You've seen it how many times? Maybe if they understood that many of these viewings were for relief and not for entertainment it would be encouragement I'd be receiving and not mockery.

During the first week of the movie's release, I watched the movie seven times. During the first week of its release, I wanted to sleep forever to stop the bickering in my head. During the first week of the movie's release I memorized the film line for line. During the first week of its release, I wept without reason and withdrew without consideration. Coincidences?

The movie for me is like Ritalin for ADHDers -- something that provides a measure of such intense focus, all else is drowned in silence. And when all you crave is silence some end to the screaming some end to the mental noise some end to the overwhelming some end some end

some end

Well, what if for 3 hours and 20 minutes you could stop them all? That for 200 minutes all that was before you was that something golden and all of it would stop and not talk but listen? What if you could weep from being moved by visual stimuli rather than from frustration and self-contempt? What if the internal peace you'd dropped on the way to the corner store had made its way to the Loews and had saved you a seat?

Obsession? No. Distraction from depression.



People are breathing compositions of perceptions and misperceptions. Who you are is defined not by who you actually are but instead by what snippets the viewer wants to take away from the limited bio of you he has encountered. Who you are can be formed of what you say (and not say), what you do (and not do), where you went to college (and where you didn't), who you voted for (none of your business), who you love (all of them and how much). The scarier thing is that people desire to have their being formed based upon these same things; the person in effect agrees with the viewer that being = random word/deed/belief/thought/thing.

All of that, all of it, is sheer nonsense.

Here's who I am (not): a son to two (disobedient), a father to two (absent), husband to one (selfish), fan to many (jinx), graduate (you'd tattoo this on your forehead, wouldn't you?), reader writer runner driver worker golfer collector obsessive teacher learner giver taker something

Here's who I am (am): I am wept over. I am wept over by God Himself. The Bible's (perhaps) second most famous verse is John 11:35: "Jesus wept." And this, this is who I am that means something more than a mortal wish. All else is voluntary and arbitrary; all else is shallow; all else is insignificant. But this one thing is eternal; this one thing is unchanging; this one thing born of something other than a hollow thought; this one thing says even if all else viewed and chosen and snippeted fail this one thing will remain;

this one thing says you? who?: BELOVED. BE LOVED.

Hardheart, time for you to move on 'cause it only gets centered around this one thing from here on out. The rest of the releases are for figuring out where this one thing runs.


when He had said these things

WWWWW: Considering this is voluntary, I don't see how this matters. But as a starting goal, daily at a minimum. But as this post shows, really whenever I feel like it. If the sleepiness hits me I can't promise coherency or nonapathy much less consistency. Releases aren't scripted; they're like volcanoes: tremor tremor tremor harmonic tremor blow.





Sometimes incoherency mumblings ramblings like these first few. Again, it's not for you. This is how I think. Other times I can imagine something more creative (poetry, photography, something other arty). I'd like to throw in some exposition, explication, (insert third thesaurus reference here on your own). Something like 100 words but less constrained by the arbitrary [Note: you figure out who I am, I can't help you there]. I can't define for you the back and forth of the voices. All you can do is what I can do when they mumble/ramble: listen.

in the place where He was

I already went over the why: my release. What of the other W's? One at a time, mirrored, and "How" isn't a W.

The where is a harder question than I'd imagine it would be. It's this place of sleepiness. Not physical sleepiness though there's that whenever I'm on the road and the sheep aren't numbered. The sleepiness of thought that brings with it argued-over whisperings and lightning blinks of scream, a season of discontent and eternal consequences. The sleepiness goes more often than comes, but when it comes it brings an overbrimmed suitcase.

I'm passed through one (at least I think so), ended with the baby teeth I mentioned. Then what of last night and its stuttering? What about the tremor and the startle? What of the four consecutive nights of wonder? Trying to kick off another season, or still passing through?

It's this place of confusion that's W2.


now a certain man was sick

This isn't for you; it's for me. I'm sick, see -- mentally and spiritually. This is my release. There are voices left and right and front and back but the one dead center, that's me, that's me. I fight myself, yes, but most days I win. I just went through six weeks where I lost minute by minute but two minutes of baby teeth later and victory was mine. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I come here seeking my own thoughts in ways that make sense to me. If you're here wishing for a fight, take your hardheart elsewhere for I ignore with the best of them. If you're here for support, take your softheart elsewhere for I console with the worst of them. If you're here because of curiosity, whatever. If you're here because you're me, I took down a message for you. Jesus called. Call back...