I had asked this question, and trying to keep in "context" got a really good answer last night from someone else; simplistically given in John 3:16 " "whosoever" ". Therefore; Paul was right. I guess I'm 'trying too hard' to find the trees in the forest.
Though Peter was talking to a specific "group" his message that Jesus would 'forgive' even those who murdered him could be extended; according to Paul, to even those who had nothing to do with those events, and 'forgiveness' would even cover your personal faults. Like John said, "whosoever" BELIEVES, and acts upon such belief not to continue rebelling against would find that "forgiveness" they so seek.
I am not a "perfect" man by any means; yet... I have re-claimed the Blood of Jesus Christ as having been the payment in full of a debt I could never pay off. Being no different that I was before, just "forgiven" it will be a daily struggle not to fall back and continue to aggravate that "clean slate" I have been Graciously giving; and I am by no means - 'better than anyone else'. Just the opposite. Humbled to watch the details of my personal life before a world stage.
Thank you for taking the time to visit; enjoy the posts...
TNA Chapter 1-5: THE AWAKENING...
THE NEPHILIM AGE
Chapter One:
THE AWAKENING
BY David DeLane Snow
The slap was loud and unwarranted as the sting from the woman’s hand immediately began to show its welting print on the young boy’s cheek. The boy was no more than six years old. He tried to rub his right ear, but the woman continued to violently shake him by the shoulders while screaming at him. She was angry about having been prematurely awakened. The frightened child did his best not to cry out because he knew that always angered her even more.
Just as she raised her hand for a second blow, another boy jumped in between them both. The nine year old shoved the younger to the ground making him skid to a fall a few steps away. The older boy shouted, “Leave him alone! Run little brother, I’ll hold her off.” With that the thin blond-haired boy on the ground scrambled to get away, but not before catching a glimpse of her beating his rescuer. The tall dark haired hero then fell to the floor and curled up as the angry woman began furiously kicking him in the back and ribs, shouting, “So you think you can handle this instead - alright!”
Crouched behind his nearby bed the younger boy could only watch in silent horror as the beating continued until the woman grew tired, then quitting on her own accord.
Jacob woke up wide eyed and breathing heavily from his dream. Its realism was disturbing as he sat up on the side of his bed rubbing his ear, and the sleep from his eyes. His sleeping wife rolled over and continued to lay undisturbed. Jacob seemed to have suppressed so much in his life; amazed by how a single nightmare could have resurrected a host of unremembered emotions - long thought forgotten. But, the haunting vision of those two boys -- his mind strained to put their faces back into focus. He almost knew their names, but the attempt to recall them was futile.
The phone rang.
“Hello? Morn’, James. Yeah, go ahead and order three black and four baby blue ones, they seem to sell a lot. Alright, yeah, I’ll see you at regular time tomorrow. Bye.” Then, just like that with the phone returned to its cradle it was gone again; his dream and any concept of its recollection.
Jacob had always thought that it was his fate in life not to have a family history, because he had been in and out of orphanages and foster homes for most of his life. He had no memory of his mother, and only the vaguest flashes of a brother and father watching Star Trek in a dimly-lit living room. Yet those nearly forgotten happy thoughts were overshadowed by layers of darker experiences.
The first foster dad that Jacob ever remembered was an alcoholic bum who lay about the house in boxers barking out orders to him and his three other abused foster-siblings. By his second family, Jacob had decided to be a loner among four foster sisters who showed him no interest whatsoever.
Creepiest of all was his third foster home, which had luckily only been a three week stay with an elderly couple. They smoked constantly, had a million cats, smelled of Ben Gay, and saw his teenage years as a sign of their own coming deaths. Their mantra was, “I remember when we used to do such and such, we’ll be long dead and buried before you’ll even recall our names.” Ironically, years later he never could remember the pronunciation of their Austrian names.
Three days after Jacob’s sixteenth birthday, he was finally adopted into his fairy tale family. Even though his new parents, Patricia and Charles Douglas, belonged to an ultra conservative “thou shalt not” religious group, they at least loved him. They were caring and accepted him with all his flaws, such as still being afraid of the dark, a bit reclusive, and a chronic nail bitter. They had two other sons who accepted Jacob into their family as if he had been raised among them the entire time; Marcus and Mich. In appearance they could have been twins, but were as different as night and day. One was a rock-n-roller and the other a sci-fi nerd; Jacob himself fell somewhere in between the two.
It was during the time he lived with the Douglas family that Jacob began dating a red-headed girl named Arlene Stapleton. She didn’t have a father, but lived with her mother and grandmother across town. After meeting her, Jacob would peddle his ten-speed bike over to her home and spend his every waking moment visiting with her; whenever he could steal away the chance.
One day, before his senior prom, after Jacob return home from one of his best visits with Arlene, everything changed. The entire evening had been marred by one of the worst thunderstorms he would ever remember. Leaning his bike against the wall of the leaking car port, Jacob arrived home soaking wet. Standing just outside the back door fumbling with his house keys, he could hear the seventh ring of the kitchen phone. Entering as fast as he could hoping to catch the ringing before it stopped he nearly slipped.
Jacob almost yelled into the receiver, “Hello?” The A/C had been left on, yet the conversation turned his spine colder than his dripping clothes.
“Hello, Jacob?” Came the familiar voice in an awkward tone.
“Yes.”
“This is pastor Conner. I’ve got some bad news for you son.”
“Ok.”
“I’m so, sorry to be the one to inform you, and like this over the phone; we‘ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. Jacob, everyone in your family was involved in a really bad car accident. They - they didn’t make it.”
“Make it?”
“They’re all dead Jacob. We’re here at the…”
Just like that he was all alone again. Hollow and numb did not begin to describe the emptiness that had swallowed him whole. His entire family had been killed by a drunk driver and now he was alone.
Nothing was the same after that.
Nothing.
He didn’t graduate, moved into a friend’s house, and gave up on God, the church, and the whole world. Had it not been for the love and support of Arlene’s friendship, Jacob would have ended it all that day.
Yet, through it all, Arlene was there for him. The funerals, studying for his GED and job searches. She became a constant presence for him, and continually reassured Jacob that he would find his own place in life; and God willing one day even the family of his good memories. Jacob had found his lifeline in her, for Arlene had become his only solace and a reason for getting up in the morning. A few months later they were married in the very park where they first met, on his way to school.
Explain Salvation to me once again?
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%202&version=NIV
36 “Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Messiah.”
37 When the people heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and the other apostles, “Brothers, what shall we do?”
38 Peter replied, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.
..............................................
In "trying to return to Christianity" I find myself struggling with many things. For one there seems a great deal of 'jumping to conclusions , 'reading between the lines', and everything being 'spiritual'.
To understand anything you must stay in context. Who, what, when and where.
In the passage I quoted above: Peter is talking to a crowd of people. The crowd is made up of a lot of people; more than just the particular group Peter is addressing. He tells them that all the bad things THEY did even the very murder of an innocent man was their fault. But (the innocent man was such a good guy that if alive he would have "forgiven" them their faults); and that is just what Peter tells then. If they would simply "admit they did wrong and change their ways" and then go and publicly "take a bath and wash that badness away" then they would be "forgiven".
*SIGH* REALLY?!!
So - you can kill some one, and because they were a great person in life; surely they would 'forgive' afterwards? - Don't get it?
THEN much later elsewhere I read various extrapolations by Paul; that REALLY it was not "just the crowd Peter was talking to" but Everyone is "forgiven their sins" just in believing Jesus was beat up and murdered in the first place, and that in life he was such a good person he would 'forgive you' - even though though YOU were not even there? By his stripes we were healed? How can someone else beating be okay for you? Because it wasn't you? Hummm...
I know people or should I say, I have watched on the News, like so many others; people would have lost loved ones to being murdered. Yet later they profess that they have 'forgiven' the killer. I suppose this is psychologically good in that the victims family members who profess this strive not to hold on to this extra bitterness of hatred along with dealing with the loss of their loved one.
Likewise, Jesus himself said, "Forgive them -------"
I know people or should I say, I have watched on the News, like so many others; people would have lost loved ones to being murdered. Yet later they profess that they have 'forgiven' the killer. I suppose this is psychologically good in that the victims family members who profess this strive not to hold on to this extra bitterness of hatred along with dealing with the loss of their loved one.
Likewise, Jesus himself said, "Forgive them -------"
But still I am trying to wrap my head around why and how - is this going to help me?
THANK YOU...
If I sat down and wrote a THANK YOU to everyone who ever touched my life I wouldn't know where to begin or who all to tell - everyone has taught me so much...
Micah; my beloved poodle; for showing me how to be unconditional in loving.
April; our late poodle who show me the same, yet differently.
Oggie; my late sweet little Pomeranian who danced about even when her hip pain was too much.
Rosie; my ferret whose inquisitive joy teaches me the same as Sam.
Pets we've had....
I like this and want to add more but it is late and I have to go...
Micah; my beloved poodle; for showing me how to be unconditional in loving.
April; our late poodle who show me the same, yet differently.
Oggie; my late sweet little Pomeranian who danced about even when her hip pain was too much.
Rosie; my ferret whose inquisitive joy teaches me the same as Sam.
Pets we've had....
I like this and want to add more but it is late and I have to go...
THE ENVELOPE
The Envelope
By
David DeLaine Snow
As beautiful as Jennifer Lessinger was, the one thing the dark haired court-appointed attorney was not - was stupid. Lacking any credible alibi, other than a brief morning exchange with a neighbor, her client’s story ran through her head again. His ramblings were disjointed, and accented with excited gestures. The round face and uncombed shaggy hair gave him the appearance of an uneducated man. Looking in need of not only a shave but clean clothes as well, he looked every bit the guilty part. Yet, was he set up as he had claimed?
Jennifer’s office was leaning hard on her to put this guy away, and fast. But her thoughts whirled through the details, searching for inconsistencies and motive. Suddenly, looking up from her scribbled notes into the green eyes of the nervous defendant sitting across the table from her, she said, “Okay.” Sounding almost like a cop, “Look - the cops went through your place with a fine-tooth comb, and not only did they not find any of these envelopes you keep going on about, there was not even so much as a laptop, iPad or cell phone. So, your story’s not adding up here, Malcolm. Let’s go through this one more time. Without the delusions, and don’t throw in any tricky neighbors either. The truth this time, alright?”
Then adding with a frustrated smirk, “Yeah - and this time without all the breaks and hand waving, alright?”
------
Motley Crew blared through the speakers with a pounding beat. Without being consciously aware of it, Malcom McJones was listening to his favorite music on the radio too loud, and weaving in and out of traffic like a mad man. Only after cutting over to lanes to exit the freeway did he even glance up into the rear view mirror, noting the three car pile-up in his wake. Brushing it off as their poor driving skills, Malcom approached the signal light’s intersection, relieved the accident had not slowed him down.
All he wanted to do was get as far away from work as quickly as possible. Being a dog catcher was wearing on him; it was all road kill and bites. A lousy one week, he thought to himself. His second week of vacation had been denied.
Thoughts whirled is his rock-n-roll pounding mind of how to downsize his plans. Instead of going out-of-town to visit some old friends, he would just stay home and play the lazy bum all week. Actually, shampooing the carpet, reorganizing his seven hundred volume-book collection, moving furniture and playing computer games made the week fly by faster than he wanted it to. Realizing he only had one day left, Malcom decided to make it last by stretching it out doing nothing; starting with sleeping in late.
His plans went awry once again as he heard a thunderous noise, then a knock at his front door. His bedside clock blared in red numerals that for God’s Sake it was only 6:40 A.M. After stubbing his toe on a pile of books that had not yet been replaced to their proper shelf, Malcom managed to unlatch the door’s chain and dead bolt. His neighbor, Jacob Townsend was an early riser. It was Jacob’s smiling, apologetic face that greeted Malcom with an envelope that had been wrongly delivered to his address. Jacob had received some kind of footlocker through the mail, and its dragging must have been the thunderous scrape that woke his neighbor.
Only after watching his early-bird neighbor carry the green box into his apartment did Malcom even look at the envelope. It was plain white, and addressed in a cursive handwritten script: “Good Morning Mr. McJones.” Going inside, and locking the door behind him, Malcom tore it open. Inside was a computer web address. Scratching his head and making coffee, Malcom then pecked in the site’s nomenclature on the Google window. A second later the brightly illuminated screen went black displaying a single question and directions: Well, Mr. McJones would you like to win two hundred dollars, free and clear? If so then go to… Malcom recognized the address, it was just two blocks down the street. Thinking, ‘What the heck I’m already awake now,’ he dressed after his first cup of Mountain grown goodness then walked out to get some free cash.
The grey skies and sporadic puddles gave away the real thunderous noise that had awakened him during the night - rain storms. Yet the perfectly dry white envelope that stood erect at the base of the Stop sign belied the fact it had been recently placed in its careful upright position. Quickly glancing around, Malcom hoped to catch a glimpse of the secret messenger, but was met by empty parking lots and a deserted golf course. Again the envelope was addressed: “Good Morning Mr. McJones.” He tore it open as he walked back home and discovered the promised $200 in cash along with another web address.
Malcom mixed up another potion of black java and hazelnut creamer. The coffee’s delightful aroma waned as he pecked in the new search on his Dell computer. A second later the lime green screen displayed a new question and directions: Good for you Mr. McJones! Now, would you like to collect an easy $500 for a new book shelf? The cursor blinked about as much as Malcom’s staring eyes did. But a thought later revealed he recognized the location of the new address as well.
After his third cup of wake-up juice Malcom found himself flying down the freeway. Locating mile marker 494. He pulled over into the emergency lane of the overpass. At the base of the sign, a string was attached to a badly stained white cord with yet another envelope taped to the tail of the cord. Once again he was greeted by name, but this he time read the card on the spot. Along with another web address, was a note that read: “Sorry but the $500 is at the next location, and bring the cord.”
Back in his car, Malcom thumbed the address into his Blackberry. As it uploaded a picture, Malcom looked around to see if he could notice anyone waiting for his next move. As the traffic bustled beside his car, and the gas stations and hotels declared their own business, no one appeared to be aware of his small existence on the nearby bridge. With blinker on, he merged back into the flow of traffic heading north. Punching the address into his GPS locator, the coordinates pinpointed the exact spot of an area next to his lakeside apartments. A park.
As he pulled into an empty space, Malcom noticed a small hastily-drawn sign in block letters: ‘THIS WAY MR. McJONES.” Curiously, Malcom found himself leaving his car and heading down the sidewalk, then entering the undeveloped woodland. Down the winding pathway’s worn trail Malcom meandered, looking for any sign of another envelope.
He had driven by this very park and wooded area a thousand times but had never actually been here before. He did not have any kids to yell their fool heads off in the playground nor a dog to take a crap everywhere. Just when he was about to call it quits, he noticed something white up ahead in a clearing. Just as he arrived, picked up the envelope and read the: “HERE’S YOUR REWARD,” the sound of a thousand clicks rang out.
Before he could even investigate the sound, Malcom turned around just long enough to see at least twenty odd heavily armed SWAT members aiming their weapons on him. The police were repeatedly shouting for him to get on the ground. A heart beat later and someone had pounced on him from behind, slapping handcuffs around his wrist, as he suddenly noticed that he lay before a freshly dug grave mound.
After Jennifer Lessinger, his court appointed attorney quietly got up, she hurriedly stuffed her notes back into the black leather satchel, and left the cramped interview room. She turned to her client with a disinterest smug tone, and said, “I’ll have to see what the senior partners want to do with your case.” Then without waiting for his reply continued leaving.
Then after going back to his grey jail cell, Malcolm slumped on his bunk’s firm overused mattress and began to have that sinking feeling. Then, before closing the bared door a squinted hawk-eyed guard shook his head and announced, “McJones, you got a phone call.” His quick head nod signified that if Malcom did not go now the cell door would be locked again.
Going in the opposite direction of the lawyer. Down the long hallway of cameras, locked doors, and watchful eyes bearing down on him, Malcom was led to a booth and picked up the resting phone receiver.
“Hello?”
“Well, Mr. McJones congratulations on receiving your just reward; I guess you won’t be cutting me off in traffic any more - now will you? Ha, being framed for being a Cop killer.”
* * * * *
WOW Hummm...
With all my other Blogs I can see a little of where my friend, Mike Cope is overwhelmed in trying to figure out what to do between them all...
NEW WEB SITE: Wordless Wednesdays...
I now have a separte page just for the WORDLESS WEDNESDAYS postings:
MUSIC MONDAY:
MUSIC MONDAY:
Nothing but music videos will be posted on Mondays. Playing for My Viewer's enjoyment. Requests taken, just leave a comment and "This one is for -----" will be noted!
Still you love you. Don't hate me, I'm still trying to be better than I was the day before...
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