Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Martyrdom/ Depression/The love of God/An Allowed Awareness

The love of God/An allowed awareness

In this is love ... that God has loved us

We were created as an outlet for the expression of his love

The commands that leave only martyrdom, not love, as the  way to God

The Mercy without the love of God leaves martyrdom as the best chance of covering our sins. So, for Muslims, the theme of death becomes let everyone be a martyr in order to secure a life with God.

Why do we find in that so many Muslim "martyrs" were first men who grievously sinned against the commands of God. Men crushed by the weight of their wildness and wicked rebellion against God.

Martyrdom masked the beginning of their desired journey out of the darkness. Cloaked the light need to begin their journey out of the depression of guilt, the terror of having to some day stand before the judgement seat of God. Martyrdom, a willful distraction from the light depression quickly extinguished to prevent escape of the intensity of its negative emotion it uses to control the mind and soul.  The embrace of Martyrdom slew the nano-second of wonder the men did not want to deal with because it makes demands of the self protected mind and emotional core. The possibility of the love of God being greater than their guilt.

The love of God, so rich and pure, so measureless, and strong it shall for evermore endure ...

For in this is love, not that we have loved God, but that God in his mercy, even before his mercy was fully revealed, has loved us.

A dream beyond hope, a call to be a responder not a regurgitator of others words ...

In the dream, I held a book, the core example by a demanding but erudite professor of the quality of work expected in order for the final paper in his class will be accepted. The last class standing between myself, and many others, and granting of the degree.

The notes of the female student who first used the book covered the blank first and last pages and filled the margins and I struggled to read the handwritten notes to find comfort for the journey my mind and soul were resisting and had resisted by my refusal to go to even one class of the course being so defined and evaluated.

I sat on a tall stool at a bar with others who were speaking their journey through the required writing that had to be personal and yet meet the highest creative yet academic standards. Had to not just be a rehash of voluminously footed noted writings of others. A fresh response to the central question - a question not spoken in the dream.

For the dream was about the demands of the course and the barrier of the task to fulfillment, that tiny flash of mental and emotional awareness of the love of God. That tiny flash that to be true to my God would have be fleshed out, brought back out of the dark, to accomplish the task. That tiny flash, that created a barrier to the professor's demand. The final paper I must write to have a chance at being personal and fresh, the two hallmarks of my inner standard of responding to what I heard and read in my seminary courses. My stand against the anathema of being merely a regurgitator of others words and ideas rather than a responder... (source unknown)

My Prayer For You

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, co that you may live pure and blameless lives. 


The love of God is greater far
  Than tongue or pen can ever tell.
It goes beyond the highest star
  And reaches to the lowest hell.
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
  God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled
  And pardoned from his sin.
O love of God, how rich and pure!
  How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
    The saints’ and angels’ song.
When hoary time shall pass away,
  And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall;
When men who here refuse to pray,
  On rocks and hills and mountains call;
God’s love, so sure, shall still endure,
  All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
  The saints’ and angels’ song.
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
  And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
  And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
  Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
  Though stretched from sky to sky.

Words & Music © 1923, Ren. 1951 by Hope Publishing Co., Carol Stream, IL 60188.

Words & Music © 1923, Ren. 1951 by Hope Publishing Co., Carol Stream, IL 60188.

Based on readings from the following:

1 John 4:10 - 11
Philippians 1:9 -10

Privacy Policy