Today, I have officially passed 1000 all-time views here on WordPress, thanks to many who have visited and subscribed.
It’s hard to believe this blog was started back in February, and now it’s June? Crazy how fast time flies. But I am excited that many are loving this site, and moreso the love of God. I pray all will see the truth of the gospel through this blog, and that they will not merely be hearers of the Word, but doers as well!
God bless all!
The rain ceased the day after Tilry’s funeral. The sun’s golden rays beamed brilliantly, drying the sodden ground and snapped plants. Cloudy numbly plodded to school, feeling as though she had been punched in the skull. Her classes passed in a blur, and her friends laughed and chatted gaily at recess. They begged Cloudy to come play with them, but she declined. Nothing frisky or genial felt right to her now that Tilry was gone. She wished it would rain again, but no such thing happened the rest of the week.
* * * * *
Days went by, and still Cloudy remained sulky and gloomy. Nothing could lift her spirits. Fun-loving Sniper, who normally could make her laugh by doing something silly, tried to cheer her up, but even her prankster brother could do nothing about her blue mood. Springtime saw the sun melt away behind the clouds of Cloudy’s life and prayed desperately to God that her daughter would once again be joyful. But day after day passed with the same results―Cloudy was sullen and didn’t want to play. She began to do poorly in her classes, and her grades dropped drastically. She barely ate or slept. Springtime continued to cry out, but with no audible reply.
Gradually, March fifteenth arrived. It was now less than a week away from Cloudy’s birthday, but the child no longer felt excited about it. The day that was supposed to be so full of festivity and mirth now swayed overhead her mind like a dark cloud that wouldn’t go away, shrouding her mind in haunting memories of shadow. Even Liloy seemed far away in her thoughts. So did Meta Knight. Often at night whenever he visited, Cloudy would see him by the fence alone, crying. At times like those, she instinctively knew what to say or do, but now she withdrew from him altogether. She knew he was still suffering from the funeral, same as she was, and that likely neither could make the other feel better about the current stances of their minds and souls.
Liloy seemed to skirt her father’s presence as well. Father and daughter were never together much anymore these days. If Liloy was in the house, Meta Knight was outside. They never held hands anymore or hugged. There seemed to be an invisible force pulling them apart, dragging them farther and farther away from each other, unraveling the already-fragile threads that once held their family bond close together. Cloudy found that painful truth incredibly sad.
Even her siblings seemed to notice the silent breach of bonding between the soldier and woman.
“Hey, what’s up with those two?” Sniper asked on the third day when Meta Knight sat on the porch and Liloy on the grass with the children. “Why are they behaving so awkwardly? They’re always apart now. Why is that? They’ve never done that before.”
“I wish I knew, but then again, it’s none of my business, is it?” Cloudy muttered. She trudged away to the opposite side of the house and sat down, her back to the rosebushes. Sniper stared after her, then shrugged and went back to his carefree playing.
* * * * *
Then the unexpected happened.
Four days before Cloudy’s birthday, Meta Knight asked Cloudy if she wanted to accompany him to Liloy’s house, which lay deep in Whispy Woods. Cloudy agreed, and off she walked with him into the forest. She didn’t know what they were doing but she knew from Meta Knight’s dark-green (meaning anxious) eyes that it was something important. She felt a little flutter of unease and discomfort, but she pressed on through the sharp, winding trails and dense undergrowth. The vines twitched in the occasional breezes that swept through the area, and the boughs of the oaks creaked and groaned.
At last, they came to a modest, well-kept red-brick cabin that stood along Miracilius Trail, which lay two miles parallel to Magnolia Brook. Cloudy smiled as she spotted the well-tended rosebushes in front of the railed porch. Roses were the favorite flower of both she and Liloy; magnolias were second. Cloudy’s mind then traveled back to last year’s Thanksgiving, when Scazzarda had showed a rose to the picnickers and explained that the thorns represented the crown of thorns, or the suffering Christ endured on the cross; the rose petals represented Jesus’ blood, or the washing away of our sins; and the green of the stem and leaves represented the renewal of our bodies and spirits in Heaven, or eternal life. Cloudy had never forgotten that beautiful demonstration of what the design of the rose meant to her and what she hoped would one day mean to all.
She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of scuffling and scraping inside the house. The front door opened and out came Liloy, dragging a large gray box onto the porch, a morose look on her pallid countenance. She raised her head and saw her father and his friend standing in the yard, and a peaked smile replaced her sorrowful look. “Hello!” she shouted.
For the first time in days, Cloudy grinned, her eyes brightening with the old spark of her fiery spirit. There was the cheerful, convivial Liloy they had always known and loved. “Hi!” she returned, darting up the porch stairs and almost tripping on the broken top step. Liloy looked alarmed, but Cloudy regained her balance and hopped over to the box, curiously peeking inside at a load of knickknacks and other odds and ends.
“Hello, Father,” Liloy said happily, smiling at him as he mounted the steps and walked up beside Cloudy.
“Greetings, my child,” he answered gravely. He glanced down at the box. “What are you doing, my dear?”
Liloy’s face suddenly became heartsick once more and she looked down for a moment, feeling uncertain about the recent thoughts she had been having. Her eyes rose to the huge oak tree overshadowing her porch, the tree that had protected her cabin from lightning strikes and fierce hurricanes and floods, from blowing snow and wind for so many years. This wasn’t just any cabin, she knew; it was her childhood home, the place where she had grown up after her mother had married Meta Knight. However, the marriage didn’t last. She remembered all too well the terrible day her mother had thrown her wedding rings at Meta Knight, screamed horrid words at him, and stormed out of the cabin. And she never came back.
Never. The word gyrated in her head. Never.
“Liloy?” Cloudy asked, concerned. “Are you okay? You look like you flew off to a different universe for a moment.”
“Oh. . .” Liloy smiled, trying to mask the tumultuous chaos of her mind. “Oh, no, Cloudy. I was just thinking, was all.” She looked back at the front door, her eyes darkening, and then at Meta Knight. “Father, would you mind coming inside a moment? We, er, need to talk. . .in private, preferably.”
One look at her face and Cloudy knew the news was going to be bad. Since she had already had enough bad news in the last couple of weeks, she decided she didn’t want to listen to what Liloy had to say anyway. “I’ll just wait out here,” the little girl offered. “You and your dad just go on in and talk about whatever needs talking about, okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Liloy gestured for Meta Knight to walk inside and shut the door behind them. She led the way into the living room, which, to his bewilderment, was now completely barren of furniture. He watched as Liloy planted herself in the middle of the floor, crossed her arms, and shot him that resolved stare which determined she was about to announce something either truly exciting or completely sad.
In this case, it was neither.
“Father, I need to tell you something,”Liloy answered. “I’ve decided I’m going to sell this house and move.”
That hit Meta Knight hard, but he tried not to show it. “And go where?” he gently asked.
“To Mount Moonstem.” Liloy sighed a little. “I understand they have some cabins there you can buy or rent.”
“That’s why you are moving all the boxes out,” Meta Knight observed, his eyes growing wide in disbelief. “But Liloy, why would you just do this without consulting anyone first? Don’t you love it here anymore?”
Liloy sighed again. “It’s my life. I can do as I wish, Father. And I wish to move.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Actually, the truth is, Father, when Tilry died, I knew I could no longer be happy without him here. To me, it’s just empty, desolate, barren, as if he were never here at all. It feels too much like the days after Dad died of alcohol complications. After he passed, I wanted to run away. The only reason I stayed then was because you married Mom. When she disappeared, I stayed on because of Tilry. Now he’s gone too.” She was crying now. “I’ll never truly be happy here again, Father. The best thing I can do now is leave.”
Meta Knight sighed and closed his eyes. He knew all too well the feeling of having a father who never truly cared. . . “I will indeed miss you living so close to me, darling. But if this is what you choose, then so be it.” He opened his eyes and managed a slight smile. “At least you will have your baby to keep you company.”
Liloy’s face grew cold and her eyes became stony. Meta Knight had never seen that look on her face before. “Actually,” she began, and then halted, seemingly hesitant to reveal the words right on the tip of her tongue. Meta Knight felt a strange tenseness take ahold of him.
“Actually. . .what?” he prompted.
Liloy looked to the ceiling and back at her father, looking him straight in the eye. “I am going to tell you the complete and honest truth,” she said softly yet sternly. “I told my high school friend, Lilith, that I felt incapable of taking care of my child with Tilry gone and asked her help. She suggested I ‘, as she put it.”
Meta Knight gasped in horror. “Liloy! What are you talking about? Are you saying she suggested you to end your pregnancy?! How could she?! That-That is not an adequate solution! . . .I mean. . .I. . .” His voice faltered, and the words died away in his throat.
“I understand how you feel, Father, and I even argued with her on that issue. But she. . .she seems to. . .” She broke off as she recalled that day and their argument. . .
* * * * *
“Why can’t I just put him up for adoption. . .?”
““Maybe you could. . .but what if no one adopts him? . . . . Or what if you do decide to raise him and he doesn’t have a mattress to sleep on. . .? . . . . What if he has to live on the street, barely eating, barely surviving. . .? . . . . And all because his mother chose the harder route of suffering instead of doing the kinder thing that would allow him to live in peace?”
* * * * *
Liloy shook her head as she finished relating Lilith’s words to her dismayed father. “Lilith was right, Father. I can’t do this. I can’t raise my child by myself. Nor can I put him up for adoption; the awful things she mentioned could happen. I don’t want my child to suffer in any way. Therefore, there’s only one choice I can possibly make.” She took a deep breath.
Meta Knight read her thoughts even before she spoke them. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No. You cannot do such a thing!”
“It’s my life,” she coldly remarked.
“It’s not in your authority to take the life of your own child!” Meta Knight shouted at her, fury in his voice. “How could you even think of doing such a thing! This is not how I raised you!”
“I have no other choice! You know I don’t!” Liloy yelled back, her voice rising shrilly.
“You do have a choice!” Meta Knight returned. “You can choose to take the hard road and raise your child yourself! I have seen single parents guide their children themselves and I admire them highly for that! I did the same for you and Gregory when your mother left me, and I never gave up, even when I truly wanted to!”
“I’m not you!” Liloy cried out, the weight of her words slamming full force on him. “I’m not a soldier! I’m not someone who struggles for peace and answers to their questions! I wasn’t abused like you were!” She paused for breath, her heavy breaths filling the stillness of the room. “I’m not you,” she repeated in a whisper, her voice trembling.
“You cannot do this,” the soldier spoke once again, his voice angry. “You are making a big mistake!”
“Then it’ll be my mistake,” Liloy coldly responded. “But I am only doing the best for my baby.”
“No, you are not!” Meta Knight cried. “You will only hurt him of you follow through with such a thing! If you accomplish this awful deed, you will forever regret it!”
“Maybe, but at least I will have peace knowing I only tried to do what was best for him,” Liloy said calmly. She didn’t seem to care about her mortifying plan.
Meta Knight was aghast. Has she completely lost her mind?! he thought, alarmed. He was panicked. She can’t do this! Not at any cost! This is ridiculous!
“Liloy,” came a quiet, rigid voice from the direction of the doorway. With a gasp, both family members turned and saw Cloudy standing there, her normally dazzling eyes dark as night. Who knew who long she had been standing there, listening to their conversation?
“Oh, dear. . .” Meta Knight nervously swished his cape behind him.
Liloy crossed her arm and put her foot down hard. “What?” she shot back, her voice rough.
“Why would you want to get rid of your baby because you feel you cannot take are of him?” Cloudy asked. “God specifically tells us in the Bible that the murder of babies is wrong. And you yourself know you can raise your child yourself without Tilry’s help. After all, you have God. But Lilith’s evil words have blinded you to the duty God gave you as a mother―to raise, love, protect, and nurture your child.”
“I have made my choice,” Liloy said in a tone of finality. “Nobody can change my mind now.” With those forbidding words, she turned and walked toward the front door.
Cloudy was beginning to get desperate. There was nothing else she could now but try to snap Liloy back to reality. “You can’t!” she shrieked, and leaped forward to grab Liloy’s cape. Her teeth closed around the pink fabric and she jerked her head backward, trying to prevent Liloy from walking out the door.
“Let go of my cape!” Liloy ordered.
Cloudy’s response was to lean her head even farther back and tug harder. She refused to let Liloy take the life of anyone, especially an innocent baby who had done no harm and deserved a chance to live. “You can’t do this to your baby!” she wailed in dismay. “You cannot! I’m telling you, you cannot!”
“Let go of me this instant!” Liloy yelled sharply, raising her hand and knocking her fist over the child’s head. Cloudy, stunned, fell backward, the rose-colored cloth slipping from her mouth. Meta Knight was shocked, but Liloy merely stormed out of the room, preparing to leave. But just as she reached the front door, she heard Cloudy murmur:
“You promised. . .You promised Tilry you would take care. . .of your baby. . .”
Liloy forze at those words, and her mind flashed back to the hospital room. She had been standing beside the bed, waiting for Tilry’s last words to her. A weary hand in hers; it felt ice-cold to the touch. A raspy voice speaking his final words to her:
“Take care. . .of our baby. Promise. . .you will.”
Liloy stood there in a state of semi-shock, dazed, as she suddenly recalled her very last words to Tilry:
“I promise.”
“‘I promise?'” she repeated softly over and over again. Then she violently shook her head, as one waking from a dream. “I. . .did promise. . .didn’t I? But I can’t. . .I can’t do this. There’s no way on earth I can raise my baby. It’s too much for me. It’s too. . .much. . .” With an outburst of anger, she kicked open the front door, sending a shower of dust and wood splinters flying onto the porch. “No!” she muttered to herself, “I can’t do it! I can’t take care of my baby! Not now, when I’m alone! I have no other choice btu to do what I am able!” She stomped off down the steps, slamming the door, leaving behind a bruised, sore puppy and a furious, but helpless, father who stood in the middle of the living room, wondering where he had gone wrong.
“Hooray!” Cloudy cheered as she joyfully skipped and hopped through the daffodil-dotted grass in the little clearing in Whispy Woods. The golden sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, and the fuzz of the dandelions whirled about in the occasional breezes. Her friend, Meta Knight, and her older sister, Star, were not far behind. “The sun is shining, the sky is clear, and it’s a beautiful day to walk in Whispy Woods!”
“Slow down, little sister!” Star hollered, racing after Cloudy and tripping over a well-concealed root, tumbling headfirst into a dandelion patch. The seeds and fluff flew in her face and circled round her in the wind. Star sneezed and spluttered, laughed, stood to her feet, and shook the fuzz off her glowing gray-and-white fur, once again taking off after Cloudy.
Meta Knight had to laugh as he watched the two romp about together, playfully snarling, pretending to fight, laughing as they wildly zigzagged out of the clearing and down the trail. A rush of nostalgic memories returned to his mind—back when he and his little sister, Tourmaline, were younger, playing just as Cloudy and Star were now. His eyes grew gray with sadness, recalling bitterly how she had been forced out of the house at age ten. He had never seen her again since that night. Sometimes at night he dreamed about her, wondering if she was all right. He didn’t even know whether she was alive or dead.
“Hey, Meta Knight!” shouted Cloudy. “What are you being so slow for? Hurry up!”
Meta Knight snapped out of his depressing thoughts, quite a contrast to the peaceful, sunny day. “Sorry.” He hurried up to the two sisters, who had called a truce in their play-fighting. Then the trio continued on together, their feet crunching the soft blades of grass.
As Cloudy hopped and trotted along, her thoughts drifted to her family. Her parents were Springtime and Showerstorm. Both were loving, funny, supportive of their children, and hardworking. Springtime was a stay-at-home mom who enjoyed cooking and watching her children live out their dreams. Showerstorm was an author and worked at Passion Bank. he mostly enjoyed spending time with his wife and children and reading the Bible.
Cloudy’s mind then went to her siblings. Her five older brothers—Sniper, Sharkell, Yodi, Pancake, and Waffle—often teamed up together to make everyone miserable with their ridiculous, petty pranks. Azalea-Star, her older sister, was kind and enjoyable to be around, hut could sometimes be bothersome and generally annoying.
Then Cloudy thought about herself. She was strong, brave, compassionate, spirited, empathetic, and had a heart of gold. She also possessed the rare title of the Prophesied One, or the Star Warrior who had been prophesied by Photron to banish Nightmare’s darkness and evils from her beautiful country, Dreamland. She would one day bring about Nightmare’s end. She wasn’t sure she really enjoyed being a soldier, but if it meant the world would be spared from submitting and bowing the knee to Nightmare, she would fight to the death.
Cloudy was startled out of her reverie when she heard a loud honk. Star grinned at her sister’s alarmed expression. “It’s just a car, Cloudy,” she explained. “We must be getting near the road. Right, Meta Knight?”
“That is correct,” Meta Knight answered. “We must be coming to the intersection near Adela Turner’s place. We must have taken a detour that led off the trail to my cabin.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Star said quickly. “It’s lovely on Cardinal Road. You know, with all the azaleas, delphiniums, and whatnot.”
“Yes, it is,” Meta Knight agreed. “Let us walk it.”
The three companions swung onto the road and began walking on the grass so as to stay out of the way of passing cars. At first it was calm and peaceful, with the three friends walking in harmony and enjoying nature together. But soon Cloudy started to get frustrated because Star began often to stop and sniff the roses, azaleas, chrysanthemums, tulips, and whatever else she could get her nose on. It was causing a lot of delay getting home.
After Star had halted for the sixth time to sniff a sunflower, Cloudy groaned. “Star, will you please stop lollygagging and hurry it along? We’re going to be late getting back to the house, and Mommy and Daddy will be furious!”
“Oh, cool it,” Star said offhandedly. “There’s plenty of time. I just wanna smell the delicious scents of spring, is all! There’s no harm in that.”
Cloudy managed to contain a choking outburst of anger and looked to the sky to calm herself. As she did, she spotted a beautiful brown cardinal with reddish-tipped wings flying into a nest in a palm tree. Her eyes widened as her ears caught the faint sounds of high-pitched chirping. No doubt there were baby birds!
Meta Knight too heard the chirps and gazed upward at the tree. Cloudy’s face was full of amazement. Star just seemed puzzled until she saw a tiny bill peering over the edge of the twisted mass of straw and grasses.
Star let out a gasp. “Baby birds! They’re in the nest!”
“I hear them,” Meta Knight said calmly. “They’re hungry.”
The mother cardinal, hearing the hunger cries of her babies, chirped as if to say, “I will bring you food!” and flew out of the nest and down to a bare patch of earth. She burrowed into the dirt with her sharp bill and grasped hold of a plump earthworm, then soared with it back to the nest. The baby birds were soon quieted as they ate contentedly. When one of the babies began to argue with one of his siblings, the mother stepped in and quieted him.
Meta Knight had to smile. The mother bird reminded him much of his own dear mother, Scazzarda Stellarum. She was so kind and loving yet stern when things got out of hand in the family. She never stopped at anything to make sure her family was never anything less than happy and safe.
“Nice,” Star said in a bored tone after a few minutes, “but we really need to get moving. There’s a long way to go and I’ve still got a bunch of flowers I want to sniff.”
“Fine,” Cloudy sighed. “Come on, Meta Knight. Let’s go.”
Meta Knight turned away from the tree and walked after Cloudy and Star. Star skipped happily out in front, snuffling at the waving flowers and rustling bushes. The sky turned from a periwinkle-blue to a dusty navy as the sun began to get lower and lower. Late afternoon was coming fast.
Then tragedy struck.
The mother cardinal flew out of the nest to get some more food for her children. She flapped across the road and managed to find another earthworm trying to bury itself in the dirt. Then she took in her beak and flapped back across the road.
But as she did, a car came speeding down the road, its engine roaring. Star did not hear the noise, but Cloudy and Meta Knight, who were farther back than Star, heard the engine and turned around to see what was going on. As the bird flew back across the road, the car struck it head-on. The mother bird let out a piercing chirp of pain and dropped to the ground, lying inert. The car revved down the road, ignoring the bird.
Meta Knight gasped, horrified.
“No!” Cloudy shrieked. “The bird! The bird got hit!” She turned and shouted loudly at the top of her lungs, “Star! Star! The bird got hurt!”
“Hm?” Star looked back and saw her sister and friend running in the opposite direction of where they were supposed to be heading. “What the. . .” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I guess something else has come up. Wonder what happened this time?” She ran after them.
By the time she caught up to them, the two had already reached the accident’s scene. Meta Knight was kneeling by the bird and gently cupping it in his hands. Blood seeped out of the wings and spilled upon his gloves. The bird did not stir.
“Is she okay?” Cloudy whispered.
“Is she alive?” added Star.
Meta Knight sorrowfully shook his head, tears filling his eyes. His glance went to the nest still sitting in the trees, to the baby birds waiting for their mother. But she would never come. And they would never understand why. The image of the palm tree blurred before his eyes as he sighed heavily.
“Meta Knight?” Cloudy spoke in a soft tone. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine, child,” was the reply, though Cloudy could tell it was a complete, flat-out lie. His trembling voice gave it away. Cloudy’s ears drooped and she looked up at the palm tree. The mournful chirps of the hungry chicks stabbed at her heart. What would become of the baby birds? They would never survive without their mother. Sooner or later, they would die from a fall out of the nest or be eaten by a snake or something else. There was no way she was leaving those helpless baby birds by themselves.
“We have to bury her,” Meta Knight said quietly. “I feel it is best.”
Cloudy nodded. As she looked around for a final resting place for the bird, her gaze landed on the base on the palm tree. “Why don’t we bury her beneath her home?” she suggested. “That way, it’s like she’s still here, even though she’s not.” She realized her last sentence probably didn’t make much sense, but Meta Knight seemed to understand her viewpoint.
“Let’s do it,” Star said determinedly.
So they did. They buried her beneath the palm tree, with only a smooth granite rock as her headstone. Cloudy thought about how beautiful her grave would be in the summer and fall, and especially in the winter when it snowed. But Meta Knight didn’t seem to share the same thoughts. His mind was on the baby birds. Where would they do without their mother’s tender care? What would they eat? How would they find shelter in times of bad weather?
Meta Knight felt like he had to protect the baby birds. Ever since he was a child, he had always wanted to guard and care for those less fortunate than himself. When he became an adult, he felt a paternal tug toward young, orphaned, abused children. His heart broke for those who were alone and helpless in the darkness of this evil world.
Meta Knight slowly released his breath. He had made his decision. “Children, wait here. I will climb the tree and get the birds.”
“What?!” exclaimed Star. “Are you nuts? You’ll probably fall and kill yourself doing such a dangerous thing.”
“I will not leave the birds to a cruel fate,” Meta Knight replied, and without another word, instantly began to climb the tree. The puppies nervously watched him as he inched out onto the thin, delicate limb on which the nest was located, praying he wouldn’t lose his balance and come tumbling to the ground. Thankfully, he succeeded in grabbing the nest and carefully climbed down the trunk, the nest gently gripped in his hand.
“We need to get home, pronto!” Cloudy said, realizing how vital this situation was. “The birds need to be kept warm and moist in a chamber or tank. Let’s hurry!”
“Right!” Star chimed.
The three friends began to run as fast as they could down the road toward Cloudy’s home. Cloudy was worried about the fragile orphans, as was Meta Knight. Could Cloudy’s family raise them and get them to safely hatch and come into the world as fine, healthy babies? Or would they die without their mother, no matter how much they were cared for? Every step they took seemed to suggest a struggle of life or death.
Today, I need to speak to all you readers about a post that really reminded me of me: “I Am Just The Vessel. . .” by Willie Torres Jr., author of the WordPress site https://beingcrazyforchrist.com/
Post link: https://beingcrazyforchrist.com/2026/05/26/i-am-just-the-vessel/
I, Starmonia, am an author, artist, and blogger. Like Willie Torres Jr., I have always loved writing. As a little child I would write silly stories. As a middle-aged kid I would write sensible, well-crafted poems, plays, and even songs. As I got older, I became more skilled at writing and really enjoyed doing it. I still do, in fact.
The main reason I write is not to earn money or become famous; it’s simply because I love doing it. I find pleasure in doing it. Another main reason is because I believe, through God, I can change the world. And I am changing the world even now, though I cannot see it. I am planting seeds that God will water and they will one day sprout into something amazing.
In his post, Willie knew he was not perfect. He also knew he was one of the least unlikely ones anyone would have chosen to change the world through his honest and amazing writing. But God is not just “anyone.” God is God, and He can choose anyone he wishes to fulfill His plan for creation. He chose twelve unlikely men to change the world in big ways. He chose a young virgin girl to carry His Son. He chose a little shepherd boy to be one of the greatest kings in Israel.
I am a very bright girl. I am very smart, intelligent, and spirited (perhaps too much sometimes). I am protective of my friends and family and hate seeing others bullied or cut down. I am empathetic, compassionate, and beautiful. And I am not bragging on myself; I’m merely speaking the truth. God says I am everything I mentioned above, and I believe I am.
But sometimes I really don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to be doing with my life. Sometimes I don’t see myself as a follower of Christ. Willie says it all in his post:
“Do I enjoy writing? Yes.
Do I love building friendships and relationships with others? Yes.
Do I see myself as a disciple?
I am supposed to… but only God truly knows. And if I am being honest, I hesitate to even carry that title, because of the weight it holds.”
I see myself the same way. There are times I doubt whether I’m truly worthy to carry the title of “Christian.”
“Some may say disciples are just ordinary men. And that is true. But they are also followers of Christ. They are called to go out and make disciples of all nations. Leaders. Servants. Messengers of truth.
They carry their Cross through trials, through struggles, through pain. They speak the Gospel for all to hear, without shame. Without fear of being mocked, rejected, spit on, or even killed for what they believe.
That is not a light calling.”
That is one of the truest statements I have ever heard in my life. I couldn’t have said it better.
“So I ask myself… am I worthy of that?
And the truth is, I do not see it in myself.”
I don’t see it in myself either. I doubt whether I’m truly good enough to accomplish the heavy task of walking and evangelizing for the Lord.
“I see my flaws. I see my doubts. I see the moments where fear tries to silence me, where I feel inadequate, where I question if I am enough.
But maybe that is the point.
Because being a disciple was never about being worthy on our own. It was never about having it all together, knowing everything, or standing without weakness. The very men Jesus called were imperfect, unsure, and at times afraid.
Yet they followed.
Not because they were worthy, but because they were willing.”
I have to admit, there are a lot of times I know I hurt Jesus with my wrongdoings. And it’s not that I wanted to do wrong, but nor was I willing to do right. I’m definitely not worthy to stand before Jesus, and neither is anyone else. But through Christ, I am made new. I am now able to stand before the King of kings and the Lord of lords.
I am willing to go wherever God has called me. And I know I am not worthy for the hard tasks He is placing before me, but I am definitely willing to do whatever He asks of me. . .no matter how hard it is.
I doubt myself from time to time, and I even doubt God at times, but I have never lost faith that God is watching out for me and has a plan for my life.
When I was five, I nearly drowned from falling into a river. I couldn’t swim and my family couldn’t see me under the murky water, but somehow, I floated back up for a second and part of my head was spotted, and that was how I was saved. When I was twelve, I was playing with a metal jewelry chain near an outlet into which was a plugged a nightlight, and like an idiot, I allowed the chain to touch the metal prongs of the nightlight. I burned my finger on the smoking black chain, but thankfully, the power went out before I was electrocuted and possibly died or anything caught on fire.
Looking back now, I know those rescues were not mere “good luck.” They were signs that God was telling me He had something great for me in store. And at this point, I’m still not certain what it is, but I know He has something wonderful planned for me.
“And maybe that is where I stand. Not as someone who has arrived, not as someone who claims the title boldly, but as someone who is learning… slowly, humbly… to follow.”
That’s certainly where I stand, no doubt about it! I am still learning to follow Him, and with God’s help, in time, the day will come when I will be able to face anything with no fear, for God is with me!
Thank you, Willie, for writing this spectacular post! You are truly a talented writer with a wonderful gift for words! I pray your books will change the world and show God’s love and conviction to all! God bless you, and keep writing!
Most are probably familiar with the “Would You Rather?” game. You ask two choices and the person you ask has to decide which one he’d rather do. Most of the time, it’s easy to pick one or the other. “Would you rather eat brussels sprouts or ice cream?” is a good example.
But other times, it’s hard. “Would you rather live in a haunted house or hold a poisonous snake?” is difficult to choose. But one has to be picked. You can pick either one or the other, but one has to be chosen.
It’s the same way for most in life. All are given a “Would you rather choose Jesus or the world?” Most choose the world, simply because following Jesus for them is such a bother. It’s easier to do wrong than right. Most people hate being set apart and different from their peers, and they want to fit in, so they follow the rules of the world rather than Jesus’ commandments.
But as Christians, if we look weird to the world, then that’s a good thing. It means we’re consecrated, or set apart, by God; we’re different from the world. We march to the beat of a different drum, so to speak.
So when it comes to the “Would You Rather?” game of life, let’s choose Jesus. It’ll be worth it in the long run! One hundred percent guaranteed!
Hello for the third time, my readers! I’ve learned so from this scary, sad, but hopeful story of faith, love, and hope, and I trust you all have as well.
A few things here: One, this whole story is fiction, and it expands on the Kirby universe. This entire series is known as Christian fiction, meaning that one or more characters in the story are Christians and use the Bible to solve the problem(s). And I know that not everyone who reads this series is Christian. Tat’s perfectly fine, though; I don’t expect everyone to be. But something I do expect, dear readers, is that you learn something valuable from each story I write.
But while the story is fiction, the Bible is loaded with evidence that’s real and overwhelming. The Bible is the only Book that is authentic and valid and lines up with history and answers all questions about hefty topics, such as Noah’s Flood.
However, many people are puzzled by the Bible. They ask questions like: Does the Bible contradict itself? Who was Cain’s wife? How could Jesus die on the cross for me? If God loves us, why are we all suffering? Are angels real? What is my purpose in life?
These questions and more are answered by the Bible. False teachers and books (other than the Bible) can’t always be trusted. But the Bible can be. Why? Because it was given us by God—yes, Jesus Christ, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last. Jesus is alive, and living, and real. If He had not been born. . .if He had not died. . .if He were not a real person and did not exist, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t exist. We would merely be dust in the dirt
Joseph and his crew’s actions in this story may bother a lot of people. But justice is always served to those who hurt God’s people and commit moral evils. The Bible makes this very clear in Proverbs 11: 5- “The righteousness of the blameless will direct his way, but the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness.” I wanted to emphasize that verity.
God gave every single one of us a mind and a conscience. He keeps human depravity in check. He won’t let destruction run rampant. Yes, there are many evils in the world, we see. There are drunkards, murderers, rapists, and thieves. There are slave traders, those who abuse power, and even those who exploit their own people. But thanks to God keeping our depravity in check, we’re not all lying in our caskets right at this point.
By God’s grace, we are alive. By the Lord’s mercy, we aren’t struck dead by His hand, though we have every right to be condemned and die a miserable death in hell. We all have a choice to accept Him as our Savior. And if a true Christian truly accepts God in his heart, he will never regret his decision. Never.
The Romans Road of Salvation gives us three things we can do to be saved.
A—Acknowledge: Acknowledge that you are a sinner in need of salvation and that you need Christ. You are not independent from God; you need God and learn from God. Without Him, you are spiritually dead.
B—Believe: Believe that Jesus died on the cross to save you and He was buried and rose again the third day out of that grave for YOU! Jesus conquered death and reigns on His throne in heaven.
C—Confess: Confess your sins to Him and ask for forgiveness. Beg Him to enter into your heart and be your Lord and Savior. He will govern your life the moment You ask Him to. You don’t need to pray in a fancy manner; just ask for forgiveness, confess your sins, and believe on Christ.
Dear readers, I hope you will respond to the truth of the gospel if you have not already. God loves all and wants to save all.
Next book is coming up, and see you then! God bless you all, my friends!
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