what was supposed to be Saturday:
I read all of Galatians that morning because I realized that I'd hardly touched the Bible all week. I've already gone through James 15 times this past month, I wanted to read another letter: Galatians seemed most appropriate. A lot of people read Galatians and are amazed at Paul's explanation of his transition from persecutor to humble servant. It's difficult not to notice that. Really, it's a running theme in all of Paul's works.
Now that I look at it, Galatians is like Paul's version of James'...James, but it has a different twist. Instead of Paul writing that faith without deeds is dead, Paul writes that works of the Law is like old skin, and faith is new. Way back when he was Saul, he worked the Law perfectly, but "For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse: for it is written, 'Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and go them.' Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for 'The righteous shall live by faith.' But the law is not faith, rather, 'The one who does them shall live by them.' Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us [what we commemorate every Good Friday]...'"
Like James, Paul doesn't suggest that one can be done or had without the other, but he emphasizes faith because all he had before was works. I guess after 'coming to faith' he had a greater reason to work.
what was supposed to be Sunday:
I didn't sing any hymns that I recognized in church. I also attended a new church and stepped out of my social boundary skills so that I could meet A LOT of new people. What?! But!- here's a song from Tenth Avenue North called Beloved. If you want to know what inspired Mike Donehey to write this song (on the first album) click here.
and today:
The following isn't the result of a writing challenge. I think I wrote this two years ago. (Two years?!)
"oh, shit!" she yelled. "oh, shit!" she yelled. "...oh, shit!" she yelled and that's all she would keep yelling if he wouldn't leave the room, and she wants him to leave the room. 'poisonous apparition', she thinks, 'hasn't he poisoned me enough?'
"you are being dramatic."
"oh, shit!"
he clamped her mouth closed with his sweaty hand. "cease." he said. "desist."
'oh, shit.' she thought.
"whatever is the matter?"
"i'd thought i'd lost you!" she mumbled into his hand. he didn't ask her to repeat herself; he'd felt every word and was sorry she was suddenly so afraid of him.
"why did you think you lost me?"
"well, i don't know, let's see. oh, now i know: because you left!" she punched his arm to no avail. "you left without saying goodbye! here you are without saying 'hello!' you left! no reason! no explanation! no note! no phone call every now and then! no facebook message! you left! at many points in your lostness i thought you'd died! you- you left! where's my goodbye? you owe me a goodbye."
"goodbye."
"i won't accept it."
"why?"
"because you didn't mean it! say it like you mean it!"
he paused. he took in a deep breath. "goodbye."
"goodbye to you too!" she crossed her arms and turned away from him.
he stepped outside of the room, left through the front door closing it behind him. he then knocked three times and she answered.
"hello," he said.
"hello! where the hell did you go?"
"i left."
"to where, damnit?!" she threw a pillow at him, but the pillow left her hand too late and landed at his feet instead of hitting his face at the earlier projection she'd intended.
"you won't believe me."
she looked at him and stormed back into the room. he followed swiftly behind her. "i won’t believe you?" she picked up another pillow. "i won't believe you?" she sat down. "i won't believe him!" she yelled at the ceiling.
"i've already established that."
"me? the girl who lets you do whatever you want. me? the girl who's patched up your ripped pants and bleeding scabs every time without interrogation. me? the girl who's cried at least once a week, hoping you were all right. me? this girl won't understand?"
he bit his lip. "only once a week?"
she threw the other pillow at him and this time did not miss his face. "oh, shit," she murmured. "i can't believe you're alive." she fell onto her chair and pulled her knees up close to her chest. "you're alive."
the man got off his own seat and knelt at the young woman's trembling side. "i am alive. i'm sorry you thought i was dead."
"yes. yes, i did. i thought you were more than dead. i thought you were having fun without me!"
the man smirked and laughed. "while my adventures away from you were exciting beyond comparison," she shot him a look. "although i'm sure yours are just as exciting—all my adventures have proven one thing."
"what's that?"
"that i miss you."
the young woman perked up and smiled. "you had to go on stupid, crazy adventures to figure out that you'd miss me? you couldn't take a personal holiday like a normal person and miss me? communication included?"
"me? a normal person? me? the boy who's manipulated kings into believing me their lost prince. me? the boy who's planted dandelions in the amazon and fed poisonous scones to british intelligence? me? a normal person taking a normal holiday to figure out the most natural and inspiring thing is that i miss you?"
she bit her lip. "you only missed me?"
he kissed her gently and quickly on her mouth and loved the feel of her shy smile. "no," he said. "i more than missed you." he took her hand. "now, it's time to go to confession."
"excuse me?"
"yes! you've just kissed an apparently dead man and said 'shit' at least ten times!"
"don't forget 'hell' and 'damnit'." she mumbled.
"off to confessional! christians are not supposed to touch, let alone kiss, dead bodies; nor are christians supposed to curse."
"yeah, well," she said pulling on her sweater. "you make me feel human."
"and that is why i have missed you."
"dante says there’s a special circle in hell for you."
"and which circle is that?"
the woman paused and laughed. "my heart."
"you cliché little she-devil."
"ah, apparently you missed the clichés, you brazen bard!"
"i thought you were almost going to call me a bastard."
"i've filled my daily curse quotient."
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