Double Life: Explained

This poem is largely about the fact that most Christians are only Christian on Sunday. Where we talk the talk, but don't walk the walk.  Know the facts, but can't keep up the act. When we are actually faced with a situation that tests our faith, do we respond in a way that's in accordance with the scriptures? 

Who has the power to win wars;

a stranger knocking at our doors

To floor us when we atone

Who says we’ll never be alone

but is less important than our phone

God is omnipotent, but somehow unfamiliar to us. His grace and his mercy is constantly outpouring, and yet we run away with our problems, instead of running to Him with them. God says "I will never leave you nor forsake you" but still takes the backseat when it comes to spending time with Him or with our phone.

Who brought us back from the dark

bought with the currency of blood

and currently not important enough to mention

not to mention the way we talk

when do we really walk?

once a week?

we’ve become weak

We were redeemed with grace, but somehow it's not important enough to bring up to others. What do we actually say about Him when we're in the company of nonbelievers? Do we only walk with God on Sundays? Our faith has become weak.

if the world had begun again

could we ever hope to gain a name?

it’s no longer a game when the king dines with the poor

would we be fine to be among the poor?

If all of our knowledge of God wiped out, would we be Christians? Would someone else witness to us? If The King of Kings can dine among the poor, would we be able to do the same?

we were poured into

but it's still about ‘me’

God constantly pours his love, grace, kindness, and mercy into us, and yet we use him like a crutch; only when we need to. We've come to think of God as someone who grants our wishes for selfish gain.

in the still, do you see his face?

can we face the facts?

we were a disgrace

but redeemed with grace

deemed fit for the kingdom

now let the king come

for it was said that it was done

In the quiet nights, or the busy days, do you see God? We we once in the darkness, but now we're children of light, made new again in order to be with God in heaven. So let Jesus come, for he had said upon the cross that "it is finished"

no matter how far we run

the son meets us there

burning brighter than the sun

for action can’t earn us what we already have

turning to ourselves to save

living for the grave?

the way we behave brings death

Jesus is there to help us with our problems when we run from God. Actions can't earn us grace. We're too prideful to turn to someone else to save us so we turn to ourselves. And if death is certain, then how are we living? We live sinfully, and sin breeds death.

the things of this world will rest

you know the story, he will do the rest.

its best to live like he died

because there is no “you tried”

so join the cause, march to the drum

the war has already begun.

Everything in this lifetime will eventually perish. Except what is eternal. If you've grown up a Christian, then you probably know the story of Revelation. If Jesus is truly raised to life, then the news should change your life. Because at the end, when you stand before God, there is no "I tried to be a Christian." It's either you lived your life a Christian, or you didn't. The spiritual war has already started; war doesn't wait for people. So join in the fight against the devil. You combat him by growing in your relationship with God. And part of that means that you can't live a double life. No more being a Christian on Sundays only.

So the idea remains as this: Christianity is an everyday thing, and often something we take for granted. But if you really think about how big of a gift it really is to be a Christian, then perhaps we can stop living as if nothing is really different in our lives. The fact is, someone died for us. And yet we don't really behave as if that's the case. Your life was so precious and valuable to someone, that someone gave their life, so that you could keep yours. So what are you going to do with your life?

Double Life

Double Life

Who has the power to win wars;

a stranger knocking at our doors

To floor us when we atone

Who says we’ll never be alone

but is less important than our phone

Who brought us back from the dark

bought with the currency of blood

and currently not important enough to mention

not to mention the way we talk

when do we really walk?

once a week?

we’ve become weak

if the world had begun again

could we ever hope to gain a name?

it’s no longer a game when the king dines with the poor

would we be fine to be among the poor?

we were poured into

but it's still about ‘me’

in the still, do you see his face?

can we face the facts?

we were a disgrace

but redeemed with grace

deemed fit for the kingdom

now let the king come

for it was said that it was done

no matter how far we run

the son meets us there

burning brighter than the sun

for action can’t earn us what we already have

turning to ourselves to save

living for the grave?

the way we behave brings death

the things of this world will rest

you know the story, he will do the rest.

its best to live like he died

because there is no “you tried”

so join the cause, march to the drum

the war has already begun.

Originally written 3/21/15

The White Train: Explained

The first thing you should know about this story is that it's largely inspired by the song Piano Man, by Billy Joel.  So that's essentially where the setting and premise of the story comes from. I wrote this because after hearing the song, I stumbled upon a quote that really resonated with me. "Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about." I decided to illustrate that picture. What does it look like when everyone is fighting a battle that you know nothing about?

When people are hurting they generally go to a safe place. That's what the The Darkest Pit represents. People who are at their lowest, coping with the pain. The first man, with the trenchcoat and shady appearance, was someone who was real with his pain, but hid in the shadows. The second man, the one among friends, was someone who lived in the light, but concealed his pain. And finally, the piano man represented compassion. Our character noticed that the characteristics of the piano player didn't quite match up with his music. He had compassion on the piano man and helped with his problems. 

In the next part, the character comes running out of the pub, shocked at his realization, and takes shelter at the train station. The conductor, of course, is Jesus. The train station is life from a timeline perspective. This is why I got specific when the man in the story asked Jesus to see his baggage; because the platforms and compartments represented specific times in this man's life. However, the numbers of the boarding platform relate to a specific verse:

2 Corinthans 5:17
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has past away, the new has come!"

And the same goes for the ticket:

Matthew 11:28-30
”Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

When the man received the ticket, he received an invitation to follow Jesus. When he boarded that train, he committed his life to following Him. And the seat that the man took represented what we think we deserve when we come to Christ vs. what we really get. Not the average seat, but the best. Jesus only offers us His best when we come to him. And when the train departed: I ended with a simple thought:

"I knew that wherever the train went, it would take me somewhere better. Because for once in my life, Someone was guiding me there."

Finally, the destination, meant walking a blessed life with God. The moral here is that faith doesn't make things easy, it makes things possible. Life with Jesus doesn't automatically make things easy. In fact, it makes some things harder. But the promise is that none of our pain is ever in vain.

The White Train

The White Train

I entered into the pub at dusk and took in the sights and sounds around me. The Darkest Pit was regarded as one of the best pubs in town, so it happened to attract many people. The dimly-lit bar was rich with sounds of boisterous laughter, clanging mugs, and ragtime piano music. I stood at the threshold, surveying the scene. Everyone seemed to be having fun and yet, something seemed rather off about the whole situation. The coughing of someone in the back shifted my gaze to a particular gentleman, with a black trenchcoat and a rugged beard. He wore scars on his face and a tall hat to mask them. He wasn’t laughing like the rest of them, but simply staring into his drink, seemingly oblivious to the crowd around him. The fact that this man behaved this way intrigued me, but I decided not to pry. I moved my gaze to the front of the room, where three laughing people at the bar were clashing their mugs and spilling their drinks. The bar was best lit of the small establishment, with the electric lights clearly illuminating the numerous bottles of liquor, but especially the people being tended to. Each had let out a bellowing laugh at the crack of a joke, but one man hesitated with chuckle until he noticed his company roaring in delight. He took a small sip of his drink, gazing into the cabinet of spirits, and ordered a whisky. The fact that this man seemed to be somewhere else was slightly troublesome, but who was I to judge him? Then the crescendo of the piano stole my attention, and I looked to the piano man. He was was disheveled, untidy, and dirty. His hair was matted down and greasy, his fully grown beard was filthy, covered with bits and pieces of previous meals, and his clothes were ripped in numerous places. I crossed the room in order to get a better look at him, making my way through the thick crowd. On top of his piano, was a tip jar. Usually I would not give much thought to such an ordinary item, but the fact that the man looked the way he did spoke volumes about such a common item. As I approached closer, a pungent odor assaulted my nostrils. This man clearly had not bathed for quite sometime. And while the ragtime song he played was upbeat and cheerful, his eyes had sunken deep into his skull, and he started at me with a vacant expression, as if no one occupied this husk of a man. I reached into my wallet and placed five dollars into his jar. He looked at me with the most expectant, wondrous expression, as if he was a child staring at a sizeable lollipop. I felt pity on the man, and placed ten more into his jar. At this, he started openly sobbing in front of me, all the while still playing the ragtime tune that contradicted his emotional state. I stared at him in bewilderment, feeling guilt well up in my stomach. What had happened to this man? I backed away slowly, not knowing what to do for the man. I turned and stumbled toward the door, my head spinning into a mix of sorrow, shock, and rage. How could something like this happen to someone? As I reached the door, I looked over my shoulder and surveyed the room one last time before. In my encounter with each person, I sensed something was amiss with them. My initial assessment of this place had told me that it was a place of cheer and high spirits. But as I was leaving, I knew that not one person sitting in that pub was there for the cheer and music, but rather the alcohol, as a means to cope with the pain. I threw open the door and ran out in the now-pouring rain, distraught at what I had discovered. As I darted through the empty streets, I could only think about each person, and what their story might be. I took cover at the nearest place I could find, which happened to be the train station. I stopped when the platform roof covered my head, and fell to my knees crying. My whole world had been flipped upside-down in a matter of mere minutes. I heard the sound of footsteps approach me, but wept still, broken at the sight in the pub. “Pardon me sir, but are you waiting for the train?” I looked up. Before me stood a Conductor, dressed from head-to-toe in a white tuxedo, even complete with white shoes and a white conductor's hat. “I’ve already taken care of your baggage” he said. I looked at Him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” He held out His hand, fitted with a white glove. “Come with me” He said. As I was helped to my feet, I suddenly noticed the train sitting in the station. As I looked upon this fascinating contraption, the rain tapered to a halt. The train was also white, polished, and glimmering in moonlight, as the beads of rain that clung to the machine reflected the fractals of light brightly. We came to a halt at platform 5, then the Man turned to me and pointed at compartment on the lower of the train marked with a 17. “What’s in there?” I asked. “I have already told you: I have taken your baggage.” I became even more confused now. “But I didn’t bring any baggage here. I came straight from The Darkest Pit.” He tilted his head and maintained his gaze. “Would you like to see?” He asked. Still not knowing what he meant, I took on his offer. “Yes.” He took a set of keys from his belt, and unlocked the compartment. Lined from wall-to-wall, were suitcases and bags, just as he had said. The compartment was completely filled, as each bag had been meticulously placed to maximize storage. “But which one is mine?” Again, He looked at me with the intense gaze that he always bestowed. “All of them” He said. I staggered backward, unable to believe what I was seeing. “Who else have you taken the baggage of?” I asked, stunned at this statement. “I have a compartment for anyone who chooses to ride my train.” From the inside pocket of his jacket, He pulled out a ticket and handed it to me. “Whether or not you wish to ride is up to you, but we will depart as soon as you take the seat prepared for you is taken” At this, He walked away, presumably to the operating booth. I watched Him walk away, still with a million question in my mind, then looked at the ticket in my hand. “Car 11, Row 28, Seat 30.” I looked up at the train and asked myself: was I ready to just leave everything behind and ride this train to wherever it might take me? But after the brief exchange of words with the Mysterious Man in white, how could I not? There was nothing left for me here anyways. So I boarded the train and followed the ticket to my seat. When I found my seat, it was not as I was expecting. I thought it would have been a normal train seat, but it was a plush recliner; the very best seat on the train. Amazed, I walked over to it as if in a trance, and took my seat. As I peered out the window, the landscape started to move. Where we were bound, I could not say. But somehow I knew that wherever the train went, it would take me somewhere better. Because for once in my life, Someone was guiding me there.

Originally Written 8/13/14

Soul Chasm: Explained

If you didn't already guess, the thing I'm talking about in this poem is sin. I named the poem "soul chasm" because sin separates us from God. A spiritual chasm, if you will. Here's a simple breakdown of the thought process:

Everyone has what no one wants

Everyone is born with sin. There's no escaping that fact.

Once attained it cannot be forgotten

Sin isn't exactly the kind of thing you can forget about.

It gnaws away at our existence

Our existence was originally meant to be perfect, a simple union between man and God. But then Adam sinned, and everything changed. Now, sin runs completely rampant in our society. The more we sin, the more our existence becomes rooted in our sin. We become so fixated on the temporal, that we forget about what is eternal.

And hides below the surface,

Waiting

The people who seem happy? They're really hurting underneath. It's just a facade.
I put the word "Waiting" at the end, because sin loves to wait for its next opportunity to ensare.

We store it away

And bury it with a shovel

But it delights in this

And dances with the darkness

In a midnight nocturne

Rejoicing

Now that I've said the meaning behind the poem, this part should be fairly obvious. And in fact, it kinda ties in with the last part. No one wants their sins to be known, so they hide them away from sight. But of course, sin thrives in the dark. The word "Rejoicing" at the end depicts how sin feels when hidden away.

Because we do not realize who it is

We welcome it into our home.

The stranger lies to enter in

And hides in many masks.

Deception

Sin takes a lot of different forms, and because of this, we don't always recognize sin when we see it. So we invite it into our life, and there it lives. Until too late, we see it for what it really is. "Deception" is the game sin played to get into our life.

Time passes, and it laughs

We trick ourselves into thinking it left

But we realize how wrong we actually were.

When our complacency sends us spiraling.

Despairing

Again, this part ties into the last. Only after it's too late do we see the severity of the sin. It's grown in our life. It's deeply rooted, hard to remove. And just when things start going well for us, and things seem normal again, we realize that the sin never really left in the first place. When we grow complacent is when sin creeps back into our life. "Despairing" is how the host of the sin feels at this point.

Once apparent

It reveals who we really are

Others will see it

And some will take the one way street

To exit stage right

Hoping

Even though we hate our sin, we keep committing the same crimes over and over again. Why? It's a reflection of our selfishness. Our sin exposes that selfish nature. Others will see that sin, and leave, scared by what they see. It destroys relationships. "Hoping" is at the end here, because the victim of the sin is hoping for a way out. Pleading, almost.

There are many roads.

The roads are worn and beaten

And they are easy to travel.

When we think we are alone

is when we see the many footprints in the dirt

Wondering

Essentially, all this passage is saying is that you're not alone in your struggles. It might feel like that at times, but that's exactly what the enemy wants you to think. The "footprints in the dirt" are the numerous people who have walked through the same sin. But, every path has an end. "Wondering" because this is when the host starts to wonder if they were actually alone this whole time.

The day has come for us to face it
testing the might of our soul
Some fail, but others succeed
And we when it is defeated

We make it as part of us

Rather than a mercurial counterpart

Liberation

I hold fast to the phrase "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". Instead of pushing our struggles away, we learn from it, and allow it to grow us. "Liberation" should be pretty self explanatory here. The victim of sin is finally free. 

So let me make one thing clear here: I wrote this poem as a narrative of one man's struggle with sin, so it kinda sounds like that a solo effort is a tangible feat. But without God, nothing is possible. You can hold on longer by yourself. You can try harder by yourself. But you can never defeat sin without God. Not fully. Just because God wasn't mentioned in this poem, that doesn't mean I don't recognize his vital role in defeating sin. Here's what I did mean:

In our struggles with sin, we have a part, and God has a part. This poem was written from the perspective of our part.  I'm going to use the analogy of a farmer here. Picture a farmer out in the fields, planting his crops. He plows his fields. He sows his seeds. Then he waits. Because there is nothing he can do about the weather. He must trust in God, and leave everything up to him, because there is nothing more he can do for his crops at this point. The farmer cannot control the wind, or the rain, or the sun. Only God can do this. In the same way, there are many elements of our sin that we cannot overcome. Only God can do that. 

Tomorrow: The White Train

Soul Chasm

Soul Chasm

Everyone has what no one wants

And once attained cannot be forgotten

It gnaws away at our existence

And hides below the surface

Waiting

We store it away

And bury it with a shovel

But it delights in this

And dances with the darkness

In a midnight nocturne

Rejoicing

Because we do not realize who it is

We welcome it into our home

The stranger lies to enter in

And hides in many masks

Deception

Time passes, and it laughs

We trick ourselves into thinking it left

But we realize how wrong we actually were

When our complacency sends us spiraling

Despairing

Once apparent

It reveals who we really are

Others will see it

And some will take the one way street

To exit stage right

Hoping

There are many roads

The roads are worn and beaten

And they are easy to travel

When we think we are alone

is when we see the many footprints in the dirt

Wondering

The day has come for us to face it
testing the might of our soul
Some fail, but others succeed
And we when it is defeated

We make it as part of us

Rather than a mercurial counterpart

Liberation

Originally Written 12/4/13

The Return

To those who read this blog: sorry for my absence. But I'm going to be switching up things a bit.

For the rest of the month (starting tomorrow), I'm going to be posting two posts a day. One of the posts will be an old story/poem that I wrote. The other will be an explanation of the story/poem.

Why am I doing this now? Well, I feel like I've been so caught up in life, that I've kinda forgotten about this blog, and I'm a little upset about that. I've also heavily neglected my knack for creative writing, and I feel like I shouldn't ever stop expanding on that. Because writing stories and poems riddled with meaning is/was one of my favorite things to do. While I have shared a few of my stories on Facebook before, I feel like most of these have been kept to myself, and I think it's about time to share these. And don't worry; if you're here for my religious insight, that's not really going to change. Most of my writing, while seemingly normal, is vastly inspired by something pertinent to Christianity.

So I hope this entices you to read. If not, then I'll try to resume my normal pattern next month.

Tomorrow: Soul Chasm