God’s Time

To understand a moment we must have an eternal perspective. You may be going through something painful that seems like it will never end. You may find little comfort in the idea that “weeping may endure for a night”, because you’ve wept for so long now. Have faith through your pain that God’s Word is true. He does not see time as we see time. In light of eternity our entire lives are only a moment. God is able to give you joy and peace to endure the hardships of this life. He knows your pain and He’s able to comfort you. That’s not all. There will come a time when He will wipe away the tears. A time when He will surround you with love and goodness that cannot be taken from you. Let His promises fill you with hope. No matter what sufferings we experience in this life they will not be worthy of consideration in the next. Faith in what’s to come is what gives us joy for whatever comes today.

For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.(Psalm 30:5)

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False Accusations

The word devil means backbitter. It can refer to someone who falsely accuses others. Why would the devil need to falsely accuse us when we are sinful?

First, I think he spends most of his time falsely accusing God. He wants us to believe that God is evil, unjust, or unloving. He wants us to think that we’re too far gone to find God’s love.

Second, he falsely accuses us because he can’t judge us by our hearts. Thankfully God sees all of us. He knows our intentions; the reasons behind our actions. He knows our every flaw, sickness, and weakness.

Finally, God knows the perfection of the one who was truly, falsely accused. The devil can’t accept that we’ve been made righteous through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Don’t live under the burden of the devil’s accusations. Live in the freedom that Jesus has purchased. The devil says you’re guilty and condemned and Jesus says you’re pardoned and set free.

For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.(Hebrews 4:12)

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Free Chapter of my new E-Book

Chapter One of In Between!

Please share this! It’s available at for you’re kindle on Amazon and any other reader on Lulu. It’s been accepted at several other major online book stores and will be available soon. If you do read it please leave an honest review on Lulu or Amazon. Thanks! I hope you enjoy this free chapter! The formatting does not carry over the proper formatting so forgive the improper spacing and indentation. You can go to the amozon link below and read the first chapter if you’d like proper formatting.

Chapter 1

Journal Entry November 14, 2011
A world between darkness and light. A world of absolute reality. Nothing matters. There’s no fear. No shame. No jealousy. No wrong. No right. A world full of everything we’re struggling to find in the light. A world devoid of darkness. A world people seek through darkness; lust, drugs, passion. A world which slips away as we try to explain it and returns when we forget it exists. Our minds have been designed to keep us out of this world. If we could enter it, we’d never come back.
Heaven’s real. Hell’s real. There’s the place where these two weren’t necessary. The Garden of Eden of the soul. In the light, we were as Abel seeking to please God. At night, we’re as Cain seeking to please our flesh. In the In-Between, there’s peace. There’s no struggle. The In Between is a place where all our struggles end. A place where we’re able to be ourselves, and enjoy what we’re created to have; what’s rightfully ours.
Present Day September 18, 2016
Sounds like the ramblings of a crazy man. The day I typed it, I downloaded a notes app to lock it with a password. I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it, and think I’d lost my mind. I had no idea, the proof of my insanity would soon be more obvious than an obscure journal entry.
The In Between was a place I’d go to before or after slept, when I was sick, or when my parents were fighting. A place it would seem, I’d remain in only momentarily, even if hours past. The day I wrote the entry, I was on the third day of a battle with the flu. I experienced the In Between several times over those three days. I’d begun to think about it in ways I never had before.
I wrote about it innocently enough. I thought I’d be able to make up an interesting story about the In Between. That was the purpose of the journal, but there was no “world” to write about. I realized any world I tried to create was one based on my dreams, not the reality of the In Between. It would’ve been best if I’d created an imaginary world based on a mixture of my dreams, and the In Between, no one would’ve known the difference. I could’ve become famous like J.K. Rowling, or C.S. Lewis.
The problem? It would’ve been a lie. I wanted to explain the real “world” of the In Between. There were no creatures. No individuals. The In Between was for me, a place of enlightenment about reality itself. I believed the In Between was the place masters of meditation experienced. People like Maharishi Mahesh Yogi were satisfied teaching people how to experience this world. I wanted to explain why it existed. What it meant about humanity, life, morality and eternity.
Now, I wish I’d been satisfied creating a fictional world. Who knows, it may have been a glorious place. Maybe I would’ve inspired generations with my imagination? Instead, I lost everything. That night I began a journey into the depths of insanity. What came out of those depths is more terrifying than insanity itself. Maybe, you’re one of the few who’s aware of the In Between? Take it from me. It’s not what it seems. If you open the door to another reality, it’ll come inside and destroy your own.

*** November 15,2011
It was early Tuesday morning. My body ached from a combination of the flu and having sat around for four days recovering. I drifted off sometime before Dawn. I awoke to an experience I’d had before. An experience in the In Between. I was aware of reality like I could only be while experiencing the In Between. I was in awe of existence. It was as if time were suspended, nothing I knew mattered in those moments.
I’m real. Other people are real. We exist. We’re here on this planet.
These thoughts are elementary. It’s not the thoughts which are difficult to explain. It’s the state of existence I experience in the In Between. It’s like being let into a room no one is supposed to enter. Like peeking behind the curtain. The heightened awareness is exhilarating. It’s a recognition of the fact, all the things we worry about reflect foolishness. Why do we worry, and war over trivial things when we exist? We’ve bought into the lie that life’s temporary. Life’s accidental. We miss out on true happiness because we can’t see the power we have inside ourselves.
This experience was interrupted as my wife, Dawn opened the bedroom door. “You hungry Michael?”
I looked at her. She was holding the doorknob, leaning on the door frame. Light from the hallway poured into the room, her brown hair rested on her shoulders. Sunlight entered from around our blinds, revealing her smooth pale legs, and the short orange shorts she only wore around the house. Her face shadowed, only the outline of her full lips and her green eyes appearing dark in the low light were visible. The smell of coffee and bacon wafted into the room bringing me back to reality.
Maybe she’s not real. Maybe the food’s not real. Maybe it’s all a distraction. I was on the verge of understanding all things, now my mouth is watering, and I’m feeling lustful at the sight of my wife.
“You hungry?”, she repeated.
I laughed at myself. Reality won out. “Yes, baby.”, I said.
After breakfast, I had energy for the first time in days. I checked my phone, 7:13.
Still, enough time to make it to work. I could take another sick day. Just sit around trying to experience the In Between. I laughed, how is it I can take this stuff so seriously sometimes? Nope, too much work to be done.
I stood from the table and stretched, “Thanks for breakfast honey,”
I walked over to give her a kiss.
Turning her head to the side, holding her hands out, she said, “You’re welcome, but I don’t think so, no kisses for you. I don’t want the flu,” she smiled.
I pushed her arms out of the way and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I guess that’s a no on you joining me in the shower?”
She laughed, crinkled her nose, and nodded her head.
“So, that’s a yes then?” I joked.
“It’s a yes, that it’s a no,” she replied laughing.
I loved Dawn’s laugh. Her eyes would squint, she looked, and sounded, sweet and innocent.
She really was sweet and innocent. We’d met on a blind date. She was twenty-four. She’d been teaching the fifth grade for two years. I was her first real boyfriend. She grew up in a strict Christian home. While she was in college she didn’t have her own vehicle. Her mom drove four hours every weekend to pick her up and bring her home. She never drank, partied or slept around. She deserved someone better than me.
I arrived at work to a pile of folders on my desk. As a social worker with the Florida Department of Children and Families in Jacksonville, there was no end to the workload. Like most state ran organizations we were undermanned. I’d missed three days of work. Which, meant a backlog of cases. We didn’t have time to cover for each other, it was every person for themselves.
My supervisor, Peter walked into my office. “Feeling better?” he asked.
“I was until I got here and saw how far behind I am.”
“Yea, it’s been crazy as usual. Nothing a few twelve-hour days won’t fix,” he laughed.
My mind wandered. There’s so much more to life than the things we busy ourselves with, I could’ve taken one more sick day.
Something told me I should’ve taken one more sick day. I considered going home right then, I wish I had.
Peter interrupted my thoughts, “You sure you’re okay?”
I guess the faraway look in my eyes concerned him, “Yep I’m good.”
“If you say so. Glad you’re back,” he walked out.
I looked at the folders on my desk. One had a note attached. It read, “Urgent!”
If it’s urgent then why didn’t you give it to someone who wasn’t at home with the flu?
Being frustrated was a daily occurrence. The only thing worse than seeing the deplorable situations children were forced to live in, was seeing our government’s response to their needs.
I opened the folder. The case involved a boy, Timothy Brown age 7, his mother, Michelle Knight, and her live-in boyfriend, Alex Howell. The boy’s aunt, Meredith Lovett, made the report. Meredith was concerned for Timothy’s safety. Timothy had gone from talkative and playful, to quiet and reserved since Michelle moved in with Alex. There were also some unexplained bruises on his back and legs. The case appeared to be routine.
Meredith’s probably an overprotective aunt. Alex probably has a tattoo that scares her. At least I hope that’s the case.
Driving to the house I remembered the first time I’d experienced the In Between at only five years old. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night to get some water, I had strep, every time I swallowed I grimaced in pain. The water didn’t help. It felt like someone was holding a lit match in the back of my throat. I turned on the television and sat on the living floor. The pain was excruciating, my fever was high.
I won’t live through tonight, I remember thinking.
My attention was drawn away from the TV. I noticed a streak of light coming in through the hallway door. The light called to me, I fell into a trance. My worries and pain disappeared.
There’s more, I began thinking. My pain has nothing to do with why I’m alive. I’m going to die. Maybe not tonight, but one day. I’m going to die. I’m here for a reason. I exist for a reason. I don’t exist to suffer. Life’s more than suffering, more than dying. I deserve to be happy; to do what I want.
These weren’t the thoughts of a five-year-old philosopher. Someone… something was telling me these things. I believed them. For the next couple of hours, I was somewhere else, at peace. I understood things I can’t fully explain to this day. When I got up the next morning I remembered what happened, still, it’d be a couple of years before I’d think about the In Between again.
I drove into the family’s driveway; the yard was immaculate. Well-manicured shrubs lined the drive. There were rows of magnolias and several large oak trees in the front yard. The two-story house was white, Victorian style. The front porch was massive. There were six rocking chairs, three on each side of the door, and a swing at the end of the porch. The front door was surrounded by glass on the sides and at the top.
I walked up to the door keeping my ears open for dogs. This house was secluded, I was worried a Doberman pinscher might run out from behind the house and attack me. I knocked on the door. It was quiet. I waited to hear footsteps, there were none.
As I was about to walk away, I heard something, a creaking noise. Like someone walking slowly, trying not to be heard, stepped on a loose board. I leaned to the side and peered into one of the long windows running down the length of the door. Someone moved past. It startled me, something wasn’t right. I quickly returned facing the door.
I stood there, my heart racing. What did I just see?
Someone walk across the room.
No, you didn’t.
Yes, that’s what I saw.
My heart raced faster. I swallowed hard.
No, you saw someone swinging…
I could hear my breathing as it increased.
…by their neck. No, it’s not possible. Just look again. No, they’ll be here in a second.
My palms began to dampen. There was no sound, no footsteps. I slowly leaned over and looked into the window. Nothing.
See you were…
There it went again. I strained to focus my eyes. Back and forth the body swung. It was a woman, wearing a white dress. Her head was slumped forward, long red hair covering her face. The swinging motion caused me to follow the rope up. A man stood on the second floor, leaning over the railing, looking down on her. He looked like a child enjoying a new toy. His hand around the rope, he pushed and pulled as it swung, back and forth. He looked up at me and turned his head to the side. His face, expressionless, his skin pale, his eyes dark. The corners of his mouth turned up to form a wicked grin.
I need to help her. No. She’s dead.
The man stood up slowly, his head sideways, staring at me. He walked towards the stairs. Frozen with fear, I watched him walk towards, and then down the stairs.
I ran, and jumped off the porch, landing hard, I almost fell. Not looking back, I headed straight to my car. I pictured him, a madman, running towards me. I got in, threw it in reverse, and flew backward down the driveway. Luckily, there was no traffic as my car spun into the road. I picked up my phone and dialed 911.
The dispatcher asked me to pull over at a gas station down the road, I refused. He terrified me, I wasn’t about to stop and risk him showing up. I asked her to send a car to me. An officer pulled me over about fifteen miles down the road. He asked if someone could come pick up my car. He said I needed to go to the station with him, and give a statement. Dawn brought her brother to get the car, then she headed to the police station.
We waited two hours before I saw anyone. They kept apologizing, telling me the detective would be in shortly. I didn’t care, time wasn’t important. I was angry.
I should’ve done something. How long was she hanging there? What if I could’ve saved her? Why am I such a coward?
The thought, that haunted me most, was about the boy, Timothy.
Where was the boy, was he in the house? Did he see his mother, or whoever she was, die?
I’d seen a lot, nothing like this. I needed to know Timothy was okay. I’d worked cases where a child was killed, I’d never been at the house, and stared into the eyes of the murderer.
A heavy-set black man wearing thick rimmed glasses came into the room, looking at an open file in his hands. He looked like he hadn’t shaven in a few days, his beard had patches of gray. The smell of cigars, so thick it seemed visible. He looked up and asked me to come with him. We walked as he went back to reading the folder. His office was small, the desk was covered in files, papers, and several family pictures. There was a “world’s best dad” coffee cup, half full of coffee, stains around the rim.
“I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting. I’m Detective Richards. He looked at me over the top of his glasses. I know you’ve been through a lot, I just need you to answer a few questions,” he said in his deep voice.
My throat tightened, my stomach wrenched, I repositioned myself in the chair.
He asked me to tell him everything that I’d seen. When I finished, he asked me if I was sure I hadn’t seen anything else.
“I’m sure,” I replied.
He looked down at his desk, brow wrinkled, moving his head side to side, as if he were contemplating whether to tell me something else.
“You didn’t see the boy?” he said with a confused look on his face.
My heart sank. “No, I didn’t see him, is he okay?”
“No… no, he’s not. When our officers arrived and went inside they found Mrs. Knight, and Timothy hanging from the balcony. We…”
I got up and walked out of his office into the hallway. My chest felt like it was being squeezed. My mind couldn’t process what I’d just been told. I needed to breathe. Hurt and regret filled my heart.
He killed the boy after I left, I could have stopped him.
Detective Richards followed me into the hallway. His head dropped, hands in his pockets, eyes on his feet.
“I’m sorry Mr. Harris. That’s all we need from you right now. Go home, get some rest. We’ll be in contact with you if we need anything else.”
Tears rolled down my face.
“Thank you.” I turned and walked back through the building.
What about the psychotic killer, what happened to him? I thought.
I turned, Detective Richards was still standing there.
“Did they get him? Did they get Alex?”
“He ran at our officers with a knife. He was shot. He’s dead.”
“Good. Good. Thank you,” I wiped my face on my sleeve.
Detective Richards nodded


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It’s Time to Press On

I took a break from the news cycle after the election. I’m really disappointed to see the reaction of many Americans. When we conservatives don’t get our way we press on.

We press on when babies are murdered by the thousands. We reach out to mothers and we pray but we press on. When we’re forced to participate in ceremonies that are directly opposed to our religious views we press on. We stand up for our selves. We take our cases to court but we press on. When our jobs are shipped over seas we press on. When we’re told that we must lose more jobs because of global warming we press on. When we’re forced to participate in a failing healthcare system, which we were lied to about, we press on. When our President mocks our nation in front of other leaders we press on. When the EPA is armed and tells us what we can and can’t do on private property we press on. When every gun owner is blamed for every gun crime we press on. When the government adopts liberal policies and literature in our public schools we press on. And on. And on. And on.

Many more conservatives than liberals believe this is one Nation Under God. Our ultimate hope is in Him. We consider ourselves to be accountable to Him for our actions. Many liberals have hate as their central motivator. Every time things do not go their way this hate comes out in actions that are destructive to our Republic.

It’s time to press on. We are one nation. Donald Trump will soon be your president. It doesn’t surprise me that those who claim God isn’t God would claim the President isn’t the President.

Many liberals are Christians. They’ll press on. Regardless of your religious affiliation  you need to deal with reality. This is a country for the people by the people. Use your energy to do good. Let your voice be heard and let your common sense be demonstrated.

Mark 3:24 says, “And if a kingdom be divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.” You don’t have to be a Christian or a Bible scholar to understand this truth. We can’t be successful if we’re divided. I wholeheartedly disagree with most liberal viewpoints. However, I do understand your worries and concerns. I pray you’ll find peace in something more than our government. Peace that will help you to press on.

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A White Pastor’s Dealings with Police Officers- Black Lives Matter

The first time I was arrested I was fourteen years old. I went to hang out at the Eastdale Mall in Montgomery, Alabama with two of my friends. We wound up playing around in a department store. At some point we became separated. I spotted a step ladder and thought it’d be a good way to find them. I climbed up and looked for them but they were no where in sight. This turned out to be a much worse idea than you’d expect.

While we were separated my friends decided they’d get a five finger discount on some jewelry. Shortly we were back together. Without warning security grabbed all three of us by the back of the our necks and dragged us into an office. I was terrified! I thought we were in trouble for playing around in the store.

When they pulled jewelry out of my friends pockets all I could think was, ‘My dad’s going to kill me!’ When the police arrived we were all three handcuffed and arrested. I was so upset. I wasn’t on the same floor as they where when they stole the jewelry. I hadn’t done anything.

The store didn’t see it that way. They said I was a lookout because I climbed the ladder. Apparently they thought we were criminal masterminds with a well thought out plan.

A few months later I was hanging out at the mall by myself. If you’re by yourself and you don’t do anything wrong you can’t get in trouble. I had learned my lesson. That’s what I thought anyway.

I was minding my own business when suddenly a police officer grabbed me by the back of the neck. Apparently this is the preferred method for nabbing teenagers. He snatched me around and dragged me to his car. He told me to put my hands on the car. I asked why. He said, “Shut up and do what I say”. I was again terrified.

He proceeded to frisk me. He asked what school I went to and I answered. He said he couldn’t hear me, so I told him again. This time he yelled for me to speak up. I yelled back so he’d hear me. He didn’t like that. He hit me so hard on the back of my neck I felt an electric jolt run down my spine. The pain was intense. I fought off the urge to cry.

He finally told me I matched the description of someone who’d went into a hallway and turned the power off to a store in the mall. He handcuffed me and took me downtown. He didn’t bother to ask a witness or review the malls video. Remember, I was a fourteen year old kid.

I hadn’t committed a crime, but I had long hair and I wore an old t-shirt and jeans. I looked like I might have done it, and that was enough for the officer who assaulted and arrested me.

When I was fifteen years old some of my friends and I were walking to one of their houses. It was after dark. A policeman pulled up and told all of us to put our hands on his car. We were all frisked.

I was placed in handcuffs and told to sit in the back of the car. I asked why I was being arrested and I was told to be quiet. The officer drove me to a nearby house where a bloody 20 year old who was twice my size was sittings on his front porch steps.

The officer asked him if I was the one who beat him up. They bloody guy looked at me and then looked at him like he was dumb and said no it’s not. I saw him a week later. He said besides the long hair I didn’t look anything like the person he described to the police. The guy who beat him up was twenty five years old and twice his size.

Another time I was driving in Graceville, Florida. I was pulled over. I was driving my first car. It was a piece of junk to say the least. It had bolts sticking up from the hood holding it in place. I was sixteen, and it was all I could afford.

The officer approached me and I asked if I had done something wrong. He didn’t answer. He just proceeded to walk around the car and make me turn on and off every light. It was so embarrassing. He pulled me over because my car was old and beat up. I’m pretty sure that’s not probable cause. When he saw all the lights worked he just got in his car and left.

When I was seventeen years old, I got a call that my brother had attempted suicide. This was in Donaldsonville, Georgia. I was on a date with my girlfriend. We rushed to hospital. A doctor came out and explained they were pumping my brothers stomach to remove the pills he’d taken. He also told me my brother would be sent to a psychiatric hospital that night to get the help he needed.

When I went in the room to see my brother there were two officers with him. When he saw me he began to beg me to take him home. I was heartbroken. My girlfriend was standing there so I was trying to hold back the tears. This wasn’t a normal teenage dating experience. It was devastating.

One of the officers looked up at me with a scowl and said I was the sorriest excuse for a brother he’d ever seen. He said if that were his brother he’d take him home. I wanted to take my brother home. I wanted to help him. The officers words made me angry, hurt, and embarrassed. If he hadn’t been a police officer I would’ve hit him. I felt powerless to do anything. My dad had been a police officer. I’d been taught to respect them.

When I was eighteen I was pulled over near Lake Seminole for speeding. The officer was a state trooper. He questioned me for ten minutes about why I was on probation. I had been smoking a cigarette when he pulled me over. I guess I just looked like a thug to him. I wasn’t on probation for anything. He was using his authority to try and intimidate me.

When I was nineteen I was pulled over by a sherif’s officer near Lake Seminole. This time for a blown taillight. The officer immediately asked my friend and I to get out of the vehicle. He then proceeded to search it with no probable cause. He didn’t find anything. There was nothing to find. I asked him if he could give me a warning for the taillight. He laughed and said, “Nope.”

When I was twenty I was with some friends drinking a beer in a parking lot in Tallahassee, Florida. Tallahassee has a city ordinance that states that you can’t have an open container within 500 feet of a closing establishment that serves alcohol. There was a bar closing across the street, so this was the law he used to approach me.

You’d think he walked up to me, informed me of the city ordinance, and ask for identification. That’s not what happened.

Three police cars rushed into the parking lot and every officer got out guns drawn. They shouted for me to put down the beer and place my hands on my head.

One officer grabbed me, shoved me onto his car, and frisked me. At this point all of the other officers were looking confused. I don’t know what he’d told them to get them to respond that way, but they were all surprised by what was happening, or maybe by what was not happening.

Remember, all he knows I’ve done at this point is violate a city ordinance. He gave me a breathalyzer and it didn’t register. I had only taken one sip of the beer. I don’t even like beer. I was just being cool. I was also breaking the law. I take full responsibility for that. After he looked at my ID he placed under arrest for underage consumption of alcohol.

All of the other officers literally pleaded with him to give me a warning and let me go home. He refused and sent me to jail for the night. The officers at the jail mocked the female officer who brought me there. She assured them it wasn’t her decision. Why did he respond that way? Maybe he was having a bad day?

When I was 22 years old someone stole my debit card and spent all my money. This happened in Dothan, Alabama. I called the police department and asked what I should do about making a report. They said they’d send an officer to my house.

When he arrived he got out of his car with his hand on his gun. Not a normal hand relaxing on his gun an I’m about to shoot somebody hand on his gun. With his lip curled up he angrily asked if I was the one who called the police. I reluctantly said yes. He sarcastically asked why. I told him the situation.

He proceeded to tell me it was impossible for someone to use my debit card unless I’d given them my PIN number. The whole time he took the report he made remarks insinuating I was lying. I felt like I was on trail for being robbed.

When I was 35 years old I was pulled over again for speeding. This time it was in Eufaula, Alabama by a State Trooper.
When I saw the officers lights I pulled into a parking lot, rolled down my window, turned off the vehicle, placed my hands on the steering wheel and waited for the officer to approach.

When he got to the window he said he should arrest me for felony evading of an officer. I was dumbfounded. I asked why? He told me I had no right to be on the road I was on. He said I was trying to run from him. Never mind the fact that my mother in law lives on that road. I was on the way to to pick up my kids from her when he stopped me.

He then refused to accept my proof of insurance. He wrote me a ticket for not having proof of insurance and speeding. I went to court to fight these charges and he was arrogant enough to repeat that I had no right to be on that road. The judge informed him that I was a citizen of the United States and I could be on any public road I pleased. I was found not guilty on all charges.

This one is about my mother. It took me longer to get over this than any of the others. When I was fifteen years old one of my sisters friends accused one of my brothers friends of raping her while they were both at our house.

Later that week my mother was home alone when the police kicked in the door. Remember, the accused didn’t even live at my house. My mom was using the restroom at the time. She screamed in fear at the sound of the door being kicked in and all the people running into the house. They then kicked in the restroom door and dragged her off the toilet. They refused to allow her to pull up her pants before they threw her on the floor. Remember again, they were looking for a teenage boy that didn’t live there. This story still upsets me.

The girl later admitted she had willingly slept with the accused. She said her mom knew she had slept with someone. She was afraid she’d get in trouble, so she said he had raped her.

If my stories seem petty to you go back and read them as if they were in the news today. This time imagine that the “criminal” was a black person. Imagine that was a black mother in her home terrified and humiliated. Would you be tempted to scream racism?

I’m not comparing my stories to the deaths that have taken place. I’m pointing out that if we’re not careful we’ll lump every situation into the same group. If we make that mistake how will we fix the real issues? How will we deal with the real problems.

Despite the liberal lie that all whites are racist, we’re not. Despite the conservative lie that all BLM supporters are thugs and trouble makers they’re not. Despite some who call themselves BLM claiming all police are bad they’re not.

Shouldn’t we desire that all people will be treated equally? That everyone will have a voice and be heard? Can’t equality be achieved more effectively by unity than by division?

Black lives matter. Can any decent person dispute the validity of that statement? I’m not talking about the anarchist actions of some individuals. I’m taking about the truth in the statement Black Lives Matter. Shouldn’t the same principles apply to blue lives matter, and all lives matter?

Many who support BLM don’t want the importance of equality to get lost in the mix. They want to take this opportunity to draw attention to real issues that many Americans face daily. Shouldn’t we as Americans stand with those who support BLM as a tool to bring about equality? Wouldn’t the greater good of our nation be undergirded if we applauded every effort to bring about liberty and justice for all. Shouldn’t we all believe in that great pledge?

There’s one Creator. One mankind. I support all that’s good about BLM. For those of us who believe we’re “One Nation Under God” can we do any less? Let’s stop the hate. Let’s look beyond our simplistic rhetoric. Let’s join those with good intentions and drown out hate no matter on which side it rears its ugly head.

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

(Bellamy, Francis. “The Pledge of Allegiance”. Art Evans Productions, 1971.)

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Angel Showing Off

These were taken in Blakely, GA about a week ago. They’re all the same cloud a few seconds apart. Looks like he’s having fun!

Ah Lord God! behold, thou hast made the heaven and the earth by thy great power and stretched out arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee. (Jeremiah 32:17)

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Anorexia & the Sanctity of Human Life


I’ll tell you what, you’ve never watched a presidential debate until you’ve watched one in a bar with a bunch of Europeans on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.


I promise, I’m not getting political…

But let’s just say, they don’t mince words about how they really feel about Trump and Hillary. The term “Satan’s Spawn” was definitely used….and I’ll let you decide who they were referring to.



I sat down to write this post tonight, and I felt like I needed to update you on my date, but honestly, after watching the debate tonight, and everything that has gone on this weekend, from Hurricane Matthew, to the shooting in Chicago, to the political climate, I just felt like…there are more important things to talk about than my love life….

So, to answer that first question, I had a lovely time on my date. Truly. He had me laughing…

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Blessings and Fried Chicken

Sharing the truth from God’s Word is sometimes like telling a child there’s no Santa Clause or like telling an adult their dog died. Seriously. People make the same face and everything.

There’s nothing fun about being the person to have to tell someone those things. People say that you shouldn’t feel bad for telling the truth. When you care about the people you’re telling the truth to, and the truth hurts, then you feel bad. It’s called being human.

Pastors who can preach the full truth of God’s Word and not feel bad probably don’t love people the way they should. There’s always those who already know the dog died or Santa isn’t real. They pat you on the back and thank you for telling everyone else. They also give you that look that says, ‘I’m glad it was you that told them and not me!’

Warning! I may be about to hurt your feelings. Christianity isn’t all about God’s blessings and fried chicken. It’s about repentance. It’s about sacrifice. It’s about the lost, the lonely, the addicted, it’s about the difficult things in life. It’s about dying to self. Does that sound fun?

Preaching is a difficult and often times painful process. Those who are doing the preaching are equally human and yet held to a higher standard than those who are listening. We know our own faults and we’re entrusted with God’s truths.

We have to do all this while some who claim to be pastors ignore and water down the truth. Making it all the more difficult to help people understand the truth. Should you feel sorry for your pastor? No. It’s the greatest privilege on earth to be entrusted with God’s Word. Those who are called to preach could do nothing else.

You should pray for your pastor. You should encourage your pastor to preach the full counsel of God’s Word. You should allow the truth to change your heart and mind. You shouldn’t judge your pastor by how good you feel when you leave.

We need more men to preach the truth. We need more believers who are willing to live out the truth. There’s a false Americanized gospel that’s leading to a decline in morals, discipleship, and baptisms. A decline in the knowledge of the truth.

Please pray for your pastor. Pray he will be bold. Pray he will speak the truth in love. Pray he will not speak half truths just to be loved by men.

Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints; And for me, that utterance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel. (Ephesians 6:18-19)

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Why I’m Voting for Trashy Trump

So the latest vulgar rantings of Trump have been released. Read about it here.  Everyone’s screaming that it’s the end of his campaign. Trump detractors are on social media screaming for supporters to try and justify him this time.

The truth is there will be no reasonable justification. His comments are disgusting. They prove he’s as trashy as men come. He’s most likely said and done much worse than this.

The releasing of this conversation may be they very thing that puts Clinton over the top. It just doesn’t change anything for me. I never thought that Trump was a gentleman. I never thought he was a spokesman for purity or even decency.

I’m voting for Trashy Trump because I believe that his economic principles are more sound than Clintons. I’m voting for him because I believe we’ll be safer with him as president. I’m voting for him because I believe our religious rights are in danger. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t think he’s religious. I’m voting for him because it’s him or her.

I happen to find her stance on many issues to be just as disgusting as his filthy comments. There’s one in particular. Her stance on life. Or, should I say her stance on death. The death of millions of innocent children. Human beings that have the right to live. Human beings that are being killed by the very person they should be able to trust most.

I’m disgusted by the idea of a Trump presidency. I’m terrified by the idea of a Hillary presidency. The Supreme Court is the supreme issue in this election. Not only will Hillary appoint justices that would be pro abortion she’d also apoint justices that would be anti-religious freedom.

I can’t and I don’t want to justify Trump’s comments. I wish there was a viable option. There’s not. Trump’s attitude about women goes against everything I believe is right. Hilary’s stance on many issues goes against everything I believe is right. As unpopular as it may be, I still find her stance on the killing of the unborn to be equally as disgusting as his comments. He will not pass laws to give men the right to grope women. She will pass laws to make it easier to kill children. #TrashyTrump2016

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. 6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. (Proverbs 3:5-6)



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