How Will History Record Our Response?

My emotional cup runneth over. I was quite vocal about the issues from earlier this week. I didn't make it Downtown Thursday to support because a friend needed an ear, and that is important to me, too.

I wasn't there, but I know many who were and I'm grateful they are home, safe. I don't have the words to describe how I feel about the events that happened that night. I've been telling you all week how valuable life is to me. That hasn't changed. Doesn't matter if they wear a uniform or are an everyday person.

Life is Valuable and to be Honored

For those who are trying to make this some sort of debate about whether police lives or black lives matter more, you've missed the point entirely. Life is precious and to be honored, no matter what. It's not a matter of putting the life or lives of one against another. Think deeper than that, allow for the fact that there is not an either/or situation happening. There is a massive systemic issue at hand and it has colored all of our thinking.

But I will say this, you can clearly see, when civil servants fall in the line of duty, everyone rallies together to care, to show concern, to voice outrage, to see what can be done. That's good and that's normal. I would hope we care about that. I hope we honor and remember these men with pride and dignity for their service, and their sacrifice.

But when we see black, latino, indigenous, Asian men and women hurt, raped, or killed by the overreach of those in authority, many question why we as people of color (POC, those who have been denigrated by global systems of white supremacy) care, especially since we don't know the person or the families affected. Well, years of oppression, "otherness," and a system against us has shown us something, and that is that collectively our lives don't seem to amount to much in that system. (Again, I am not saying POC lives matter more, so don't see/hear/sense or make it out to be that)

Our deaths or harm can be seen repeatedly through various media, and the court of public opinion will still say we deserved it. I'm not attempting to paint anyone with a broad brush here, again it’s a systemic problem, but hear me when I say, we've learned that our "cornrows" are unprofessional but "boxer braids" are cool. (for those who don’t know, it’s the same hairstyle) That may be a fashion thing, but the point is, the differences in reception to what is done by and to POC and others is vast, this includes our deaths.

I noticed that as Alton Sterling's and Philando Castile's names were trending and the situations were highlighted, there were a few non-POC leaders who said something. There were some who acknowledged that this was painful. We heard the silence of the rest, until Thursday night. I'm not saying everybody has to say something all of the time, because they don’t (and that’s unreasonable), and I’m not attempting to shame anyone. Also, it’s a brilliant thing to know when to hold your tongue (or your fingers). 

But in the face of the recession, leaders said things; in the face of terrorism, leaders said things; in the face of “black-on-black crime” and black fatherlessness leaders say things; Thursday leaders said things. But in the face of black death at the hands of rogue authority figures, there seems to be nothing to say.

The Lt. Governor of Texas somehow believes Black Lives Matter should be held responsible for Thursday night’s tragedy because of their "rhetoric," but he actively allows the KKK to continue in this state - and for those of you who think there is any parallel between the two, I’d ask you to rethink that.

Anarchists Versus Activists

KKK

history.com

Look at history and you’ll see how the system brought about and supported the creation of the notorious supremacy group the Ku Klux Klan. To get things "back in order" after the Civil War, this "fraternity" began. They were afraid and they continued to spread lies about the lack of humanity of black people to justify their actions. 

The KKK has violently destroyed any life or way of life not like their own. They lynched, burned, blew up churches, burned crosses (CROSSES!!) on front lawns, dragged people to death behind vehicles, and more. The KKK believes they represent the chosen, that the rest of us are the problem, and they have a divine right to “deal with others” as they see fit. 

They believe a celebration of diversity or things like interracial marriage are “white genocide” (check that hashtag on Twitter if you’ve ever hoped or actually thought racism was over) In short, the KKK terrorizes and kills. They want to live in an all-white utopia, which sounds a bit like anarchism to me. Also note, if the destruction of other people groups is at the core; there are no “good guys” amongst the KKK.

BLM

Now for Black Lives Matter. It's an activist group, relatively new and borne out of the stress in this nation from repeatedly seeing unarmed black people tried and executed or harmed (reference the girl in McKinney last year) on the street by out of control police officers. Police brutality happens. (Do I really need to insert here that I love and appreciate civil servants and that I’m not anti-police? Of course I do, because that’s life.) BLM also shed light on the death of Zachary Hammond and harm caused to Sureshbhai Patel. They're looking to destroy a system, not people. They meet with and work with leaders for better.

BLM galvanized because this system has displayed that black (POC) victims get put on trial, in actual courts and that of public opinion, while others get taken for food on the way to jail, six months in a cushy jail away from other inmates, or probation along with the benefit of the doubt for things like murdering folks in cold blood in a church, raping an unconscious woman or killing and maiming people while driving drunk. Black Lives Matter exists to bring change to a system that overwhelmingly does not support us, seems bent on destroying us and attempts to blind others to these facts. It hopes to correct the system for the benefit of all. 

The Breakdown

It's also sad that I have to add this, but for those who will miss it, I did not say all black people are perfect, all the time and that there are no criminals among us. There are “bad apples” in every shade, nation, and occupation. There is fatherlessness and crime in other communities, too. Yes, we aware of Chicago. As a matter of fact many black people (and POC) for generations, myself included, have marched and talked and sat down with our own communities and leaders to try to make things better. The only reason some don't know or recognize this is because they're not there and then don't listen when we tell them that we do.

BLM is a rally cry. The phrase does not say "ONLY, Black Lives Matter" but somehow people have been led to believe that's what's being said. The truth is, what is being said is "Black Lives Matter, Too." There probably are some not so “good guys” who use the phrase and consider themselves part of the movement, but that is not a representation of the movement. There are black folks and additional POC who are prejudiced, I’m not denying that. I’ve seen those kinds of situations addressed family to family and I’ve seen people change. Hell, I have a good friend who used to be a white supremacist but changed when he really began to learn about God. But hear me, when POC are prejudiced against someone else, there is not a system behind them supporting it. Those hearts have to be dealt with, too but that’s not what we’re dealing with today. Today this system has to be exposed, seen, accepted as real and changed.

The System

The system looks a lot like me being shadowed when I walk through a store, when no one else there receives that same treatment. The system is the story of the man named Jose who couldn’t get callbacks for jobs until he changed the name on his resume to Joe. The system looks like exorbitant unemployment rates for black people, who are trying to work, who are absolutely trained, educated and qualified, but still can’t find work.

The system looks like no money in poor school districts and those students barely receiving a proper education. The system looks like the situation with the water in Flint. The system looks like a traffic stop where one man explains he has a concealed carry permit and a gun in his glove box and gets a ticket for speeding, but Philando Castile’s body is being prepared for burial. And the system is also filled with smaller issues, called microaggressions, that POC face every day. We feel it. We hear things that we allow to pass through the filter of, "They don't know any better,” so we don’t say anything.

And you may ask why we don't say anything in these moments. Well, when we do we’re told we’re being too sensitive or that “political correctness” is the real problem in America. Also, it looks something like this:

Take 1
POC: "Black, Native, Brown, Asian Lives Matter"
Response: "All Lives Matter"


Take 2
POC: "Look, this Black, Asian, Latino, Native man/woman went into town to get something and was shot in cold blood because he asked a question when the police officer told him to do something he didn't understand or that the person felt was a violation of his/ her right as an American."
Response: "He/She should have complied."
POC: "Philando Castile"
Response: "Why is the fiancee so calm?"


Take 3
POC: "We think some of our state representatives and senators really don't represent us, care about us and they're keeping us from voting."
Response: "You're making that up."

Reality: 

This is a former congressman.

Take 4
POC: "It's very difficult to find work, even when you're qualified." or 

"I was laid off in the massive company changes and it's been difficult to find work." or 

“I’m seriously thinking about changing my name, because I’m not getting callbacks.”

Response: "Pick yourself up by your bootstraps. Nobody helped my family." or

“Lazy, black people always looking for a f-ing handout.” or 

“It’s easier to be black in America, you’ve got affirmative action and all that, I don’t know why they act like they can’t get jobs.” or 

“Poor people are so lazy, they should get an education and do better.” 

{by the way, yes I’ve heard these things myself, sometimes people forget I’m black. Then they say things like, “Well you’re not really black,” which is another conversation altogether.}

What Will We Do?

I could go on but I'm tired and you don't want to read anymore. My point is this, please stop trying to convince us that the reality we live in doesn’t exist just because some don't (or won't) see and accept it. We are working to make it better, as best we can. Not all black people and POC are on or have been on welfare, nor are we looking for a “white savior” or a handout - real talk. 

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with needing help. Please note that even with educational disparities, because separate but equal is a lie and still happens, black women are the most educated segment of the American population. (I’m going to let you Google that for yourself, but there were headlines when the news broke)

Not all immigrants are terrorists or are stealing jobs. Jobs have been sent to other countries for the sake of better bottom-line profitability, because you can underpay workers in other countries that don’t have the same regulations as the U.S. I like profitable companies, that’s important and I like a healthy economy. But when the companies are growing and the people are suffering for it, there might be an issue. Money and power are powerful drugs.

If you truly care about the POC in your lives, I suggest listening to their stories and why it matters that Scarlett Johansson was cast as a Japanese woman, in a distinctly Japanese story or that a white man played Martin Luther King, Jr in a play. Please hear me when I say this, we listen to the "majority" stories and opinions all the time, via media and entertainment. 

We also listen both to what is said and not said. We learn early on that the system of supremacy is one we must know the ins and outs of intimately. We are here, as always at the table, ready to listen even more. We’re just hoping that we finally get to have a say, as well. I don’t see this as "just a skin issue," I’m not trying to guilt anyone into action. I’m writing for the sake of awareness and to selfishly process all of this.

Look, I’m a lover and a reconciler. I look to Jesus as my savior - I have not walked away from that and I’m looking to Him for strength, strategies and answers. Yes, I know “racism is a sin problem, not a skin problem.” But I’m over pat answers and phrases that mean nothing. I’m not here for a round of the blame game and revisionist history. I’m not here to make anyone “get it.” I am here to learn, understand, grow, and do my part to change history.

When I’m done grieving, I will get up stronger than ever. I want to work together to correct a broken system. I don’t hate anyone. Indifference and dismissal get me pretty riled up, though. I am one who chooses to love and forgive, but that does not mean I don’t observe and recall. Y’all I’m tired and yes, I am angry but I am not bitter. I am still grieving the losses from this week, two black men from other states and five police officers from my own hometown. Dallas, the eyes of the world are on us.

My ancestors, literally and figuratively, alongside many allies and friends, worked too hard for us to devolve in this moment. Can we not reason together and bring this change more than 400 years in the making? Let’s do this, people.

comfortable (now what?)

I did not share this scene from the script of my life just to stroll down memory lane. This is personal, somewhat embarrassing and a little uncomfortable. I share it because I know what it’s like when everything seems to be wrong. I know that vulnerable, weak place where so much seems lost. I hope this helps someone to know nothing is worth trading the comfort of the One and Only God. I didn’t pass that particular test, not at all. But I did learn about triggers, my personal points of weakness that can lead to bad decisions.

Four weeks ago I returned to the scene of all of this. It's years later and the characters are all different except the leading lady whose current situation could be seen as a place of weakness. I’m not perfect now either, but I have grown. I’ve learned there is an odd place of comfort in the midst of my greatest discomfort.  I am learning how to boast in my weaknesses, for in my weakness He is proven strong and He helps me to grow.

Right now I am moving forward and acceleration is happening in my life. Certain connections are being made and I’m acquiring new skills at an almost alarming rate to move toward my current goal. I’m launching my business for copy writing, editing and freelance journalism soon. I am also making new friends and strengthening old bonds.

Yes it’s a lot all at once and it requires a great amount of faith. After all, this is all happening on a college student’s budget. That is enough to cause a major meltdown and freak out session. But I am looking to the Comforter for help, strength, decisions and direction.

Fourteen years ago, I could have just told God, “I’m hurt and unhappy. I don’t know what to do. Please help me.” But I didn’t know how to do that. It really is that simple though to talk to Him. That’s what I hope anyone who has braved this historical document will take away.

God is Comfort in the midst of any darkness or uncertainty: loss of a relationship, loss of a job, death of a loved one, times of transition, financial instability, tough decisions for your business, family issues, etc. No matter what comes God is there not only with great love and comfort but also peace and direction.

As a young woman I was willing to compromise everything for a modicum of comfort in a moment of weakness. But now as a mature one I can confidently tell you I know Him Who is my Comfort and I rely on Him daily for every good thing.

image found at Living Healthy Together

comfortable (a compromise)

The room was dark. I only had the hazy glow of the building's exterior light to assist with sight, although I didn't need it as my eyes were pretty much closed. I leaned in closer and adjusted there on his lap.  Here it was a cold Saturday night and we were warming things up the old fashioned way. He held me steady with one hand and the other was let's say wandering while he kissed me deeply. We went on like that for a while before he said we should move to be more comfortable.

I had a brief moment to ask myself, "What in the world am I doing and how did I end up here?" but soon most of my rational thought exited the premises. Note: mostly not completely. The he was Alex, the only man to be that intimately close to me. We'd just turned 22, were not in love and were searching for comfort.

Before I move on to what didn't happen once we crossed that threshold, I would like to address how I allowed myself to get there. As I explained previously, Alex and I parted ways at 16. I saw him for a brief moment at 18 before he went to UT Austin and I went to UT Arlington. We were in different places physically, spiritually and emotionally. And I bet he was not thinking about me just as much as I was not thinking about him.

I always dreamed of going far away to school but remained in the Dallas area. I didn't have my own vehicle so I couldn’t just go home, or anywhere, whenever the urge struck. So here I was in Arlington, Texas, the transition town between Dallas and Fort Worth where so many major attractions stand. My first night there a group of us went to a movie and friendships began that would be incredible bonds even to this day.

The next day we met for church and to be honest, I don't remember much. But the midweek service three days later I have certain details of. It was at a local recreation center, the weather was Texas warm, there was so much joy in the air, and I met this guy who was part of the campus ministry who would become a close friend. OK, I think you may be able to see where this is going.

His name, Brandon (changed this time to protect the innocent, well mostly), and I guess technically this was our second meeting. He was a counselor at my freshman orientation that summer, although it was he who would remind me of that later. He was just shy of 6 feet tall, straight brown hair, brown eyes, a bit scrawny and a total geek. Now understand, it took me a while to notice everything but the geek part. He and I became fast friends.

I don't have time to develop the story of our budding romance but the CliffsNotes version goes a bit like this. Brandon and I went on a few dates and I always enjoyed the time I spent with him. He would often drive my roommate and me to church and other locations as needed and we talked -- the usual university student, campus ministry stuff.

One night as I was spending time with my friend, Lori (yep, name changed), she asked the question that changed everything, "How long have you liked Brandon?"

I think I managed the very intelligent "Huh?" as my answer. I was shocked, a bit lost, a lot confused and felt the sudden urge to exit a moving vehicle. Then I managed to laugh.

"I'm very serious," she said, responding to my unspoken question. "It's obvious the way you look at him when you two talk, and come on, how many times has he asked you out now and you say 'yes' every time?" I continued to deny but became more uncomfortable with each denial although I didn't understand why. "Deny all you want girl but you like him."

Six months later I admitted defeat. I don’t remember the exact circumstance but I was aware the idea of him with another girl didn’t work for me. And if you think six months is a long time, it took him more than a year after that to understand how he felt about me. We were both rather clueless. We met in the summer of 1995, and on the last day of 1997, Brandon finally asked me to be his girlfriend.

As the story goes we had something special in my humble opinion. Initially some were shocked at our pairing; we are two very different people. And thank God we already had a great friendship because we needed that foundation. I was young and stupid; I did and said crazy stuff and if I didn’t know better I would say I was a terrible girlfriend, but I do know better. We had a lot of fun together, learned about life, leadership, and I know I came to understand the importance of someone else’s dreams, (good) expectations and feelings. I was challenged by him to allow myself to be more feminine — he wanted others to see that side of me.

In the midst of all that, I think it's called growing up, something amazing happened – I fell in love. I loved him so much, I didn't understand it and I definitely wasn't expecting it. Before you call me names, understand I was only 21 and very career- and ministry-oriented. Falling in love that young with my first adult boyfriend after only nine months was nowhere in my day planner, scheduler or plan before graduation. I actually wanted to marry him and yes it was another friend who pulled that truth out of me.

I didn't know whether to be happy or cry. I was back in that odd place of shock, a bit lost and a lot confused. There were so many other things going on at that time too. School was very difficult, and for the first time in years I was dealing with temper issues that I was sure I had mastered. Some of my friends were afraid of me. I was moving from one small group to another at church, attempting to settle in somewhere, I was working and I began to perform poorly in school. I began to see a counselor and take medication; depression had set in.

Shortly after my confession of wanting to be Mrs. Brandon Norman I broke up with him. I was afraid to lose him because of all of the craziness that was going on in my life. I didn’t consciously end it as a preemptive strike, but somewhere inside I feared he would leave me like some of my other friends. I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it so in a moment of intense anger I ended it.

Unfortunately there were people around and it was ugly. I hated myself even more and questioned my sanity. The next few months were dark and troubling. I felt as though I was losing my mind and my friends. Not just anybody either, my brothers and sisters from church. This was scary; I was afraid of who I'd become and didn't understand what was going on inside me.

Within a few months some of my friends began to marry, and those who were already married began having babies. I wasn't jealous, I just had the desire to participate in the fun and games, too, but felt as though I destroyed my chance. I lost my closest friend, Brandon, and I was the third wheel with other friends. I was depressed, felt alone and I was terribly uncomfortable.

One week after my best friend's wedding (seven months post break-up) I was in the computer lab working on a paper for history of interior design or some such when I looked up just as Alex walked in. He smiled, that one that melted my teen-aged heart so many times and made his way over to a terminal near me. I politely smiled back and made small talk. After all, we were old friends.

This wasn't our first meeting. He transferred to UTA during our sophomore year, prior to Brandon and I dating. We saw each other near the Activities Building one day and that was about it. I went to a movie with him for his birthday, but other than that I stayed away from him. A friend suggested I not get close just to be on the safe side. She said it may seem cruel but I would later understand that it was for the best.

So as we sat there talking, my personal emergency warning system was going crazy. Every sign of trouble was blinking and telling me to keep it light and go back to my paper. I think I even made a slight attempt to do so. But it was late and I was tired and uncomfortable with my state in life, and he represented a memory of comfort.

Any time he stepped away I agreed to keep an eye on his things and any time I walked away I know what he was keeping his eye on. I don't know when exactly I learned the rules of seduction but here I was playing this game like a pro. At some point I gathered my things and headed home but a seed had already been planted in me. Again I think I tried to resist but it wasn’t a real fight.

I saw him again the next night at the lab. Nothing happened, we worked diligently and went our separate ways. The next Friday, even without communicating we were at the lab at the same time. When I turned and said goodnight he leaned in and kissed me. Just a quick one on the cheek and another soft one on the lips.

The sirens were wailing in my head and I heard the warnings: “Stop!” “What are you doing?” “He is not who you want!” “This is dangerous!” But I smiled and winked as I walked away letting him know I understood what he had not said.

Saturday night my roommates went off to work and I was back in the lab grateful they wouldn’t notice my absence. I had no intention of going home because I was searching for the comfort I was so desperate for.

I knew it wasn't real. I knew I didn't have any feelings for Alex and I knew what he wanted to feel, but I didn't care. What happened to my unwavering commitment to God? Where was my resolve to remain pure and faithful in the face of temptation? At that moment all the pain and shame I felt for my failings left me almost desensitized.

I was facing challenges in my life without trusting God. I was caught up in the lie that I was a failure and only able to hurt the ones I loved. I was grieving over my poor choices. On the stage of reality the script didn’t play out the way I'd always imagined and I was ready for a rewrite.

So that night I was in Alex's apartment where this story began. Believe it or not, we did not consummate the relationship that we didn’t have. I am not proud of what did happen that night or the days prior to it. But even in that place of compromised discomfort I couldn’t go through with it. As much as I physically desired to have him fully, I couldn’t overcome the spiritual and emotional implications. But at the end of the day I was definitely willing to compromise for the sake of my own comfort.

Afterword
This is the end of the history section. The final part will discuss what I learned and why I decided to share this. Thank you for your extra time this week.

love the foreign language: part 2, the conversation

This is the conversation that brought up this idea in the first place.
To help you visualize, note: I am highly expressive, I talk with my hands and I often answer a question with a question to ensure I understand and sometimes my answers involve a long story that can make you wonder how it all ties in. Enjoy!
-------


Person: Aisha do you ever think you'll fall in love?
 Me: Maybe.
 Person: Is that all? Maybe?
 Me: What?
 Person: That’s an odd answer. You seem so indifferent to it. You know it's not all bad and I think... {my hand in the air signaling Stop}
 Me: Before you finish your spiel, you forgot to ask a question. {puzzled look from person} You didn't ask if I've ever been in love.
 Person: Well have you?
 Me: What do you think?
 Person: You don't act like you ever have. You’re like a kid who doesn’t even get the concept.
 Me: Really?
 Person: Yes really. {stone face}
 Me: OK. {deep sigh} What if I told you that once a long time ago I fell in love with a wonderful gentleman whom I wanted to marry? {the look of hope} What if I told you that after that our relationship ended suddenly and painfully I realized love was not a game to be played? After I experienced the purity and tenderness of such a love I knew that kind of thing doesn't need to be shared with everyone on the block until I end up with the “right one” that fits. After all I am not a puzzle piece.
 Person: Interesting. So you were just hurt really bad and you don't want to experience that again? You know part of life is being hurt… {Stop signal}
 Me: Seriously I think you missed the point. Did it hurt? YES, obviously! Especially considering it was my fault. However, the thing I'm talking about is a peace that I have that at the proper time I will be "found".
 Person: Ok, whatever. Could you just answer the question?
 Me: Which one?
 Person: Seriously?! Do you think you will ever fall in love, again? No wait, even better, do you want to fall in love again?
 Me: Most likely.
 Person: {question marks of frustration in the eyes} Ugh! What kind of answer is that?
 Me: It's my kind of answer. Why does it bother you?
 Person: Because I want you to be happy and I want to help you be happy and I think you’re hiding… {yet another Stop sign}
 Me: Ok look, the way I see it love is like learning a foreign language. {person stumped, look of frustration}
 Person: Do you always have to be so—?
 Me: Yes {big smile} Would you like me to explain?
 Person: {Head on table} I’m too tired.
 Me: {Arms in the air in a "V"} I win!

------

Yes, I know you're looking for my rationale on this foreign language/love thing and it's coming but for now, you know either laughed or felt sorry for the other participant in this conversation :)

love the foreign language: part 1, the foundation

There is something so mysterious and interesting about learning a foreign language. And keep in mind it’s only foreign to me because I don’t know it, but to the native speaker it’s perfectly natural, normal and possibly mundane. It is their form of communication.

Early in my life I was interested in learning another language. Many of my friend’s parents spoke Spanish. They listened to music and there was some Spanish-language TV but very little. I wanted to know what was going on so I could have fun and talk about it too.

I also watched a lot of PBS, which showed many BBC programs. I noticed that Europeans seemed to speak more than one language. When I saw how close all the countries were on the map, I realized why. So here I am from the US where we think everyone should speak English, but I want to communicate. So I decided to learn more languages.

Communication is a beautiful dance of ideas, sounds, tones and passions that help us convey everything from simple instructions to complex themes. I’ve only recently realized my obsession with communication and how to most effectively use it. But it was a recent conversation took me back to why the ability to communicate in more than one language so fascinates me.

buy the lie, subscribe to issues

Buying lies requires expensive currency. It takes the currency of the soul and spirit which affects what is done with the body. How expensive is this currency? According to 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 "you are not your own, you were bought at a price" The life and blood of Jesus not only purchased you but gave you a redeeming value that is unable to be counted, measured or quantified.

Take a moment a reflect on the the authority you had in your purest form in the garden of Eden. Who you were before the first lie was bought bringing its subscription to a myriad of issues that are still being sorted out. You could call something forth, name it and give it purpose. This authority was restored to you, when you accepted Jesus as Lord and you were reconciled into the family of God. This is the power of the Holy Spirit inside you; your original intended state.

The enemy of your soul will spin whatever set of lies he has to in order to keep you distracted. The lies, the wickedness of partial truths that make darkness seem as though it is good. He does not want you to know the power you possess in a place of surrender unto God. Isaiah 30:8-17 is a grim reminder of what we are capable of doing when misled by deception. This is the destruction the enemy wants us to fall into. But God's love is greater than any lie and His desire is to restore and heal us, to bring us into Him. Isaiah 30:18-26 shows His graciousness and love, how He longs to bless us! God's love, His truth is the only thing that can free us from the issues of bondage brought by the subscription to "The Daily Lie" I choose to change my subscription based on scriptures like John 3:16-17 which is evidence of His love and the truth that makes us free! (John 8:31-32)

Picture Credit: PMActionItems, "Got Issues?" found on CafePress.com
(Originally written June 21, 2010 in my journal. Again it encouraged me so I wanted to share)

a quick word of encouragement

Sometimes the hard thing to do is simply to believe. Once the belief is settled within you, there is no stopping the transformation and subsequent elevation and revelation that will come. Submit. When your prayer is as the model, "as it is in heaven," you are setting a series of occurrences in motion that require faith. Stand on the truth of God's Word. Rely on the Holy Spirit in every place and watch doors unlock and your eyes open to things you never dreamed you would see. The Lord is truly Lord over all things.

(Journal entry originally written April 11, 2011 - this was an encouragement to me and I wanted to share)
Picture Credit: Panoramic Images "Clouds with God Rays"  found on allposters.com