Blame

 May 4, 2015               

               You know, for so long I wished for you to applaud me. I wanted you to congratulate me for having not gone crazy.
                I wanted you to take everything I hated about life, put it on high, and say, “look! She managed to survive.” When in reality it´s only a miracle I didn´t die.
                In fact, the only reason I didn´t kill myself is because it would not be a “noble” death, but not because I didn´t want to try.

               

               I didn´t want it to be my fault everything I´d ever wrought and the only thing I ever thought was that it can´t be right that I be innocent and still tried!
                I wanted you to take away everything that had ever caused me pain by simply listening to what I had to say. I felt like I had absolutely no one to plead my tragic case.
                No judge, no jury, just prosecutor, and defendant – there was absolutely no one to see that I was innocent.
                Somebody was drunk, somebody was high, somebody cheated, and somebody lied; but it wasn´t me! So why was the price being paid with my life? Questions too big for the mind of a child.
                Somebody yelled, somebody beat us, somebody screamed until we didn´t want to be us; but she´s not the one paying the fee – I am.
                Somebody left us, somebody died, somebody made the family lay on the ground and cry; and that´s just another who laid charges on my heart.
                And as I stand before you telling an already told tale and pleading and already closed case I finally realize why no one listens to the things I have to say – I´m only talking about my pain.

                So let me try again as I no longer beg for your undivided attention.
                Let me tell you of another case that´s already been closed, yet just so happens to be a lot less told.
                Yes, I was young; yes, I was innocent; and, yes, I also happened to be convicted. I just always seem to leave out the part where my sin also entered into the picture.
                You see it was nobody´s fault that I watched porn, and nobody´s fault when I would masturbate behind closed doors. It was nobody´s fault that I liked sin – I even got in so deep that I started liking chicks. It wasn´t their fault that I talked to dirty-minded guys, and it wasn´t their fault that my life seemed like a lie. I would cry late at night knowing that the fault was only mine.
                Then He stepped in, and took the fault on Him – Somebody was finally taking the blame for my sin.
                And that simple thought nearly drove me insane for I had that blame aimed at the one´s who´d caused me pain.
                I was finally ready to take the blame for what I did, take the blame for all I´d hid; but instead of me they went and killed Him.
                “I didn´t do it, I didn´t put You through this; all I wanted was You to hear that my life was ruined.
                “You can´t just blame me for this – I never asked You to die for my sin. All I ever wanted was Somebody to listen. What You gave up was Your decision.”
                And then I began to think until my mind wanted to bleed, and my eyes no longer see because I realized how much I only think about me.

                

                He told me once, “I didn´t die because I wanted to – I died because I wanted you,” and I just couldn´t take it. So I decided just to show you how well I could fake it.
                His Father was the One who sent Him to take it, and I was unwilling to take such blame and soon began to drown in condemnation of the same. Yet He never gave up and continued dying in my name.

                

                 It was then that I could finally see that He had become just like me. He too had paid an unfair fee.
                He was young, He was innocent, and oh so wrongly convicted of things He never did.
                Somebody was proud, somebody wanted glory, somebody wanted to fake like they were living holy; but that was never Him. He was what we could call truly genuine. Yet He died all the same, and took every last shout of blame loaded with every price that I could never pay.

                
                   So don´t applaud the fact that I am not the same, but please see that as I wake every single day He is the only One that I could ever blame for such miraculous change.

Modern Idolotry

           I remember when I was young singing on my knees that popular worship song that says, “You´re all I want and all I need,” but I also remember thinking deep inside of me, “God, You´re not all I want even though I know You´re all I need.” I could not truly say that He was everything to me. There were a million things I put before Him and a ton of things I wanted more than Him. You see I wasn´t worshipping a deity but just simple Christianity.
             I worshipped rules, the cross, Christian tools, and Christian rock – everything was “Christian” in my well decorated pig pen and I felt like it made me somebody.
            I only felt like I belonged when everybody sang along to those same old burnt out worship songs that we never really committed to. God Almighty only knows if we ever even intended to.
            We said that “the heart of worship is when it´s all about You” as long as it can be about us too. And there was that “love as strong as death,” and that was all good as long as weren´t the one´s who´s dead. And He could be “that fire inside of me” just as long as that fire didn´t make us bleed.

                Now, people on the outside realize that we sound like we absolutely crazy – asking our God for fire and death because we only focus on what He resurrects, yet never really understanding what it means to be dead. Neither did we know what it felt like to have taken someone else´s life even though it was because of us that He had been crucified.
              It shocks me to see that we were so ignorant, and surprises me to know that even Margaret Cho understood how much we really didn´t get it. And Bill Maher realized that Christianity is dangerous, but the real joke is that not even we take ourselves serious.  Even when Denzel Washington was blind he could see that our God was of the radical kind not to be followed by those with weak state of mind.
             And there we were worshipping the One that we didn´t even understand and at the same time wondering as to why we could never find His hand, yet never really caring to seek any of His plans.

                Then I finally realized that there was not one person that the system actually worked for, and that´s when I decided that I didn’t care anymore. I just didn´t get why there was so much that each and every one of us had to give up or why we even wanted what supposedly would never be good enough.
               This “Christianese” was confusing me, but His Word says that He is not confusing so there had to be something that we were missing. There had to be something that we couldn´t see or there had to be something wrong with me to explain why nothing was happening the way it was supposed to be. Something had gone terribly wrong because I no longer wanted to sing the same worn out songs that meant absolutely nothing to me – it felt like Christianity was taking away my sanity.
            I talked the Christian talk and walked the Christian walk, but on the inside it didn´t feel like Christ was livin´ because no matter how hard I tried I just couldn´t stop sinnin´. Yet all they ever told me to do as behave, be good, and be Christian too. Supposedly that´s all that there ever was to it and no good reason why I couldn´t do it, but what they never told me was this: being like Him is so much more than just being “Christian.”

                So now that I´ve told you what I no longer look like allow me to share with you what´s happened in my life. I want to start by apologizing that if the Christ that I showed you was one that chose to never understand. Don´t take it out on Him that we placed judgement over your head.
              And to continue telling you what I´m not – I am not just some random “tool;” yo soy su hija por el poder de la cruz, and a daughter is not just a person you use. I realize I was paid for, but I know I wasn´t bought – I was adopted so please don´t make me start on how each and every one of us broke His only heart.

                So now when people ask me, “What is Christ to you?” I fumble over my words not wanting to say something that you´ve already heard. And even though I know it´s cliché Christ is my everything  because He took my other gods away. 

Mothers

my mother´s day tribute.I actually wrote this when I was 16, but that makes it all the more special to me, because even though I was young and immature I was able to appreciate my mom´s sacrifices for me.

“Mothers” > March 15, 2006

                Mothers, sometimes, spin upside down. Mothers usually hide their frowns.
                Mothers will work from night until day, and how much they hurt they don´t usually say.

                Stretched so thin – standing seems unreal.
                Stretched so thin – it´s a wonder they can feel; and how they keep on living is not even something they can reveal.

                They already know how life can go, and what they try to show are good seeds to sow.
                We think we see what life will be, and keep forgetting they´ve lived it already.
                They try to show us which way to go, but listen is what we usually don´t.

                Rebellion, short-lived, we´re taken back in by those that love us and give chances again.

                What they do no one else can, and what we should do is give them a hand.

                Mothers are heroes unheard and unsung. Mothers are heroes, yet no victories they´ve won. Mothers are heroes without banner or gun. Mothers are heroes simple and done. 

From Slavery to Silence

April 28, 2015

                This is the tale of a soul that wished it didn´t exist, yet in spite of itself it did.
                This is the story of a mind longing to be whole while living in scattered bits.
                This is the history of me wanton of identity and dying to be set free.

                Strange things seem to happen when we attempt to flee from who we were meant to be, and that´s exactly what I did.
                I didn´t want anyone to tell me who to be, especially not Him – the One who´d left me lonely.

                So I let sadness swallow me whole and suck my into her seemingly eternal hole, yet wondering every day as to how I´d lost control.
                A blackness oh so tempting, almost warm and friendly, had creeped into my soul.
                Little by little I found myself alone – a fish in a barrel evading silent stones.
                Little by little and one by one I became a shadow in the midst of everyone.
                That one dark cloud that everyone could see, yet at the same time no one saw me.

                I screamed at silent darkness until it screamed back, and by that time I thought that I´d absolutely cracked.
                Silence now nonexistent and wondering why I wished it as the noise began to kill me.

                Now as the deafening rage set and sifted, everything that had caused my blindness began to somehow, some way be lifted.
                And as the Light began to invade my mind so my surprise it was able to blind out my blackened noise.
                He became the silence that wouldn´t leave me alone – a silence that somehow sings beautiful tones.
                So I let Him take me whole, and I finally gave up control to something I never really had.
                My life became defined by so much more than mere “sad” or “glad” when I finally accepted the plans that God had.

                So now it´s over right? Wrong – sing a different song because this doesn´t feel anything like over. This does not even feel nearly done. In fact, it feels like my suffering has only just begun.
                But it´s what they told me; it´s what they sold me, and I bought it.
                Supposedly my soul was supposed to be relieved now that I finally believed in the One who´d supposedly come to set me free.

                You took me out of slavery, yet You sent me to the desert. I was dying as they beat me, and now we die just more “together.”
                Is this what freedom is supposed to feel like? I still feel like I´m dying it´s only a different fight.
                The difference with the Light is that you seem to fight alone. You look in every direction and have no one to hold.
                Then a voice from the sky, or maybe just my mind says, “When will you stop complaining? When will you be quiet enough to listen to what I´m saying?”

                I´d left slavery and all its noise to take on Silence and all its joys, yet now I find it quiet. It´s finally time to make my own riot, and take what He gave to me.
                It´s funny how things get tougher when God hears you crying to be set free.