My TestimonyMy name is Jazzy, and I am an unashamed born-again Christian.More Like This
I was aware of the existence of God since I was a child, but I wasn't so familiar with the concept of Christianity. I couldn't truly say for sure if I really was a Christianor rather, I wasn't living life like a follower of Christ. After all, I didn't really know what a Christian was; back then, all I knew was that (a.) it had something to do with believing that God exists, and (b.) it was something that my parents and some of my relatives followed. I didn't really know much beyond that. When it came to what I knew about my family, following the faith felt more to me like an expectation than a real choice. I didn't even know why I attended church. Because of this, even though I believed in God, I could not truly call myself a Christian then.
Honestly, my parents made a ton of mistakes raising me in a Christian-like manner. I barely knew what being a Christian was all about, and my parents didn't pu
The Body of Christ: Concerning ProtestantsMore Like This
[I have employed parenthetical citations. In them I list the primary text and cite by letter the book I used. This can be viewed at the end of the piece. -M]
The Body of Christ: On Protestants, Christians, and their Ideologies
The weaknesses and failings on the Catholic Church are well focused on. Far be it from me to deny or cover up the faults of my Body. Rather I recognize them and yet, through it all, love it. Though I would like to reflect on this I would rather like my reader to consider two things: 1) that same Body which we call the Church, specifically what that means, and 2) the general view(s) of my Protestant brothers and sisters regarding this issue. If we, believers in Christ, are also called the Body of Christ, do you know what that Body looks like? Below I shall examine those communities known as Protestant and Christian as well as those people who call themselves followers of Christ. I ask my readers, Catholic and Protestant alike, to examine their own communit
Dream OnEvery time that I look in the mirrorMore Like This
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone
It went by us like dust to dawn
Isn’t that the way
Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay
Fingers dancing on the keys, dark as midnight the bags under his eyes betray his lack of sleep. A story woven into the cold night air, the letters form words, strung one after the other in an incoherent fashion. He’s not sure why he writes. He’s not sure if he’s writing at all. He pauses. But not to think.
Looking at the calendar, March 19th. Halfway through the month, nearing Spring. He never knows when Spring is. Can never put his mind to it. Maybe it’s just proof about how little he cares. Not just about Spring, but about anything.
With a sigh, he rolls his shoulders, the pain in them is still fresh. His sickness still on his tongue, and loss still haunting his heart. Or what he thought was it.
I know what nobody knows
Where it comes and where it goes
John at 3:16Dear Jesus Christ,More Like This
I went to bed at 3:16 last night and started thinking about JohnJohn who pissed away every paycheck he ever made and only fucked virgins, John who beat up a woman's husband and spent a Christmas in jail, John who shot himself on the front porch of his mother's house. I don't think anyone shed a tear except her. I heard she shed many tears as she cleaned up the mess.
I thought about when I first met him. It was at church. He and I were both eight. He sat next to me and we stared at that stained glass image of you in your white robe with your outstretched, loving arms, and he leaned into me and asked, "Do you believe in Jesus?"
"Of course," I said. "Don't you?"
He didn't answer. But it was Communion that day and he ate your body and drank your blood just like everyone else, and I thought he had to believe in you because you were inside of him.
I asked him once, Jesus Christ, I asked him if he believed in you and he said, "I want to. But everyone says I have