Christian

Hello, I’m a Christian.
My mum’s was a Christian, my father is a Christian, both sets of my grandparents are Christians. I’ve always been one.

I go to church every Sunday, yes fall asleep sometimes but doesn’t everyone? Plus, at least I show up! I think I’m better that everyone. I mean, we preach the whole we’re all sinners thing, but I’m not all that bad. Like Hitler is obviously worse than me.  I’ve sinned a couple times, a white lie here or there at all that, but nothing bad.


I love judging people. I mean all you gay, pro choice democrats are all going to hell, and that’s the honest truth. I will take every opportunity to tell you that because I’m up here and you’re down there. I’m very religious. As I mentioned already, I’m always at church. I have this big, beautiful KJV (because you know Jesus talked in Thou and Thy) Bible that I carry there every Sunday. During the week, it sits on my mantle for all the world to see. Speaking of during the week, I spend most of my days acting normal. I don’t draw too much attention to myself, I would hate for people to think I’m weird. I just do my own thing. God helps those who help themselves you know, which is why I don’t waste my time with homeless people and stuff. They’re probably gonna buy drugs with the money anyway

. So there you have it. I’m such a great person who’s going to heaven, a place I don’t really believe in but you know, got to cover all my bases.


I’m a Christian.

I mess up all the time. I’m the furthest thing from a perfect person. The truth is, me being a Christian has nothing to do with, well, me. The word itself means “Follower of Christ.” So I really can’t tell you about myself, I should tell you about who I follow. He’s this guy who gave up everything He had to redeem me. How can I help but follow Him, learn about Him, love Him, be like Him? And being like Him means loving everyone. No matter who they are and what they’ve done. After all, who am I to judge, I’m no better than them. I know all this but I’m still prone to messing up. I mean, I am human. I can’t help myself, that’s the whole point of Faith in Jesus. Not the whole getting into heaven thing that people try to make it about.



That’s what being a Christian is about.



Happy Easter everyone!

Quote of the Post: “Of all religions, the Christian should of course inspire the most tolerance, but until now Christians have been the most intolerant of all men.” –Voltaire

Song of the Post: Church Clothes by LaCrae

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Re-evaluating Imagination

I don’t think I’m going to do the whole Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy—well, maybe her—with my kids… if I have any. You must be flabbergasted at that statement. Why would I deprive my future kids of their childhood? Well, why would I encourage some fantasy to my kids that I’m just going destroy and devastate them later on in life? I know that sounds weird—like I’m talking in terms of an adult not a kid, but I never believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny. Nobody told me they weren’t real, I just was a logical child about stuff like that. The only one that got me was the tooth fairy because ‘she’ visited me at a friend’s house and it baffled me how even when I wasn’t home, I still got money.
However, I still had a great childhood. In a way, knowing that it was my parents who put those presents under the tree or hid the chocolate eggs at Easter was better. I mean, even when times were hard and I knew my parents were struggling financially, there would still be gifts on the best day of the year. You can’t help but feel loved. I mean if I wanted say—an iPad—for Christmas, but my parents couldn’t afford it but they get me a bunch of clothes and smaller gifts instead, you know how much they care and the gifts mean so much more. If I believed in Santa, I would feel terrible because…c’mon, it’s SANTA, he’s loaded, where’s my iPad? Being a child, I would be so broken hearted, maybe even throw a tantrum. It’s just not worth the supposed ‘magic’ of believing.
Why should I believe in a mythical creature anyway? What is this magic you speak of? So I believe in a fat old man and his little helpers, or a bunny that somehow has loads of eggs to give—where does he even get the eggs from? He’s like some master thief or something—I digress. Is the magic of the holidays what they represent? Christmas and the gift God gave us, Easter and the Sacrifice He made? Why don’t we encourage this part of the holidays? Why isn’t generosity—‘tis better to give than to receive—, love, joy, thankfulness, etc promoted instead?
Anyway, back to my childhood. I was a happy child. I grew up normally. I know I said I was logical and all, but I also had an imagination. Remember pretending the ground was lava—I still do that—or building a fort/cave thingy-ma-bob out of pillows and couch cushions? That was my thing! I remember pretending to be a spy, a princess, a mum, an animal with my friends. I loved the game of make-believe. I need to be LIED to by my parents in order to have a great childhood.
The long and short of it is, I’m pretend Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, etc are real. I’ll tell them about it, I mean, they still have to watch great movies like The Santa Claus; Elf; Rise of the Guardians, etc, but just for fun, for enjoyment.
Or maybe I’m being overly logical.
Quote of the Post: Imagination is more important than knowledge… Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.—Albert Einstein