Why have you brought me here? Have I not been mocked enough?
I’ve seen the way they look at me Must they judge me here for all eternity?
I’ve already served my time on earth. I’ve been your living example of what not to do a perpetrator, a deceiver, a subhuman creature giving in to every lust and putrid desire
My presence here would only cause others to sin. I’d bloody paradise. I’d take life again.
I’ve had to live with me, why must others suffer as well?
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be. Damn you for bringing forth a soul like mine.
Send me back. Destroy me. Just don’t keep me here.
Not with them.
But what do you do when beauty forces herself upon you?
Two babies are in intensive care, one that will only survive if given a new heart; another with a strong heart, but no chance of survival.
The latter child, Kaylee, was taken off life support, so that her heart could be donated to baby Lillian. Kaylee shocks doctors as she hangs on to life, and according to hospital protocol she can no longer be a candidate for organ donation.
The longer Kaylee stays alive, the less viable her heart becomes for transplant.
Kaylee’s father is quoted as being very upset, not because his child remains alive, but because his daughter’s heart is still good, and their only comfort would be to donate it to baby Lillian who is desperately in need of a new heart.
Besides all the legal and ethical implications of all of this, a few thoughts…
What must it be like, to hope for the death of your own child, so that another might live?
What must it be like to want to give the most precious gift possible (the very heart of your own child), and not be able to do so?
When God and all his angels watched Christ die upon the cross, was there any doubt that life could only come through death?
If this transplant ever does go through, what would it be like for Kaylee’s parents, seeing that other child as they grow up? I imagine some type of deep and special connection, knowing that their dead child’s heart, remains alive beating within another little girl.
Could that be the way God the Father sees us, knowing that a part of his son and his sacrifice, beats within all of us?
In addition to the current content on this blog, I’m hoping to introduce random reflections of people I know, as well as pastoral letters to people in my community.
They’re my words, but not exactly my life situation (Though I do believe in a common human experience we’re all connected by anyways). For me it’s an exercise in empathy as I process through the lives of others, that hopefully shapes a bit of my soul, and yours.
What is it, that I have done? I should have known better. Of all people, I should have known better.
In one moment, I broke the hearts of hundreds. How can God let any one live with such a burden?
He set me up, and for what? so I might know his grace? that his grace runs even deeper than my pain? That’s really hard to believe right now.
And their tears for me, their cries and condolences, just seems to widen the wounds They blame themselves, when really the blame should be mine.
Yet I can’t help but wonder, how they could have let this happen to me It wasn’t suppose to go down like this this isn’t the way the story’s suppose to end
I know there will be better days than this But the days I feel better, I’m filled with guilt the days I’m on the verge of redemption I’m only reminded of my self-obsession
When did the deepest places of my soul get so unhinged from everything I know?
She was a street kid dealing drugs by smuggling LSD in hollowed out Bibles. She ended up becoming a mother of two and a Mercedes-driving CEO. Her husband was killed in a motorcycle accident and she became an ordained minister of the united church. She’s a big advocate of poverty related issues and just introduced a bill to raise minimum wage to $11 by 2011.
The Toronto Life article closes out by stating “Her politics grow from listening to her inner child – the 15-year-old street kid hoping for a decent chance to turn her life around.”
I’ve written a number of posts on my concerns and issues with preaching, but I’ve got to admit there are a some pluses to ‘old school’ preaching…
The community has the opportunity to live an ongoing narrative through a certain person. The story always picks up where it left off, and as long as the preacher is growing, the congregation can easily follow along.
Having a primary voice speaking each week, makes the community easy to define. Listeners will often describe their church by the lead-voice, which in turn, can create a distinct culture that community members strive to live towards.
Maybe I’m insecure, but when I’m speaking in new places I often feel the need to give it all, partially because I don’t want people to think “that’s all he’s got?”. As an ongoing communicator in the community, there’s less of a need to go at things from all sides and angles, trusting that people know better or you’ll have plenty of opportunities to flesh out what’s on your heart.
If one of your primary tasks is speaking, it really gets easier and better the more you do it.
Having said all that, the above can also lead to unhealthy, narrow-minded, lemming-like communities with uni-dimensional, performance-based, preachers.
