The Mirror’s Hymn

Yesterday was the 250th birthday of The United States, I sat and reflected on some very painful memories. Memories of friends and family who passed serving our nation and memories of my own pains. Like the constant pain that radiates throughout the entire left side of my body from what I endured. The head pain that never fully leaves, the kind that feels like a memory carved into bone. The sudden panic attacks that strike without warning. The anxiety that tightens my chest. The depression that pulls at my spirit. The nerve damage that burns and stings. The broken teeth. The damaged left eye. The quiet ache of feeling alone even when I am surrounded by people who love me. The permanent discomfort and disconnect that makes every room feel slightly out of reach. I live in high gear because slowing down once got me severely hurt. My mind learned to survive by staying alert. The voices I hear have been labeled schizophrenia, but the doctors still do not know if it is hereditary or if it cam...

Lost in thought, and I "need" to vent...  You hear people scream that being gay is a sin, that being trans is a sin, that having sex or children outside of marriage is a sin, that having multiple partners or an open marriage is a sin, that sending nude photos to like minded friends is sick or wrong or forbidden, like having or starting the weird yet fun conversations will end the entire world. And then they go and get so offended, then yell at you for being offended. I know, I do not get it too. They claim being weird and saying the weird thing is sinful and wrong. They are so judgemental and then think God hears them. He does not. He sees how you treat his creations and he stopped listening to you. You hear people shout that you are going to hell for simply being who you are and loving how you love. My friends, hell is a scare tactic. The afterlife is not a pit of fire waiting to swallow you whole. It is more like a washing machine.(what I saw/experienced) The worse your cru...

Poetry is the way a trembling truth learns to stand upright.   It is the soft place where a wounded spirit can rest.   It is the breath we give to memories that still ache.   It is the courage to speak even when our voice shakes.   It is the promise that no one’s suffering will be left unseen. Empathy is the bridge we build with our bare hands.   It is the moment we choose to listen instead of judge.   It is the way we let another person’s storm pass through us   without trying to silence the thunder.   It is the quiet vow that we will not turn away   from the broken places in someone else’s life.   It is the gentle strength that says   I will carry a little of your weight   so you can remember how to walk again. Power is not the roar of dominance.   It is the steady flame that refuses to go out.   It is the truth that rises even after being buried....

To the ones who gather in sanctuaries and living rooms   To the ones who preach from pulpits and sidewalks   To the ones who claim the name of Christ   And to the ones who have walked away from it   To Laodicea, To Philadelphia, To Sardis, To Thyatira, To Pergamum, To Smyrna, To Ephesus, and to every soul who still listens for the quiet voice of mercy   I write this with a trembling heart. I have spent years reading the book of Revelation through the lens of fear because that is how it was handed to me. I was told it was a warning. I was told it was a threat. I was told it was a countdown to destruction. But when I read it again through the lens of mercy, something inside me broke open. Something inside me healed. Something inside me woke up. I realized that the problem was never the scripture.   The problem was the lens. I realized that many preach the Ten Commandments as if the story stopped at Sinai. They hold the stone tabl...

There are moments in history when the noise of nations grows so loud that the quieter truths of the spirit are almost drowned out. Moments when fear, rivalry, and pride try to claim the final word. Moments when people search scripture not for healing, but for justification. This reflection is written for such a moment. It is not a political argument.   It is not a prophecy of doom.   It is a call to return to the teachings of Yeshua... the red words... and to read our world through the lens of mercy rather than the lens of pride. There is a revelation that rises only when the lens of pride is shattered.   A revelation that cannot be seen through fear, rivalry, or the sins of man.   A revelation that appears only when the teachings of Yeshua are allowed to speak louder than the drums of war. It begins with this truth: No nation is the enemy.   No people are the enemy.   Only violence is the enemy.   Only hatred is the ...

I find myself awake, sitting by the low light of a fire at 2am, wandering around in deep thoughts. I would like to share a story with you all. Something I hold close to my own heart. 💚 Its called the: “The Tale of Two Johns (Yochanans)”   By JoshM Let me tell you this story slow, like we're sitting around a small campfire and the night itself is leaning in to listen. No pulpit here, no fancy stage, just us sitting in a circle, watching how the flames make our shadows lean toward each other. I'm not some scholar in robes. Just someone who's walked by rivers, read by lamplight, and picked up a whisper that came to me once and never really left. There were these two guys, both named Yochanan, John in English, and for a while their voices got all tangled up in the same story until people started listening more to one than the other. I want to tell you about both of them, not to settle some theological debate or anything, but because remembering both keeps us honest, you know? ...