HAHAHA.

I feel your cold hands touching the back of my head.

You have NO right.

I have been washed clean with the blood of Christ.

You have NO right.

For I am a son of the LIVING GOD.

That through his sacrifice I have been adopted into his family.

You have NO right.

Get off me.

Get away from me.

Get away from this place.

I command you in the name of Jesus.

Peace.

All I need is you...

and fuck the rest.

But that's wrong of me to say.
And I know it...

Grawr.

I'm videochatting with a girl. She's cute.

This could be a problem.

HAHAHAHA. Oh my. Y'all need Jesus.

In the most encouraging way possible.

I know a lot of times when I look at myself when I get down, when I'm wallowing in my sin. I just see myself rolling around in a pile of mud complaining.

"I can't get out. Ugh. This is different, this is the worst. I can't do it."

The victory has already been won...

Christ already paid for our sins with his blood.

Get up. Dust yourself off. Keep going.

God's Grace is there to catch you. Don't take advantage of it or cheapen it, but be thankful for it, and just live. Just try your best.

Christ died for your sins.

Stop condemning yourself.
That's not your job.
It's just like when I get down, I'm rolling around in the mud saying, "I can't get out, I'm doomed, this can't be fixed..."

Just try your best.
Just try.

Christ's blood washes everything away. We are free in him. Free from guilt and condemnation in his name.

Just look to Christ.
Look to Christ.
to Christ.
Christ.

Hrm. Heh.

Aiite let's keep going =]

It's late. I have class in a bit.

I need to finish my work.

It kinda stopped... going.

Two beers.

Texting you.

Wondering what it means to be faithful to God.
In times like this. What does it mean to hold onto God?
Even if I fall into sin. Into temptation.

Where are you in the midst of this?

If you're perfectly just, and you have a perfect plan, I, not have to, but must trust in you. No?

I'm trying.

It's hard when all of this is getting poured on me.

But it's to be expected right?

Here's a toast.

Thank you Jesus, may I have another.

Mom got robbed at gunpoint this evening.

Thank you Jesus may I have another?

That's what I should be saying, right?

Right?

RIGHT?

You make me want to slit my wrists. I need you out of my life.

Either that, or you need Jesus.

Don't condemn people to hell. What makes you think you have that right?

You're absolutely ridiculous. Everything's going to be fine.

I need to dance this out.

I need to dance.

I need to.

I need.

Hahaha we were on the phone for two hours.

I didn't end up sleeping till three thirty because I had to brush my teeth and spend time with God.

Did that thought enter your mind?

Or did that feeling sneak it's way in there?

Like it did to me?

LAWL. Whatever happens, I'm loving Jesus more than you.

Whatever happens.

If it's in his plan or not.

Whatever...

Happens.

Heh.

I daydreamed love.
I daydreamt love?
I dreamt love?
I daydreamed love.

In the form of a pair of shoes I dreamt my mother slaving... working every day. Coming home feet busted, bruised, blistered... Only to lie down on her bed, turn the TV on till she passed out, then start again.

I dreamt that she bought me a pair of shoes that I had told her that I had liked.
These shoes coast almost a third of the rent that I had to pay. Or rather, that she had to pay.

She proceeded to buy this pair of shoes, even as I argued her not to. Even as I didn't tell her my shoe size, but she proceeded anyway.

I received the shoes.
I was scared to wear them.
I wore them every day, because I loved them.
They tore through.
Became worn.

And then my mother died.
And at her funeral all I could do was cry.

"How can you tell me to rejoice at all the good times we had? You're gone now, up to heaven... I know you'll be waiting for me..."

And then I saw, my Savior, my God.

Washing my feet.

My dirty feet. My feet that had dragged me to places of sin. My feet that led me to sin. My feet that stepped in shit. My feet that stepped over Christ as I went to do what I wanted to do. My feet that kicked Christ as he was down. My feet.

My dirty, fucking feet.

And he washed them. Dried them.

Then he died. On a Cross. For my sins.

That I may have a family, a father, brothers and sisters, forgiveness, grace, redemption, freedom, identity.

Thank you for your Love.

And then I woke back up to my infinity class.

"...you just want to do what you want to do, but then flash your God badge so you can prove that he was 'there with you' as you did it..."

It sounds a lot meaner than how it was actually said.

Can't wait to start ripping apart scripture with you.

=]

i don't want to sleep yet...

I want to talk to somebody...

Blarg.

Waiting.

"Some people are just called to live a tough life."

"Just wait a little... it'll be alright."

Probably, most definitely schooled.