11 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
James 2:18-26
King James Version (KJV)
18 Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works.
19 Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble.
20 But wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead?
21 Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he had offered Isaac his son upon the altar?
22 Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect?
23 And the scripture was fulfilled which saith, Abraham believed God, and it was imputed unto him for righteousness: and he was called the Friend of God.
24 Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only.
25 Likewise also was not Rahab the harlot justified by works, when she had received the messengers, and had sent them out another way?
26 For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.
Lately especially since I turned 50 several years ago I’ve been to more wakes and funerals than birthdays. My generation, Baby Boomers are passing away. The baton is being passed to the Millennials. Turning 50 seems to be the catalyst for health problems and medical issues. One of the few good things about 2016 is that this is the first year since 2008 that I have not been in the hospital as a patient. Actually my health drama began at age 49 with a mini-stroke that had my life literally passing before my eyes. Facing death you realize how much you want to live but after turning 50 you already know you’ve live more than half your life and there are more years behind you than in front of you.
This is why I dread Christmas and I don’t make a big deal of the Holiday season. Christmas usually brings bad news mostly somebody has died.
Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years have become one long anxiety and panic attack for me.
I know next year to avoid discussing despised fake, phony Christmas I’m gonna do a moratorium on posting after Veteran’s day until the first week in January has passed. I don’t want to deal with any more Holiday Greetings and I’m tired of putting on an act of a season I’ve come to hate with a passion.
Now obviously I will attend the company Christmas party because I don’t want to be thought of as a Grinch and I’m happy for the folks who do celebrate. More power to them and I Love to eat. Goodies are available.
Truthfully Christmas means absolutely NOTHING TO ME!! Jesus was not born on December 25th and he was Jewish!! If Jesus were on earth today he would be celebrating Hanukkah not Christmas!! As a Christian I see no point in make believe cheer during the holidays and those same people who wish you Happy Holidays will curse you out January 2nd.
Most important that the commercialism and merchandising of Christmas is the state of your soul. Your standing with God in whatever ever belief system you follow. When you die God will not ask you anything about Christmas but rather how you treated your fellow human beings for your time on this earth.
I know my time to meet the Lord is coming. Perhaps sooner than later. As my Dad used to say, “Straighten up and Fly Right.” Or to quote my Grandmother Hattie Finney Banks, “It’s time to Get Right with God!”
The only thing that matters to me now is my status or right standing with the Lord!
2 Corinthians 5:8
King James Version (KJV)
8 We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.
Warning: For those of you who have been raped, went through Domestic Violence, sodomized or sexually assaulted Please Do Not Read this Post as it most likely continues Triggers. I have survived all those events but to this day I still experience sights, smells, words that set me off in the wrong direction.
Swords, needles, Lance, shattered glass, Knaves with Knives pierced my heart. For the one who pinned me to the wall with gnashing fanged teeth. They made me bleed but my life essence flowed into the ground and back up through and into my feet roots.
Many times I feel I’ve been banished to the Island of Misfit toys. Long ago in a far away land I was embedded in the fog, haze and mist of various “Happy Pills.” But I escaped. They tried to recapture me last year but once again the Warrior in me arose and I beat down my foes and thus a better life was reborn.
Island of the Damned by Bocklin
They tell me to forgive you. As though I were at fault.
They tell me that unless I forgive you burning coals will singe my soul. Forgiveness is for me. It will help heal my soul.
Yet I feel nothing. No pressure to forgive. No reason to forgive. No need to forgive. No guilt or shame. Because I feel nothing. Nothing for him. Nothing for all the hims that brutally attacked me. Why?! Because you, him, All the Hims have been banished, dismissed.
Those hims taught me how. Especially the one who raped me. The one who now wears the backward collar. Who leads unsuspecting congregations in Praise & Worship. Church. How convenient. The perfect place to find more victims. Women. Some willing. Carried along by a sacred oratory little knowing the ugly demon that lurks within. But I know. You come as an Angel of Light but I know who you really are. Hell is reserved for the devil and his angels. Your place in Hades awaits you.
The Persuaders – Thin Line between Love & Hate – Video (High Quality)
My heart has gone prehistoric stone implements. Flint knives now glisten in my eyes. How not to feel. How to dismiss who no longer is necessary yet keep the lessons for the future. How to dispatch with a cold ease. Victory!
I’M STILL HERE!!
To awaken a side of me that can put my abusers into compartments. Jails. I will never forget what they did. How they changed my life. Little did they know how my life has changed for the better. I don’t need to forgive for I am not at fault. And they. They shall receive due judgment from the Creator of All Life and I. I will sit back and smile.
My Salvation, Forgiveness and Redemption Belong Only to Me!
I’m participating in a discussion on race relations with two other women bloggers one Black one white. These are my thoughts thus far. I’m starting in Media Res.
For my American Followers and Subscribers I want you to really think and consider those of us who are not white and who have helped build this country over the last 400 years then go to the polls and VOTE!!
If only more people were open minded and accepting. I’m fortunate to work in a multi-cultural environment and live in a diverse city, New York. Over the years I’ve had to let go of my old hard line dogmatic religious beliefs as I’ve met and gotten to know people of other races. Now I have friends who are Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim as well as Jewish and Christian friends. I know if I had been born in those countries my belief system would have been different.
Who am I to say who is better or best when I worship a Jewish Carpenter.
I agree when you say that some whites don’t want to understand. I work for a museum in an upper class rich and wealthy neighborhood and the days following the two Black men who were slain this past summer as I stood in the galleries I could not understand how these white people families women with children could smile, laugh and joke while so many Black families were and still are in mourning. Then it dawned on me. Black people dying is in a separate world. Not of their circle. For them Blacks only exist as servants, maids, Nannies, Home Health care workers, MTA (Transit) workers, Janitors or security guards like myself. We clean floors, bathrooms, drive the buses and subways, mind their kids but outside of that sphere we don’t exist as human beings. More and more as time goes on I get the distinct impression that white America wants to return to the days of slavery or at least Jim Crow. Something my mother, grandparents and great grandparents went through. There hope was that life would be better for my brother and me.
At least not to most white Americans. We are stereotypes and caricatures not real people. The particular neighborhood where I work is located in what is called the “Gold Coast” of Manhattan. Doorman apartments and upper class private schools. These people make a show of voting for Obama and Hillary Clinton however the comments I and my co-workers of color must endure reveal their underlying beliefs as concerns race. I wear a uniform that represents my museum yet white people consistently think I’m either a drug dealer or sex worker??!! How?? What?? Why?? It never occurs to them in a million years that I am a college graduate and an U.S. Army Veteran and so are many of my co-workers who are not only brilliant but multi-lingual who have taken a job well below our intellect and skills due to the economy, ageism and the road blocks of racism to better employment opportunities. We do these jobs to feed our families, pay our bills, educate our children, take care of our parents, buy homes, etc…. Keep in mind that immigrants of All Colors built this country. Fought and died for this country!!
If only I could be seen as a unique human being created by God but I know I will never see that in my lifetime. I never married nor had children but I hope and pray future generations get past and/or never experience some of the racism, discrimination or bigotry that is my every day life.
As one who is descended from African, European and Native American roots I leave you with this song.
I cry when I hear this song and I cry for my country. My country that does not want me. My country whose white citizens constantly tell me “Why don’t you go back to Africa?” How can I return to a place I’ve never been?? Why don’t the contributions of my ancestors count? Also part of me is Native American so actually This is My Country!! Yes white America this is my country whether you like it or not and I’m not leaving. Think on this song then make your decision Tuesday, November 8th Election Day
Veterans Day for Americans is coming November 11th. Please keep in mind All the Veterans of Color who have served this country been loyal and faithful to this country only to be slapped in the face by our government and its citizens!!
Thanks goes out to the Navajo Code Talkers, The Japanese-American troops during World War II, Hispanic-Americans, Jewish-Americans and Arab Americans and those who are currently serving yet being ridiculed!!
Thank you Mr. Khan, your wife and family who gave the most!!
Khan Family Full Speech at DNC | Muslim Soldier’s Parents Challenge Trump
1978 Augsburg, Germany
Deborah Ann Palmer U.S. Army 1977-1981
William H. Halstead name as inscribed on the Colored Soldiers Monument in Washington, DC
It’s a rainy Sunday here in New York. Chillier than yesterday. Neither good nor bad. Just is. Sunday a day of reflection and worship for many Christians. I’m not a regular church goer. My attendance in a brick and mortar building is a rare occurrence. Gradually the Baptist Faith of my youth has morphed into an appreciation and Liberation from the confines, dogma and doctrine of the traditional church. All faiths both traditional and indigenous for me have become one. All are pieces of the original stone. Yet I feel the call of my Ancient Ancestral beliefs calling me home. I Long for the Zion of Africa.
Psalm 137:1-4
New King James Version (NKJV)
Longing for Zion in a Foreign Land
137 By the rivers of Babylon, There we sat down, yea, we wept When we remembered Zion. 2 We hung our harps Upon the willows in the midst of it. 3 For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song, And those who plundered us requested mirth, Saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
4 How shall we sing the Lord’s song In a foreign land?
Rivers of Babylon-The Melodians
For me I imbibe the magnificence of Creation more and more through Mother Nature herself. Even if I can’t be near a park or beach because of my heavy work schedule I see myself walking the beach early in the morning when there are only the seagulls flying overhead, the ebb and flow of waves lapping at sand. Or I’m at the park. Perhaps Central Park or Prospect Park. Touching the trees, heavy protruding boulders, taking off my shoes making that connection to land.
I crave Oneness with Gaia, The Goddess, Mother Nature. African and Native American prior to the Colonizer. Praises to Oshun!!
Any Green-space where Gaia has left her mark in millennium stones, rocks and boulders pushed surface up that speak of eons past.
One hand touches rocks and stones. Voices of Tribal past speak Wisdom into my Life. Feet Grounded within Earth, Sand and Seas.
All geological evolutionary eras merge as one.
I was there at the Jordan baptizing Jesus. My flowing locs once jet black now white with mystical waves. I shook my bountiful mane and the earth trembled. Oshun welcomes back her prodigal son.
Oshun pushed aside Neptune and gathered up her children drowned lost in Middle Passage. Watery graveyard. We search for each other. Shackled together. Far from the Motherland of our birth.
Brought on deck. Bound. Iron to Iron. Men. Women. Some pregnant. Children. Tossed like so much excess baggage from the good ship Amistad.
We cried out to the Goddess for Salvation. Swept away into the Abyss. Poseiden stepped on our necks and took our breath away. Only the Goddess of Our Royal Bloodline can redeem us. Our Orisha came and gathered our spirits into Her Bosom.
Meditate on Her. Meditate on Her.
I am She who was from the Beginning. I Birthed the Earth into Existence. All others who came after are just minor manifestations of true Grace. Manifestations of the Original Reigning Goddess.
She poured fragrant Libation upon our weary souls. She oiled the depths of our spirits. Deliverance was nigh. The New Sojourner Truth criss-crosses the Land gathering. Gathering. Sowing. Reaping. Transformation.
137 By the rivers of Babylon, There we sat down, yea, we wept When we remembered Zion. 2 We hung our harps Upon the willows in the midst of it. 3 For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song, And those who plundered us requested mirth, Saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
4 How shall we sing the Lord’s song In a foreign land?
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 