The Chronicles of Missya - Prince Myshkin (or The Idiot)

Good afternoon, my lovely readers! After a full attempt at 6 hours of sleep, I am feeling re-energized and ready to continue the ever eventful sagas of mjl. This next chapter, entitled "Prince Myshkin (or The Idiot)" (named for Dostoyevsky's The Idiot), to put it bluntly, deals with just such people: idiots.
While I had sincerely hoped that I would never have to write about the bizarre attempts at romanticism that plague my life like...well...a plague, I promised to recap the past few months and will do so, even if it's much to my own chagrin. Just keep in mind, dear reader, that as a stoic, stone-hearted robot in the realm of all things romantic, it is not the easiest thing in the world for me to say what I've truly been feeling these past few months. Hopefully the third person novelist device will make it easier...here we go...

Chapter 2: Prince Myshkin (or The Idiot)

Love, as constantly reiterated by the infatuated songsters of generations past, is a many splendid thing. It is all we need. It will never fail. It'll lift us up where we belong and all that jazz.

But this story is not about love.

This story is about idiots.

We find our first idiot, we shall call her Girl, to even further remove any authorial attachment, in the wings of a University theatre.
Now, as far as "love" or "relationships" went, Girl was single.
Girl was happy being single.
Single worked for Girl.
For, you see, Girl, who had never before been in what she considered a "real" relationship with a gentleman, enjoyed the freedoms associated with a life of singledom. She had, in past mistakes, made attempts at leaving her comfortable realm of romantic solitude, but to no avail, as she discovered, time and again, that the species of Idiot known as Pigheadia Dumbassicus, or "boy" in laymen's terms, can be very hurtful and dishonest in their romantic escapades, thereby jading her in the affairs of the hopeless romantics.

But as we said before, we find Girl in the wings of a university theatre and, lo and behold, she is conversing with one of the many prime examples of Pighedia Dumbassicus, whom we shall call Boy.

Now, Boy was a handsome young man, two years younger than Girl, but very charming, complimentary, and sweet, thereby making him a seemingly refreshing anomaly to his sex. As he and Girl conversed more often over the last week of rehearsals before Tech Week of their fall play, Boy made hints at having an affinity for Girl, followed by a flat out confession of "strong feelings" for her. Girl was very flattered, for she too felt something for Boy but, being the single, independent Destiny's Child woman that she was, politely informed Boy that she had high standards & was weary to get into a relationship too quickly, especially with someone she hardly knew. She and Boy agreed that getting to know each other would be best...this lasted for about 3 or 4 days.

Opening Night of the play came and went for the young Idiots, and in the dark, but moonlit hours that followed the night's reveling, as they stood in each other's fond embrace, yadda yadda yadda, their lips, like pilgrim's hands, did touch, & so on & so forth & Boy asked Girl to be his girlfriend, and Girl agreed.

**The author would like to take this moment to ask you to forgive her, if you will, for the sappy Shakespearean love-talk, but warns that this sap's sticky hold on Girl will in fact be prevalent later on in our tale.**

The dart of infatuation had pierced the stone heart of Girl, and she soon found that her eyes for romance, which she thought would surely remain secure in their shade of dark, jaded cynicism, began to morph into a sickeningly sweet shade of rosy pink.
She was, for the most part, very happy. Boy proved to be a nice addition to her life, and he got along splendidly with her friends and family, which, of course, made Girl very glad. And although the relationship hit a bit of a snag within its first few days, concerning an event that Boy assured Girl was just a misunderstanding, things were going relatively well. Until the fated night of the party.

Now, to provide a little background on Boy, by means of a brief and extremely vague history: he had some issues, to say the least. He carried with him baggage from some truly awful familial problems that had accumulated over the years, as well as some poor choices he had made in dealing with said problems. Girl knew this, empathized, and was understanding. She and Boy had discussed some of these issues, especially issues concerning the smoking of illicit narcotics; Girl's feelings towards narcotics & her past history in dealing with loved ones & such illicit substances were made known, and Boy also seemed understanding.

Moving on to the party...
Boy & Girl had a mutual friend who had kindly invited them to a birthday party. Several of Girl's other dear friends were in attendance, as well as a handful of shady characters unknown to her, and a splendid time was had by all...sort of. All but Girl and one of Girl's most dearest friends partook in the consumption of alcohol that night, and, alas, Boy was part of their numbers.
Girl has consumed alcohol before and has friends who drink, though they are not of age, so she was not too concerned with Boy playing the primitive game of "Beer Pong"; however, she did make it quite clear that his partaking in smoking pot was not going to happen. Boy agreed.
The party drew on, Boy played more rounds of Beer Pong, and Girl's curfew drew ever closer, but before Girl left, Boy, who had, at this point, enjoyed a few too many rounds of beer, decided to have a talk with Girl. He informed her that he really didn't want to screw things up with her or hurt her, and that his biggest concern was that he never wanted to cheat on her. For you see, Boy & Girl had discussed a promise Girl had made to herself & to God that she would abstain from some of the more lusty acts of youthful college abandon (aka sex) until she was married, and Boy was concerned that Girl's abstinence may cause him to be tempted to stray from Girl's side.
Quoth the Boy, "I really don't want to cheat on you or hurt you."
Quoth the Girl, "So don't."
For you see, my loverly readers, Girl may be old-fashioned in her views of abstinence before marriage, but she did not, nor does not to this day, think that cheating should be a detrimental choice of life or death if one really cares about their partner. Call her crazy, but she believes that being with the person that one really, truly cares about should be enough to keep one satisfied. Therein lies mistake number one and the idiocy of poor, naive Girl...
Boy & Girl finished their conversation, and Girl left Boy behind to continue reveling as she drove off to meet her curfew.
And therein lies her second mistake.

A couple hours after Girl had left, she received a text from her dear friend whose birthday they had been celebrating; he informed Girl that Boy had gone off with some less than favourable characters to smoke illicit substances. Girl was upset and disappointed, to say the least, in what she was reading, but this was nothing compared to what was to come.
Minutes later, Girl received a phone call from the same friend, telling her that Boy's lips, like the ADD little Pilgrim's hands they were, were touching those of another girl.
And therein, dear readers, lies the idiocy of Boy.
For, you see, Boy's idiocy, that he had so vehemently protested against not two hours before, caused Girl to do the thing she hates the most:
She cried.
She cried and cursed...careened from despondency to resentment...and all because of a boy. An idiot.

So Girl did the first thing that she could think of: she put on her shoes, grabbed her phone, and ran. She ran long and hard down the dark, desolate streets of her neighborhood as she waited for the cavalry of friends that were on their way to her home to comfort her. As she ran, she could think of nothing but how hurt and infuriated she felt until, suddenly, she realized that focusing on the pain and anger caused by this horrible circumstance was not the appropriate, or healthy, response. So Girl stopped running, knelt down in the street, and began to pray.
She prayed for strength, for comfort, and, finally, for the power to forgive Boy.
Almost immediately, she was met with a sense of inner peace, and although the pain of the situation was still an existing presence in her mind, it was somewhat alleviated.
In what seemed like moments later, as if in response to her prayers, Girl found herself in the middle of an onslaught of comforting embraces from her beloved friends who proceeded to spend the next couple hours consoling her.
It was then that Girl found out, from one of her dear consulars who had ended up driving Boy home from the party that night, that Boy, like Girl, was beside himself upon having his idiocies of the night reiterated to him as he sobered up. The consular described Boy as one whom he'd never seen so broken, sobbing and begging for punishment.

Although this news fell upon the deaf ears of her other consulars, who remained devoutly rooted to protecting Girl's hurt feelings, Girl could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy towards Boy. This is not to say that she was at all approving or excusing what he had done to her, but the inexorably remorseful state of Boy, as described by her consular, did appeal slightly to her compassionate side, and she decided she would hear Boy out when the time came for them to talk.

After a hearty 3 hours of sleep, a talk with her mother, and a particularly effective sermon at church, Girl felt strangely at peace with the fiasco of the night before. (*The author would like to note that her use of the phrase "strangely at peace" should not be misconstrued as strange in that it led to any type of confusion on Girl's part as to why she felt very much alright with the ugly events of the night before, but should instead be taken as the author's poor attempt to describe how it feels when one completely relies on & gives all one's problems up to God in a crapshoot of a situation*). All traces of anger & bitterness towards Boy were gone, and in their stead, stood a very calm and firm resolve to forgive Boy and move on with her life.

After leaving church with her new found resolve, Girl met up with Boy to discuss the night before...
At this point, it should be noted that any past contexts or situations to which Girl or even you, dear Reader, may have prescribed the term "awkward silence" hold absolutely no bearings to the "conversation" that took place between Boy & Girl.
After the greeting and exchanging of common pleasantries between the two, the discourse that followed seemed more like a barrage of awkward silences intermittently interrupted by lines of dialogue, apologies, and, finally, crying.
(*To avoid making this obscenely lengthy blog any longer than it needs to be, the author would like to grant temporary, creative license to the reader & allow him/her to interject awkward silences & outbursts of tears, of any length, wherever his/her imagination deems necessary in the following conversation rather than the author having to state where every single bout of awkward silence and crying actually took place....just know there were a lot of them*)

Boy began by reiterating his deepest apologies; not only for the unfaithful act he had committed, but more importantly for the fact that he had hurt Girl. To this, Girl very calmly replied that it was alright and he was forgiven.
Apparently this was not what Boy expected or wanted to hear, as he stated his consternation and lack of understanding as to how both she and the consular, whom Boy had seen the night before, could be taking this situation so calmly. (*The author poses the idea that this may be why she describes the peace of God as "strange"*)
You see, Boy felt his actions were deserving of hatred and he could not yet accept them as being forgivable. This notion truly saddened, and continues to sadden, Girl, who knows that no action is unforgivable and explained that she, a corrupt and sinful being, has no right or authority to refuse someone forgiveness for making a mistake, even a seemingly severe one, when she errs all the time.

Girl then proceeded to explain to Boy that although she forgave him, his actions from the night before eradicated any trust that she had in him. She suggested that they take an indefinite break in their relationship, during which time Girl would gladly remain Boy's friend, and Boy could, if he so chose, get his act together and rebuild Girl's trust in him so that they may one day get back together in a romantic relationship. Boy agreed.

Fast forward to a little over a month later and we are again met with our dear protagonist, who we now find sitting on her bed, recounting the impossibly dull happenings of her life to whatever poor soul stumbles across her weblog. She is, once again, single as far as the vie romantique is concerned, and is, yet again, content with that fact. As promised, she has remained friends with Boy, and although she sees no indication of them getting back together, she is still very glad to have him in her life, if only as a friend.

Thus ends the extremely long and drawn out saga of the idiot, Girl...for now, that is.


*The author would like to make one final note and say that she is BEYOND ECSTATIC to be done with this gigantic, effing blog entry. HALLELUJAH!*



mjl.

The Chronicles of Missya - The Heroes, The Text, & The Supervisor

Since I'm going on my 24th hour of sleeplessness, and have been told by my dear, dear friends that the blogs in our social circle need to be more frequently updated, I figured I'd do that now as I wait for the Melatonin & Sleep Aid to kick in...so...Hello, all of you loverly readers in the blogesphere! Long time no write, and for that, I apologize.

Rather than taking what little working brain cells I have left & attempting to convert them into eloquent prose, I'm devoting this blog to a catch-up of all things Missy, in case any of y'all were wondering...can't see why anyone would, but, if you will allow me a few paragraphs of narcissistic indulgence, I shall pretend that the occurrences of my life provide entertainment to someone other than myself and God, who, I have no doubt, gets much enjoyment from some of the more ridiculous situations I get myself into. Honestly, I sometimes think I need my own sitcom on Nickelodeon or something..."Missy Explains It All"...or, rather, "Missy Attempts to Explain the Few Things She Does Know, But in the Process, Gets Herself into Generally Unfavorable Situations"...sounds like a hit. I'll start writing the pilot...in the mean time, back to what I originally said I'd write about....ME! LET THE NARCISSISM BEGIN!

Chapter 1: The Heroes, The Text, & The Supervisor

It was an uncharacteristically chilly September afternoon in the city of Bakersfield, as Missy nestled under the warm, down comforter of her parents' roomy bed in hopes to catch up on the past two weeks' episodes of Heroes that she had Tivo'd. Little did she know that she was about to receive a text that would change her life forever! (I'm trying to make this sound more epic & exciting than it really was, but seeing the word "text" in this past sentence brings the epicnosity down about 12 notches...I curse the emotionless cesspool of disconnection that belongs to our current generation...anywho...) You see, Missy had reluctantly applied for the recent opening in Supervisor position at her workplace (reluctantly because she really had no desire to work there any longer & figured a promotion may be the push she needed to keep the motivation going), and was one of only two workers who had applied. The other applicant was a fine young man, but had nearly a year's worth of experience less than Missy and was, admittedly, not as hard of a worker as Missy.
Unbeknownst to Missy, that day that she decided to snuggle down and get her Heroes on, would be the day of reckoning in the reality show finale that was THE SUPERVISOR.
Rather than receiving a rose & proposal, a call to the boardroom, or any type of notification from her management, Missy, who, at the time, was only getting scheduled one day a week at work, received a text message from a coworker/friend informing her that the other gentlemen had gotten the promotion.
This did not fly well with Missy, for although she felt no personal resentment towards the young man who was promoted over her, she did feel a large amount of disappointment in the choices made by her Manager. For you see, Missy had spent nearly a year and a half working her derriere off for this company, earning Employee of the Month, receiving written and verbal accolades from happy customers about her specific services, & proving time and again, through the countless times she had been left in charge or assigned supervisor shifts, that she was capable of the responsibilities of Supervisor; however, this did not seem to be enough for her new GM who based his decision on a mere glance at her less than ideal availability for scheduling during her school terms.
As these thoughts and complaints that had spent the last 17 months festering within the vaults of Missy's subconscious came spilling out like crashing waves of water from a burst dam, she was suddenly met with a sense of ease and a brilliant idea: she would finally quit her job.
It all seemed so simple. This was the answer to her recent & constant questioning in prayer of whether or not she should leave this company. As Allison Janney once eloquently stated, "Somebody else is going to find a precious blessing from Jesus in this garbage dump of a situation." Turns out, ironically enough, that Missy would in fact be the one to receive the blessing in this situation, as she would finally have her prayers answered and be able to leave the hellish conditions of the workplace to which she had so long been committed.
To say that the day she put in her two weeks notice at work was a happy one for Missy would be a gross understatement. She was ECSTATIC! Gene Kelly, "Singin' in the Rain"-status ecstatic! Never had she been so overcome with the desire to leap upon the nearest park car and sing from her heart the wise words of Monsieur's Darryl Hall & John Oates, "YOU MAKE MY DREAMS COME TRUE!"
Thus ends the tale of Missy's long and laborious plight through the minimum wage jungle of her previous job. Although the ending may seem bittersweet, as she continues to walk the long, hard streets of unemployment, to Missy, all has turned out for the better. She found the freedom and free time granted to her from her Edwardian Exodus was absolutely worth it, and was even able to find a meager means of money making by helping her parents out around the house and securing a position as Properties Mistress for CSUB's Theatre Department. So, as Stephen Schwartz so eloquently mused, "Yes! It's all for the best!"

Alright, that's the end of my first chapter of catch-up. The sleep aids are starting to kick in, so I'll get back to y'all after a bout of, what I hope will be, golden slumbers. Guten tacht (tag/nacht, since I'm sleeping in the daytime. Clever, I know.) all!

mjl.

epiphany

So last night, as I restlessly lay in bed, going through the motions of tossing, turning, and readjusting (and all to no avail, I might add), it hit me. I am unhappy with my life...or rather, I was.
This conclusion came to me after I realized that life has been pretty great lately. I've been uncharacteristically productive: getting a lot of things read, written, and reorganized that I've been meaning to do for a long time, and, for once, I realized, there was really nothing that I was worrying about or stressing out over. So why was I unhappy?
Simple.
There was something missing.
An inexplicable hollow of nothingness, the elusive nature of which was eating away at my happiness...for how can one feel wholly content & complete without first feeling completely whole?
It may sound strange, but it took a bout of happiness & good fortune to make me realize what I'd been missing in life: my relationship with God had been growing increasingly distant & impersonal, and I was seriously beginning to feel its effects. To describe the utter peace and joy that I feel when I do keep a healthy, close relationship with my Heavenly Father is very difficult, and near impossible if I'm doing so to one without faith, but I'll try.
I don't want to compare it to a sense of complacency or apathy, because it's not like it makes me uncaring or emotionless, but when I feel close to God, I find myself genuinely happy &, honestly, not caring or stressing as much, even on seemingly big problems. It truly makes me feel like I can handle any problem in life because I know God's got my back, and there's nothing He can't handle. Like, giving my problems to God grants me a near physical relief as that weight is lifted, and, honestly, it makes me genuinely happy. Not the facade of happiness that I'm so used to plastering on for others & myself, but true, utter blissfulness. I suppose it's hard to understand unless you've experienced it.
Anywho...I just felt like sharing my little revelation of the night. If nothing else, hopefully this will serve as a reminder for me for when I undoubtedly slip up in my relationship with Him in the future.

May the peace of our Lord (which surpasses all understanding) be with you always!

*obligatory Lutheran response*: And also with you! (;

Amen & Amen.

mjl.


"Does the world seem gray with empty longing
Wearing every shade of cynical
And do you ever feel that
There is something missing?

There's a God-shaped hole in all of us
And the restless soul is searching
There's a God-shaped hole in all of us
And it's a void only he can fill."
-Plumb, "God Shaped Hole"

obamanation

So, as I happily sat down to my dinner of a mini pepperoni pizza and Sobe at Me 'N Eds this evening on break, I was confronted with the wonderful surprise of all the programs on the restaurant's televisions being turned to the press conference attempting to explain this extremely vague and elusive health plan that we've been hearing so much about lately (or rather, we've been hearing a lot of speculation about since no one really had any specific details or knowledge on this thousand page bill cooked up by Congress).

Barack began by regurgitating his pre-written speech off of his security-blanket teleprompter (surprise surprise!), and followed with a Q&A with the ever-bipartisan members of the press.

You know, it's a funny feeling, listening to a grown adult speak, all the time knowing that what they're saying is utter nonsense.

For instance, as Obama spoke about how this insanely expensive prospective health plan of his was going to be funded, he explained that 2/3 of it would be taken from government funds that have been otherwise allocated to "frivolous" (as deemed by the Obama regime) purposes. (Although I'm extremely skeptical of this, I haven't studied up on it enough to argue the validity of this statement and will leave it at that); however, as he began to disclose how the remaining third would be paid for, I couldn't believe my ears.

I know that growing up as children, our stories often depict the wealthy as the greedy villains who won't give anything to anybody (i.e. "A Christmas Carol", "Robin Hood", etc), so perhaps that's why Obama has decided to tax the crap out of "wealthy Americans" while at the same time lessening any tax breaks they did have. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Robin Hood as much as the next person, but this is not some cartoon or fairytale! You cannot force people to give up over half of their paychecks to a cause just because you deem it worthy. It's madness! These people have worked hard to achieve wealth and success only to have it be taken away by the government?!

Now, I can completely understand any one's argument who may say that not all of these people worked hard and may have schmoozed their way to the top by means of dishonesty or nepitism, but I'd venture a guess that the number of "wealthy Americans" that earned their money through dishonest outlets is around the same as, if not less than, the people who have/will continue to manipulate our health care system (and the one Obama is proposing) by doing absolutely no work but still being able to receive health care that I pay for in taxes.

Being wealthy is not a crime, but as a middle class American that Obama claims to be fighting so vehemently for, I feel disparaged, not only from ever becoming wealthy, but from furthering myself in life and achieving any type of financial success. What's the point if the only reward for my hard work is going to be a 53% income tax? I'm pissed enough as it is that the money from so many of the countless hours I spend working hard at a job for which I am payed far too little goes to the fiscally-responsible government who may spend it however their little hearts desire. I can't even imagine how infuriating it would be to have someone tell me that because I earn more money than someone else, the cash made from OVER HALF the time I spent at work was not going to me but to a cause they deemed worthy simply because they said so.

This is socialism, plain and simple.

This is 1984/Brave New World/Animal Farm crap that has no business leaving the fiction shelves but for some reason has made its way into the White House via one man, and his kool-aid drinking followers, who plan on milking this position of power by telling their subjects what doctors they have to see, what kind of health care they will be forced to receive, how much they should be spending on government-deemed worthy causes, and how much of their own money they're actually going to be allowed to keep.

Honestly, I'm really sick of all this crap. It was a "cute, rookie mistake" when a bunch of Obama's staff, including the secretary of the TREASUREY, turned out to be tax cheats (though that does explain their non-chalant attitude when it comes to raising taxes on people who make as much as they do). It was irritating, though not surprising, when his "stimulus" package turned out to be nothing more than an epic fail filled with a healthy dose of pork and special intrest spending for democrat causes. But Obama's recent attmepts to transform our capitalist, system of free enterprise into one of socialist, government control has now become a bad joke that I don't find remotely funny.

The health care system in America may be completely screwed up at times, but nationalizing health care is not the answer! Yeah, it's gonna suck trying to figure out a REAL plan to get us out of this debt we're in, which is why the President of the United States should be someone strong enough to bring up his own ideas and work relentlessly at trying to figure out the best possible way to fix things. What we do not need is some pansy-ass, community organizer, who you all knew, going into this, has NO REAL POLITICAL EXPERIENCE, but who will obediently follow his party's wishes.

Speaking of sticking to the party...I absolutely love how Obama blamed our current economic system on Bush every chance he got. ("This inherited debt" "I inherited this debt" "this debt was inherited") I know the whole "Let's Blame Bush for Every Problem in the Universe" is kind of popular within the Democratic party, but seriously? You cannot honestly say that this entire debt is Bush's fault when anyone with a brain could tell you that economic recessions are a part of life and take years to accumulate. Plus, doing things like creating massively expensive, non-job-stimulating, "stimulus" packages hasn't exactly help the debt like it was supposed to either.

So, speaking as a Republican who, according to Obama, is really only fighting this proposed plan because of a want for more political power, I must say that I am not impressed, amused, or in any way supportive of Barack Hussein Obama's projected plans to "help our country".



mjl.

pintar

mjl.

veinte

I'm going to be 20 in 9 days, and I'm terrified!

20 is such a scary age; it officially finishes off my years as a teenager. Where did they go? It seems like only yesterday I was an awkward teenager geeking out over various randomness and watching the Disney Channel with Megan...oh, wait...

So yeah, I'm a little scared of becoming a fifth of a century old, but the good news is, I saved a bunch of money on my car insurance.

...

That's the sleep deprivation talking, I'm pretty sure. Anywho, I'm going to bed now. G'night all!

mjl.

Hola, Bonjour, Guten Tag, and Hello.

While twittering around my several social networking spaces/books/sites/etc, I began to recall one poorly neglected blog and realized I haven't really updated this thing in forever. So I figured, "there's no better time than the present", right?

Actually, I don't know if I really agree with that phrase. I can, in fact, think of hundreds of different times in the past, and some times that are to come in the future, that kick the present's glutes, but that is neither here nor there. (Another idiom I don't really understand).

So anyways, here's a brief update of Missy Fun Facts:

I wrote a play.
- Yay! I honestly thought, as we were getting closer to the end of the quarter, that I wouldn't be able to finish it in time, but, by the grace of God, I did, and my class seemed to really enjoy it. (: It's a (I guess you could call it) political comedy of sorts written in one act, and I've submitted it to be considered for our Festival of New Voices next year (which, by the way, I'm going to have to direct for...ugh).

I've been working at Edwards for over a year now.
- No comment other than I reeeeeally need a new job. haha

I've started painting...and I really love it! (:
- I painted an old pair of slip-on sneakers yesterday and I really liked the way they turned out, so I've decided I'm going to go with this new medium of artistic expression and try painting some stuff. (:






I'm the new President of California State University Bakersfield's Association of Student Theatrical Artists.
- That one's pretty self-explanatory, haha.

So, that's kind of all I can think of right now because I'm pretty tired and sleep-deprived. More to come later, lovers.

mjl.

surreal

It doesn't quite capture the true feeling of turning on the news in the morning and hearing about things that are happening from within our government that should only be found on the ficton shelf between Brave New World and 1984.

If health care is nationalized, I'm moving to New Zealand.

End of story.

Socialism is wrong.
Fight the power.
Amen.

mjl.

what's in a name?

Palet. Yeshua. Gaol. Magen. Jehova-M'Kaddesh. Jehova-Tsidkenu. Abhir. El Shaddai. Adonai. Elohim. Yaweh. Eyaluth. El-Olam. The Son of Righteousness. Prince of Peace. Everlasting Father. The Chief Apostle. The Author & Finisher of our faith. The Lamb of God. The Deliverer. The Ancient of Days. The Chief Cornerstone. Immanuel. The First Born. The Rock. The Vine. The Master. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The Comforter & Counselor. The First and the Last. The Beginning and The End.

My Father.




mjl.

that's cool.

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

how great is God's love for us that he was willing to go through torture and death so that we, a race of sinful, greedy human beings who constantly turn on Him, may escape the pains of Hell and live with Him in eternal paradise?

"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son, the propitiation for our sins."

amen.

mjl.