Handcuffed by skepticism

Skepticism is a dreamer’s worst enemy. It lies awake with you at night, reminding you that you’re just one man. It tells you to “be real, get real, you can’t possibly acheive that. Resize your dreams to fit in this smaller box. You can’t possibly be expected to change the world and who are you to think that you can?”

That’s a great question actually. Who am I to tell people to do things differently than they have? What are my qualifications? Am I some expert whose life is all together and complete, lacking nothing? If some dude like me walked into your living room and asked you to stand for some cause, why should you listen?

You should listen because that’s the point of life. I believe that our purpose on this globe is to leave it better than we found it and not worse. I firmly believe that world hunger is curable and that poverty can take huge casualties with the right people in place. I strongly believe that is what God wants from us. I don’t forsee this world ever being devoid of problems, it’s not heaven. However, we can keep moving forward and not backwards.

That has always been the point of this blog and two years later, I’m still here. Still recruiting, still gently reminding myself and others to be the best they can be. We’ve lost sight of all the good around us. Skepticism continues to rear its ugly head as we believe that everyone has an angle and is out to get us. Nothing can be further from the truth. Good isn’t losing the battle to evil. Take a second look and join in the fight. We shall overcome.

Uncomfortable

I wrote this right before I went to bed one night….

I am not comfortable, I have a lot on my mind. My pillow is soft and my bed large. My stomach has more than enough food in it and I am not wanting. This is precisely why I am uncomfortable. Tonight, there is a child who is going to bed hungry. There is a woman who will lie on her back giving up her dreams in exchange for the lies and promises of love. She was once a girl who grew up with a father who never appreciated or related to her so tonight she will seek that attention in empty places.

Tonight, a husband has left his family to seek juicy, forbidden fruit elsewhere. A young wife lays awake, alone, tears staining her pillow wondering what she did to deserve her fate. I want to speak to her of faith and redemption, of sacrifice and love, to swear that she is not alone. However, I cannot do all of this tonight.

All I have to offer on their behalf is my discomfort and my prayer. Thank you Lord that you never sleep and are taking care of the helpless. So tonight before I close my eyes, please comfort the uncomfortable. I leave them in your hands until tomorrow.

Why I write

I write because my pen was touched by the hand of God,
destined to get high off my ink until I touch the sky.

I write because I am going to change the world or die trying,
embracing both fates because I have two hands that hold two pens, mightier than two swords.

I write because the struggle is a struggle and is only beautiful when it is a struggle.

I write because I want you to share, and above all to care, and after that to dare,
to be more than ordinary.

I write because my sisters are hungry and my brothers are angry and it is time to give them a voice.
I write for the little boys with no fathers, the silent screams muffled by pillows in the middle of the night.
I was listening.

I write to point to Him as the answer, the one that went before me so many years ago.

I write to break the cycle, and identify myself as a disciple, of all that is good and right.

I write because I am a gift and when I stop giving I get bigger and it becomes all about me.

And so, I write, for you.