Revelations: Like a Child

I'd like to share something very personal and recent. I had a word come to me from seemingly nowhere, be it song lyric or a memory or literally some spirit whispering it to me. I don't rule out the latter in the least after hearing some of the testimonies I've heard from strong, reputable men and women.

The word was "Believe like a child believes." I instantly started to question it, due in part to the skeptical nature I've developed about accepting things at first presentation. After all, the New Testament does repeatedly warn against accepting new flashy ideologies and becoming captivated with worldly philosophy, so I asked the voice what exactly it meant. The answer brought me to tears when it said "When you were a child, you trusted your parents without question. You loved their words and clung to them."

I was driving at the time, but the moment I got home I did a quick search to find exact citations for what I heard, and although the precise words did not appear, two distinct stories appeared in Matthew, Mark and Luke: one about who is greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven, and two about the children being brought to Jesus to be blessed.

Wanting to understand it better, I opened this commentary written by a renown preacher and scholar from the late 1600's/early 1700's, Matthew Henry. Later in this same week, I got together with a small group in which the topic for discussion was "receiving words/revelations from God," or more specifically why we might not be hearing a new word. After getting a chance to talk about what had happened with me, I was reminded of what I was once like, so enthralled in the pursuit of God's word that people around me literally saw that "childlike faith" in me, yet I've still become so obsessed with the logic and the "why" of everything that to some degree I'd forgotten that simple, devoted trust between a child and parent.

We may not have all had such a childhood in which we could love so much the company of our parents, and in just such a situation it may become vitally necessary to seek out that divine healing present only in that Father of all creation. Trust in Him, just as you would want your own child to trust in you.

Musing: Communication

I have found that communication can take on many abstract models, getting to be as simple as the very clothes we wear. Our own shirts and pants are woven together by threads and fibers, sewn together by carefully established decisions made by the weaver. In the same way, every encounter we have in our lives becomes enriched in communication, and contributes a valuable thread to the tapestry that makes us who we are. These fibers mold us as we sew together our very identity from the things we learn, the things we accept and the things we reject. They affect the way we communicate in the future, which adds more threads to the ever-growing work that is our identity, creating entire outfits of identity that we may even sometimes change depending on our surrounding demographic. Ultimately, our communications and how we interpret them and respond to them will determine the kind of outfit we put on as we continue into the winding roads of life, having careers and families, adjusting our attitudes to fit appropriately or being the wild and untamed beast in the family. As the artisans of our identity, it is crucial that we become skilled in our craft and learn to identify which fibers and threads will complete the outfit we desire to wear as our identity, and which will risk tearing our identities apart.

Digital Girl: Part 1

Explosions outside of the village, that was all she could remember of the world outside. Samatha lay on her back, staring up at the dim lamp that hung from a cold, metallic cieling. She tried hard to remember something, anything from her life outside the walls. This chill, metal room was all she had seen in... her mind strained but could not tell just how many months had passed. Her mother's face, her older brother's voice, the flower garden she tended in her humble village, all the memories had slipped away. She was three years old when her home was attacked. Flames crept through her memory, so long faded she was unable to even cry for it anymore. Her right arm reached over her, touching her left shoulder, remembering at least that she used to have another arm. The fires in the village damaged her body, and when she woke up in the room afterward she found herself wrapped in bandages, her left arm completely gone. It's not all bad, I suppose, she thought to herself. He taught me to read and I get to eat every day. Her head turned toward her desk. The only splash of color in her otherwise bleak room. The stacks of books covered all kinds of subjects, from science and math, to computing technology and programming. She did not understand most of the things in the programming books, but Samantha thought nothing of it. Her isolation left her without even the slightest understanding of what a normal child would read.

Just above the desk, on the wall, a screen flickered. The screen gave her the only human interaction she had seen during her whole time in the room, and it was always the same person, Harold Black. He helped her in her lessons, and talked to her when she was lonely. As far as she knew, he was the only person in the world, and that was enough. He was kind and actually listened to her. She wearily lifted herself from her bed, her long, red hair falling into her face. Brushing her bangs aside she looked to the screen and saw her friend. "Breakfast is on its way, Sam. How are you feeling today?"

She walked to the other side of her small room, waiting calmly for her meal. There was not much variety in the food she recieved in her room, but it was enough to satisfy her. "I am just a little tired," her voice squeeked as she stretched. Her white clothes ruffled in the air blowing from the vent. Harold acknowledged and told her that she would recieve something special with her meal that day. "Why today? Is something special happening?"

"Well, Sam," he began. "You've been here two years today, and you are actually further ahead in your learning than I had expected. Since you've been doing so well, I decided that now is the time to give you your test."

She did not quite understand what he meant by "test." She had taken tests before, about specific subjects that her books had, and she really had no way to understand either. She was unaware of the vast facility that housed her, among fifty other children and over sixty adults. Harold was the only person she had ever seen since the confinement to her room, and everything he said was always worded so carfully to avoid inadvertently exposing that there was more to the world than just the two of them. "What is my test about this time?" she asked as a tray passed through a small hole at the bottom of the wall, taking it to her desk.There was an extra cup on her tray with a sweet smelling liquid in it. She smiled at the plesant aroma and took a hesitant sip from it before beginning to eat.

"This will be your computer performance test. You've had the books for quite some time, and while it has been the most difficult subject matter for you to understand..." He hesitated a moment, making sure his words were carefully chosen. Samantha had not noticed the pause, busy with her meal. "But you were always so eager to ask when you don't get something that I decided it was time to give you the real thing." She nodded quietly as she ate. Among reading and the sciences, Harold also managed to teach her simple table manners from behind the screen. "Your desk is actually a computer, but I have kept its functions turned off until now."

Harold's face disappeared from the screen, replaced by a desktop interface that Samantha recognized from pictures in her books. Finishing the last bites of her breakfast she moved the tray to the ground and drank the last of her juice. The middle of her desk lit up, and the space between her books illuminated into a keyboard with dimmer pads on either side of it. Harold explained the control to her, that the pointer would move as her hands glided over the pad, and adjusted the keyboard display so that her home keys shone in a different color. "So if this is the computer, then what is my test?" Samantha, satisfied with her meal, was eager to get to the point of this, since it was the first new thing she had gotten to do in the two years she had lived in this room.

A small window popped up in the corner of her interface, with Harold inside of it. "That is for you to decide. After all, today is like a birthday for you. You can do whatever you like with the computer. That is your test." She did not see the point of this test, but after Harold's face faded from her screen she smiled and thanked him for the gift, reached for a book on computer interfaces and began studying the computer once again, now that she had the real thing in front of her.

A birthday, she thought to herself. That means I am... five years old now. She thought to herself as she read and tried the different things in the book, quickly teaching herself how to type effectively. After a few hours of learning her new computer, her deep brown eyes began to ache a little bit. She blinked a few times and decided to take a break. Returning to the white sheets of her bed, she lay atop the fabrics and closed her eyes. Thinking more about the different kinds of things she had learned while living in this room. "Two years..." she said softly to herself. "At least it was two years with a friend."

Divine Chronicles of Shadows: Part 1

“The poor human girl,” muttered thirteen year old Dusk, perched on top of the skyscraper. His spiked, jet black hair stood on end as he looked out over the city's lights, filling the night. The night breeze sent a shiver through his body, ruffling his dark shirt and baggy pants. A scarf around his neck waved through the breeze with the loose length blown in front of him. Goosebumps ran up his bare arms, more from the thought of the lone twelve year old girl in the city streets than from the chill of the air. Dusk looked human enough and could blend in fairly easily with a normal crowd, but he preferred for the sake of his objective to remain out of site, just in case some actual human below decided to try starting a fight with the youth.

In the urban streets below, the girl he watched over walked through the back alleys, using the cover of shadows to avoid being seen by the less-than-reputable characters that prowled the scene. Crawling behind dumpsters and climbing fences was how she had learned to move after nightfall to get home. Twelve year old Aysel went so far as to carry hidden knives in her dark gloves and under her pant legs for good measure, and growing up as an orphan she had to quickly learn how to fend for herself.

Hearing some grumbling voices, Aysel swiftly crouched behind a bundle of trash cans, her black hair and clothes hiding her in the shadows. She hated being classified as a 'goth' as peers in school would mock her, but she stuck with wearing black at least for the sake of hiding when she needed to. She listened to the people's idle conversation about heading down to a nearby club and picking up some impressionable girls. What tools, she thought to herself, settling into her position. They'll be there a while, and I really need to get past them. Aysel glanced at her watch which displayed 11:30. A faint sight escaped her lips as she sat and leaned onto the dingy brick wall. As tired as she was the young girl just did not care if her short hair got dirty. She closed her eyes, silently praying to herself for the vagrants to leave from the front of the alley before drifting into a light slumber.

Dusk noticed quickly that the girl's route was cut off and that she was stranded in the alley. A pained frown crossed his face as he spread is jet black wings. They started off small, each wing stretching to about a foot long. As his leathery bat-like wings stretched, however, each wing expanded to four feet. Looking around from his high vantage point, Dusk picked out a rooftop only a block away from Aysel's location to keep a closer eye on her. Before taking his quick flight to reach the other building, his eyes darted around the streets below, making sure there were no humans watching the sky, then looking upward to the blackness of the city sky. All the stars that night were obscured by the street lights and clubs, and the new moon left the heavens completely dark. Satisfied with his stealth, the boy leaped from the skyscraper towards his destination making the short trip in a matter of minutes, keeping his senses tied to Aysel as she slept in the alley.

Compass: Part 1

 Two boys dressed in tan and green camouflage dashed across an open field with primitive bows drawn, hunting a feral fox-like beast that stood as tall as a grown man and kept its den near the city of Tropus, as was the traditional right of passage for a nomadic boy on his 13^th birthday. They spent the whole day tracking the animal and was finally on its trail as it led them towards the beach. As they caught up with it, the beast seemed to forget that it was being chased. It began digging in the sand with its back to them. One boy signaled to the other with his hand and the other began stepping lightly to his left. The first boy strafed to his right, circling to the creature's side to get its attention, and if necessary block its retreat. The first boy again gestured to his hunting partner to be ready to fire a second shot if his own should miss, then proceeded to take aim on the animal that continued to dig in the sand.

The boy hesitated, observing the creature's behavior a bit longer. His face expressed confusion as he lowered his bow. The second boy glared at the first as if to remind him, We need to kill this thing and bring it back to the elder before night! Entranced by the fox-like animal's digging, the first boy stepped slowly towards it to avoid alarming it. The second boy grew frustrated and took aim, letting his arrow fly straight into the animal's shoulder. A loud roar escaped its mouth as its eyes grew wide and fixed onto its attacker. Forgetting its unusual digging, it turned and began to charge him as he rushed to ready a second arrow. Before the beast could realize what was happening, both boys had already sent arrows into it, one into the skull the other into the lower spine. The boy who was being charged at dove out of the way without a second thought as their prey fell and slid onto the ground, shaking as its wounds bled its life from its body.

As the second boy stood up and dusted himself off, he glared at the other who was now looking into the hole. “You want to tell me what that was all about, Abel?”

“Cain, just come look at this. The prey forgot all about us when it got here.” Abel knelt down and reached into the hole, finding a wooden lock-box lined with rusted iron plates. “I think we need to take this to the elder. Whatever is in here had that animal acting weird.”

Cain sighed. “Fine, I don't really care. Just get over here and help me with this.” He lifted one foreleg over his shoulder and waited for his friend to take hold of the other. “We need to hurry back to the camp before the sun sets or we'll fail the right of passage.”

As the boys hauled their catch across the wilderness, the sun hung above the horizon. Fortunately for them, the time in the area they made their catch was crawling slowly along, giving them ample time to trek the five miles back to camp. Abel's eyes kept shifting back towards the sea. Colors painted the sky in vibrant, orange hues. As they approached their tribe's camp, Cain noticed Abel's distant look. “Hey, looks like we made it back in time.”

“Hmm...” was Abel's only response.

“I wonder what sis is making for dinner.” Cain tried breaking the silence, yet the box remained on his mind. He was certain he had seen the markings on it somewhere before but could not recall exactly where, especially since many of the markings were faded by the rust.

While still a hundred feet away from the entrance to their camp, one of the lookouts saw them approaching and sounded the bell to alert the tribe. Many children came rushing up to greet them and congratulate their success, as parents and guards soon followed to part the crowd so that the boys could reach the center of the camp. Gradually, they made their way into the border and along the path until they stood in the middle of the whole camp, surrounded by their peers and elders. Tired from their ordeal, the boys hoisted the dead beast from their shoulders and dropped it onto the ground. Abel fell to his knees as Cain leaned on the corpse, facing the decorated tent, waiting for their elder. A hush fell over the crowd as the tent opened. From the shadows of the drapes came a short old man, slowly stepping towards the boys, propping himself on his iron cane. His white beard moved in the wind, his eyes reflecting the setting sun in their gray glaze.

“I see you boys had a bit of difficulty,” he said in a deep, raspy voice, noting their apparent weariness. The elder reached out a hand and rested it on the beast's head above the arrow that protruded from its skull. “But it is clear that you were successful. The right of passage does not usually involve such a large animal, but I knew I saw potential in the two of you. Surely, you two carry a gifted understanding of synergy that you may not yet be aware of.”

Cain was the first to speak up. “Thank you, elder. I only wish that this hunt brings honor to the tribe.”

“Of course,” he replied. “After all, the elders of Tropus city were telling us that this animal had been causing them some problems lately.” A moment passed before the elder turned to Abel. “Something on your mind, son?”

It did not take long to realize that he had lost himself in thought. “Actually, elder,” Abel began, “something strange happened when we caught up with our prey.” Taking out the lock-box, Abel handed it over to the elder. “It started digging in the sand and uncovered this. I could not quite make out what kind of lock it had, and the markings seem somehow familiar, so I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about it.”

The elder took the box and stared into Abel's eyes. “I see. So your hunt brought us a treasure, as well as some provisions. I must say, you two, I am very pleased with your efforts.” Turning back towards his tent with a smile, he continued, “Cain, keep honing your skills as a hunter. Now that you're a man, we may need your skill on future hunts. Abel, I will want to see you tomorrow. After a good night's sleep, meet me here. I should have some answers for you by then. For now, enjoy the spoils of your labor with the rest of the tribe.” With that, the elder returned to his tent.

The tribes-people let out cheer after cheer, congratulating the new men on their success. The men took hold of the beast to prepare it for a celebration meal while the girls of the tribe rushed to the boys' sides to ask them all manner of questions about their hunt. Cain stood up in the middle of the group, telling the tale of their chase with wide hand gestures, exaggerating some of the details for the sake of impressing the admirers.

Abel, on the other hand, slipped out of the crowd to sit on top of one of the lookout towers, watching the sunset from the comfort of his home. He enjoyed the spontaneous festivals of his tribe, but something about the ocean seemed to have an air of mystery about it. He spent much of his free time studying his people's history, and knew much of the world's geography, including the fact that the sea composed the center of their world. While thinking about just what lie at the unknown reaches of the ocean, a greeting rang up from the ground below Abel, snapping him back into reality. He recognized the voice immediately as Cain's sixteen-year-old sister, Beth.

Compass: Prologue

Welcome to a world ruled by the flow of time. People's bodies Seemed to age according to the day-by-day calendar established by their ancestors, yet the passage of time in each day depended on the seemingly mystical stream that time created in the world. For centuries, the land was filled with two ruling clans: one of nomads who traveled from place to place, always seeking where time flowed the slowest to extend their lifespans and experience as much as possible, the other of settlers who laid claim to their land, believing their homes to be the ultimate expression of their lives, rather than their experiences. Over the generations, these clans lived in peace among each other. The nomads would pass through the lands of the settlers, trading for supplies and bewildering the civilized people with the tales of their journeys. Some of the settlers became nomads, and some of the nomads joined the settlers, for whatever reasons they had.

The flow of time was never consistent in any given place. One calendar day, time could inch along, each hour dragging on into a week's worth of experiences. The next calendar day could last mere seconds. The settlers did not mind the risk. After all, some days would be shorter and some longer. The nomads on the other hand used lookouts and scouts to survey the lands, recording the patterns of time's quickening and slowing in different regions. After several generations, this became even easier with technology developed by the settlers to record tremendous amounts of data within small devices.

Within the nomadic clan, several tribes emerged as this technology spread and began to become a vast network across the world. Each tribe was charged with mapping out the streams of time in different areas, at which point in history they began to reach the edges of their world. At which time they had realized that the Great Sea, towards which every individual time stream seemed to flow. The civilized settlers began to prepare an expedition to the center of their world to find what was in the middle of the sea. The nomads on the other hand began to wonder what the result of the clashing streams would mean. As the streams met, would time itself come to a halt, or would time flow so quickly that a man would age and die within a matter of minutes? Most of the regional tribes were too scared to find out what the answer was. These tribes severed their connections with the civilizations.

One tribe, however, believed that if a settlement was established at the center of their world, that with further technological development, they could learn to control the flow of time in the whole world, or possibly even cease the flow altogether and achieve immortality. The entire tribe, known collectively as Chrouxias, gathered the settlers brave enough to set out to sea in search of this truth. The generation died off, and the expedition was never heard from again. Five centuries later, the people of the world seemed to forget they ever set off to discover what lied at that nexus of streams.

Living Reflections: Part 1

It was an odd meeting when I first came across this person. She greeted me warmly in a college class. Seeing her brought back all kinds of memories from my own attire and demeanor from my less mature days in high school. Lofiel was her name. It was eerie, like seeing my own past self. Being a couple years older didn't seem to have any position here, as this mirror of a girl gave me a look into my life from years prior. She had the same obsessions I carried with me then, apparent through her anime-themed shirt and backpack, and the pile of manga she carried with her. She even had the same attitude towards authority as I could quickly tell from her tone towards the professor. Instantly the thought crept into my mind: there's no way I would ever want to have anything to do with this girl, she is beyond annoying. Yet something nagged at the back of my mind, and I realized that if she really was an image of my past self, she was just as lonely and emotionally desolate as I once was. I introduced myself, Shein, and against everything I wanted, I had invited her to meet some friends of mine, one of whom was someone who had themselves felt the same way about me that I felt about Lofiel right now.

She accepted the offer and began meeting up with us for our weekly get-together. Here, we talked a little about Jesus Christ and the impact that He and His followers have had, as well as very personal things that have happened in our lives because of it. I had been going for several months, but only recently started to take any of it seriously. However, even with that beginning to stir in my life, I was still torn between the life they described and the life I wanted, having a boyfriend and just having a good time. Lofiel seemed to have the same exact attitude that I had at first about the group, that they just talked some boring stuff but continued to come with us because she had nothing better to do.

The months passed by. I finished the class, and Lofiel dropped it. The boy I was seeing decided to go with a different girl, and somehow I wasn't really phased by it, like I could see it coming. In previous relationships, the breakup was either wrecking or just plain bitter. This time, however, it seemed to open a door instead of close it. It gave me the chance to see what I was doing from a third person view. I finally started to take on an honest search to find out what truth was and how it affected every choice I made and every day I lived. I realized at that point why I saw this new girl the way I did, and why my dear friend ever wanted to invite me to know her friends, despite having outright hated me in the past.

But that is enough about me. This story is about Lofiel. If you really want to get to know more about me, simply read on about this dear friend of mine and you will know exactly what my life had led to. Everything that she is going through is the same exact story that I had lived, and somehow from that first day we met and in the following months I began to see by looking into that living mirror exactly how my choices had affected not only myself but everyone who tried to help. In a way, that pain I placed on them has become my burden, because they tried so desperately to redirect me to a better path, and in my arrogance I pushed them aside. Yet now, I have to wonder if the pain I feel for this dear girl, who unknowingly hungers for the same truth that I've spent recent years pursuing, is the same pain they felt for me, or if it is even greater, knowing that all this time I'm seeing her descend into her own madness and conceit, that it stands as a reminder of the person that I once was.