Most of my ideas kind of branched off from the video, so watch it first.
Today was normal, it was fun. I had lots of fun with my friends. We just chilled. We enjoyed each others presence. We jokingly hated on each other while playing some Resident Evil 5 (weird game by the way).
At least, it felt normal.
After I got home and was done for the day, I did my usual facebooking for something interesting or something funny posted. I found that interesting post through a video.
That video really hit me. Hard. I know every day I sin, and I know every day I say, "I'm sorry God, I'll try to not do that again" and every day I repeat the process. So much in fact, that it has become a habit.
I think we, as Christians, have that mentality that we have time to repent, we have time to sin a little more, we have time to say we're sorry. But for every sin acted or thought out, it is an act of rebellion to God and his kingdom, and a slap to Jesus.
He died on the cross, thorns on his head, blood spewing out of his limbs, swords through his body, and this is how we treat him? For every sin, those throrns are pushed in harder, the blood becomes thicker, the swords rip through skin and flesh more. But for what kind of sin? Is there a difference in sin?
I remember from a sermon that a sin is a sin. It has no value between levels of sin. Sin is sin. All sin is equal. When I heard this, I was intrigued, so I went up and asked a question to him after the sermon:"If sin is all equal, is murdering somebody and lying to your parents the same sin?" And he answered, yes.
So if what he said is true, simply using "oh my God" or "g damn it" pushes those thorns a little bit deeper into His head.
I think the video can speak for itself.
To my journal,
Phil
Monday, November 23, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Small Things in Life
Last Friday, I went to church and met up with some teachers of mine. We talked about what we are thankful for. It occured to me that I'm thankful for having a family. I'm thankful for having supportive parents and relatives that help me through life. Who knew that living alone for a week would show such extreme results?
Like I told the teachers, I missed having the little things in life that my parents fulfilled, like making PB and J for me every morning at 6 AM and waking me up so I won't be late to school. The simple things like being greeted whenever I came home, or smelling good food cooking as I wake up from a nap. Even having the house clean and tidy. The simple things in life are not noticeable, until they are gone, and boy were they gone.
I felt something was missing ever since my parents left. Although the teachers at church and friends gave me company, there's nothing really like the company of your parents. It's just a different kind of connection. When they left, they took that part away from me, they disconnected from me, and I felt hollow.
I've been through some hard times, but this past week was really hard for me, not because I had to feed myself and drive myself, but because there was nobody there to fall back on, nobody there to be my net, nobody there to catch me when I stumble.
I don't think I ever valued my parents as much as I did until this past week (kind of ironic because they aren't even here). I don't think we, as kids, take enough time to think of all work it takes to keep us functioning like kids.
It's the little things that help kids function. It's also the little things that we, as kids, can't see until they aren't fulfilled. Like my room being magically cleaned, or the sink constantly clear of dirty dishes, or even walking into the clean dog house. I think we neglect the luxuries we are given. The luxuries given by our parents through their energy and effort.
My parents do all that for me, but what do I do for them? How do I show my love? Leaving clothes all around the house, spilling crumbs everywhere, complaining that I have to take out the trash. Nothing I do shows my gratitude towards them. Absolutely nothing.
I realized that I've been treating my parents like crap. Like they were made to serve me as a prince. This past week, I found out how good I had it. But that's why it hurts. It hurts to know that my parents put up with my demanding self and in turn, give love back. It hurts to know they work in my arrogance. It hurts to know that they know I'm treating them badly, and they accept it.
How much love do they have for me to put up with me?
I think it's time for me to show my gratitude and love towards my parents. I'm glad they went on this trip. I'm glad to have realized how stressful it has to be to put up with me because I've had to put up with myself and my trash, my clothes, and my attitude.
It's time for them to get some rest. It's time for them to be able to live more luxuriously, to live like they deserve to live.
Now they can come home to be greeted with dinner, they can come home to a mysteriously clean house, and they can sleep in on Saturdays while I work the vacuum.
To my journal,
Phil
Like I told the teachers, I missed having the little things in life that my parents fulfilled, like making PB and J for me every morning at 6 AM and waking me up so I won't be late to school. The simple things like being greeted whenever I came home, or smelling good food cooking as I wake up from a nap. Even having the house clean and tidy. The simple things in life are not noticeable, until they are gone, and boy were they gone.
I felt something was missing ever since my parents left. Although the teachers at church and friends gave me company, there's nothing really like the company of your parents. It's just a different kind of connection. When they left, they took that part away from me, they disconnected from me, and I felt hollow.
I've been through some hard times, but this past week was really hard for me, not because I had to feed myself and drive myself, but because there was nobody there to fall back on, nobody there to be my net, nobody there to catch me when I stumble.
I don't think I ever valued my parents as much as I did until this past week (kind of ironic because they aren't even here). I don't think we, as kids, take enough time to think of all work it takes to keep us functioning like kids.
It's the little things that help kids function. It's also the little things that we, as kids, can't see until they aren't fulfilled. Like my room being magically cleaned, or the sink constantly clear of dirty dishes, or even walking into the clean dog house. I think we neglect the luxuries we are given. The luxuries given by our parents through their energy and effort.
My parents do all that for me, but what do I do for them? How do I show my love? Leaving clothes all around the house, spilling crumbs everywhere, complaining that I have to take out the trash. Nothing I do shows my gratitude towards them. Absolutely nothing.
I realized that I've been treating my parents like crap. Like they were made to serve me as a prince. This past week, I found out how good I had it. But that's why it hurts. It hurts to know that my parents put up with my demanding self and in turn, give love back. It hurts to know they work in my arrogance. It hurts to know that they know I'm treating them badly, and they accept it.
How much love do they have for me to put up with me?
I think it's time for me to show my gratitude and love towards my parents. I'm glad they went on this trip. I'm glad to have realized how stressful it has to be to put up with me because I've had to put up with myself and my trash, my clothes, and my attitude.
It's time for them to get some rest. It's time for them to be able to live more luxuriously, to live like they deserve to live.
Now they can come home to be greeted with dinner, they can come home to a mysteriously clean house, and they can sleep in on Saturdays while I work the vacuum.
To my journal,
Phil
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Calling Out
It felt like yesterday when I wrote my last blog. I guess it's because life is normal, everything is the same, and all you have to do to get through the day is to follow the motions. But today was different. Something changed. A big something. My parents left me in charge of the house for a week.
Yes, they went on a trip and I'm home alone. I bet you're thinking, "So what? I stay home alone all the time." But have you slept alone, eaten alone, gone to school alone, and come back to an empty house for a week?
It's only my first day alone. They left this morning. I dropped them off at the airport, saw them walk into the terminal, and I was alone.
At first, when I thought of being alone, I thought of FREEDOM!! and no parents nagging me to do my homework or no parents making me eat dinner with them, or having to do a chore for my mom and dad.
But when the time actually came, reality sunk in.
I guess there was always a feeling of protection towards my parents and how they were close to me and would be my "knights in shining armor" because without them, I found out that I'm lost.
Lost in a world bigger than homework, bigger than my cello, bigger than my house. I had to function like an adult, making sure I ate properly, feeding my dogs, taking out the trash, and driving constantly to and fro without a guardian. I feel small. Smaller than small, tiny.
When I was with my parents, there was laughter, conversation, and a happy vibe around the house. Well, now the house is silent. Nothing is heard but the clicks of the keyboard throughout the house.
To be honest, it kind of scares me. I jump at the sound of car doors being shut by my neighbors even when I know it's them. My senses are all heightened and I can feel everything going around me, the air conditioner blowing, the keyboard with the stickers falling off, the quiet hum of the computer running.
At that point, I began to think about how God was always there, and was always protecting me. How he is always present in our lives, and all we have to do is reach out and grasp him.
The troubling thought is, we don't always go to grab him. We don't go to reach out and call for his presence. We only want him when there's something troubling going on.
But why not reach out even when there isn't something troubling? What keeps us from doing that?
As I thought about that for a while, I came to a conclusion. A quite startling one in fact.
We treat God like crap.
We call upon him when WE need something and when we don't we throw him aside like a broken toy. We trash him and put him in the junk pile, until we need it again, and so we pull him out and reuse him. Then, after all is said and done, God goes back to the trash.
God is not something disposable. He is everlasting. He supports us and helps us in the hard moments, and we praise him for that. But what we have to learn is that we can and must call out to him even in the great moments of life. We have to learn to be able to call Him any time, any place, and constantly.
Without that longing for God through the good times, the relationship between us and Him dwindles, until it finally disappears. Sure, our connection in tough times is strong, but if our connection through the good times is nonexistent, we distance ourselves from God. There has to be a constant connection between us and God for it to remain strong.
I know that I'm struggling with these very concepts. Even just last week, my days were fine, nothing bad happened, and there was no connection between me and God. Well, after the feelings of fear of being alone, I called out to Him. I called out to Him in my time of need. I NEEDED him. When I didn't need him, I practically forgot about Him.
I know now that I have to be constantly reaching out throughout the good and the bad times, stressing and rejoicing constantly with God, for without the constant connection, the relationship I long for between God and me is corrupt, hollow, and brittle.
hahaha I hope this made sense.
To my journal,
Phil
Yes, they went on a trip and I'm home alone. I bet you're thinking, "So what? I stay home alone all the time." But have you slept alone, eaten alone, gone to school alone, and come back to an empty house for a week?
It's only my first day alone. They left this morning. I dropped them off at the airport, saw them walk into the terminal, and I was alone.
At first, when I thought of being alone, I thought of FREEDOM!! and no parents nagging me to do my homework or no parents making me eat dinner with them, or having to do a chore for my mom and dad.
But when the time actually came, reality sunk in.
I guess there was always a feeling of protection towards my parents and how they were close to me and would be my "knights in shining armor" because without them, I found out that I'm lost.
Lost in a world bigger than homework, bigger than my cello, bigger than my house. I had to function like an adult, making sure I ate properly, feeding my dogs, taking out the trash, and driving constantly to and fro without a guardian. I feel small. Smaller than small, tiny.
When I was with my parents, there was laughter, conversation, and a happy vibe around the house. Well, now the house is silent. Nothing is heard but the clicks of the keyboard throughout the house.
To be honest, it kind of scares me. I jump at the sound of car doors being shut by my neighbors even when I know it's them. My senses are all heightened and I can feel everything going around me, the air conditioner blowing, the keyboard with the stickers falling off, the quiet hum of the computer running.
At that point, I began to think about how God was always there, and was always protecting me. How he is always present in our lives, and all we have to do is reach out and grasp him.
The troubling thought is, we don't always go to grab him. We don't go to reach out and call for his presence. We only want him when there's something troubling going on.
But why not reach out even when there isn't something troubling? What keeps us from doing that?
As I thought about that for a while, I came to a conclusion. A quite startling one in fact.
We treat God like crap.
We call upon him when WE need something and when we don't we throw him aside like a broken toy. We trash him and put him in the junk pile, until we need it again, and so we pull him out and reuse him. Then, after all is said and done, God goes back to the trash.
God is not something disposable. He is everlasting. He supports us and helps us in the hard moments, and we praise him for that. But what we have to learn is that we can and must call out to him even in the great moments of life. We have to learn to be able to call Him any time, any place, and constantly.
Without that longing for God through the good times, the relationship between us and Him dwindles, until it finally disappears. Sure, our connection in tough times is strong, but if our connection through the good times is nonexistent, we distance ourselves from God. There has to be a constant connection between us and God for it to remain strong.
I know that I'm struggling with these very concepts. Even just last week, my days were fine, nothing bad happened, and there was no connection between me and God. Well, after the feelings of fear of being alone, I called out to Him. I called out to Him in my time of need. I NEEDED him. When I didn't need him, I practically forgot about Him.
I know now that I have to be constantly reaching out throughout the good and the bad times, stressing and rejoicing constantly with God, for without the constant connection, the relationship I long for between God and me is corrupt, hollow, and brittle.
hahaha I hope this made sense.
To my journal,
Phil
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