The Ex Gay Story in the Music Pop World

http://www.narth.com/docs/popmusic.html

No one can tell another person who they are at their core.

Yet, every day we accept sticky labels pinned on us by mankind.

We grow up being moulded by society, by families, by friends, by lack of love. The world and our emotions control us, and makes us do strange things. Not many people wonder who they really are. They think they already know. They do not see they are puppets. That no one is living their own life.

I love the above story. It is Giuseppe Povia's story. (Luca) If he is trying to influence people, than he is doing nothing more than everyone else out there. And shouldn't he be free to sing his story. Why do people want to shut him up. Could it be the truth is painful to those who want to keep us trapped? Could it be his story of freedom offends.

What a terrible death sentance mankind imposes on another when it tell them there is no other way of being. Where people claim to fight for their right of choice, real choice is denied to some, who also have another side to a story.

http://www.wnd.com/index.php?pageId=42379

Can I Live

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AqPRcF7ZC0

Silent Night

Driving through the wet and crowded streets of Birmingham recently, I realized how stillness amidt chaos, both outwardly, and most especially inwardly, was so vitally important. The importance of being objective to what we see outside ourseleves, and inside ourselves. For nothing is real.

From my area of relative calm, being thrust into the madness of city life, was quite a sudden transition. It was a world I had not visited for a long time. Country lanes had became streets, streets became inhabited roads, roads became motorways. And as we drove into the city, energy and motion threw itself about. As cars edged themselves for prime position, honking horns, and cutting people up; people ran across roads, ran for buses, ran for taxis. Pushing and pulling. All with somewhere to go, but no where to go.

The concert I had been invited to, was something and somewhere I would not normally visit, but I went. And so, sitting in a queue of traffic, I looked over at a blind girl silently making her way through the crowds. She seemed to be walking against an army who were descending on her from the opposite direction. How ironic that the singer we were about to see was also blind. I wondered about their worlds. Were they the same or were they different.

The city was alive with buzz and excitement, and as we walked through the city square we looked up at the lights in the trees. They created a blue soft glow over the fountains, removing the harshness of the concrete. Despite its beauty, I noticed that inside the buildings all around were people working. They reminded me of worker bees in a honeycomb, all in their own particular section, all doing their own small task. Another world.

The concert arena was large and tall. Rows upon rows of red seats. We were like little sardines all squashed in a tin. What would have once caused panic inside, calmness remained. There was a warmth otuside, but it sort of stayed there.

And so, for a few short hours in total silence I listened. Observing not to be drawn into this other world. For this world of music was very beautiful, it would have been easy to have been carried away by that beauty, fancying myself as part of the beauty created. There were touching moments of grace, and of humility, when this man, standing absolutely still, with his arms at his side, smiled as though it had suddenly found a place his audience could not go. Something I noticed about him was he did not seem to gesture or move at how music could have led him, unlike other people who sing. He stood there, quite vulnerable, yet very solid, and it seemed like something else spoke. Was it my imagination, or did he strive inwardly as well, for the same world I have glanced upon. I think so.

I wondered about his blindness. He could not drive a car, he could not see the beauty of nature. It could be frightening. Did his joy come from the music, or did his music and voice originate from a place of stillness inside.

His singing of silent night had a simple quality about it. I looked at the faces of people, and some had tears. Was it emotion, or was it shame.

As we left the arena, and as we drove home away from the scene that night, I wondered about the beauty that had been created, and the silence and stillness about the whole event, for there had been a stillness there.

We have glances of beauty, but how wonderful to permanently live in a place of inward stillness and wonder, not created or designed by the world, but of God.

I thought of the many who would go home, enjoying that night, but looking for the next outward experience. Walking in darkness, looking at lights in trees. Lights. And the blind girl, where was she now. What was the difference. People see, but do not see.

Looking inwardly, being still, and not controlled by the outside, is not easy. Standing still, and being focused on someone higher, who we cannot physically see is not easy.

Going into my home, I sat and prayed. It was silent and still. The bright lights of the city had gone completely. The sense of wonderment remained, glimpses of light not seen by human eyes, but areas of darkness to sit silently in, where questions remained unresolved were still there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyGYsKeJIH0&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBSiEnUf_qI&feature=related

Remembrance Sunday

http://www.thenma.org.uk/content/How-the-names-are-recorded-1405.shtml

Yesterday a friend and I visited Alrewas National Memorial Arboreteun, here in the UK

The Armed Forces Memorial has the engravings of 15,000 names of service men and women who have died through war and terrorism since the 2nd world war. There are bare walls ready to take the names of a further 16,000

Some of the sculptures were very poignant. There is a solidier looking through an open door, as though entering into a different world. If you look through you catch a glimpse of a distant green field. A nurse tending an injured soldier who has fallen. A mother and child in total despair for their husband and father who is being carried from the battlefield. Whilst this is happening, there is a scultor engraving another name.

On the 11th Day of the 11th month, at the 11th hour, the monument is so built, that a shaft of light comes through a fine division in the monument wall, and focuses on the central stone wreath engraved there.

In the chapel there is a beautiful wooden sculpture of Christ. It is entitled The Story Teller. He is talking to 12 children. One of them is not listening. The child is busy investigating something else.

There were two wooden crosses in the chapel to represent the two thieves on the cross. One had a pair of handcuffs hanging from them that were open, to depict he had been forgiven. The other had a pair of handcuffs on that were locked, indicated the thief had not repented.

The volunteers who work there are dedicated and reverent. They are a mixture of very young and old. It would be difficult to say it is a beautiful place, because it is such a sad place. But, for anyone visiting, it is a very peaceful and thoughtful place, most especially for those who have friends and family commorated there.

When we drove away, it was not long before we found ourselves in another world from the place of stillness and reverence we had visited.I cannot say how I felt looking from this place of stillness inside, observing this mad crazy world we live in, they were both identical in many similar ways, but it was most surely a day of thinking about sacrifice, and the importance of focusing on God continually, to raise above the horrors of this world.

The services that will take place here in the UK today, will be remembering all soliders who have lost their lives. Some of it is a little unreal. There are people, who take part, who steal an essence of nobleness and dignity from the rememberance service. They are like the thief with the locked handcuff. But there are many veterans and servicemen today who genuinely do care for the fallen and their families worldwide.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKNoUW5Y-8o

Alone In the Wild

FreeDigitialPhotos.net
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJje5T2lNws&NR=1

Ed Wardle's solitary journey to the Yukon Wilderness of Canada, was a fascinating documentary recently aired on Channel 4.

Well prepared in survival skills, Ed's boyhood dream became a reality, when in the summer of 2009, he was left alone, with a few basic supplies, and the desire to live and survive, amidst the beauty and harshness of nature, totally alone.

Using his own camera, Ed filmed himself, building shelter, providing warmth, and hunting and fishing for food.

The skinning and gutting of a porcupine, was an exercise in itself, on what we would have to do, were we faced with the choice of survival, without the convenience of a local supermarket, and money.

Watching Ed Wardle, one could not help warming to him and identifying with his childhood dream. But when the plane dropped him off, and then took off into the distance, the sense of isolation was suddenly overpowering. It continued to grow over the coming weeks. Joy turned to darkness.

Living with the constant fear of bears, the slightest movement became magnified. Darkness and nightfall, often saw him catching naps through extreme tiredness, when his heightened awareness succombed. Moments of pure delight, such as the beauty of the landscape, the swimming in the clear lakes, and the warmth and satisfaction of the campfire, were often tinged with great fear. He became tired and weak, through lack of food and sleep. But this was not the killer.

Over time, Ed became aware how much he missed human contact. The pain, played with, and tormented his brain. You could watch thoughts attacking him.

Watching this programme, I thought often, of the simple exercise of prayer. The periods of being still. But most importantly of all, of the objectivity of thoughts. Neither believing or disbelieving good or bad thoughts. Just merely observing them., and dealing with the present moment amid the truth that that presented. I thought of the awareness of our emotions, and how they can use us, and weaken us, when we are not fully aware.

So, there was times I was dissapointed, with a sigh of despair, when I listened to Ed's preparedness in dealing with the mind.

Prior to the trip a psychologist had taught him the benefits of meditation. It was a little light, until I heard that the meditation consisted of him going to a happy place in his mind. An image, An Illusion. He was already in the most beautiful place in the world. Then there was the writing of empowering statements on his arm. In bold black ink he wrote. Be Strong.

It was not long before Ed realized that neither worked. A defining moment, which takes many years to realize for some.

Finaly he decided to pray. The moment he did, he heard his girlfriends voice talking to him as though on a phone. It was so unfortunate that he found this to be his happy place. Yet understandable when you are aware of the pull of the mind to keep us away from the genuine prayer from the heart to God.

And so, it was not long after, Ed sent out his SOS to mankind, and the plane returned to carry him home. In many ways, I thought it was the right thing to do, rather than submit oneself to such mental and physical torture.

In summary, I admired Ed for his exercise and desire in survival. He was prepared to a high degree of self sufficiently and love of natural wilderness, but lacked the one fundamental component.

I likened his journey to Christ's journey of 40 days into the wilderness, but I doubt he made this comparison. He listened to his thoughts and he listened to the tempts. The intensity of the aloneness was something even Christ struggled with.

Terry Waite has described his own solitary confinement in an interesting article concerning the trip Alone in the Wild.

Terry Waite was taken hostage in Lebanon by Islamic Jihad in January 1987 and held captive for nearly five years, four of these in total solitary confinement, before he was released in November 1991.

He quotes:

'Solitude is certainly nothing to be afraid of. I think in fact we do need a degree of solitude and opportunity of having our own space. Having said that, people often say that they require it, but when they get into it they can't bear it. Because you have to equip yourself to grow into solitude, to gain the benefits from it. So first of all there are dangers. Going into solitude in some ways you are taking an interior journey, rather than an exterior journey, because it will encourage you to be introspective. And you discover that along with all human beings that you are a composite mixture of both light and dark. The secret of course is somehow being able to find that degree of inner harmony and balance which you have to grow into.'

http://www.channel4.com/programmes/alone-in-the-wild/articles/terry-waite-on-solitude

I would say further from the above that it takes a long time for darkness to be completely dispelled from that mixture of both light and dark that we are made up of. But ultimately light dispells the darkness.

Being in a middle ground of objectively, and being aware of the battle between darkness and light in the mind is not an easy place to stand in. It becomes a torment if you listen to either. And this is waht happened to Ed Wardle.

Being prepared involves much more than physical sterngth and survivalist skills. To ultimately survive, it appears there needs to be a strong inner connection with the Creator, and a recognition we lack spiritual strength without his help.

Perfect Balance

Ironbridge, Shropshire
FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sometimes I get a sense of guilt that I dont do more to highlight the injustices of this world.

Besides merely writing about things, the effort to actually get up and do something physically, often passes me by. It is not there inside. I am like a lazy bystander, an observer I suppose to many. Standing on a bridge as a lookout. Yet, there are most certainly times, when I would risk losing everything, for that which I know is true.

Where the world once seemed silent to me on the hypocrisy, the persecution, and the unfairness, that those in power had over us lesser mortals; these days I now see a host of people coming forward to speak up and expose that which is unfair and unjust on a whole range of subjects. There are millions of lies, inflicting themselves upon us. Though refreshing to hear people speak up, and the more the better, there is also a danger I think of becoming part of an identity, which can also act as a distraction to our own personal shortcomings. A sense of being a crusader, and a speaker, and activisit, can also act as a windshield and protector for our own ugly shortcomings, unless we are very careful.

There are many in the public eye, who can say and do the right things. They have the words, and they have the passion. They see. Yet behind closed doors there are many large and smaller lies that are covered. A life the public doesnt see. There is denial.

Often when these heros die, we wonder why. Were they good and genuine in heart, or were they distracted by their very own words and ideals. Thinking they had it, when really they hadn't. Conditioned by what is right, and understanding the words, rather than deeply loving with all their heart, what is right. Who is Who, in this mad crazy world we live in.

We suffer in the same way when we see preachers speak of Gods love. They know it, they speak it passionately. Yet, that small detection of them being caught up in image can be very confusing for searchers of truth. It can lead others astray.

And then there are the religious and contemplatives who have completely removed themselves from all physical existence and concerns of the world to devote themselves entirely to a life of quietness and prayer. Do they love God more?

Am I a hypcrite. Yes, at times. The relief of getting something out and on to paper, and the peace of seeing truth, sometimes distracts me from the little things, whilst I'm talking on the big things. But its those little things that really matter I think.

Times when I spend just 20 minutes in the morning, being still in prayer. And times when I fall into bed without prayer at all. Small instances when I see myself talking of another. Assumptions I sometimes take too much notice of. And times when I laugh at jokes on TV when really I shouldn't. Shortcuts I make when I'm pushed for time. Times when I dont listen to my conscience. Times when I sit and write, whilst being late for work - I can justify my actions when I do that one!!

So there seems to be a very strange pull between wordly affairs and a place of nothingness and stillness. The importance of being active and the importance of being still. How much do we lose about ourselves until we become a really genuine authentic born again person.

Are there many people who could live without an identity at all whilst udergoing a transformation. Die to an indetity, rather than add on to an identity.

There must be times we have to completely come out of the world altogether and not be concerned for what is happening too much, if only for short times. A vanishing. Is there a silent group of people undergoing this change

Surely we must love this place, more than the world. Is it a matter of perfect balance?

Saved Alone

FreeDigitalPhotos.net

There are not many hymns that I like, and I dont sing much, but now and then, quite by accident, I do take note of the words of a hymn that I happen to hear. Some of the old hymns seen to convey a deeper message....

'Saved Alone' are the words sent by telegram to Horatio Spafford from his wife, after the ship she were sailing on from America to Britian, SS Ville du Havre, sank in 1873. On board had also been their four daughters.

Horatio Spafford had not been meant to set sail with his wife and daughters that fateful day. He had been called away at the very last moment.

Prior to the trip Horatio Spafford had lost his business through a fire that had devasted the city of Chicago. And prior to that fire, Horatio and his wife had lost their only son too. The trip to England was meant to be a new start. A short reprieve from their terrible misfortune.

After the survivors were finally landed somewhere at Cardiff, Wales, Spafford's wife had cabled her husband with those two simple words, "Saved alone." Shortly after, Spafford left by ship on his way where his beloved four daughters had drowned, and pen at hand, wrote this most poignant text so significantly descriptive of his own personal grief – "When sorrows like sea billows roll..." The hymn "It is Well with My Soul" was born.

The poignancy of the telegram maybe indicates that we overcome our own personal griefs alone, but only with the help of someone who can save us, which no other man can do for us during such terrible times.

Often I will hear the words All is Well.

If we could bear grief with the same faith, to really know that it is well, we would indeed be free.

His story makes you think about being saved, and faith through terrible trajedies. There are not many people who could overcome such terrible loss. The inspiration to write this hymn at that particular time must have came from somewhere deep inside, where he knew he would have to go to rely upon to survive.


http://christianmusic.suite101.com/article.cfm/hymn_it_is_well_with_my_soul

Quotes by A W Tozer

Constantly practice the habit of inwardly gazing upon God. You know that something inside your heart sees God. Even when you are compelled to withdraw your conscious attention in order to engage in earthly affairs, there is within you a secret communion always going on. A W Tozer.

Much of our difficulty as seeking Christians stems from our unwillingness to take God as He is and adjust our lives accordingly. We insist upon trying to modify Him and bring Him nearer to our own image. Religion today is not transforming people; rather it is being transformed by the people. It is not raising the moral level of society; it is descending to society's own level, and congratulating itself that it has scored a victory because society is smilingly accepting its surrender.

A generation of Christians reared among push buttons and automatic machines is impatient of slower and less direct methods of reaching their goals. We have been trying to apply machine-age methods to our relations with God. We read our chapter, have our short devotions, and rush away, hoping to make up for our deep inward bankruptcy by attending another gospel meeting or listening to another thrilling story told by a religious adventurer lately returned from afar. The tragic results of this spirit are all about us. Shallow lives, hollow religious philosophies, the preponderance of the element of fun in gospel meetings, the glorification of men, trust in religious externalities, quasi-religious fellowships, salesmanship methods, the mistaking of dynamic personality for the power of the Spirit; these and such as these are the symptoms of an evil disease, a deep and serious malady of the soul.

Because We Believe

http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/

Andrea Bocelli: ****Despite the fact that I live in a fast-paced world, I live my life with a calm vision: I enjoy life's simple pleasures and face every challenge with passion. I try to always be optimistic by interpreting the real meaning of a quotation from the French novelist Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: "You see clearly only through your heart. The essential is invisible to your eyes."****

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What Will Tomorrow's Mothers Be Like? > The Good News : November/December 2004

What Will Tomorrow's Mothers Be Like? > The Good News : November/December 2004

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