Holy Spirit, gift of God
Teach my soul to soar
Train me in your holy ways, Lord

Until I read the lyrics just now, I always thought that the second line said "Train my hands for war". Which might not be that bad of a replacement line, given how pathetic we are nowadays.

We are the church of Laodicea in Revelations, and we're lukewarm. Not only are we lukewarm: We're also rotting. And it's sickening. Something had prompted me to think that, and looking around me, I am seeing nothing that is happening. Everywhere, I'm seeing Christians who claim to know the Lord, but not only do they not do His will, they don't seem to even remember what His will is.

I guess what happened a few days ago started me thinking about this. I was on the 99 B-Line, and I was trying to read some research material. This fella, a big, balding caucasian dude that looked to be in his 40s or 50s with grey hair on the sides comes on. At first, he looked to be a normal looking guy that has a normal working life. I was sitting in the middle of the bus, and he sat down in the back. I paid no mind to it and continued reading: actually, most of these details about his appearance came after, when I turned back to get a better look at him.

So as I was reading my material, all of a sudden I hear someone talking.. seemingly to someone. You know how it feels when somebody's talking on their handsfree loudly to someone, but you can't see a handsfree kit because you're behind them or something? Well, that's what I thought initially too. I hear the guy in the back talking to some guy called "David", but the strange thing is, it certainly didn't sound right: the words were too well enunciated, there was some sort of weird anger and vibe... whatever it is, it didn't sound right. And then I thought about it: I didn't see any handsfree on that guy when he walked on. Yeah, I decided, a schizophrenaic that's a bit vocal. And I tried to continue with my reading.

What if you go over there, and lay hands on him, and pray for him... or even command any unclean spirit to come out of him?

That's rich, I thought. Then I realized that it sounds serious. What's wrong with being a disciple and doing what a disciple does, even if it's in the 21st Century? Does that mean God's power had changed and doesn't work now anymore? I thought, hearkening back to the days of the disciples acting in power, recorded well in the annuls of history, in the books of the Gospels, and in the book of Acts, along with various other instances in the New Testament.

Wait... are you freakin' serious? I mean... the guy can just have a mental illness. It might not even BE something like THAT! And, and... I never did anything like this before!

So? They never did anything like this before.

And so it goes on. While this mental debate was raging on in my heart, dozens of doubts were flashing through my mind. What if... what if... what if it's just you playing a trick on yourself, and that is not God? What if... what if...

I turned slightly back to glance at the man. For the first time, I saw his features. I saw him as he talked into the thin air, alternating between angry statements like that of a man talking to a disobedient son (David), statements to someone else... and sometimes he broke into fits of spouting out non-sense syllables, while scratching his head at a really fast rate, stopping, alternating to slapping his head, and then back to scratching again. His eyes were not focused, like that of a wild animal. Something in my heart did a slight little crack.

So? What do you have to lose? Your pride? Do you trust Me that it can work? And if it works, is the life of one man, who might want to have normalcy so that he can spend it with his family, work, have a life that's not tangled up by disease and sickness and the evil one, more worthy than your pride, your face, and your fears?

Torn by this debate raging on, I sat on in inaction, paralysed by my own fear, which could have been overthrown with the smallest movement, and reestablished with the slightest discouragement.

Can't you at least go and pray for the man, trying to let him know that he's not alone?

Hmm... I can try that. I decided after a long debate. Okay, if he doesn't get off at Clark street, I'll go to the back and... I don't know, sit across from the man, pray for him, tell him that God is with him... I don't know. But something. Better than sitting here, wallowing in someone's lies and mistrust. I waited. Clark street approached, and usually, not much people get off here: none sometimes, and 1 or 2 most other times.

The bus stopped. He got up, and left.

And I was left with myself again, shame washing over me. But... but....

I might never meet this man again. And when the chance called, I didn't respond. Instead, I cowered from a chance, even as slim as 0.01%, of being able to help, even just a bit. I shrank back because of myself, my own fear, and my own selfishness.

Then Commercial Station beckoned, and I was off. Back into my own world again, happily receiving a new gift from my parents, looking and hunting for my enjoyment and excitement.

Then this little tidbit came back to me again, and I wondered:

What the heck am we doing here?


I look at the youth group I attend, and maybe with slightly different eyes, as I wasn't able to attend the meeting this week. What are we doing there?

When was the last time we helped out someone in need together?

When was the last time we helped each other with our talents and our gifts?

When was the last time we had turned to the world and proclaimed in the Gospel in love and in power?


What the heck are we doing here?




Hmm. On second note and completely - I think - unrelated to this...

I feel lonely. Maybe it's because I wasn't at Youth Group or the banquet? Maybe it's because I have spent most of my waking hours in front of a computer for the last few days?

But yeah, I feel lonely. Odd =) And I've been talking to people, who I haven't talked to in AGES, for the last few days. Odd correlation?


Bloody fine light we're turning out to be. Bloody fine light I'M turning out to be.