On Protests

Greetings Dear Reader,

I rarely venture into the political in my writing. Today, however, is different. I will not weigh in on the protests going on in Madison. I would like to point out some things that amaze me. Some are positive and some are not so much. In all of though, I am pleased that the exercise of rights around such a volatile issue has not resulted in any violence.

One of the things that I feel protestors, politicians, and pundits have never learned that hinders them is the approach they take. The television, internet, and signage are cluttered with all kinds of creative personal insults. This seems like a good tactic in the moment but does little to advance a cause. No matter who your opponent is or what they have done, treating them with respect is always a better way.

Insults and ad-homonym attacks on serve to polarize people. It limits the freedom to have open discourse and makes those hurling the insults seem weak to those who are undecided or neutral. On another level, it is just not nice. When we show disrespect to anyone we lower ourselves.

Another aspect of this that amazes me is the hard work of the municipal, county, and state police. I spoke with an officer yesterday who has worked 22 of the last 20 days. He works twelve hour shifts each day and has little time for his family.

If we extrapolate this to all the law enforcement personnel at the Capital then we must realize the danger to our society. One police veteran explained to me that the entire force is stretched thin. She pointed out that what they all need is a day of rest. Imagine the impact that it could have if the protestors agreed to take a day off just to give the people who protect them some rest.

There is so much to be gained from doing things peacefully. No matter which side of this argument you fall on, you should assure that you actions are not those of the fallen. Remember that with the freedom to excise our rights comes the responsibility to do so in an honorable way.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

The Prime Directive

Greetings Dear Reader,

For those that know me well it is not news that I have a lifelong love for Star Trek. It started when I was six and has ebbed and flowed throughout my life. My children appreciate it and even watch some of its iterations on their own at times. For the unfamiliar, the Star Trek universe possesses a singular guiding principle; The Prime Directive . The link will take you to the Wikipedia article about said directive. Many stories in that universe hang on this noble and sometimes difficult principle.

I have a prime directive. I do not follow it as often as I wish I did but I treasure it none-the-less. If I am to follow Christ then I must follow the directive he gave me. When asked what the greatest commandment was “Jesus answered him, 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the greatest and most important commandment. The second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as you love yourself.' All of Moses' Teachings and the Prophets depend on these two commandments."

By extension, anything I do must proceed from this directive. Any decision, action, or attitude must be an extension of working toward better loving God and my neighbor. Anything I choose to take as an axiom or application in life must be filtered through the directive. The directive must purge my pride and selfishness daily. I must see others as God sees them not through my own pitiful lenses. Enemies are forbidden me. In the journey toward God I must always be vigilant of the dangers inherent in violating this directive.

Today I feel that I have so far to go in this journey. I had to make a hard decision yesterday and it was difficult to purge my self from the equation. A friend helped me see what was best but I felt so very sure what I wanted was what was right. I was so very wrong. The only way any of this works is through faith.

It's been a long road
Getting from there to here
It's been a long time
But my time is finally near

And I can feel the change in the wind right now
Nothing's in my way
And they're not gonna hold me down no more
No they're not gonna hold me down

'Cause I've got faith of the heart
I'm going where my heart will take me
I've got faith to believe
I can do anything
I've got strength of the soul
And no one's gonna bend or break me
I can reach any star
I've got faith, I’ve got faith, faith of the heart

It's been a long night
Trying to find my way
Been through the darkness
Now I've finally had my day

And I will see my dream come alive at last
I will touch the sky
And they're not gonna hold me down no more
No they're not gonna change my mind

'Cause I've got faith of the heart
I'm going where my heart will take me
I've got faith to believe
I can do anything
I've got strength of the soul
And no one's gonna bend or break me
I can reach any star
I've got faith, I’ve got faith, faith of the heart

I know that we're so cold
We've seen the darkest days
But now the winds I feel
Are only winds of change
I've been through the fire
I've been through the rain
But I'll be flying, oh yeah

'Cause I've got faith of the heart
I'm going where my heart will take me
I've got faith to believe
I can do anything
I've got strength of the soul
And no one's gonna bend or break me
I can reach any star
I've got faith, I’ve got faith, faith of the heart

It's been a long road – Faith of the Heart – Watson Russell

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store.

On Humility

Greetings Dear Reader,

Today is Be Humble day and exactly two weeks before Shrove Tuesday. It seems the two are more interconnected than one can enumerate. My Grandfather used to always say the same thing whenever humility came up. “Humility: the moment you think you have it, you have lost it.”

I realize that with Christ as my advocate before God I do not need a human mediator to shrive me of my sin. That does not mean that I do not need to be shriven. I need to daily address my short comings (maybe momently instead of daily). I need to give my whole self to God the moment I awaken and try my best not to forget that throughout each day.

Unfortunately this process requires humility. It is humility that is the struggle. It is humility that is necessary to realize that I need forgiveness. I need to set aside pride and self to assure that I do not step on anyone. It is humility that fuels the ability to see others better than myself. It is humility that drives me to see the needs of others.

I wrestle with this daily. When I know I am right or when others are not what I know they could be I struggle to remember that I do not KNOW what is best for anyone. I have the ability to guide others but must constantly defend from imposing that guidance unasked for and unbidden.

I must embrace humility if wisdom is to thrive within me. I must be ready to hear the words of others that can guide me into being a better man. This also requires humility. I must come to the end of my self and embrace that if I am to unlock my true potential it is a result of total dependence on God. The only path to this is humility.

Since I cannot claim to be humble and still be humble, I can never say that I have achieved any of the above goals. Not until the final purge of the fallen self and its selfishness will I able to say that I have. Until then I must constantly embrace the fleeting humility so that I can grow closer to Christ and live his example.

It takes humility to do any of these things but the paradox lies in that exercising humility is an act of the will. For that I am poorly equipped. Fortunately for me, that is why God extends his grace.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

Ghosts of Friendships Past

Greetings Dear Reader,

One of the results of poor choices in my life has been the loss of some friends along the way. I have also lost friends for doing what is right but have peace about that. The friendships that haunt me are the ones where I let someone down or betrayed someone’s trust and I cannot connect with them to seek forgiveness.

Social media and some other venues have accorded slight relief in this area. I have been able to reach out to some. Some have responded and there has been some healing on both sides. Others have not. I know that I have done wrong. I know that I have acknowledged that wrong and sought forgiveness from God. The problem with doing things that alienate others is that when you realize you are an idiot the person who is alienated may not wish to speak to you any longer.

So I carry the memory of some fellow travelers with me but can no longer share the journey with them. It haunts me on special occasions and at unexpected moments. It also motivates me to be more vigilant of my current actions.

It also makes me more aware of how I treat the offences committed against me by others. It became apparent to me last year that refusal of contact with someone often indicates a lack of forgiveness on my part. When I feel avoidance of anyone it is time to question my own heart and attitudes. What in me is holding onto a grudge or slight that causes avoidance? What have I not dismissed and given over to Christ?

I miss the interactions with those friends with whom I no longer have contact. I reach out to them from time to time in hope of thawing relations. For now the ghosts that haunt me serve to propel me to be better. For that, from those friends I miss, I thank you.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

When Cars Follow Christ

Greetings Dear Reader,

I am amazed at the overwhelming number of cars that have become Christ followers over the last decade. You see them proudly wearing the fish emblems and bumper stickers proclaiming the faith and following. It seems to be somewhat of an automobile revival.

It seems to me though that the cars do not always follow the flag they wear. Some of them still drive badly. I Christian mini-van cut me off just the other day almost causing an accident. I saw a sports car with a fish and an “I love Jesus” bumper sticker wildly weaving in and out of traffic at high speed in a most dangerous way. I have even seen a supposedly Christian car without handicapped plates or placard parked in a handicapped parking spot.

I really wonder what is wrong with these cars. They claim to follow Christ but still do things that do not seem Christ-like. My car refuses to wear a fish or a bumper sticker. I guess it wants to be seen driving well and safely. It realizes that it sometimes still makes poor choices and does not want to hurt the name of Christ by its unfavorable actions. I guess that if cars are going to wear badges and stickers that proclaim their faith in Christ it makes it that much more important that they act in a Christ-like manner.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

All Potential

Greetings Dear Reader,

I got to spend a lovely afternoon holding my Grandson last Friday. One of the things I pondered as he smiled and slept in my arms was how new everything is to him. At this point there is an entire universe to open up to him. His primary occupations are intake, output, and sleep. He has just begun to interact with others and it is already obvious that he like certain things like light and bright colour.

Everything about him is opportunity. His journey of discovery is just beginning whilst mine is fifty one years down the path. One of the things I remember my Grandfather doing was always encouraging my investigation and discovery. He never taught me to fear things but always cautioned my on approaching things with awareness and care. That guiding factor is one I hope to emulate. I want to participate in his discovery by keeping him safe whilst letting him choose what interests him.

His Father commented recently about people wanting my Grandson to do what they want him to do instead of letting him be what he wishes. I determined into that moment not to fall into the trap of insisting that he interact with me instead of what interests him. It surely paid off last Friday. For the first time he genuinely interacted with me. It only lasted a few moments and it was him looking me in the eye and smiling. It was far more valuable than if I had insisted he look at me instead of the lights and colour that usually entertain him. It was his choice and his discovery of me that brought the joy.

After pondering this for a few days I have thought of something else. I turned fifty one last week and feel fairly far down the path. In God’s eyes, however, I am just beginning to discover the universe. My life is barely a blip along the scope of eternity. I am barely scratching the surface of what there is to discover about God and following his Son. There are many influences that want me to follow them to follow Christ. There are many voices that vie for my attention in understanding who I am in relation to God. Like my Grandson, I am naturally drawn to the light and there are voices that would rather I see them than the light that calls for my attention.

I think that my beloved Grandson has already taught me a very valuable lesson.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

Parakeets and Catnip - An Aside if you Please

Greetings Dear Reader,

Last night I had the honor to substitute in an English composition class. I promised those students that I would post a story I told for them. It is a chapter from my soon to be published new book Sheetrock on the Road. That book is a work of fiction.

Sometimes people have pets. I was never really a pet person but when I was a boy my Grandfather gave me two of Parakeets. One was green and yellow and the other was blue and white. The blue one was friendly and liked to sit on my head. He also liked to nibble the little hairs on my ears. The green one liked to sit on my shoulder and poop down my back. The blue spent a lot more time out of the cage than the green one. I would not want to deceive anyone. I do not spend a great deal of time around anything that poops down my back, but these birds were given to me by my Grandfather shortly before he died and so I viewed them as extensions of his presence in my life.

I fed the birds regularly and what droppings stayed inside the cage landed on the newspaper at the bottom. I mastered the art of changing the paper and cleaning their dishes but could never get them to talk. One rainy afternoon when I was home alone I spent nearly three hours saying “pretty bird” to them in an attempt to get them to talk to me. Not only did they refuse to talk but also later that night I am sure that they agreed that I was dumber than they had first considered. They refused to leave their cage for weeks and I was sure that it was due to my instructive attempts. It was not until later that I correlated their prolonged hibernation with the arrival of my little sister’s new kitten, Calico.

It is a very cruel trick on the part of God that cats start out as kittens. I am sure this is part of the curse. Kittens are cute fur balls with immense appeal and little coordination. The house we lived in had hard wood floors and they were waxed to a shine that you could see yourself in. Those first few weeks of the kitten’s learning his way around the house were fascinating. Calico would bound awkwardly through the house skidding through turns and stops, garnering our love and devotion through gangly tumbles and endearing mews. Being innocent to the ways of cats, I imagined that this behavior would last for ages. The truth is that when God cursed the earth for Adam’s sin, he put into cats an aloofness caught by Kipling so well in his Just So Stories.
Cats think that they own us. They think that they may do as they please and they take revenge on us if we limit their freedom too much. I am not sure what happens, but overnight they change from kittens into wicked deceitful creatures. Once they grow up, they constantly look for ways to remind us that we live only under the delusion of ownership and in truth, we belong to them. They show up as kittens to get their hooks in you and then once they have you, they turn into cats. You get up one morning and the roles have changed, the road is theirs, and the rules are different.

Sometimes they really get the person they overtake under their power. They get the individual to buy them special food and houses full of special cat furniture. On rare occasions, the cat gets the victim, usually a woman; a single woman, to buy other cats. There is probably a secret society of these highly intelligent cats that capture humans so that they can breed in the human’s house. The nice lady starts out with one or two, but they send out their secret society cat code calling all the strays for miles until the poor hostage woman has 32 billion cats in her house. She loses all her friends and the house smells like cat urine and wet hairballs from a mile away. The cats run her life and she keeps harboring more and more of them. Years later, old Miss Cat Lover is found dead and half eaten by her own cats. Then some poor do-gooder adopts the cannibal cats for the sake of being humane.

As I said before, I am not much of a pet person. In fact most of the things I would want around the house are things you cannot pet. Dogs are all right if they can earn their keep. Turtles are hard to keep. Hamsters and gerbils get lost somewhere in the house and you don’t find them until their aroma of decay wafts its way out of the drawer where your mom stores the fine linens. Guinea Pigs make that whining sound that drives one mad and they go off for no apparent reason. Moms do not in general approve of most members of the reptile family, but we will talk more about that later.

I like fish. I like fish a whole lot, but they are more like living art than they are pets. As a matter of fact, as long as you do not get carried away, fish are the perfect pet. You feed them and clean their tank occasionally. You do not have to name them if you do not want to and they pretty much stay where you put them. Oh sure, there is the occasional suicidal tetra that leaps out of the tank in pursuit of some imaginary thing in the water. They always seem to do this while you are at work. The tetra decides to risk it all, jumps out of the water, and you find him dead on the carpet with this look of shock in his eyes. You would think the thing was surprised when it could not breathe the air minus the water.

Cats, however, are on the very bottom of my list of good household pets. Cats are great outdoor pets. If you live on a farm they will eat other potential pets like mice. I believe that indoor cats go insane. A dear friend who loves cats pointed this out to me one day. A mutual friend of ours had an indoor cat that would run all over their little house and scratch anything with a pulse. My friend innocently attributed the cat’s behavior to friskiness. I take exception with this. The cat was mad. It tore up furniture, scratched anyone that it came near and was in general a very irritable demon in silky fur.

Did you know that is costs around $800.00 a year to keep a cat in your house? Of course that assumes that your cat does not need laser eye surgery at $1500.00 an eye or that is does not swallow your nephew and you get sued over it. Americans spend around $10,400,000,000 a year to feed and house animals that tear up their furniture, scratch you at will, and swallow your nephew when you are not looking. Calico was an indoor cat.

You must understand that I witnessed the change. The secret cat society usually kills people that witness the change, but since they cannot read and I have not told anyone until now, I should be safe.[1] I was lying in bed. I had just woken up and saw Calico move from the hall to the doorway of my room. She looked at me with that questioning head tilt that seems to ask things like, “How can you sleep on your back like that, you must be nuts?” At that very moment one of the parakeets decided to chirp out a friendly good morning. Calico’s head snapped in the direction of the birdcage and there was a new gleam in the monster’s eyes that had not been there before this moment. In the mind of the former kitten, I no longer existed. My birds had just become caged prey to the deadly clawed, fanged, slinker. I quickly shooed the cat away and began to leave my bedroom door closed. The vile creature would often lurk outside the door and dart into the room whenever I opened it. Once it actually got as far as the windowsill by the cage. Calico immediately started batting at the cage trying to knock it over. I grabbed the monster by the scruff of the neck and tossed her out into the hallway. The beast landed deftly on its feet, glanced over its shoulder at me, and began licking its ruffled fur in disdain. The murderous cat had decided that the parakeets would be dinner and it was patient. Little did I know that my sister was so under the influence of the malevolent cat society that she would aid and abet this demon with the demise of my birds.

It was one of those sweltering summer days where the air has the texture of warm soggy paper towels. I was on the front porch doing my summer reading for school. The oscillating fan moving the air about was only washing me with tepid air that could neither cool nor refresh. The fan’s sultry drone called me to stretch out and nap instead of attending to my summer duties. My little sister came out on the porch and demanded that I go out in the back yard and spray her with the garden hose. I explained that I had to finish my current session with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle before I could do this and that she should amuse herself for another hour or so. She did.

Had I known the cost of my devotion to reading, I might have abandoned Mr. Holms in favor of my parakeets. Determined to punish me for not obeying her, my sister placed Calico in my room and shut the door. Being a somewhat OK big brother I completed my task and headed for the bedroom to change into my bathing suit. The cold water would do both I and my sister good.
By the time I finished reading about the hounds the cat had done its worst. My first clue that all was not well was the single blue feather that floated from beneath my bedroom door. Opening the door, my eyes locked on the defiant eyes of Calico staring back at me with a green parakeet hanging limply from her mouth. My room was covered with feathers and birdseed. The cat had killed both birds and left me to clean up the mess.

My mother was little help in consoling me that evening and my sister confessed her part in the plot by teasing me about the dead birds. I buried the murdered birds in an old cigar box in the back yard. Even then I was planning my revenge against this murderous member of the malevolent cat society. They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. I think that it is best served as dessert.

Calico loved catnip. The murderous monster was powerless to the scent of the narcotic herb. It did not occur to me until decades later how much the scent of common birdseed resembles catnip. Parakeets must seem like chirping drug fixes to the average cat junkie. I knew that Calico would do anything for catnip.

On Saturday mornings my sister had dance lessons. I was left to myself on Saturdays to enjoy my favorite cartoons and a giant bowl of cereal. As soon as my sister and mom left for dance lessons I headed for the kitchen and retrieved the catnip. A proper description of Calico’s usual reaction to catnip is necessary to fully appreciate the caliber of my revenge. Just a pinch of the dried green weed in the cat’s food would make it run around, roll around, and all around act completely nuts. A touch more of the stuff and the cat would pounce on all sorts of invisible creatures. I had decided to OD the cat on catnip. That the plot turned out badly is regrettable but we are dealing with a mass-murdering member of the malevolent secret cat society.
You see, this cat could hear you open the cat food cabinet from anywhere in the known universe. Since the demise of the parakeets I had taken to opening the cabinet just to make the feline serial killer stop whatever it was doing and run into the kitchen. I often waited until the killer cat had lain down in the sun to nap to open the squeaky cabinet and rouse the beast.
Today I upended the box of catnip onto the floor just as Calico entered the room. The scent of catnip instantly overpowered the malicious fiend. The cat pounced at the small green pile and began to roll over and over in it. She sat up and yowled as if calling all other cats to witness her immense treasure in controlled substances.[2] Calico began to run a circuit through the house, skidding like a kitten on the hardwood floors, yowling and mewing alternately. On her last lap through the dining room she misjudged her speed and momentum. I am sure that drug abuse had clouded Calico’s judgment, sped up her movement, and slowed her reactions. She probably should not have been driving. Anyway, she collided with the door jam at full speed.
A dull pop came out of the cat’s body and it bounced backwards from the door frame. There was no movement after that. Calico was dead and I was in trouble. I had to find a way not to be caught with the proverbial canary (read parakeet) in my mouth.

I quickly scooped up Calico and hurried down to the street. I carefully place her limp form between two parked cars to make it look as if she had been hit while darting between them. When sis arrived home she found the cat and assumed that it had darted out when she and mom left the house. I have never told my sister about killing Calico and it was an accident. The deception that followed was more self-preservation than anything else.

Ironically, we buried Calico in the back yard not too far from her victims. My sister soon recovered and we obtained another kitten. She named it Demon. I developed a severe allergy to cats and cannot be around them for very long without medication.

I know that cats all over the world approach me when I am around them. The want me to pet, scratch, or otherwise interact with them. I am sure it is a test to see if I am among the ranks of those sought for crimes against cats everywhere. I am also sure that there are faceless wanted posters up in the secret cat society meeting places with my real name on them.

[1] This is one of the reasons I write under a nom-de-plum (pen name). If the cats can read they will not know who I really am, and so cannot hunt me down, kill me, and have my wife adopt a half billion of them for revenge.

[2] This makes me wonder if the secret cat society is not really in charge of all drug import into
America. Perhaps there is an international cartel of drug smuggling cats. It could all be a plot to enslave us so we will not spay or neuter them. Perhaps an allergy to cats is nature’s way of preventing them from gaining dominance. They do so much to control us. They have even gone so far as getting people to drink coffee that has been through the digestive tract of a wild cat called a Civet. People pay $800 a pound for this cat poop coffee. From herbs to coffee, cats seem to have more than just a passing interest in the drug industry. They may be the root of it. It’s a theory.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis ThornMat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

All Season Fruit Part 9

Greetings Dear Reader,

What does it mean to be faithful? There are so many ways to approach this outpouring of the spirit in my life. I thought that I would take Cyrano’s approach to this one:

Literal – To be full of faith
Divine – To exist only by faith
Marine – Semper Fidelis - To be ever faithful to my causes
Epistemological – Faithful to my origin in God and that I will return to him
Royal – To serve faithfully the King even in his absence
Axiomatic – That I have the desire to have faith means that there is something to have faith in
Circular – God tells me to be faithful and that being faithful will reveal God to me
Human – To keep ones vows even when tempted not to do so
Spiritual – Always believing
Metaphysical – Some things exist because of our faith in them
Practical – It is better to believe and be wrong than to disbelieve and be wrong
Philosophical - To choose belief over absent evidence
Foolish - To choose belief even when there seems to be evidence to the contrary
Insane – To embrace the teaching of a Nazarene Carpenter and try to live them out even when everything around me says that I am wrong.

Lyrical - God's Own Fool
Seems I've imagined Him all of my life as the wisest of all of mankind
But if God's Holy wisdom is foolish to man He must have seemed out of His mind
Even His family said He was mad and the priest said a demon's to blame
But, God in the form of this angry young man could not have seemed perfectly sane

We in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
We in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong

So we follow God's own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable; come be a fool as well

So come lose your life for a carpenter's son, for a madman who died for a dream
And You'll have the faith His first followers had and you'll feel the weight of the beam
So surrender the hunger to say you must know find the courage to say I believe
For the power of paradox opens your eyes and blinds those who say they can see

So we follow God's own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable; come be a fool as well – Michael Card

After carefully pondering these things, I find that an outpouring of faithfulness will engender a form of all of the above. So if I seem a bit insane to you this may explain it.

Wishing you joy and peace in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."

All Season Fruit Part 8

Greetings Dear Reader,

For much of my thirty’s and forty’s I was badly over weight. After careful discipline over the last three years I am close to the size and weight I wish. The issue was always the same for me: self-control. The weight loss is the result of the same thing. I chose to eat less, eat better, and to move more. I chose to set quiet steady goals and work toward them.

Many of the things that are commanded for me to do in Scripture are designed to produce this particular fruit of the spirit. I am required to control what I do, say, feel, and think. I am not to be an automaton nor am I to be a slave to a system of rules. I am to control my intake of food and drink. I am to monitor how I express my emotions to others. I am required to monitor and master my alcohol intake. I must never give place to hatred, bitterness, or envy.

If I am following Christ then I will exercise self-control as a natural outgrowth of my love, patience, and kindness. I will not over indulge in anything. When Paul tells us not to be drunk it is not the drunkenness itself that is a problem. It is the excess that is condemned. It is a lack of self-control that is wrong and leads to so much of my sin. In choosing to follow Christ I am choosing to limit some of my options by controlling behaviors and responses. When I over eat, give place to my anger, drink too much, or am impatient, I am for the moment choosing not to follow Christ. It really is that simple.

Wishing you joy and peace in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."