Victim of Redemption

Photo courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons Photo taken by: BrianMKA

Link:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianmka/2913760140/in/photostream/

Note:  Giving testimony to my personal beliefs about God, religion and spirituality is not something I do easily. I worry about offending others.    I’m no theologian.  I struggle to hold on to a faith that I often question.  So, in writing this and publishing it here, I take a leap of faith.  This wrote itself.  Much of it lies beyond my powers of logical and rational thought.  It is what it is.  I feel compelled to share it by something deep within.  It might be God or the complicated mental gymnastics of a part-time narcissist.  In desperation, I lash my soul to a mast I call, God.  It’s what gets me through the day, through a life.  It is all I have.

Lately, I’ve given a lot of thought to being a victim. . . more accurately the experience or feeling of being a victim.  As fate would have it, I also started a new book last night.  It’s called Insurrection and it’s by Peter Rollins.  The basic premise of the book is summed up on the cover with the words:

To believe is human to doubt, divine.

At first glance this book and the experience of being a victim aren’t obviously linked.  Yet, some how in the deeper regions of my being the two ideas have merged into a shocking epiphany.  When I got up this morning and in between a bowl of cereal and my coffee, I pick up the book and read one paragraph.

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I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.

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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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