Ministry, Work, Love, and Life

This was the theme of the past week. A long time ago, I wished for things to be easier. Truth be told, maybe I just have to have something to fight against to make any progress. As long as I live in Mark's house, I don't have to fight for much.

   At least I thought so. Now I realize my fight is for them. When people don't know they're captives, they don't understand why the freedom fighters do what they do. Nor do they care. Nothing makes sense. Passion is misunderstood. Vigilence criticized. Victory downplayed.

   This is the bane of the house; the owner doesn't see it as worth fighting for, but the place to retreat from life. The tenants are forced to learn the rules by trial and error, or much worse, watch another king captured. What's the difference between passion and insanity? Depends om your heart.

   I take risks; this is just what I do. I see things that, to the average person, seem normal, and want to scream. I watch daily as people sit on the sidelines and refuse to fight for what's right, yet consider me mean-spirited for trying to shed some light on truth.

  So, I was raised in a trailer park, in the ghetto, and most likely, soon to be living in a shelter. Maybe I am of no account by the world's standards, but make no mistake; I have not given up. I will keep fighting until my eyes can't see for the tears flooding them, until I am spilled completely, my life resembling a battleground. It is a battleground. And I must fight.

  As I lay down with my injuries, people will know that I'm gonna get back up. Why? Because I believe there is something to fight for. And I just have to do it long enough to set the example. My reward: the world will try to make me be the example. Conform? Not me. I'm the daughter of a king, a wild king, a barbarian. There is no such thing as civilzation for me. After all, I'm an alien in a country not my own. I cannot settle here.

   I was asked if I actually pray for all these people that I mention on the site. The answer? Every time I think of them. You cannot have a hard heart for the people you pray for. Even if your relationships with them be strained or even dead. If it wasn't for God's place above all else in my life, I'm pretty sure I would be dead today. Maybe not physically, but every time I start to settle, He crashes in to show me where to fight.

  Every day, I wake up and think of all the people I have to face knowing that they settled for less than the best for them. They live in my house, they work beside me, they work against me. I pick fights with them just to see if they'll step up. Rarely, they do. When this happens, I'm the bad guy for bringing them face-to-face with the truth. Believe this: if you ask me something, you will get the truth from me.

  I will fight for my friends. You will not question where my allegiances lie. I t may not look like fighting, but things are not always as they seem. My heart is pierced every time I see obstacles like worry, money, and pride. NOne of these can replace love. If we realize that the only thing everyone shares is the ability to choose and love freely, and work towards loving everyone, we'd be the better for it.

 And, yes, it is hard. It;s worth it, and it's a struggle I face. When you see people trying to earn your love, it breaks your heart. When I see the questioning look on their faces…

  How can you not be infuriated when you feel ashamed of the love you feel for them?

  How can I not tell them? How did I become so domesticated? When did I start caring what people think?

  If you're reading this, I love you.  Not for anything you do, your thoughts on my words, or any hard feelings that may come of it. Because you're you. Because I'm free to. Because I want to. May God bless all that you do.

Wondering what my name means, I searched it, and have found that, if I live up to it, it’s quite remarkable.
As most people know, my first name is “messenger” or “messenger of God”. What’s truly fantastic is my middle name, Denise, is kind of hard to put into words. Like me. It’s a derivitive of Dennis, which might explain a little bit of the masculine/feminine struggle I face.
If you go further, “Dionysos” was a Greek god, partly named for a mountain, “Nysa”, and partly for “of Zeus”, which means “shine” or “sky”. Also, as most know, Zeus was a Greek god, the highest.
I’m not calling myself anything greater than what I am, just another pursuer of God.So, anyway you put it together, whether it be “Messenger of the sky” or “God’s shining messenger”, it’s a lot to try to put on a person. I think my first daughter will be named Denise.
Somehow, I find it sort of odd that it took this to bring to culmination what everyone in my family has always told me, whether it was my mom, who has always encouraged me in words, but is always kinda stoic, my grandmother, who always told me I always had an air of beautiful sadness in me, or my ever-loving, always faithful sisters, who are always claimiing, “Sometimes, you’re jus so hard to understand”
Anyway, as a person who wants to live up to her own name, maybe I can.