This Would Tickle Mr. Brown

I’ve been knitting socks for years, selfishly. I’ve never sold the before because I thought I considered knitting socks to be “knitting for me.” I don’t own any of my own knitting, or crochet for that matter. So, socks were always something that I got to keep for myself.

But, the more I think of that, the sillier the idea gets. I want to start selling my socks. I was going to do a limited edition of “The Madam and Mr. Brown” sold with a pair of Mr. Brown’s socks, to help fund the sequel. Great idea, will work on that, but for now, I thought I’d just go ahead and start selling the socks I’ve made (or that Mr. Brown has made), so that at least I can get a little money coming in to fund the book. And that truly is the theme behind the sequel. The Madam and Mr. Brown are in trouble….Mr. Brown saved the Madam in the last book, now it’s her turn. And how she does it is amazing!

socksI also wanted to mention how grateful I am to all of you for gifting me things on my amazon wishlist. I am so looking forward to a new pair of glasses so that I can play with the new alpaca I wanted. (It’s getting harder and harder to buy teddy bear yarn at Hobby Lobby, so I thought I’d look around for another yarn to make for my signature teddy bears). I can’t wait to get the embroidery and sewing set with all of those very important scissors. My bamboo needles are coming, I got a new monitor for my laptop so I wouldn’t have to buy a whole new system. (Nothing wrong with my laptop, but the screen didn’t have color anymore…everything was green). The Visa gift card helped buy cat food and polyfil, boxes and a huge bottle of lemonade from Sprouts. (Lemonade is my beverage of choice these days. Mix it with a splash of Tapo Chico mineral water and man, is that refreshing on a hot day!) I have five new crisp white t-shirts and new socks for my boots. So, I can’t thank all of you enough for helping me with a few simple things that I really needed.

I have two pairs of Mr. Brown’s socks in the shop. Click here if you’d like them. I can’t wait to see which of my socks is the first to sell and to whom! It would tickle Mr. Brown to see his socks well received. He would be so pleased!

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!


What the Hell Happened to His Socks?

socksYou may have asked why there are so many skeins of sock yarn on my amazon wishlist. Well, I have a plan. I’ve made about 8 socks in the last week or so, and I’m still working on more. I want to take a photograph of a pile of socks. Not just any pile, but a huge and beautiful heap of them. Why?

Well, I’ve started on the sequel to “The Madam and Mr. Brown.” What you are about to read are the first four pages of the draft.

I like visiting those two characters and lately, I’ve been wanting to spend more and more time with the Madam’s nicotine stained teeth and youthful innocence, and Mr. Brown’s fear, anxiety and desire for simplicity.

The new book starts of with a question. I’ll let you read then we’ll continue….

He was napping, snoring elegantly on his brown couch with the drapes drawn. He never opened them, but on occasion, an itty-bitty breeze would allow a slight amount of sunlight to pierce his brown room like a shard.

The Madam peeked her head through the hole, which she was never allowed to do. But, she was curious. They had lived side by side and inside each other’s lives for a good six months now. Mr. Brown had been knitting socks the whole time….where had they gone? What had he done with them? That was all he ever did. Day in and day out he only let go of his knitting to make them dinner. (As you remember, The Madam is a terrible cook). So, where had they all gone? Did he simply throw them away? Or had he gone so mad that he would knit a pair of socks, finish them, unwind the yarn until it was just a skein again, then knit them back up? Over and over? Like a crazy person would????

She needed to know what was happening with Mr. Brown. The last six months had not been very kind to them and she was so anxious to put things back together.

She nudged her head through their shared hole with a delicacy. She knew that just the slightest hint of her breath would stir him, wake him and she would be in tremendous trouble.

She crooked her head to the right. She could see his front door. The slightest bit of light coming through the threshold had been blocked out with brown paper bags.

Then she moved her head ever so slowly to the right to find the most astonishing thing. As dust fluttered like fairies through the dim sliver of sun ray, she spied a pile of hand knit socks tucked behind the couch, worked up beautifully, but never worn.

There were dozens of them overflowing in the corner, a small hill of darlings he had knit then dismissed.

She pulled her head back in quickly and gasped with delight. “Oh, my! I’m turning you into a cottage industry, Mr. Brown!”

The Madam grabbed her second to last cigarette and said with some relief, “We might make rent after all….”

booksI couldn’t shake this great shot in my head of this pile of knit socks that Mr. Brown had made. I thought it would be great to recreate that shot in real life, then take those socks and sell a pair with each signed, hardcover copy of “The Madam and Mr. Brown.” Talk about limited edition. The funds from that will help me spend time working on this sequel. I don’t have a title yet, but I do have a feel for what is going to happen to them. Mrs. Brown is going to do everything she can to help save this poor, wrecked man. Things haven’t gone well for them, but she is going to do everything she can to keep him in her life, safe in only a way for him that only she understands. So click here if you’d like a pair of Mr. Brown’s socks with a hardcover copy of “The Madam and Mr. Brown.” Or if you would like to read the book on kindle, click here. 

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!


One Day, I say…One Day.

cottageI pass this little house every day. I lovingly imagine a place of my own, just like this. A small patch of land, a one room cottage, and a fenced in porch for writing….He even has a few orange trees behind him. One day, I say….One day. I say this every day. Perhaps instead of saying “One day,” I should start screaming, “Now! TODAY!”

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!

I –


I do go quiet sometimes. I stop blogging for a minute. As a self professed monk, I think my vocation demands it. 🙂

I say that with a smile because, to be absolutely honest, my time in silence is often my favorite. I do still write, I do still knit, I do still embroider….but, I don’t feel the need to share. This blog is an open diary of my life for anyone and everyone to read. And some thoughts and feelings are meant simply for me and God, especially some of those felt in that quiet, silent embrace.

I’ll put it to you this way. If I’m blogging, I’m spending time with you. If I’m not, I’m spending time with God. And once you feel His presence, it’s very hard to let It go. It feels too good to let go. Your body doesn’t hurt, your mind doesn’t hurt. There is no fear, there is no anxiety, there is no constraint….only consent. Thomas Keating discussed consent in one of his sermons and it was a shift in my own thinking.

You have to consent to God’s love, for God’s love doesn’t make demands. Nor does God’s love require credentials, memberships, earnings.

God only asks that you love Him as equally as He loves you…And when you consent to that love, when you freely hand yourself over to that simple divine principle, then loving everything gets so much easier. Especially loving yourself, your enemies, or anything else you might despite. Everything gets easier once you consent to that love and just let it wash over you like an ice cold shower on a blazing hot day.

UntitledIf you’re lucky, you’ll enjoy 10 minutes of silence with God and you’ll feel a smile creep across your face. You’ll feel Him in ways that cause butterflies to bloom in your belly. You’ll feel him in ways that make you stop everything, pause, and stop what you’re doing just to experience something like you have ever enjoyed in the physical world. It is an absolute disregard for death and of pain, for it is the eternal presence, the source of ever giving love and every given life.

And if you’re a self professed monk (like myself), those are the moments you crave. Those moments in silence give life to all that you create…the things you make are just manifestations of your time spent alone with God. If you’re a self professed monk, you want to extend that 10 minutes of bliss into something much longer, something that digs deeper into the soul. You’ll structure your life around that desire for silence to invite the Divine….and for the hands to fumble through whatever He should desire be made. We trust His design. We have faith in His plan. We consent to what will be….in His name.

Sorry if I got all preachy on you. Just letting you know why I’ve been quiet. 🙂

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!

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I’m Basically Just a Long Piece of String

He said it with all sincerely, with genuine heart: “I’m so happy to see you do that.”

I finished gobbling the last of my peanut butter sandwich before asking, “What?”


It’s so true. For the past month I’ve been on a diet. And I know some heads can’t swivel around to the idea that diets aren’t just for losing weight. Diets are a designed regiment of healthy eating. Yes, skinny people need diets, too. My weight has always been really low. I max out at 120lbs while being 6 feet tall. In other words, I’m just a really long piece of string. Last year my weight got dangerously low, to less than a hundred pounds. It’s a condition of my subconscious. When I’m stressed I stop eating.

All of that changed a month ago. I was given a gift card to Publix, so I could order some groceries. So, I put it to some amazing use. Tired of hearing from big boys how to put on weight, I went hunting down scrawny dudes like yours truly. This one gent gave me the best advice ever. “Eat something, anything, anything at all first thing in the morning. While you’re waiting for the coffee to brew, grab something out of the fridge and have a bight. This will increase your appetite. Your body will be wanting MORE.”

So, I did…..And four weeks later I’m eating five times a day. Now, it’s nothing massive. I grab one of those Dole Fruit Cups of diced peaches (you know, those little four packs they come in) and start nibbling on that while I wait for the coffee. A few sips of Java and I’m suddenly adding yogurt to my fruit cup. Another cup of Joe and wouldn’t you know, I’ve added cornflakes to the mix.

Two hours later, I’m snacking on a creamy Peter Pan peanut butter and Smucker’s strawberry jelly sandwich…..(See? I have to pause to go make myself a sandwich now. Just writing it with some description made me hungry for one.)

Two hours after that I’m having a bowl of tomato soup with a grilled cheese and turkey sandwich. Two more hours and another snack, then dinner, then a snack, then a bowl of ice cream….then catching myself up at 3am raiding the fridge for that DELICIOUS Publix southern style potato salad and classic baked beans!!!! (YUM, dammit, YUM!)

I have watched my personality shift…and have found some safety and sanctuary over the last month within myself. (Wow, Gregory. Do you think that what, how, and when you eat might affect someone’s mood??? Someone’s physical and mental health? Groundbreaking, Gregory, just….groundbreaking.)

I went from eating one meal a day (out of obligation, I imagine) to eating five. I went from feeling caged and depressed to being the Rockstar that I know I am. 🙂 I have more energy, I have more creativity, more desire….more love. I know with food prices what they are, it’s gonna be rough to keep it up, but I don’t care. I’ll double up on knitting teddy bears and embroidering my felted bags. (Donating when you’ve read something I’ve written that you like helps!). But, even if we have to take out a loan to pay for groceries, then so be it, because I love what FOOD (of all blessed things) what FOOD has done for my demeanor, my mind. (I can’t wait to see what it does for my body! My midzone is getting a little thick, so that’s why I had suspenders on my list 🙂 I’m having to unbutton when I sit. Isn’t that awesome?)

296805029_767691081025494_474285982699957025_nAnd I no longer weigh myself. I find it foolish. I just want the people that see me on a daily basis to notice it in my face. Weight is not my concern. Health is. I know I’m doing ok if any one of them should happen to say, “You look like you’re in a really good place right now.” (The morning lady at 7-11 said that to me today! I giggled, said thank you, and bought us both a candy bar!)

Then to hear Phillip comment how happy he was to see me eating really made me feel….I don’t know. Proud, I guess. A big element of my life was tackled, not destroyed. That’s not the kind of man I am. I don’t kill. I convince. So, I convinced that part of myself that clung to the normal, self deprecating, sinister part of me that wanted to self destruct, that things would be so much better if I just made the damned effort. That part of me isn’t dead. It’s been convinced to be grateful now that it is freed of anything bad that it it had tasted before….and to lovingly gobbling up all that it can with appreciation.

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!

I –

Just Being Comfortable

Things have been splendidly quiet here at Honeychurch. There have been no mild highs and no extreme lows….just a superbly simple stability. We don’t want for much, Phillip and I. We find so much value in moments, not things.

So, it was interesting when it was suggested to us that we have an amazon wish list for anything we might need. My brain went blank. I couldn’t think of anything, even if I were to consider making a wish list. I get posed this question every year at Christmas by mother, “what do you want for Christmas?”

…..and my mind goes quiet.

I guess when asked if there are things I need, I buckle, because the things I could use to make life a touch easier would be silly to some. I mean, if you had a wish list, what would you ask for?

UntitledFine. I’ll go big. I’ll boldly ask loudly for the one thing I think I’ve been working for my whole life. I want a one acre property near Dade City, Fl. I’ll have a one bedroom cottage with a fence….and on the other side of that fence is Phillip and HIS one bedroom cottage. A few miles east is a Publix….and a few miles west is St. Leo’s Monastery, where I can finally become a layman. I’ve written a best seller and all that we need will be taken care of long after the both of us are gone….so that surplus goes to helping any and every soul or charity we can think of that could use some help. Much as I have been blessed with the kindness of so many of you, we’d turn around and send it right back to others we believe in, that could use some support.

(I love day dreaming).

In the meantime, I could use a box fan. You see, Phillip and I don’t use the air conditioning. We’ve been here nearly three years and the first month we moved in was in the middle of summer, so we had the air on. Our bill was about $250 a month. Then the weather got cooler, the air went off, windows went open, we bought a couple of box fans and the bill dropped to about $95 a month….and every summer since, we’ve allowed this house that was designed for breezes to do its job. But, this morning one of our box fans fell over and broke.  It is quite amazing the difference in the air when one fan goes down. The heat index of 104 is surrounding the house, whilst the humidity begins seeping in through the cracks. You can certainly notice a difference.

So, what would I put on my wish list? A box fan…

If you can help with that, I’d be more than grateful.

UPDATE! The fans were purchased! THANK YOU SO MUCH! So many of you did suggest a wish list for anything else I could use, so I spent a little while racking my brain. Yes. Yes, I could definitely use some new socks and t-shirts. So, here is my wish list.

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!


Royal Bears For Everyone

sutton2Since Phillip was out of work for a few days, I’ve been ramping up production of quite a few Bear and Blanket sets so we can finish paying rent. I’ve been having a ton of fun with these bears, loving how no two look exactly the same, each of them with their own personalities, each with a dominion that is uniquely theirs. I call them my “Ursus Royal” series.

The next little Bear and Blanket set is Sir Sutton of Sleepytime. He resides of a land where bears no what it means to unwrap a blanket, toss it on the grass, lay on on your back and do nothing but take the best nap ever. He’s in the shop now.

dreamsThe other two bears are fast behind, though. Trying to get the Duke of Dreams finished by tomorrow. Set in a land of colors reflected off the clouds, he floats quietly behind like the sky, keeping all those beautiful together so that others may enjoy them whenever they see a sunset or sunrise.

Then there is Lady Latte, of course. She lives in a land where bears spend their days at cafes, sipping the most delicious of fancy coffees, while licking honey biscuits absolutely free of charge. (Can’t wait for you to see the colors of her blanket, over flowing with the colors of cream and cappuccino).

latteSo, please come back to the shop often, and I do mean often. These little bears don’t last very long, which is good. I don’t have too much time to waste. With that, I’ll get back to work and finish them up for you! Don’t worry! There will bears for everyone!

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!



Phillip Flips to Fifty

I will not lie to you….I’m hungover. So, this might be one of the most precious, or most disastrous blog posts I’ve ever written.

It seems cider doesn’t agree with me. I’m a classic drinker. I can hold my liquor. But, for some messed up reason cider seems to throw everything off balance, including my equilibrium…which is why I guess I kept walking sideways yesterday, only correcting myself once I hit a wall. But, don’t worry! Nothing terrible happened….I just played it off. “Phillip, have you seen the mural on this wall? Fasc (burp!) fascinating…..Gorgeous. What is that? A frog?”

Why? Oh, why did I have two (ok, three) pints of cider and go all stupid? Because today Phillip flips to fifty. Yes, today is Phillip’s 50th birthday, but seeing how he had to work today, we decided to celebrate last night….which is another lie. We celebrated at 1pm and were in bed, wrecked in the head, watching crap tv by 5pm asking, “What the hell just happened?” (Full disclosure, we were gifted a case of Mike’s Hard Lemonade for his birthday at 11am….and we might have started there. Anyway! Don’t plan to incriminate either of us, just giving the facts.)

9c96ad0dd433c20bb7e8935147b3d9b7__united_states_florida_orange_county_orlando_northeast_orlando_east_robinson_street_2414_sportstown_billiardshtmlWe had decided to go to Sportstown, an institution, if you ask me. The perfect place to play. A place I’ve been going to since I was in my 20’s. It looks like a basement rec room in the suburbs. The type of place where the parents know you’re going to drink, smoke weed, be vile and ridiculously stupid….but, you’re in the basement and mom and dad can come and check on you if they need to. You’re in a safe place, plush with comfy couches, baskets of nacho cheese, pickled jalapenos, air hockey and ski ball. What can go wrong?

Absolute nothing went wrong. It was a great outing, a wonderful afternoon in which we foolishly celebrated Phillip’s birthday. No one else was there! It was us and the bartender, which is how we flow, you know. I’m agoraphobic and can’t be around a lot of people….and Phillip is just awkward and weird. He frightens people….He’s reading this right now and agreeing with me, so no emails about how I talk poorly about him. Dude is over my shoulder NODDING right now.

So, we liked that we had the whole place to ourselves….at 1 o’clock in the afternoon on a Thursday. 🙂 Who else would be there? We never got to the jukebox. We love the jukebox because we love messing with people’s heads. It’s true! Whenever we go to Sportstown we make a point of leaving with some wild song on the jukebox as we make our exit. We were going to pick George Michael’s “Flawless.” But, there was no one there to mess with 🙂

So, this is where we came home, made some ham sandwiches, plopped in the bed and asked that serious question that anyone on the precipice of 50 may want to ask. Midlife. Half life. Shelf life…What have you done and want do you want next?

The answers to those questions are never truly spoken. Quite simply, they’re felt. No matter how you to try to verbalize it, what it means to reach an age where you realize that life will someday begin to fade away can hurt you, if you’re not careful…

Then we remembered the many of our friends who didn’t make it this far….the same friends who were convinced people like Phillip and I wouldn’t make it past 30. Yet, here we all were in a space meant for fun, the spirit of long gone friends around us….All of us laughing at the irony of it all: they were all gone and here was Phillip flipping 50.

He said, “Today was good. I felt 15 again….” Turning 50 allowed him the chance to feel youthful again. If you could see his face, he looks like a solid, happy man undefinable in age. He has a boyish buoyancy about him. He might have gone to work today with two different pairs of socks because he is about as hungover as I am right now. But, that’s not the sort of thing you care too much about as you mature, is it?

So, ya’ll wish Phillip a happy birthday. I’m going to eat something greasy and go back to bed….

If you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!


By the Grace of an Abusive Father

I think the further you go down a spiritual path, the more you’re inclined to look back and ask where and when in your life the first steps were taken. Was that first step to follow God my decision or His? Or was it decided mutually? After all, we’re inclined to follow in the footsteps of the Father, but we don’t have to, if we don’t want to. 

My father has been dead for about 3 or 4 months now. And as hellish as our history was, the thought of him comes to me on occasion. Blocking out bad memories is the worst thing anyone can do, so I work with those memories in a way that is less painful. 

I realize that the first steps I took towards a spiritual path, towards a life in reverence to God, was the moment my father first hit me. I was so young, and so confused. I didn’t hate him then, I just didn’t understand why he resented me so much. The more adolescence took over, the more I wanted away from him for good. But, I wasn’t aware of the spiritual life then. I was only aware of the physical life and found myself trying to find a father figure in any older man that would have me. 

I was so desperate for a dad that I have no choice but to admit to living the worst sort of lifestyle in my early 20’s: so eager to be loved, I did anything.

Then through the series of some beautiful events, I found myself walking into a Benedictine monastery and asking the monks not to, “let me leave until I’m human again.”

In the quiet, in the silence, in the charity and mercy, and long walks through the orange groves, I had found my true Father, had found that emptiness in my history, in my person, filling with warmth. All resentments were lifted, all needs for revenge squashed, all desperate needs to be validated by anyone who would sexually have me were erased.

I was at peace, free of the sadness that comes from having not been loved by someone; free of the darkness that comes from living every day over and over with no new outcome; free from making pain a normal part of life, and making love a suspicious attribute of someone. 

I understood then and there that I wanted to make this spiritual life that I witnessed and explored for just a moment, the cornerstone of how I structured my life….for in this life of hermitage I get to spend as much time with the One True Father nearly every moment of every day. And in that time I am afforded the most amazing love; a love that brings good people into my fold, a love that allows debates to be settled with hugs, a love that allows the daily gift of sunlight, and a love that happens by just smiling at a stranger and changing their day forever. You don’t have to scream in order to change the world! You can shift the hearts of cruel men simply through prayer….

And there is a lot of forgiveness in that love. I was asked if I thought my father would be in hell? No, of course not. No one who believes in a just, loving, forgiving God would ever admit to the existence of hell. My father, as all, was accepted into the beauty of Heaven, with forgiveness and compassion.

To be fair, it’s very difficult to take even one more step on any spiritual path if you don’t recognize that particular Holy forgiveness. 

71Through the faults of my father, and through my father’s own pain, I was given grace. Whatever hell happened in my father’s head to make him that way, was in many ways a God send for me, for my own soul. I don’t know what my life would have been like had my father been a well adjusted, decent man. I just can’t imagine it would be as blessed as this life. For, I may never have experienced a spiritual pain had my father not been physically abusive. But, in that pain, he and I were both saved, I think. 

I imagine my father is in Heaven, finally experiencing the love he never truly felt while he was alive. I hope my father is smiling….for now we both understand what we were both missing that whole time: the love of our One True Father.

Writing and knitting are pretty much my only income at the moment, so if you appreciate my work and would like for it to continue, please donate or peek around the shop. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you so much for reading!




Ditching Political Jesus

I have been struggling to understand this notion that Jesus was a liberal, or a social democrat. Conservatives want to snatch Him up for themselves and say he defends truly great Americans. This conversation always tends to pop up during elections, so it isn’t unusual. But, I think it’s strange that people would want to taint the teachings of someone so blessed with the poisoned arrows of politics.

To begin with, you’re under the foolish impression that Jesus would turn your eyes from God for one minute to consider something as ridiculous as a political party’s platform. Secondly, if you think that Jesus would stump for you on the campaign trail would mean he would have to reject the other party. Now that word is important: reject. I can’t imagine Jesus standing along side a nominated politician. I can’t imagine Jesus would applaud the term, “Let’s beat them in November!” I can’t imagine Jesus would give his blessing so that you could shred your opponent with hit pieces, planted stories, lies and gossip.

But, some will argue that we should support all social spending governments for Jesus believed in helping the poor, feeding the hungry, tending to the sick, distributing wealth, etc! YES! HE WAS! But, I take offense to your interpretation of what that means, for it goes against the nature of the Christian belief.

The entire concept of Christian salvation relies on the individual desire for a connection to God. And the only way to do that is through love. Love can be packaged in the form of concern and charity, but it is ultimately how a Christian finds salvation: by giving of himself to others, through the desire to give and share kindness. A Christian does not wait for the government to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or tend to the sick on his behalf. He is implored to do so by the loving strength of mercy that resides in everyone who reads the words of Christ in red: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.”

Your soul, your human experience, is diluted by demanding someone else to take care of these things for you. You are missing the grace of that moment where God, You, and the one you showed concern for become the new trinity.  The Father (God), the Son (that would be you now!), and the Holy Spirit (that great bliss from having been given love, now sharing it).

Conservatives, don’t feel you’re off the hook. I get bothered when I hear you say, “God fearing, American, Christian values.” Again, I worry about any Christian who is afraid of God. I think they’re more afraid of what the Church thinks, rather than what God thinks. And statements like these always make me feel as though piety, fear, ridicule, judgement and chastisement are all one heartbeat away from normal for the Christian thought. To have these ideas supersede the ever expanding Grace of God is a sin, if you ask me. That precious part of you that hears God in silence, whispering “love,” starts getting replaced with the noisy screams of judgement from a pulpit.

UntitledLiberals, when you start screaming about “the separation of church and state,” do you think you could start with your campaigning? Could you please not be so hypocritical as to tout Jesus as a carrot in front of people, then say months later, there is “too much prayer in our schools?” Conservatives, when you start saying that you are a “Christian,” could you please stop cultivating Jesus as a warrior, a soldier? In the presence of so many hostilities in the world it is easy to use Christ as a symbol of defense and protection, fighting along side us. It is understandable. But, in the process of doing this we forget who Christ was. We forget that he is the ultimate beacon of hope, we forget that he is the ever extending grace of God’s love for eternity, we forget that he is the light and the way for all….

So, let’s start ditching the “political” Jesus, shall we? That is until at least both political parties have Jesus figured out…..

I bet once a few politician truly realize they’re a Christian, they’ll leave politics forever.

If you appreciate my blog and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you!