A Post Apocalyptic Movie

The Book of Eli is about a man traveling across the country to fulfill a calling. During the thirty years of his mission he encounters other survivors of the world’s devastation, but he stays out of their affairs at all costs. For his mission he has been endowed with a gift, which he uses very brutally for the sake of his directive. 

     Eli has been traveling for thirty years and has read the same book every day during that time. At the end we find out that not only has he read the book from cover to cover he has memorized every word. 

     The story, he reveals to us when he tells a girl that he got so caught up in reading the book and protecting it, that he forgot to live by what it says in the book.  

    

     When he finally knew the book as well as he could, and he memorized it during the thirty years, only then could he understand the underlying message of the book as a whole rather than individual chapters, pages, or stories. It’s a movie so they never mention the most important theme and purpose of the book that Jesus came to save us.

     While it cost him his life, in the end he tried to save someone, other than himself or the book. During those thirty years, he only saved one lost soul.

     Eli’s book was a King James Version of the Bible printed in braille. Even after he knew everything about the book he was not putting it to use, believing that it was meant for someone else to use for the good of mankind.

     It is so easy for us to get caught up in fixing ourselves first, that we can forget that we just need to try. We become afraid of failure, so much so that we get caught-up in our own betterment. Be aware that we will fail. It is the act of trying that sets those few apart from the rest of the world. 

     Like Eli, we are all given a gift to share the word of God with the world, and like Eli we often get caught-up more in the quest, and forget to share with others what was given to us freely.

     Perhaps we even believe a little, that just the simple act of reading the Bible makes everything right in the world. We can know and even believe something without putting it to use for the good of anyone else. Unshared knowledge is useless knowledge.

     We are not asked to save everyone from hell, we are only asked to try, and then maybe help save some. The act of obedience is all that is really required of us. 

We cannot save ourselves, we can’t even come close. If you don’t believe me try going to heaven for a little while and come back to tell us all how it was. No, don’t try, you can’t. 

      I for one have never really liked the Old Testament. The truth is that it is meant to show us that we don’t deserve God’s grace and we have absolutely no chance of earning our way to heaven. No one wants to believe that they are not good enough.

It is about how man has always failed and will always fail.

     The New Testament is the story of Jesus’s love for his children and the extent to which he is willing to prove it by sacrificing his own blood as payment for our unworthiness.

     The Bible as a whole is that we do not want God to be fair with us, because we will always fail. It is only by God’s compassion and love for those who choose to love Him, of their own free will, that they can share in the grace of salvation. Grace is a gift that has been given to us, despite the fact that we do not want it, cannot earn it, and we do not even deserve it.

     We should care about what God cares about, if for no other reason than, that God cares about it. God cares about people and their love for Him.

     God deserves our love and devotion, we do not deserve anything, yet He gives, of a giving spirit.

     Any and all gifts received from the spirit of God, no matter how diversified, are designed for the sole purpose of sharing the word of God to the entire world.

     The Bible is just a book filled with merely words; it is that they are God’s words that are what is important. Man can write great things with great words, but they are not God breathed. Without God, The Bible is just a book about living a better life. The Bible is not to be worshiped, it is not God; it is only an object.

     Do what matters.

     Do whatever, just do it for the glory of God.

     God is glorified by your getting involved and making a difference. God doesn’t need your help, people do.

 

Why is accepting the grace of Jesus so hard for so many?

No one wants to need, to be saved by someone else.

I think that the bible does focus a lot on giving up one's self, and loving and serving others more than yourself. Perhaps, until we give up our selfishness; selfish pride and entitlement; we cannot be filled by the Holy Spirit enough to accept that we are not great enough to save ourselves. We do need to be saved, and until we come to terms with it and admit it, we are lost.

Where has God been in my life?

Where has God been in my life?

            James woke in the middle of the night to the sound of sirens. Coming out of his drowsiness, he smelled smoke and saw the orange glow coming from under the door.

            In his panic, he rushed for the door and poked his head out into the hallway from his studio apartment. The heat from the fire singed some of his hair before he could pull the door shut again.

            Back to the safety of his room, he went for the window of his tenth floor apartment. Upon opening the window to the fire escape he was jolted with the memory of taking down the fire escape.

            A few years ago James had decided that he was a self made man and had no need of anything that he couldn't provide for himself. He had worked too hard to let someone climb the fire escape ladder and let themselves into his apartment and steal his hard earned things.

            As he pondered his next actions of self-preservation, the fire burned through the top of his apartment door. He then quickly grabbed a chair and hammered his way through the wall to an adjacent apartment, to be completely stopped by the concrete firewall behind the sheetrock.

            Running back to the window, the only source of fresh air now, he was startled by a shadow coming up out of the night towards him. His father's face came into the light and reached his hand out towards his son. "Take my hand, I can save you."

            Reflexively he reached out for help and abruptly jerked back "No. Get away from me," he yelled.

            His father reached farther thru the window, "I am here to help you – come to me."

            I don't need your help. I don't need anything from you. You were never there for me," he said.

            "I was always there for you," his father replied. "I answered the phone both times you called, but when I knocked on your door you pretended you weren’t home.

            "When you needed an apartment near your work, I put your name at the top of the waiting list. When you needed a liver donation, I gave you part of my own as an anonymous donor.

            "If I wasn't there in the ways that you thought you wanted, I was there in the ways that you needed.

            "If I had let you cut off your arm when you were twelve, because you felt it wasn’t right, would that have proven to you that I loved you? If I had cleared away every obstacle and gave you every luxury, would that have made you stronger?

            "I am your father and I will always love you. I want to help you now. All you have to do is accept my help. I will be right here."

            "My father the fireman! I don't believe you," said James. "I don't need your help. I have always had to do everything myself while you were out playing hero. Since moving out, I have worked for my food, not you. I worked to pay for my home, not you. I have done everything for myself. I am as good as you are."

            "Son, you have been so obsessed with what you can do, that you were completely oblivious to anyone else in your life. You have never been alone, except where you have isolated yourself.

“It’s still your choice, even now, give me your hand so that I can help you – or die alone in this coffin that you made. I respect your choice because I love you so much.”

            “You just want to control me, that’s all you have ever wanted. I refuse to be your puppet, go away!” James yelled to his would be savior.

            Reluctantly the father pulled away from the window as it became completely engulfed in the flames. He watched as his beloved child plummeted to the finality of his own freewill.

            This story may seem Ludacris, but looking from God’s perspective, we often do the same thing. Why do we so often refuse the free gift from God? Is it because we are too embarrassed to accept handouts? Do we really have to earn everything for ourselves— even passage to heaven?

            God loves us and helps us in ways we will never know, yet because it is not the help we think we need we reject it. We think we know what we need, and that is what we expect, and nothing else will do.

          All that we really need is God, to be a friend, a teacher, and a savior. We do not deserve anything, we did not make ourselves, yet he chose to die in our place. Many hate him and reject him, but Jesus died for them as well. He let them choose their fate, but he still did the hard work— all of the work.

Are We In Control: A True Story

      All around us strange and wonderful things are happening. Most of the time, these things go unnoticed and have no effect on us, because we do not see the meaning behind them. However, on some rare occasions, they are so powerful that they leave us changed forever. This life-changing event is something that we can never truly or completely understand, leaving us bewildered, confused, and amazed. I have witnessed a few such incidents in my life, but one in particular stands out in my mind whenever I wonder, “Who is in control of my life?” Becoming aware of ourselves is to become aware of the impossibilities that occur in our lives, and how it affects us.

            During the summers of my high school years my best friend Jerry and I would often go camping at his grandfather’s pond. The pond was not very large, about one fifth of an acre, and located on a section of ground near ten acres. The far side of the pond was covered with trees as was the pasture behind it. We camped on the open side of the pond, having a clear safe space for a camp fire; but mostly we needed the open area for setting off fireworks and target shooting.

            During those summers we would either ride our motorcycles through the pastures, or play video games at Jerry’s parents’ house. This was one of those weekends that we had grown tired of being in the house all day long. Since neither of us were partiers, we had the most fun in small groups, so we decided to have a camp-out. We had been staying indoors, so I had nothing with me for camping outside. We got into Jerry’s small ugly 1976 Ford Mustang. We had fun with that car; it was our camping and off-road vehicle. The silver paint was fading and flaking, so we did not have to worry much about hurting it. My house was not very far from his, only six miles, so it would not take us very long to get there.

                        Once we pulled up to the house, we both went in to gather my things. My only gun was a single-action, six-shot, .357 magnum revolver. I set it on a chair near the front door, so I could take it with us. Our favorite target-shooting guns were 22 caliber rifles which I did not have, but my dad did.

            My dad was sitting on the couch in front of the television watching us get ready for our outing. I asked him if I could borrow the gun; he teased me a little, trying to have some fun before I left him home alone again. I knew that he would like to have joined us, but he never asked, knowing we were teenagers and becoming more independent.

            I quickly got the gun, handed it to Jerry, and then went to my room for some blankets and a pillow. I did not own a sleeping bag; looking back on it now, I wish that I had had one. I tossed the blankets on the chair by the door and went to the kitchen to see if we had any food I could take along. We were very poor and had nothing worth taking. Jerry’s family always supplied our food, but I felt I should look, if for nothing more than appearances. We still had to set up camp and find firewood. Also, we wanted to get in a few target shots before dark. It was already late in the afternoon, so we needed to go quickly. I told my dad goodbye as I grabbed my stack of blankets in one swooping grasp, and I was out the door.

            When I got in the car I just laid my pile of blankets on my lap. It was a short drive, and getting things in and out of the back seat of the two-door car was inconvenient. Back then we never wore our seatbelts; we had not had enough life experiences to know that we needed to wear them. It was not very hot that day, and with the sun going down, it was only going to cool down more. Since we were driving on dirt roads, we left the windows up as much as we could to keep out the dust and wind, but mine was slightly open for some air movement.  

            We were halfway down the driveway when there was a loud noise, an explosion. At those times in our lives, when something traumatic happens, people do not feel emotions or sense anything going on around them. Like in a dream, events go into slow motion and everything becomes surreal. When they look back those events really happened only in the blink of an eye.

            I kicked the door open, threw out my lapful of blankets, and was about to jump out, when I realized that Jerry was just getting the car stopped. I looked over at him as he yelled, “What was that?” I could hear him out of my left ear, but my right one was ringing so loudly I could hardly hear anything else.

Just then, I realized what had happened. I looked down at the pile of blankets, now thrown to the ground, and before my eyes could focus on them, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. My pistol had gotten tangled up in the seat belt and was hanging right next to me.

            I had forgotten about the gun! I would never have put it in the car still loaded. I must have grabbed it off of the chair when I picked up my pile of blankets and not realized what I had done.

            When Jerry realized what had happened, he became very concerned. “Are you hit?”

            “No, I don’t feel anything,” I said more calmly than I felt.

            “You could be in shock; check yourself,” he yelled.

            Right then I recalled a movie we had watched only a couple of days before called Memphis Bell. It was a war movie about an airplane bomber crew. A bullet had come up through the floor of the cabin, and a red liquid had blown everywhere. The crew had been concerned that one of them could be shot and in shock, so he would not feel it. Luckily one of them noticed a can of tomato paste ripped-open on the floor. He stuck his finger in the red liquid, tasted it, and burst out laughing.

            After finding out that neither of us was bleeding, I calmed down a little and could just now smell the smoke from the gunpowder. My sense of smell had diminished while I was in that other state of awareness, but now that I was coming out of it, I was thinking more clearly.

            I looked at the gun. It was pointing up and the hammer was caught by the strap. I started getting queasy, realizing that if it had been angled a couple of inches to the left, it would have been pointed at my head, and I kept it loaded with hollow points. Also, if it had been pointing at my abdomen, it not only would have killed me; it would have gone through me and directly into Jerry, who was in the driver’s seat next to me.

            I had no doubt that the gun had fired; my ear was still ringing on that side, and the air was strong with the smell of gunpowder smoke. I opened the gun, and as I suspected one round had fired, and only the empty casing remained.

There was no bullet hole anywhere, and even though my window was open slightly, the gun was at an angle to the window where the opening would have been no bigger than the diameter of the bullet. To this day, I am still dumbfounded that neither of us was shot, and the only avenue of escape for the bullet was through the slightly open car window. It would be nearly impossible to recreate those events, even under the most perfect circumstances.

Someone does not have to believe in miracles to see that the odds of pure chance being the sole, controlling factor in our lives is ridiculous. The result of my stupidity shows that we may not have complete control of what goes on around us, and we need to be sure to learn from those things as well.