Friday, July 3, 2020

I am thankful for my peas...

On January 13, 2007, my 5-year-old daughter died in a car accident.


I numbed out for the longest time. Eventually, as I started having a welling up of new emotions, a friend realized I needed help navigating them. She recommended I visit her friend, and Episcopal Priest, and a grief counselor.


I knew of grief. I had never quite felt it like this, before. So, I decided to take my friends suggested.


Now at the time, I had hit bedrock. I was homeless: A client for Coalition for the Homeless, I was temporarily on a week by week motel voucher. I had no transportation and very little funds, so I was to initially be counseled pro-bono if I could find the funds to catch a bus near her home in Colorado.


She came down the mountain and met me in town; I bused up from Denver.


I do not remember much of what we discussed about grief and its process. A lot of it I had heard already.


What struck me was my homework: I was given a journal and told to write in it... A Gratitude Journal.


A what!?! Was she crazy? I asked her... taken aback.


Let me get this right... I just lost my daughter. I am homeless. I have nothing to be thankful for. And you want me to do what?


She said that until I had found something to be thankful for, I would never find a reason to live. I would never find a life worth living. And, basically, I would willfully go the way of my daughter.


So... I reluctantly took my Gratitude Journal, "home;" I kept it with me as assigned to catch the slightest occurrence of thanks.


It did not come.


I was not thankful for anything. For the longest time, I had transported a blank journal with me everywhere I went.


Then one day, I ran out of food. The Coalition for the Homeless has a pantry. I was given canned food.


I had a microwave at the motel. I went to the gas station on the corner to find something to open the cans with... nothing. No silverware. No plates. No containers. I had very little cash anyway. So, I went back "home" to my motel.


I looked through my cans. A can of peas had a pop top lid. I popped it and poured out some peas. I had nothing to cook in, so I simply looked my cold peas, contemplating my next step.


I decided I should at least pray for my food.


Dear God, I started.... I am thankful for my peas...


I had an inspiring moment.


I got up quickly and rushed to my journal.


I grabbed my pen and wrote:


I am thankful for my peas.


And I wrote, and wrote, and wrote.


Pages later, I was filling my journal with things I was thankful for. Page after page.


I do not recall even eating a single pea that night. 


But I am still very thankful for those peas...


Friday, June 19, 2020

Life is Precious

While we may be able to debate whether “silence is golden;” we may agree that “life is precious.”


Earnest H. and Isadora R. Rosenbaum describe the human will to live as a fight for survival, especially when our lives feel threatened:


“Human beings have a fierce instinct for survival. The will to live is a force within all of us to fight for survival when our lives are threatened...”


Earnest H. Rosenbaum, M.D., Isadora R. Rosenbaum, M.A.


However, when humans find their lives repeatedly placed in jeopardy by painful or fearful experiences, Thomas Joiner explains that the result is a “higher tolerance for pain and a sense of fearlessness in the face of death.”


“…the capability for suicide is acquired largely through repeated exposure to painful or fearsome experiences.  This results in habituation and, in turn, a higher tolerance for pain and a sense of fearlessness in the face of death.”


Thomas Joiner, Ph.D.


Believing that “life is too short,” The Hearthsides sing, “Live for today… don’t spend the now waiting for another day:”


If you could live forever, what would you live for?
If you could live forever, would you appreciate your time?

Life is too short so live for today
And don't spend the now waiting for another day


The Hearthsides, The Thin Line Between Life and Death, from Live and Learn


We know we are not guaranteed our next breath. Our next second. Let alone today. While we may attempt to seize the day in the palms of our hands, we know, for certain, we are not guaranteed tomorrow.


From this realization I have developed this creed:


I live every night as if it is my last and every morning as if it is my first.


Mark Gersmehl writes about how precious to him are the hours in a day:


Twenty-four coins are in my hands

Twenty-four coins for me to spend

And I will treasure them

Treasure them


Twenty-four hours you've given me

It's a world of possibilities

I will treasure them

Treasure them


 Mark Gersmehl, Twenty-four Coins, from Awakening Album


Life is precious. It is very costly. Yet so many moments we take for granted. One moment after another, we spend our time – our greatest asset – with reckless abandon, as if it is replenishable, until we realize how fragile our lives are and how precious each moment in time really is.


The most expensive moment of my life to my soul was the second I lost my daughter in a car accident, on January 13, 2007. One second, she was here, and the next second, she was gone. With her passing, every aspect of my life changed. How I defined myself – my identity – changed, completely. My goals, my aspirations, even my fears – nothing remained the same. Everything I had fought for in my life, to create a better life for her, was suddenly lost. I suddenly felt worthless. My life felt worthless.


Prior to the birth of my daughter, I lived a very emotionally and physically chaotic, tumultuous life. My childhood traumas had led me to suicidality at an early age. Whether or not my many attempts to seize my own life from the spiraling roller coaster that held me captive as a youth were witnessed by others, I know not. On many occasions, however, I flirted with Death so much, he seemed my best friend, who at the most opportune times became too busy to have me for company. Though Death seemed to evade me, when he came for my daughter, he left a mortal, gaping wound on my soul that has yet to close.


I am a natural born fighter. I am always up for a challenge. However, I pick my battles well, determining, for myself, which battles are worth the fight, and which are not. While my daughter lived, those five short years, I fought for Life. I had someone to care for, to protect, to nurture, to love… Without my daughter to fight for anymore, I dedicated my efforts to fight against Life, instead of for it.


I know, from a statistical perspective, I am far from alone.


When I end up in a psychiatric hospital, one time out of ten, people accurately guess my stay is related to my daughter’s passing. Some have started to realize, over the past decade or so, that for me, my daughter’s death was merely the last straw on a very huge load that would have broken a camel’s back long ago. Two times out of ten, a recent crisis through me a loop; but seven times out of ten, the contributing factors are post-traumatic stressors from my childhood experiences. Although the experiences may have happened more than 30 years ago, I wear their gaping wounds on my soul, as well.


When I re-experience these past stressors, I respond in different ways.


I always disassociate.


The person who I become when I disassociate varies between who I call, “4-year-old Cari,” and “Dragon Cari.” A friend and pastor of mine, last year, had the pleasure to meet “4-year-old Cari.” He, assuming I was schizophrenic, asked me if I had any other “alters.” I was like, “Huh?” Then I realized that someone from a less than clinical background might legitimately presume that my paranoia, disorganized thoughts, speech, movements, and withdrawal from society were related to delusions or hallucinations, that I do often have; however, these symptoms are more closely related to the dissociative identities I seem to develop when, in crisis, my borderline personality disorder leaves me feeling abandoned and instable, alone and unloved.


Feeling isolated, I isolate more. I wait for help to come. To pull me outside of myself. It does not.


Feeling rejected, I wonder if anyone really cares. Will anyone notice I’m gone? They seem to have not noticed my absence from the activities I habitually kept, my withdrawal from my circles of friends. Do real they care? They do not seem to…


I know my triggers. I tend to ask for help three times. I let at least three people know my disposition.


Then I attempt suicide.


I overdose on medications, attempting to find the right combination of psychotropic medications in combination with alcohol that would allow Death to prevail against Life on my behalf; yet Life consistently wins the battle.


After at least seven of my suicide attempts, I was unconscious for seven days. After some of those seven, I would awake in the ICU and count the number of Coumadin shots I was given in my belly to confirm how long I had been “gone.”


Each time I attempt suicide, I do so as if to demonstrate what I feel: I am a zombie… walking dead. Two people did die in a car accident; it is just that I walked away.


“Why am I here?” has become my question for Life to explain to me, some day.


“Because He’s got a plan for your life…” and “Because he’s not done with you yet…” became the answers I loathed the most, when, other feel that my great faith in God should be enough to keep me from attempting suicide.


Although for years, I wondered what his plan or purpose was for me, I deliberately refused to ask. I did honestly not want to know. The plan or purpose that was important enough to have separated me from my daughter was not up for discussion. What new purpose could my life possibly now have, broken, torn asunder, and scattered? And how can I ever dream of fulfilling this purpose when I so quickly progress through Mark Goulston’s ten steps to suicide, as quickly as I can.


For a decade after my daughter’s passing, I continued in my Zombie Death Walk. My first thought… my impulse… when confronted with the slightest difficult was if I had enough medication at home to overdose with and if I needed to stop by the liquor store on the way.


My failed suicide attempts became so much more frequent, people started believing I was attempting for attention. I began to feel more at home in psychiatric hospitals than in my apartments. I considered my clinicians my greatest support system, over my friends. My mother and brother, who I had not seen since my daughter’s funeral, have since been nonexistent in my life.


After each suicide attempt, when friends would agree they were glad I was still here, I would ask them why that was a good thing.  Again, and again, I would ask… “Why did a five-year-old have to die, and why did I have to live?” After all, the accident investigators’ calculations and simulations showed both driver and passenger died. So, why did my life have to defy those odds?


The answer was always, “God has a purpose for your life.” Followed by, as if I were about to ask why he did not have a purpose for hers, too… “She may have accomplished her purpose in just 5 years…”


This concept never ceased to anger me. I was very quick to let them and God know exactly how much it angered me.


“So, what is my purpose?” I would retort.


“Well, ask him…” was the typical response from those who understood I had an open dialogue with God, someone I had learned to talk to throughout my years; someone who always talked back.


Yet, this one question I refused to ask of him for the longest time. With reason: Any rights he had previously to my life, I had revoked after Carissa’s death. It was my life… he had not seemed to make good by the gifts I had given him… the gift of my life and my daughter’s; therefore, why? I took back the rights to my life. And then, in so many attempts, I took my life into my own hands, as if to say, “Oh… that purpose you had for me… whatever it was… is gone.”


At least with a cocktail of meds in one hand and a bottle of rum in another, his purpose seemed very gone. Each time, I’d perfect my art enough to see if I could outwit Life and end up face to face with my Maker. Each time I lost consciousness, I would wake up, again, with him seeming to remind me that since I gave my life to him, he held the power over my death in his hands, as well. And, after each attempt, I would typically wake up in a better mood.


Once, however, I did not awake in a better mood.


In my great frustration with being alive, again, I inquired, in a injurious and sarcastic tone of voice, “So… What is your purpose for my life?”


For the first time, in a long time, there was silence.


I admit, looking back, my attitude could have used a bit of work. I could have been a bit more grateful for my breath.


Maybe that was why he was silent.


A month or so went by, with another suicide attempt.


The same dialogue with friends was followed by the same suggestion of the purpose God has for me.


The same question I asked of God, now with a slightly different, angry and demanding attitude… “Why am I still here?!  What purpose do you have for my life!?!”


Again, there was silence.


More months brought more attempts.


Still here.


Still wondering, “Why?”


When my heart was in a better space, though still hurt and still grieving, but with a little less anger and less sarcasm, I asked God a third time… “What is your purpose for my life?”


Jesus, as if to have God’s back, this time, replied, out loud, with two words, so simple, yet so profound:


“To live.”


Those two words were accompanied by a mental paraphrase of John 10:10, “I have died that you might have life and have it more abundantly.”


He did not say: “To run for President.”


He did not say: “To win 10 billion souls.”


He said, simply: “To live.”


After my shock wore off a bit, I decided I was up for the challenge.


I was going to do my best to stop trying to die, and to start trying to live.


But how?


How will I reroute so many synapses so well trained on habitually overriding my will to live?


It is not easy.


Nearly every year since, either on the anniversary of Carissa’s death, in January, or her birthday, in February, I have ended up in the hospital after a suicide attempt.


Though my suicide attempts have decreased in number each year, I have spent February through May, two years in a row, disassociating, in and out of hospitals, with very little memory come June of what I experienced the first half of the year.


This year, like clockwork, I attempted suicide, again, on my daughter’s birthday: February 25.


Last year, I came out of the hospital with goals to better not just my life but Life in general, for others, as well as for myself; but, I had only 6 months, if that, to do so in before I re-entered this phase of my life.


Two years in a row, I have had to move from my apartment soon after discharging from the hospital, causing me to experience homelessness; though thankfully these last two times I was able to stay in a motel.


I remember, in the motel, this past May, reminding God that I have been homeless now, eight times, and that, “Eight is enough, right?!”


This was on my radar, this year. I warned my friends I was decomposing. Regressing. My suicide attempt and subsequent hospital trips were expected.


What was not expected was that this year, was for my new friends from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, to which I converted last September, to care for my animals while I was in the hospital and to clean up the mess and damage I made to warrant a relocation following my hospital stay; but, they also took it upon themselves to move my belongings to a storage facility, put me up in a motel, help me find a new apartment, and move me into it, with less than two weeks of homelessness experienced.


My new church knew I was struggling around the anniversary of my daughter’s death; but they did not ask for any major justification as to why I “lost it” on her birthday. I did not feel judged. I did not feel isolated. I did not feel rejected. I felt loved, and unconditionally at that.


Nearly everyone agrees with William Shakespeare: “All the world’s a stage.”


Rascal Flatts sings:


Oh, I had no clue you were maskin’ a troubled soul

Oh, God only knows what went wrong

And why you would leave the stage in the middle of a song


Rascal Flatts, Why from Unstoppable


Many of us struggling with suicidality know the triggers that were squeezed to get us to that point, the point of no return. I do not know why I am able to speak from this vantage point, past the post of no return, having experienced it as much as I have.


To those struggling with suicidality, it may seem foreign that there would be no clue to anyone else about what you are going through. However, often, people get caught up in their own lives enough to simply hope you are okay. If you are not okay, let others know. Be bold. Be specific. Be safe. Reach out.


Nationally, help is just a phone call away:


National Suicide Prevention Lifeline




In Colorado, we have the Colorado Crisis Services Hotline, staffed with people ready and willing to talk you through this:


Colorado Crisis Services Hotline





In Denver, I have found MHCD’s Adult Recovery Services and Trauma Informed Services to be of most help. You can reach their main number at:


Mental Health Center of Denver

Adult Recovery Services and Trauma Informed Services

303 504 7700






Monday, September 16, 2019

Silent Night is not only for Christmas

My daughter had "night terrors." That was all they could tell us. She would wake up screaming the most horrific screams I ever heard anyone scream. There was no way we could get her to sleep alone.

My solution was to usually to sing to her. I remembered my sleepless nights as a child, my own screams, and not being able to vocalize to anyone what I was going through. All I could remember was how the sound of my mom singing would help me sleep.

I would try various songs, with differing levels of success. However, one particular night, I could not think of what to sing to get my daughter to sleep. All I knew is that I longed for silence. Her screams were starting to become a trial for me. After I prayed, the song that came to mind seemed "out of season," but it ended up being the answer I longed for...

"Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright..."

Soon, my daughter was sleeping peacefully, and so was I.

Each time after, when my daughter would wake up screaming, or even to put her to bed for a nap, I would simply start singing, "Silent Night," and the Peace would come upon us.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

This is love...

What is love?

Many have questioned this over time.

It's not just a title of a popular song.

It's the cry of the heart of mankind.

What is love?

Paul wrote about what love is in 1 Corinthians 13...

Love is patient and kind.

Paul wrote about what love is not...

Love is not envious, rude, or puffed up.

What does some do?

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.


Because, love never fails.

But how do we love?

For one English word, there are so many other words in other languages.

In Biblical Greek, there were four words for the different kinds of love that they knew of... agápe, éros, philía, and storgē.

Jesus said, in John 14:15 (ESV):

"If you love me, keep my commandments."

Jesus also said, in John 15:10 (ESV):

"If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love."

Other versions translate "keep" as "obey."

When asked the two greatest commandments, Jesus replied:

"'You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,' and 'Love your neighbor as yourself'" (Luke 10:27, ESV).

Jesus said, "On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets" (Matthew 22:40, ESV).

When Jesus announced that he had been given "all authority in heaven and on earth" (Matthew 28:18, ESV), He commissioned his disciples:

"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit"  (Matthew 28:19, ESV).

But He didn't stop there. He continued:

"Teaching them to observe [obey] everything I have commanded you" (Matthew 28:20, ESV).

So... how do we love? We obey.

Through the story of the first king of Israel, we learn that "to obey is better than sacrifice" (1 Samuel 15:22).

In the ultimate sacrifice, Jesus, our eternal King, died for our sins on the cross.

However, in the ultimate act of obedience, Jesus first surrendered His will.

He pleaded three times, "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me" (Luke 22:42).

Then, he said, "Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done" (Luke 22:42, ESV).

Would you, like Jesus, submit your will, today?

Follow the Great Commission, not only baptizing, but by teaching people to love -- to obey.

In the midst of it...

In the midst of the garden, Adam and Eve sinned. It was not out of malevolence that God removed them to prevent reentry; it was out of mercy and grace: Should they have been allowed to eat of the Tree of Life, and remain in their state forever...knowing good and evil, ashamed of themselves, and afraid of their God?

God removed Adam and Eve from the garden, but did not forsake them. Even in His just pronunciation of their punishment, He clearly expressed His plan of future redemption.

God spoke to Cain in the midst of his jealous resentment toward his brother, Abel. God warned Cain, and encouraged him to rise above the sin that was crouching at his door. After Cain disregarded God's encouragement, killing his brother, Abel, God was still merciful and gracious in His punishment; when Cain said it was too much to bare, God still made a provision to protect Cain, and to avenge his life seven times should an attempt be made against it.

In the midst of their grief from essentially losing both their sons, God restored hope to Adam and Eve, by giving them another son, as part of his redemptive plan.

In the midst of the sins of man, a woman had a son, and named him, "Noah," saying, "Out of the ground that the LORD has cursed, this one shall bring us relief from our work and from the painful toil of our hands" (Genesis 5:29, ESV). Despite His longing to wipe away all mankind for their sins, God found favor in Noah, and continued in His plan of redeeming His creation. God did allow the earth to flood, but spared Noah and his family. He remembered them in the midst of the flood, and brought the waters to cease. After the flood, the land was fertile enough for Noah to plant a vineyard. The toils of man in laboring over the accursed ground had subsided. In the sky, God set a reminder to himself that He would never destroy the earth again with a flood, again.

God's redemptive pattern continues throughout the Bible.

God allowed Joseph to be sold into slavery by his brothers and and imprisoned for a crime he did not commit; God did not keep Joseph from slavery or prison, but freed him in the midst of those circumstances. Meanwhile, Joseph grew in character to the man who God would use to provide for not only the nation that enslaved  him, but the entire world, including the brothers who sold him. God did not spare the world from famine, but long before the famine came, he used for the good of the people what was initially intended for harm. His redemptive plan continues.

Through Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, God promised all the world would be blessed.

Even though His people rejected Him, wanting an earthly King, God continued to manifest his plan to provide a heavenly King. He chose a king for them based on the desires of their hearts; but, then, after Saul disobeyed, God showed the prophet, Samuel, a young shepherd boy, David, who was later said to be a man after God's own heart.

David and his sheep were not kept from harm; but, God empowered David to kill a lion and a bear in defense of his flock, in the midst of harm. David's confidence in God would prove to build his character, such that when the entire Israelite army was afraid to stand against one man, David drew from his experience with the lion and the bear, fearlessly conquering Goliath. David's courage enabled the Israelites to regain their hope and overcome the Philistines in battle.

After God's people rebelled, He let them be taken captive and scattered throughout the world. However, he promised that one day they would return to their home. While captive, their faith was challenged. When three boys refused to worship a statue of the foreign king, despite the threat that they would be thrown into a furnace, they stood their ground, and upheld their promise to only worship God. They were not delivered from the furnace; they were delivered in the midst of it. Not even their clothing was harmed.

After refusing to worship King Darius, Daniel was not delivered from the lions den; he was delivered in the midst of the lion's den.

After God's people did return to their home, they began to rebuild the temple. But, after a while, they stopped working on the House of God, to focus on their own. God rebuked them, but His redemptive plan continued.

For hundreds of years, God seemed to be quiet -- to have forgotten his people. They fell under Roman rule, and were oppressed, once again. However, God heard their cries and the prayers of the high priest whose elderly wife had borne no children. God sent an angel to Zachariah to tell him he would have a son who would go before the Messiah to bring many of the people back to God. Zachariah was punished for his unbelief, by not being able to speak until his son was born; however, God continued to pursue his redemptive promise in the midst of Zechariah's doubt.

As the redemptive story continues, Jesus became flesh and dwelt in our midst. The Word that spoke creation into being humbled himself, even lower than the angels, not only taking on our sin, but becoming sin, that "we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Corinthians 5:21, ESV).

Jesus told us that we are not of this world. But in His High Priestly Prayer, He did not pray that we would be taken from this place. Rather, He prayed,

"I do not ask that you take them from the world, but that you keep them form the evil one."

John 17:15, ESV

When Jesus died on the cross, evil seemed to prevail; however, Jesus conquered death and rose victoriously.

Even in the midst of Hell, Jesus "went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison, because they formerly did not obey" (1 Peter 3:19-20, ESV). God could have left the spirits in prison forever, but the Bible says that even they were a part of God's redemptive plan. Jesus freed the captives, because he bore the sins of all time, past, present, and future.

After he rose, He promised to prepare a new place for us. A new heaven. A new earth. Though He came to be with us in the midst of our sin, He went to prepare a new place for us free of sin, that we might be with him. So, while we do remain in the midst this world, with sin, Jesus gave us hope that one day, we would be with him again.

We simply must believe in Him and obey his Word.

Though He ascended, physically, He gave us His Spirit and promised to be with us always, to the end of the age.

You may be struggling in the midst of the storms of this world, wading deep in the enormity of its sins; however, Jesus promised to be with you and to go before you. He paid the price for you, and you are His.

Though you are in the midst of this world, "In Him we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28, ESV). Keep believing. Obey His word. Remain in Him.

Monday, January 25, 2016

He stands at the door...

Jesus said, "I stand at the door and knock."

Why a door, and not a gate?

A gate is semipermeable...the openings allow for bidirectional communication, while the bars keep us from exposing ourselves fully to what is on the other side.

A gate is precautionary. It allows some interaction while it is shut, but at a very minimal level. You can shake hands through a gate while still maintaining a certain distance from the person on the other side.

Jesus does not want to be merely greeted at a gate. He wants to be invited in. To eat with us... to share in our lives... to change our hearts, our minds, and our souls... from the inside, out; not from a distance.

So, He used the analogy of a door.

A door is either open or shut. It's in or out. It's all or nothing. It's yes or no.

A door is full exposure; entry is full disclosure.

He could kick it down, but he's not that type. He politely knocks. He could demand entry, but He prefers to ask.

Have you felt His knock? Have you heard His voice?

If you haven't yet, won't you open your door to Him, today?

Tuesday, November 17, 2015


"For it is impossible, in the case of those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance, since they are crucifying once again the Son of God to their own harm and holding him up to contempt."
~Hebrews 6:4-6, ESV


to feel or show
you are sorry for something bad or wrong that you did
and that
you want to do what is right
~ Merriam-Webster

It is easy to repent. In the right moment, in the right setting, overwhelmed by the right emotions, it is easy to fall on our knees, sorry for what we have done wrong, and promise never to do it again. Yet, temptations come; sooner or later, we may be tested by the very circumstance that we repented from.


There was a rich man. Jesus said he wore purple and feasted daily. Jesus does not mention his name.
The rich man did not consider himself a heathen; he even called Abraham his father.

There was a poor man who sat at the gate of the rich man, longing to be fed by whatever fell from the rich man's table. Jesus called poor man, "Lazarus." Jesus said that those who cared for Lazarus were the dogs who licked his wounds.

Yet, when both men died, the poor man was taken by the angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man found himself in Hades.

The rich man could see Lazarus at Abraham's bosom: He cried to Abraham to have Lazarus bring water to quench his thirst, as the flame was too great of torment for him to bear.

Abraham's response was that while the rich man enjoyed great pleasure on earth, Lazarus lived in torment; now, the tables were turned.

The rich man, thinking of his five brothers, asked, then, to have Lazarus go to warn his brothers, so they did not end up in his torment, as well.

Abraham responded that they had Moses and the Prophets.

Understanding his brothers, the rich man said that they needed someone to rise from the dead to tell them.

Abraham said, "If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead."


Jesus rose from dead. Yet, instead of repenting from the wrong they do to follow Jesus, many choose to ask Jesus to okay their wrong and follow them. Sometimes, I fear that I have done this, and that some day, Hebrews 6:4-6 may apply to me. Dear LORD, let it not be!

I am sorry for what I have done wrong. May I not repeat it with an unrepentant heart. May I always feel sorry for that which I do that is not pleasing to you, lest I crucify you again, to my harm, raising you up to contempt.


Crossway Bibles.  (2001). The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®). Retrieved November 17, 2015, from

Repent. (n.d.). Retrieved November 17, 2015, from