Friday, September 30, 2011


Warning:  This is definitely not going to be one of my most creative pieces.

I saw my last post was written in May. I refuse to read it just yet because I shudder to think what I may have written because I was still in the throws of being very ill. One thing is for sure, it must have been something I was passionate about in order to get me online and actually remember my email and password.


So here I am again. Finally.  However, this time my mind is actually "awake" and I know where the letters are on the keyboard.  Oh yeah, and I can see the screen without feeling like the room is spinning.

Good start.

Anyway. The reason I'm here is because last night as my husband and I where watching TV, there it was again. In plain view. For all the world to see. A christian.  And of course, regardless of this man's sincere beliefs, he was made out to be slightly above crazy and paranoid.


We've all done it haven't we? Not the crazy part. I was born that way. (Thank you Lady GaGa)

The [face...palm] thingy.

You know it. You see or hear something that simply makes you say "Ay, yay, yay!" (well, maybe if you're hispanic...or been around hispanics...or watched hispanic television...or a movie with a hispanic actor...or an actor playing a hispanic saying "ay, yay, yay!") 


Sorry for that stream of consciousness...but that's exactly what I meant. Something so completely off it makes no sense, yet it does, and doesn't. And we shake our head and our palm meets our face.

Get to the point Lisa.

(You do realize this is my blog and I can ramble on as long as I'd like. Yes? Good.) 

It's kinda like this:
"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ" - Ghandi
I decided last night that I no longer want to call myself a christian. Why? Well, the world is seeing Christians in a different light and I am not who they see. I want them to see who I follow. I want them to see who I love. I want them to know Him for Him...not me for my shortcomings.  I want them to see Jesus.

Yes, Jesus. The radical of his time. The revolutionary. The brown skinned Jewish man who lived in ancient Palestine who gave out free health care. The man who rebuked the religious powerful of his time and ate with those who were considered "sinners". You know...those tax collectors and government officials.

He had a gang of twelve men. He had real friendships. He had enemies. His mother loved him. His brothers hated him. He was fearless and He spoke the love. Always. Every time. He was tempted. He was victorious. He was followed by many. He was alone when necessary.  He was pursued. He was persecuted. He taught the greatest message of Hope ever spoken by anyone before him or since him. He was tortured and murdered for that very same message.  He died. Yet...He lives.

Many people can snark at that comment "He lives".  And still so many talk about loved ones who "live" because of us...our memories, our conversations, our thoughts, our actions.


Get it?

He lives. And I'm not just a fan, I'm a Jesus follower.

Blessings for your day,