Just Entertainment?: The Hunger Games Movie Review

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They have called it “mesmerizing”, a “winner”, “the best American Sci-Fi Film since 'The Matrix'” and a blockbuster record-breaker but I call it sick. Now before you write this off as some moralizing sermon, you should know something about the person whom you are reading .

Going into the local cineplex, I was all-too-familiar with the Hunger Games Franchise written by Suzanne Collins about a dystopian future society that forced children into an arena to kill each other for the entertainment of the wealthy Capitol government and its people. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed the first book and began tearing into the second, all while pushing others to do the same. I am also no bleeding heart when it comes to...well...bleeding. Historically, I have always appreciated a film with a significant element of bloodsport: I watched as Maximus decapitated a fellow combatant in Ridley Scott's Gladiator, it was my favorite part; when Jaguar Paw delivered a head crushing blow to one of his pursuers in Mel Gibson's Apocalypto, resulting in the spurting of brain blood, I gasped ―then cheered. I have even written more than one movie in which the premise has been little more than: one guy kills everybody, horrifically.

But it must have been over an hour into the Hunger Games movie, when yet another child had been fatally maimed, and the person I had attended the film with lost it; a novice to violent cinema, she could barely keep her composure during the film. “This is sick,”she tearfully cried into the air of the dark theater, “What kind of world is this?” “This is sick”

To say the words hit me, would be cliché, but in that moment I asked myself what cinephiles hate to: Why am I watching this? And no morally-sufficient answers came, so I led her out of the theater and demanded our money back from the customer service counter.

“Oh, its just entertainment” I imagine one thinking. It is reported Suzanne Collins came up with the premise while flipping channels on television, between news coverage of the war and reality television. The whole appalling idea behind the Hunger Games is that an entire nation of people would watch the innocent killing of 12-18 year olds as entertainment. By all accounts, the film is an international box-office success―for what reason―because nations of people:logically thinking adults like myself, teens and yes, even children are purchasing movie tickets to watch―the innocent killing of 12-18 year olds as entertainment. The truth is we are the Capitol.

“Oh c'mon, its just fantasy, its not even real, they're paid actors” And isn't that the problem? That film corporations would pay actors and actresses handsomely to portray these stories because they know we will watch? And what effect does this have on the young actors specifically?

Having attempted to make my living in acting at one point, I can tell that your choices effect our work. Sex and violence sell, so someone has to have the sex and someone has to be violated, its just supply and demand. Many are the stories of my female colleagues asked to shed clothing or my male colleagues, myself again included, to portray monster killing machines, a la the Hunger Games' Cato. At what point do we turn off the tap and say 'that's it, this far and no farther'? At what point will we crave peace and purity as much as we apparently crave sex and death? When our hearts change.

In the end, this isn't about the money you paid or didn't, the book you read or wouldn't but about the problem of my and your deep desires. The problem is, that I have been a part of the problem, and if you are honest, you are too―but you don't need to stay in that place.

More importantly than being the second week of the Collins' film release, this week marks the release of our guilt and shame in the person of Jesus Christ. He was in no arena. Had no weapon with which to defend himself. He had to die. For your sinful heart. For my sinful heart. So we would not be pushed and pulled by what others tell us to do, like and condone, but so we could have freedom from unjust influence and bondage.

There are no “odds” with God. No matter what you've done or what's been done to you He still calls for you: hoping and believing that this Easter, you would recognize that when He died for the world―that included you.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
   for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
   for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
   for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
   for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
   for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
   for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
   for they will be called children of God.”

-Matthew 5:3-9

In Him,

Jean-Marc

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A Familial Christmas: A Poem

A Familial Christmas: A Poem
by Jean-Marc Saint Laurent 

At my family Christmas that happens annually,

There are places for my siblings, Satan, and me.

The prince of this world, this serpent of ground,

is on special duty when family's in town.

He is never invited but comes nonetheless,

and present with us in our familiar distress.

Our tree stands resplendent, brighter than our hearts,

and he takes this opportunity to rip us apart.

He adores our festive table with food everywhere,

Suggesting his malice between swallows and stares,

and giggles and grumbles and guffaws and gravy,

by tempting the men and pushing the ladies.

Swear us? Hardly, it be not our tea

but he injects venom in our insecurities.

Little Sister's depressed and wants not to stay,

Big Brother's sarcasm kills the mood o' the day,

Mother's mad from the hours she's worked all the years,

misused and abused, she's lost all her tears.

“Hardly-there father,” says older sister the host,

“Would be more of a father if he were a ghost.”

“Have some Christmas Spirit!” is Uncle's attack,

with a sin list so long it'd fit on five plaques,

“Just look at my kids,” and the demons arise,

piercing hearts, with bellowing, whining and cries.

Insults from Cousin 2 fly sharper than tacks,

with Cousin 1 all the ready to stab them in backs.

The in-laws offend with each poor utterance,

resting with excuse of supposed ignorance.

Old friends come to visit with faces so pleasant,

to destroy and defame people not present.

But by the kids' table is Cousin number 3,

more simple and kind than others could be.

No deceit in his words, no plans on his mind,

God-given innocence puts evil in-bind.

To say what you mean and to mean what you say,

are the proper tools to put devils away.

Seeing his heart so clean, we are reminded of sin,

And the carefree children, we each had been.

Those days have long left, those days are long lost,

Yet sin was the creature he killed on the cross;

Our Jesus divine of wintry season,

and gives all our days a' filling of reason.

So let us not hope in people or sights,

or glitter, or tree, or presents or lights,

or sleigh bells or Clauses or chocolate chips,

or promises and disappointments in our relationships.

May we look to the One above whom there's no other,

and maybe He'll keep us from killing each other.

Merry Christmas from my family to yours,

Jean-Marc

The Weakness of Happiness

The child that avoids confrontation by sitting with teacher.

The freshman that avoids upperclassman hallways.

The professional that avoids the venomous receptionist.

I have lived them all and know sloth when I see it.

Sloth is a sickness

Humid, it came in a middle school-aged sweat on a weekday morn years ago. Having been pursued by an unrecognizable few on ten-speeds to the point of imminent pain, I awoke abruptly to that feeling we term relief, which in minutes gave way to the crushing realization that my life actually resembled my nightmare. I had become an unwitting accomplice in embarrassing an unstable older student and he threatened me regularly with retribution. That dark morning in my bedroom is yet marked as the point I discovered that the decisions I made could lead to external and therefore internal imbalance—that feeling we term stress, the great unifier of time and people.

Waking yesterday, internal vertigo came on cue before coffee and without nightmarish persuasion. What did I fear? Nothing and yet everything. What was there not to fear when each day held potential for terror: moral err, depression, the encroaching wicked world and death. And I, being a Christian and a preacher-defender of God's Word would surely find myself once more at odds with popular opinion and the neighboring heathens; and therefore ostracized and misunderstood as a bigot to someone. If I could not live happy with peace of mind, why wake up?

No Pain, No Gain

Then I heard the phrase over the radio: spiritual athletics. It was a term used to describe the view of some fourth and fifth century saints. They saw the spirit as worthy of training as the body. And as the physical self required resistance to grow strong, so the spirit required struggle; it was for this reason they chose to live in the desert of Sinai, the epitome of struggle. But I am sure you would rather skip through a field of daisies right?

So let us skip in the field of daisies! Just be sure to put on your sneakers first, as they allow for the best skipping. Wait, no sneakers? That is a shame since the best tennis shoes will cost a pretty penny. So off to work you go, and if your luck is as good as mine has been, your overseeing manager will be a slave- driving psychopath that will make tranquility a near impossibility. Suddenly bliss-filled sessions of skipping seem less attractive when they can only take place during select late night and weekend hours. Maybe that is why Jesus never promised happiness—he would have been lying.

Get Right or Get Left

The word we now translate as “happy” first meant “lucky” or “favored by fortune” when originally used by the Greeks and later by the Europeans—happiness is a condition of circumstance. Our hope as Christians is not that our circumstances will make us feel “happy” or “lucky” but that we would find joy in the immutable, unchanging nature of God. A preoccupation with being happy is an obsession with a non-existent world, like the millions of poor souls in 2009 that reported they would have rather stayed watching a particular movie than return to their troublesome lives in this world.

“In this world you will have trouble” said Jesus in John 16:33, so to not expect trouble in it would be to not expect contact in American Football; life is a collision sport.

My cousin having recently returned from a military boot camp in Texas, recounts the trying details of his experience to the surprise of many. But when I think of it now, I wonder what would be more of a shock: to hear that his training was a daily hell or that it was the most delightful vacation of his life. The military trains the minds and bodies of our men and women in the anticipation of their engaging a fearsome enemy. Do we not have an enemy in the spiritual realm that requires comparable vigilance? And how much can a life of ease help us in completion of our campaign against the evil one and his forces? Very little, I am afraid.

“Pain is Temporal but Victory is Forever”

-Jeremy H.

There are usually two extremes suggested for solving the issue of spiritual sloth: complete surrender to reckless masochism or reckless hedonism, neither is what I suggest nor what the Bible proposes. Let us look back to John for an answer down the middle path.

“In this world you will have trouble” Jesus said in John 16:33. Taken as-is the quote may give a believer legitimate reason for fear or hopelessness, when in actuality it is simply a sour pickle in the middle of a sandwich. Thankfully, the scripture sits between: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace“ and “But take heart! I have overcome the world.” The answer to stress is to see all trouble in the context of Christ. He is our source of strength in this world gym.

As long as Satan holds a grudge and people with free will walk the earth, potential struggles and troubles walk with them but that need not trouble us. Struggle may be an expectation of athletics but victory is a promise for those in Christ Jesus.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”

• 1 Corinthians 9:25

In Him,

Jean-Marc

The Inconsistent Biblios Bubble: The Leaky Roof of Character

 "Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up."-James 4:10. 

Do you deserve to have been Christ's cause for sacrifice? Bless You because I do not. I am the roof of an old house: when the rain comes, I find new leaks in my character all the time. But that is the entire point: to realize that we can not fix ourselves, something must be brought to the table that we can not bring. Thank God for His skills in carpentry-Jean-Marc

The Inconsistent Biblios Bubble: A Posture Like Adam's

“...for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

-Philippians 4:11-13

May I suggest to you today that mission work many times does more good for the one helping than the one being helped?

It was the week of the Haitian Earthquake 2010, I could not give money online any longer nor accept the awful site of crying children and people in distress. These were my people and I had no choice but to help. God opened an amazing door of opportunity and an outrageous ticket purchase and a few days later I was in the thick of post-disaster Port-au-Prince: U.N Troops, rocky road trips and hospital work, all with the sun unabashedly bearing down on me.

I was no holy saint or selfless hero, just a dirty and sweaty man that had the privilege of building tents to house the injured, distribute water to thirsty young mothers, encourage a few people on the way to amputation and supervise small construction and demolition projects. But when I look back, it seemed that it might as well have been me on that stretcher instead, for those I was sent to help helped me. Their faith emboldened me as their perseverance in preaching the gospel had gone unhindered and their children's laughter brought joy to my heart, all in a place of truest beauty one could ever find, regardless of apocalyptic media reports.

As I rode with my companions, crossing the border in an SUV as physically beat-up as I had become by our trip's end — I saw it. A secret oasis the country had hidden to all but a chosen few. Lush hillsides of palm tree green I am sure extended indefinitely; pools of the whitest uninhabited waters that coruscated with more brilliance than a looking glass in which I saw my future.

I was an old man, Moses beard accompanying, faithfully keeping up a home for neglected children in the green of the hills with my (yet-to-be-known) future wife. We would build a schoolhouse and train the children in maintenance of the land, along with the typical tenets of reading, writing and (a)rithmetic. We would not live under the hand of modern industry but be a free people rid of all superfluous appurtenances disguised as life's necessities. God, sun, love, water, purpose, light, grain and shade were all we really needed — somewhat like plants save the occasional taste for meat. In my heart I was given to precatory pray without uttering a word: “Lord, this is where I want to die.”

I was told the place was named La Gran Bourik, it is not found on any internet search, I am afraid, or written down in many places, if at all, but my friends I have seen it and it rests inside my heart, where it ages not a single day but sits frozen in the same resplendence of that afternoon's daydream.

In our hearts and minds is a place that no currency can ever console and no status will ever stimulate, it is where God lives or at least wants to. And where the Son of God, Jesus Christ wishes to re-purpose and remind you of what is truly important in all circumstances

Life is not always simple and I unfortunately returned to my typical metropolitan living after that day, but the vision never died, it only gets stronger. A vision of a place often read of in Sunday schools.

I have seen it and it rests inside my heart. 

In Him,

Jean-Marc 

Links In The Chains by Jean-Marc Saint Laurent

Hello dear friends,

I am happy to say that the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated —I just live in Florida, simply meaning that I have traded outrageous train fees for outrageous gas fees and crazy neighbors for crazy relatives.

But living with family has its benefits, namely the chance of finding someone else's food to eat and picking up their stories while I have the chance.

"Your mother was about two months pregnant with you, " my father began, cleaning our Sunday chicken with grocer's lime, one Saturday night before.

It was the Autumn of 1985, my mother, growing rounder by the month took respite on the second floor of our Brooklyn home. Quite randomly, a visiting Nigerian pastor, my father met in a home prayer service came ringing the doorbell asking that they both see her right away.

He told my father to place his hand on her belly and pray. "You will have a son and he will be a servant of God" said the pastor and laid his hand on my father's in agreement as they both prayed for my destiny.

Months later when I was presented to the church, a newborn. I am told of the elderly pastor that held me and prophesied much glory over my life, only to die three days later.


No one recollects what denominations they were with. They were simply men of God.

Contrast those glorified predictions with this August, as I sat, much older in an old chair at my old church, with the eyes of an inquisitive old man watching me carefully.

Return Me To Innocence

To Felipe: my brother on this exciting journey with me into the field of God's unknown and glorious purpose. Always pack your sword and shield.

To all my friends: You have each blessed my life in such profound ways. You have become my family, and therefore there will always be a chair at my table for you.

In my last entry from Gotham, I reflect a bit on my descent into it and my ascension out.

Return Me to Innocence

At the edge of The Country,

In the heart of a State,

Outside of The City,

In the south of The Borough,

At the tip of a street, stands a house.

And past its gate,

Up the stairs,

Through three doorways,

And a turn right into the bedroom,

There is a wooden cabinet in whose second drawer, lies a photograph, turned on its face, white side up.

It lies untouched, peaceful in midst of the frantic packing of moving boxes, a reminder of what once existed.

Years have passed since a friend took that photo. I well remember choosing the black fitted button-down, cleaning up and cutting my hair just-so for the head shot. I recall heeding the oracle of the sandwich maker next door, as he had apparently instructed many an aspiring model and even actors as myself: "Remember, if you ain't in SOHO, you ain't...".

Everyone and anyone had a say in my life but God.

"New York City?", others asked, "So many people everywhere"

One kind older soul's idea was to arrange opportunities for me elsewhere: "I just don't like the idea of a kind young man like you going there."

The rampant arrogance of our time says to label these people "dream killers" and "haters", but I now call them "right".

If a "nice young man" was what had left the South, then he choked on the bitter cold northern air which awaited him off the plane. Time of death called at December 26, 2008 around 12:00 PM.

But you would not find him at the mortuary or funeral parlor, for he was of a different variety: the living dead, a being with an internal cessation of life yet to the world of the external, seemed very much likable and vibrant.

I Have A Name Part 2

It becomes easy to get lost in the sauce of life and complicate it,

But human beings are amazingly simple. If cut we bleed, if embarrassed we shrink, if desperate we compromise, if hurt we stand guard.

It was an average young adults meeting at the church and afterward I made the rounds: holy kisses, handshakes and hugs for those nearest and dearest. But having realized that there is great satisfaction in making new friends, every once in a while I step out and see what happens.

As I approached one group, a pair blindsided me. "Hi, we want to meet people" said the obviously enthusiastic of the two. The other half-smiled the emotion of what I believed was embarrassment. We started with the basics:"What is your name?" I asked them both; the first speaker gave theirs while the other did not feel quite as obliged. "Why should I tell you?" she answered looking away, "You'll just forget it anyway."

For the sake of healthy Christian fellowship, the next few minutes of the conversation would be spent attempting to prove her wrong, but the very impact of her words on me was its own test of their veracity.

Many names will be forgotten by us in this life because many people will be, (thus supporting the obsession behind current social media: outlets which force us to remember those we naturally would not). There are so many factors behind it, our health for one: only insanity or collapse from overexertion could result if you were to remember every single person to whom you have said "good morning"; Stress is another: taking care of our own lives leaves only so much room for the concern of others, and we could even consider natural disposition of some for absentmindedness — but after all that I could mention as to why we forget others, it would all boil down to one insurmountable truth: human are we all.

Tired of Being a Good Soldier

Like a scene out of a blockbuster,

Imagine if you will:

You are an experienced soldier walking along the dry desert plain of ancient Turkey, back then just another part of the Roman Empire. It seems as though the parched ground cracks under your feet with every new step.

You are the desert oddity, properly adorned with all of the accouterments of battle: all golden helmet, armor, belt, sword and boots which bear the symbols of your homeland: the fierce lion and the majestic eagle. And unfortunately with you also is the burdensome shield you have been dragging for miles since leaving camp.

The sun's heat has turned your costume into a golden pressure cooker. The sweat pouring from your head stings your eyes yet provides the only relief of the day.

"Seems more like detriment than defense", you say to comrades, wiping your brow.

But when there is no response, you turn your head and helmet right, and then left — no one, as far as you can see, for miles.

"How long have I been traveling like this? Where is everybody?"

Then,
'Pfft!' 

It sounds like a bird crash landed into your shield but being a smart one , you know that not much flies in the desert except for vultures, and this was definitely not a vulture. You cautiously peek from behind the shield to investigate.

'Pfft!' 

The second one was aimed at your head  — " Fire? Arrows of fire", you surmise as the blaze builds off the top of your shield, your now beautiful and useful shield.
"Where about are they?” you anxiously question, considering all visible options.
Frozen and squatted into your defensive stance, you stand cautious, as not to move a single muscle.
"Just wait for it".

His Pleasure to My Delight

2 Days left to live and counting!(Would it not be horrible if you read this after May 21, 2011? : )

Just as the impending apocalypse, today I contemplate things both simple yet difficult to grasp:

One of the problems with being a lukewarm christian is that you hardly know a thing.

The church's 2007 college mission trip seemed like a pretty good way to get out of my monotonous work week as a home healthcare provider. So after paying the deposit (and having them pick up the rest of the tab), making it through customs and meeting with our host "missionaries". I found myself handing out spiritual interest surveys in front of our makeshift kiosk in the mall of the University of Alberta (Canada, that is)


It was there that would come a moment although brief, bothers me to this day. I still do not remember his face or voice, only his question as he completed the survey:


"So...is being a Christian fun?" he slyly inquired.


And with aikido-type leverage, my lightweight spiritual understanding was thrown into the air.


"Uh...yeah" I retorted nonplussed yet he seemed satisfied that he had stunned me.


Reading between the lines
Any actor worth his grain of salt is familiar with the term 'subtext'. It refers to what is really being expressed underneath the words being spoken.


So just as a crazed lover in a horror film, holds a knife above her head while telling the object of her obsession: "We'll be together forever!"So was this college student saying more than I could audibly hear.
What I did seem to make out was something like: "Poor Christians, missing out on everything" .


You have heard and felt it before, I am sure; when you explain to co-workers that from which you abstain and why, all the while being the recipient of these sorry looks that seem to say: "Oh well, more for us!"


As long as I can (and I know others of us can) remember, it would seem as though faith and fun were somehow enemies or at best distant cousins in need of reconciliation.


So have you reconciled them?
"Is Being A Christian Fun" or better yet "Is it pleasurable?"


May I be honest with you, for the last few weeks, I am not sure it has been.
As of late, it would seem that I have experienced more self-judgment than joy. Here are just a taste of my most recent "convictions" in the last month:


1) I live in the West and therefore have no reason to complain for anything
2)I do not deserve to buy anything other than dire necessities
3)I hang out after church too much
4)I complain at work too much
5)I do not hang out with my friends enough
6)I eat out too much
7)I should stop eating out too much and support mission work
8) I do not smile enough, I should always 'look' joyful, especially living in the West
9) I do not witness enough
10) I do not witness well enough
11) I care too much about what others think
12)I do not consider others enough
13) I should be praying more
14) I should be praying less and doing more
15)I should give more to the church
16)I should give less to the church and more to national missionaries


With thoughts like these on constant rotation, the Christian life feels like a merry-go-round of the mind; it is enough to make you not want to think of it or worse – get off.


And that is the danger of a "Christian" life devoid of pleasure: being only human and requiring some form of enjoyment, we will look for pleasure elsewhere, if only out of necessity.


Joy=Pleasure
In the New International Version of the Bible, translators had chosen to translate the same Hebrew word as both 'joy' and 'pleasure'. When the connotation was positive, 'joy' was used and when it was negative, 'pleasure'. That being said, Nehemiah 8:10 could be read as: "Do not grieve, for the [pleasure] of the LORD is your strength."


So I ask, where is our sense of strength today?


Many argue and I would agree, that instead of only warning our youth of all the dangers of "the World" (which when I last checked, we lived in), we should exhibit the benefits of holy living: a clear conscience, honest friendship and fellowship, clear vision and growing wisdom among other rewards.


Does anyone ever successfully accomplish riding a bike by learning 'how not to fall'? Or do they look forward to the prospect of future independence and the journeys ahead?


Would you think more or less of a married man, pacing about his office repeating to himself: "I will not have an affair! I will not have an affair!"? Would not his time and energy be better spent on strengthening his marriage through prayer and deed to be invulnerable to such sinful notions?


Question: Then why is it that so many of us walk out our renewed lives in this fashion?

Answer: Because we do not fully get it.


The Feast of Passover, The Feast of Unleavened Bread, The Feast of First Fruits, The Feast of Weeks, The Feast of Trumpets; these and more were annually celebrated by God's people in the Old Testament. 1 Kings 8:65 even describes how King Solomon and the people of Israel celebrated the Feast of Tabernacles for fourteen days! Some today can hardly hang for an hour without feeling convicted.


What had Old Testament believers learned that we New Testament saints have largely yet to grasp?
- That the goodness of God is only worthy of a life filled with celebration!


"Don't be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above"
-James 1:16-17


The reason many of us feel bad for feeling good is that we have dragged our old thoughts and preconceived notions of 'holy' and 'worldly' into our renewed relationship with God.


What an amazing lie it is that Satan has some sort of monopoly on pleasure. He is incapable of creating anything, therefore he is only left with the option of having humans pervert God's good gifts.


So what are godly pleasures?
-Any gift recognized as coming from "the Father of heavenly lights": a baby's laugh, peanut butter, sex, stimulating conversation, a satisfying meal, a hearty laugh, a restful night's sleep, uplifting worship, truthful spiritual communion, a magnificent run, an empowering workout, an inspirational word, good music – and the list is endless.


(The other day I had a cup of Colombian Medium Roast lightly sweetened with honey to the glory of God, I would highly recommended it.)


In his message delivered on May 17, 2009, the message that brought me back to faith, Ravi Zacharias spoke on the "Problem of Pleasure". He reasoned that true pleasure, was that whose benefit was experienced after it had been paid for however false pleasure was that which could be immediately enjoyed but would have to be paid for after the fact.


It is fascinating to think of how God shields us with his goodness: how he knew Adam and Eve would be tempted to eat from the Tree of Knowledge and so provided them with several other good trees as an alternative and how God knew many of us would be tempted by sexual immorality and therefore provided the gift of marriage for the expression of physical intimacy. Godly pleasures help protect us from sin.


With the alarming amount of prominent Christian figures being publicly humiliated for acting on some illicit desire, we should truly ask ourselves what godly pleasures were lacking in the lives of the defamed and proactively fortify our lives with enjoyment worthy of our Savior, so as to recognize a tin-pot substitute when it appears.


Christian man and Christian woman, believe this: Unless you have found pure pleasure in friendship with the opposite sex(or avoid them entirely), you will fall prey to the seduction of an ungodly relationship – guaranteed.


And until contentment is found in honest and open relationships with our friends and family, we will continue to suffer in the subtext of the verbiage: "I'm good, everything's going well".


And may I ask whom it benefits when we are joyless?


Lately I have become acutely aware of this: that Satan our enemy has seen much of our turning from sin and has devised a "new" strategy (at least for me it is): to condemn us through "convictions", puff up our pride through "piety" and kill off good pleasures through an imbalanced sense of "duty".


And after all of it, we are left feeling insecure with our only consolation being religious pride that separates us from the heart of God and yet deceives us into boasting of how we are somehow closer to Him than everyone else.


The greatest deception the devil can create is that it is God that condemns and he that liberates.
O, how many souls have we spoken with that have left the church because "God" was too hard and "God" was too strict?" Yet they have yet to truly meet Him.


Does it make sense that we should experience less joy after encountering Christ?


Pleasing Son, Loving Father
Consider the following:


"As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."
-Matthew 3:16-17


Question: What had Jesus done up to the point of being baptized that had His Father, Father God, pleased with him?

Answer:Be His Son


No healing, no preaching, no walking on water yet – just being.


I am so sure of the many fabulous things the Lord has planned for us, that I do not even try to imagine how the earth could contain all this greatness – but whatever good you do or do not do, it will not make God anymore pleased with you than He is right now by simply being His Son or Daughter.
If you are even vaguely familiar with scripture and are anything like me, your mind is fighting tooth and nail to correct the last statement (it is by His grace I have not deleted it) but the Word corrects us both.


Consider for one moment the entire Bible, Genesis to Revelation, as a single written statement from God. How would it read? If the Bible is truly God's love letter to us, would it not express a father's concern and say:


"Turn to me children and live as though you are mine?"


In reading through the Word, the only reason I can confidently find for God giving it, is His desire for our best.


"I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full"
-John 10:10


This verse has come up a few times in my readings as of late. Scholars agree that the "life" Jesus was referring to was to begin right away, it would be our taste of Heaven 'now' that would last 'forever'.


Friends, in knowing each of you and the world in which we live, I am convinced that what we are in need of today to strengthen our souls, is a taste of His heavenly pleasure. If we could fill up on His good, I can not imagine a sufficient excuse for tolerating anything less.


In Him,

Jean-Marc


P.S.-For deeper dive into this topic, I recommend Gary Thomas's book "Pure Pleasure: Why Christians Feel So Bad About Feeling So Good" (Available as a FREE e-book online)

Obsolete Amusement

I     was once 10 years old,

I do not mean to blow your mind, but I was. There was a time in my life when girls were fourth after toys, movies and pizza (I actually turned a girl down for a movie and pizza at 10, but that's another story :) ) But there was a time when I was content to move about my Power Ranger and X-Men figurines, enacting epic battles and having awesome adventures in the 'world' of my bedroom.


I'll never forget though, the day around the age of 12 when my brother observed one of these 'epics' and asked me: "So, your still playing with toys?",
"Yeah", I said.
"Well, you'll grow out of it" he said, "it will happen".


And amazingly enough, as time would have it, I did. I spent less and less time assembling my Ninja MegaZord and I cared less about from whom my X-Men would save the 'world' next, until (and I am not even sure when) I stopped playing with them all together.


I did not have a word for it then, but now I would call it 'maturing' or 'maturity'. I began to give up time with my toys to make time for greater things. I had to give up saving the 'world' of my bedroom so that I could begin having adventures in the the actual world outside of it. Toys could not satisfy the 'epic' need growing inside me.


" They followed worthless idols
and became worthless themselves"
- Jeremiah 2:5



"Still Playing With Toys?"


It becomes obvious children never wrote the dictionary when you look up the word 'toy'. If you ever did, you would come upon these words in Webster's: 'obsolete', 'trifle', 'bauble', 'amusing act' and 'diversion'.


When my older brother, Ruben (then around 20), began the now infamous interrogation, it is clear we operated from two different frames of reference. I was having a ball, enthralled in my 'make-believe' battles and rescue missions but he likely saw nothing more than a big mess on the floor and a kid making sound effects with his mouth--this was now 'worthless' to him because he had gotten a view of what was out there.


I wonder if that is how God sees some of us today, running about in our PJs, playing with things that are interesting but essentially 'obsolete', fun but nothing more than 'diversions', important to us but 'worthless' to him. Idols.


"Those who cling to worthless idols turn away from God's love for them." 
-Jonah 2:8


If I  ever had the chance to share my life with you, you would know that so many times I carried my 'toys' in a suitcase wherever I went, but I believe he is maturing not only me but many of us to the point where we may, thankfully (Hallelujah!) forget where they are.


Up until a few hours ago, I had believed my problem in this life was with people ("I don't need anybody"--LIE), and I made 'idols' out of relationships: "If I could just be with this group"or "look this way" I thought, "things would be wonderful" but God was not content with my "make-believe". For he wishes to give me the experience of  a real love, a true adventure and mission that begins outside of the play room.


Unfortunately, for these 'toys' we do not always "grow out of it" naturally -- but we can, by His grace,  make the choice to and He will help us do it.


For as it is written friends:
"Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up"
-James 4:10


He knows the plans He has for us and He wants more for us than to play 'pretend'.


In Him,
Jean-Marc

Blind Obedience

Next time you pray, be sure to wear a helmet.

I prayed to the Lord for inspiration, what I received is the following:

My workout regimen is at times executed as my daily bible readings —religiously.  Call me at work, in transit, anywhere — but call me during a workout and God help you —you might lose your head.

 So, it is April 11th, and is the first day that I am not forced to dress as an Eskimo and I am taking full advantage, getting a run in at Prospect Park. And then I see them:


Two skateboarding teens in the same spot they were weeks ago, nothing interesting about either of them except for the fact one is wearing a black cap with red demonic symbols on it.


Last time, I rationalized not witnessing a few ways, one being the cold weather and another being, "Hey, I'm working out". But this time the Spirit ate at me to the point where it felt obvious that action was necessary: I ran myself all the way back to my place, picked up some tracts and booklets and placed them in a zip-up notebook.


To grasp the entire image, you have to imagine me, ready to run, down to the sneakers and side-strapped water bottle — with a notebook in my hand?


I hit the track once more, running in the opposite direction as everyone else, avoiding baby carriages, shirtless joggers and detoured cyclists. Struggling uphill, feeling less than stellar, I felt that burning in my gut, regularly reminding me of my assigned mission — I had to reach those guys, they had to know the path to perdition they had been skating on; all-the-while, a verse replayed over and over in my head:


"To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams"
-1 Samuel 15:22


I knew I had to obey regardless of the outcome, even if those guys were not there, because, I mean, that is what the verse says.

And you know what? Though my intentions, were noble and though I ran as well as I could with the energy I had — they were not, and apparently they were no where near the track (because I looked).


Nonetheless I battled the disappointment swelling within me — the kind of moment when you get the feeling God is hurting you.

"What is it you want Lord?" My soul cried.
And then...I saw him:


Walking with a younger lady (possibly his daughter), was a  blind elderly gentleman, being led by the arm through the park. With his feeble gait, he scooted along, his grayed-out eyes pointed to the Heaven — yet he was smiling.


And I heard the Lord's internal speech thereafter:
"That is what I want" He said.


I almost broke down into a puddle of tears and likely would have if I had not been running.


The thought is incredible in itself: Not moving with any vision of your own but  allowing your Father to move you to where He needs you to be: Blind Obedience.


I think of a Sunday School Teacher I had not too long ago, responding to a statement someone had made about God being a 'crutch'; "I disagree", he said with a southern twang in his voice, "God is my wheelchair, I sit down and he just pushes me around".


Notice I do not speak of 'blind faith' because our faith is not blind— rather calculated; the Father, Son and Spirit of God have performed miraculous wonders on earth and still do today. The forces of God yet still arrange all circumstances around us for the furthering of His Kingdom (Rom 8:28) and if that were not enough, had we not spiritual eyes to 'see', we could find enough wealth in archeological, historical and statistical evidence to satisfy our physical eyes, allowing an entrance into faith a la Lee Strobel.


But this animal of obedience, has a different wag to it's tail.


Consider this: "Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path." -Psalm 119:105


In the Before-Christ Middle East, when one needed to walk in darkness, say on a road at night, he carried an oil lantern with him that hung about his feet,  allowing for only enough light to illuminate his current space and his next step — God will show us the next step but that is, many times it!


Compare that lantern to our modern flashlights:' pick and point', point to where you want to go, focus on it and go for it. But remember this danger about a flashlight focus— if the only thing you can see is where you are wanting to go, you will likely end up walking in darkness along the way.


However, the Master says:
"Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well"
-Matthew 6:34


When you follow the Lord in blind obedience, you will not always be recognized, understood, congratulated, have songs written in your honor or attain the accolades you believe you deserve in the specific form in which you believe they should come, but in this I am confident — keep your eyes on Heaven and in this life (and beyond it), He will give you many a' reason for joy and a reason to smile.

In Him,

Jean-Marc

My Soul, My Self

My mind is about to explode,

The Lord has just made a bit of Truth -- which is himself, clear to me.

Walking along in Queens I was, from the pharmacy when I had to cross the street at the same time as a rowdy group of preteens. With my music on and my destination "locked in", my mind, idle yet free-wheeling,  made it's subconscious and therefore unsolicited commentary:

"Look, at this boy here -- kind of heavy and very loud -- must be making up for his insecurities"
It continued: "And that girl here of this type and that boy there of that  race, interesting they are in deep conversation. What could they have in common?"


But like a driver recognizing he had dozed off, I jumped back in the driver's seat and steered my mind to more positive terrain:


"We're all special in God's sight, Jesus loves the little children, all the children...etc."


But in the midst of this, I then asked the most dangerous question conceived, the kind if asked by a preteen is usually followed with  a "well...um...it's like..." from their parents and other well meaning adults: "Why?"


"Why can I not understand everything about a person just by looking at them?"


"Why can I not classify people by their group, race or portrayed image?"


The answer: 'Because you can't judge a book by it's cover' and 'God is into variety', no offense,  worked for us as kids, just how milk once satisfied our hunger, but nowadays as a meal --it is weak. But thankfully the truth is much meatier:


 “I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb."(Jere 1:5)


The word in Hebrew, we translate as "knew" means more than just knowledge on a subject, if you turn back to Genesis you see it was written: "Adam knew Eve and she conceived". The word describes an intimate bond and relationship. Imagine a wife resting her head upon her husband's chest after a particularly difficult day at work as he simply holds her; and you have the picture: knowing something deeper than skin and body parts -- the soul.


God had an intimate relationship with our souls before we came to be. Before you were born, the Almighty had already mapped out the person whom you would be and he passionately loved that person.


I believe it was C.S. Lewis who said it best: "You are a soul, you have a body"


Your soul is you: your personality, what sets you ablaze and what frightens you, what makes you laugh so hard you can hardly speak--it is you, and God created it -- a divinely custom work.


Like an item covered by box and wrapping paper or a letter encased by an envelope are our souls in our bodies: You can not determine content by simply studying the container in which it is kept.


I am black but my soul has no color, I am Haitian but my soul comes from the same homeland as yours, I am '25 years of age', call me 'young', 'old'' or what have you but please know there is a part of me, the real me, that will never be buried or cease to be.


You were raised in a culture in which you learned to develop a taste for certain foods or relate to others in a specific way but it is as far from the entirety of who you are as ownership of a dollar bill is far from making you Warren Buffet


As one pastor has put: No one was given multiple choice before they were born. You simply woke up one day as you are and that was that. How can you put any stock in that? I am as helplessly 'black' as you are whatever you are. But God has a purpose for all He does.


Ponder this: The person of God was poured into a Jewish man whose people spoke Hebrew, we call him Jesus. But why that form?
Why these people?


It is worthy of noting, that what sets Hebrew apart from other languages is it's ability to be easily translated. Take the biblical books of poetry like our blessed Psalms and Proverbs. Had they been written by others, they would have relied on rhyme and meter, the placing of emphasis on syllables for expressing thoughts and ideas, which may sound lovely to the native but does not translate well for others. But the beautiful pattern of ideas we call Hebrew parallelism can be effectively rendered in ANY language!


And consider this: that Jesus came down and his disciples lived during the occupation of Jerusalem under the Roman Empire, when several different peoples and tribes were united by a common language: Greek, allowing for the Gospel to be spread to ALL in a single tongue!

God is more concerned about the accomplishment of His will than what it looks like to us and He is more concerned about the people we are becoming than what we look like to each other.

Is it no coincidence that God poured the souls of civil revolutionaries in bodies in which they could accomplish the most good, as a Martin Luther King or a Gandhi -- He raised up leaders in the midst of people who needed them.


John 8:
31 Jesus said to the people who believed in him, “You are truly my disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. 32 And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
Beloved, I sincerely believe the Lord is raising us up "for such a time as this" but we must freed from our preoccupation with sight.


What would you call a Christmas morning where all the members of a family traveled from all over the country to be at this one house, remaining seated, content in only staring at their wrapped gifts?  It may be  interesting for a time -- in anticipation --yet unless they "knew" the content of the gift boxes under the tree, I am sure we can agree the time spent would have been considered less than fulfilling, just as beauty being our main romantic motivator leaves the product achieved as less than fulfilling.


May we live for greater motivators. May we seek to "know" more of God. May we "know" more of each other. May we "know" more of ourselves.


Let us open some boxes.


In Him,

Jean-Marc