Be Your Calling

 "whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God."
-1 Corinthians 3:22-33

“Waiting for the unexpected seems contradictory but today I find it something worth practicing. Perhaps today is the day when everything changes, or perhaps it is the day when I am reminded of how predictable things are”

-ME, January 20, 2012

I will save you the trouble of deciphering poetry and respond, yes, it was about a young woman.

Life has a way of weakening our expectations: Things go so far and no farther. But once in a while we get a chance to surprise ourselves with the chances we take. How exciting it is to try and fail epically at the risks of life. It sounds cliché, but you are alive today for a reason, so live. If you have read anything I have written, you should be able to predict this line: You live to glorify God. When you glorify God, you make His awesomeness clear to those around you. Considering that, I find few greater ways to glorify our Creator than to live lives that show how great of a gift this life is.

Church is a great time to connect with the body of Christ and to refocus for the week ahead, but you were not saved or are not being saved to sit in a church service at 9:30 AM the picture is bigger than that.

So often, folks miscategorize the Christian life as not doing things. Many times (and I share the blame in this), we are simply marked as people that do not smoke, do not drink, do not watch porn, do not curse and do not like dirty jokes. Now do not get me wrong when I say that godly discipline is a heavenly gift, but let us not mark ourselves by that in which we do not partake, and start glorifying God through the great things God does through us. We are lovers, comforters, comedians, fighters, friends and adventurers. We comfort the discouraged and downtrodden, protect the disenfranchised and invite the lost to drink from the fountain life.

We are the body of Christ.

The temple of the Holy Spirit.

People of the Book.

Saints by grace, living by faith.

We are Christians.

We are the children of God.

We are the people of God.

And I would not choose to live any other way.

In Him,

Jean-Marc

Am I the Only One?

God of the Open Sky,

Will you smile on me?

I am a rotten child,

in spiritual poverty.

God of the Open Sky,

How I long to know,

the feeling of total love,

Without work of my own.

When I do stumble,

When I want to fall,

When I find it hard sometimes to pray at all,

God of the Open Sky,

hear my plea ,

and save me from everything,

inside of me.

I attend a birthday gathering, some normal folk are there; unbelievers. Is that how all people must be defined? The party is a surprise at the gym. I am driving after sunset, down the streets of this town. The light from the street lamps bounce in succession off the car's paint. I think he is a Christian—and by his demeanor, you could tell. My Spirit doth testify. Sharp face, innocent attitude, fat: nonexistent. He said he was graduating from a Christian school.

Before the drive, before the turn of the key—I see them, man and woman, kissing in the darkness. They stroll and pass the car before I back up. The woman seems more contented at the time of the kiss then after. “How lovely,” I think, still delirious from my workout. The air, the unbelievers, the innocence, it hit me: “Are Christians people that believe the world can get better?” A deep question for the dark drive home but I probe again, “Are they?”

I suddenly remember how uncomfortable it had been to be surrounded by individuals of unknown affiliations. “What is wrong with me?”

I remember learning to be a warrior, long before the workout with torn black tees that stick to my chest from sweat. There were always near ten of us. Men gathered in an upper room somewhere in the night of New York City. Men I always felt less holy than. They preached on trains and to strangers. I did some but not to their humble fame. I watched video after video, learning to feel bad about who I was. Videos of men snapping their fingers: “People are dying without Jesus,” men warning against the dangers of media mind control: “watch for the third eye,” men speaking on the power of succubi: “they are most powerful at night, look in the mirror.” People needed to be saved in this city; why wasn't I saving them? “What is wrong with me?”

I am in the car: are Christians just waiting for the world to end? I ignore this question and go back to the first one, to the kissing. “Would it still have been beautiful if they were cheating on their spouses?” I inquire of the air. Thank God no one answers. I start again from another angle: “Are Christians people that believe that the world can get better?” “Well,” I begin, “in order for the world to get better, one must admit that it is currently in an undesirable state” Point:Jesus. The rest, from here seems to fall into an apologetic sandwich (yes, I am hungry). “If the world is not in a good state on its own, then it can not do it by itsself: people can not be good on their own; just look around.” I continue, “In order for their to be change, a third party must be introduced, one that surpasses the limitations of the human condition.” Now for the wrap-up: “enter the Holy Spirit, which changes us from the inside- out, made possible by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.”

Christians are people that not only hope for a better world, they attempt through the power of God to change its people for the better of us all.

Point: Jesus.

In Him,

Jean-Marc

The Christian Hypocrite's Meeting Has Been Cancelled

To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free”

-John 8: 31-32

alétheia: truth

Original Word: ἀλήθεια, ας, ἡ
Part of Speech: Noun, Feminine
Transliteration: alétheia
Phonetic Spelling: (al-ay'-thi-a)
Short Definition: truth
Definition: truth, but not merely truth as spoken; truth of idea, reality, sincerity, truth in the moral sphere, divine truth revealed to man, straightforwardness.

• Strong's concordance from biblos.com

So there I was about to speak the other Sunday, two before I turned 26 (on January 23^rd). One of the young ladies from the youth group introduced me as “Pastor Jean-Marc,” and I was on. I have to tell you that I could imagine at least 50 other places I would have liked to be. I had been here a number of times before for my monthly appearance to a group of folks I felt could have cared less about what I wanted to share. “This week, we're going to talk about something that is controversial in the church...a usually controversial topic, and its about fun...the topic is fun.” I was dead in the water, I just had to struggle a little bit to affirm that I was actually dead. “Where's my preparation?” I thought, “all those cool and hip references I had planned to use?” They would not come, they just sat there in the recess of my mind, as I was left with was myself: the annoyed university student that had not felt connected to anything for weeks—people, humanity, God, family, my dreams.

I made it out,bodily alive and determined to forget the tragedy I had just endured—at least I tried. “I don't know what happened to you Jean-Marc,” responded a relative,“You did something different.” And then I remembered what I had immediately decided before speaking: I was going to talk with them honestly. Honesty I did show, just not the kind I wanted. I just forgot what my Bible said, y'know, through that dude Jesus:

“For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks”

-Matthew 12:34

Considering all that and the words and stuff above, I can not fake it...and call myself a maturing Christ follower.

My father is seventy plus years old, and today he told me the most profound thing I ever heard him say when I talked about the topic of truthfulness in the community of faith, “I condemn myself before I condemn other people.” This guy is a veteran pastor, that regularly starts conversations with: “The reason God is not working in your life is because you lack faith” Hypocrisy is not new to my family experience (Oops I should not have said that).

What? It is like many of us get saved by grace to become self-sufficient. Please tell me how this makes sense. And that is where the disconnect comes for many of us in our Christian experience, we hardly admit to God (let alone other people) that we are having a hard time connecting and trusting Him and His invisible deity self.

The book I am currently reading, “TruthFaced” by Bill Thrall, Bruce McNicol and John Lynch, talks about, Pleasing God Vs. Trusting God. They give a great picture of the experience many of us face in our goal to please through our own great efforts:

“Welcome to the Room of Good Intentions.”

Oh yes. I like the ring of this name. I also like being perceived as someone who is well intended. “Well thanks,” I answer. “I think I've found my home. How are you​?”

The hostess pauses for a moment and then reaches into her purse to pull out a mask bearing a guarded expression and a thin smile. She puts it on and answers, “Fine. Just fine. And you?”

The entire room gets suddenly quiet, awaiting my answer. “Well, umm, thanks for asking. I'm kind of struggling with some things right now, some areas don't seem to be in keeping with who I know I'm supposed to be. I'm not really sure I'm doing well on a lot of—” The hostess cuts me off, putting her finger to her lips and handing me a similar mask. I'm not quite sure what to do. I don't really want to put it on, but others in the room are smiling and motioning for me to do so. I want so much to be accepted here that I slowly put it on.

And now everything feels different. I am quickly overcome with the realization that less self- revelation would be a smart game plan here. I realize that no one in this room wants to hear about my struggles, pain, or doubt. If I want to be welcome here, I'd better keep my cards closer to my vest and give the appearance of sufficiency. So, I slowly and carefully say the words, “Actually, I'm fine. I'm doing just fine. Thanks.” Satisfied, everyone in the room turns back to their conversations.(pp. 38-39)

How do you feel? Are you as tired as I was: a hamster running on the wheel of attempting the appearance of perfection. Please get off, you're not fooling anyone and most importantly you're not fooling God.

I dare you to insert honesty in your relationship with God and people. Some folks can not stand to have real conversations that do not end with high-fives and fist bumps. I was there once, in a church situation where everyone was “fine”—so I got new friends.

God loves the real you, not the one you pretend to be.

And if you're willing to be real with me, I could always use some honest Christians to talk to.

In Him,

Jean-Marc

A Smile You Can Trust

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God..."
-John 14:1


Sometimes we allow our habits to get the better of us. We learn to trigger certain behaviors after A or B happens. And it can all seem so hopeless, can't it?


How many times can one person really believe that  no one cares for them? 


 They walk about with this plastered smile as if they were fooling someone.


We (starting with  me) need to un-learn some of our norms. Some of us are so volcanic and so scared to offend a soul, that we just erupt on the inside. At that point, the one that end up hurting us is us. And somehow others are responsible for how we feel?


The fact is that if God occupied more thought space in our mind, if we trusted Him more, we would have less time to consider everything  that others think. And the sad truth about it is that other probably think about us 50x less than we think they do.


Trust in God, not people (they will let you down and can be unpredictable). Trust in God.


In Him,

Jean-Marc

A Wake Up Call for Joy in the Morning

Then Jesus cried out, "When a man believes in me, he does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. When he looks at me, he sees the one who sent me. I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness
-John 12:44-46


I live in a world just like yours, except mine is a little different, my point of view is effected by things that you may or may not have experienced. I have a past but thank God that in Him I can have a future.


Some folks don't see it that way and I can understand. Part of my penance for the time being is to spend a great deal of it with a depressive. Days are spent watching them shuffle about from here to there, as if their feet just decided to do their walking for them. They sit alone sometimes, they drink tea sometimes and talk very little. I try to talk about the hope of God with them, and its like "Yeah, O.K."  I wish I could shake them and let them feel this thing burning in my heart for a greater tomorrow and future

— a real desire for God (am I perfect? Dude, if you knew me, you would not have to ask). But my activity is limited to their external: I can just speak at them, though God can reach into them, adjust that soul button.

So, for those of you carousing(I was going to write parousing, though it is not a word, apparently; very angry about that) through life in a sort of lackadaisical funk, I have been there and I say this with all the love I can muster: WAKE UP!

You are loved beyond comprehension! Do you know how much God loves you? He walked over to a cross, understanding the pain of asphyxiation and the complete humility it would take to become a spitting target for creatures millions of grades below Him on the food chain and said, "Yes, please!" "Yes please?" Yes "Yes, please!"  

So next time you deal with that person in your life that cannot see any good inside of their understandingly horrible circumstances, its O.K., pray for them.

And the next time you feel like that discarded and disrespected person that not even the most vile Cretan would associate with (even if your on Facebook with 1056 friends), don't believe the lie. 

Know that you are loved. Remember/Rediscover the cross. 

P.S.--PRAYER STILL GETS ANSWERED:HOLD ON!

In Him,

Jean-Marc

The Open Door of Hope

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd who owns the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming , he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me...and I lay down my life for the sheep.”

-John 10:11-15

What is a more beautiful thing in the world than hope? And what is a more disastrous thing in your world than fear? What does it take to make good men and women cry?

I once sat waiting outside of my middle school for a ride in my family's car. Usually, my would mother show up, but that day, I am thankful that my brother was there for this one specific moment in history. A kid much taller than I, pushed me aside “accidentally” and that is exactly what my brother saw. He was just poetic in his threat to this behemoth of mine, which to him was an ant. The boy shook and from then on, chose to walk on the other side of the sidewalk when I needed to wait for my ride.

Whatever you are running from today, that has you feeling as though it will crush you, is nothing but smoke and mirrors. I can tell you because I have walked through my own house of mirrors for years. Mirrors cannot hurt you they just look that way. I knew another kid, (in middle school again)— who got so scared that he ran into a fun house mirror—I would not recommend it.

Years later, more learned in the deceit of trickery, I found myself staring down an imposter in the face. He thought that a young woman that needed a job would be an easy target—not when she's my sister! I would rather die.

We are the sheep, shepherded by God Himself. Whom shall we fear? What can human beings or Satan do to us (Psalm 118:6)? God laid down His life, not so we would have some new songs to sing in church, but so we would have some new songs to sing on the street, on the stage and in the dark.

Fear does not exist in God's pen. Stay in God's pasture.

In Him,


Jean-Marc

Living And Dying At Once

“Christians are people who are always living and always dying”

-Dr. Robert Crosby

As he [Jesus] went along he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

-John 9:1-3

Imagine, your issues could be used to display the work of God. I don't always believe it all the time. Life is hard most of the time these days and I want the escape hatch I used to have: "Oh, it's just this town" or "The people here stink," but age teaches you that these things are not true. Blame everyone you want, blame your parents if you have the time but ultimately it falls short. Perhaps the point is to get us into the place of  tears being our food day and night (Psalm 42:3) or to the place where we cry, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" (Luke 18:38)

I have been crying for mercy for weeks, but I do not feel large God arms coming to hug me. I have needed comfort for weeks and perhaps...I should stop counting the time. Maybe God has to remove things for my life by killing some of them. Maybe some dreams of mine were inappropriate or unrealistically childish and that's what is happening—fantasies dying until the reality of God remains.

I wish I had all the answers—I don't. I wish I had the right words to say—I won't. But I know God never cared about that. He knew I was incorrect in my thinking, and He has done me the favor of allowing me to discover it by such public means. "Thank you Jesus," I say in the midst of the darkness. Even if my cousin has a demon inside of her, you are the light of the world. You will guide me home.

In Him,

Jean-Marc

I Refuse to Be Caged

Race is the prison of society. I write this with full knowledge of what I write. Race is the boundary which we (meaning the human race), have set up to protect ourselves from division—the reverse Babel, but this imaginary enclosure only serves to make us pine for the freedom from which we restrict ourselves. Perhaps you do not think of yourself as a prisoner, and maybe there was a day when you actually enjoyed God's creation.

I remember freedom, potentials seemed infinite. We played in the sunlight of our glorious youthful naivety. I planted a kiss on Sarah's cheek when she least expected it. Ignorance was bliss, but our ignorance would not be tolerated. We were to learn what everyone else knew—believe in the fables they spread about our differences, under the guise of historical review and accuracy. We gave up our right to play, learning to tolerate one another under the supervision of the politically correct status quo.

I would not likely kiss Sarah now, I have learned lots since then. The heavy hands of history and society push us aside. Adults do not have the option of un-learning, though we can learn to forgive. We can home school ourselves into a new way of thinking. We can sing “Jesus loves the little children” and mean it. If you still have the energy for freeze-tag then I challenge you to stand up and run. Learn to remember our yesterday until it becomes our future. We may leave the cells for which we hold the key. We can still choose to be free.

In Him,

Jean-Marc

Why I Hated (a Stand-Alone) Christmas and You Should Too

S o, perhaps the word hate is a bit harsh, but honesty is a thing that happens only when the ice of pretentiousness is broken. I can already imagine the responses for this article's negative tone, but let us not mistake facing reality with negativity. We should never fear to face reality, for the world of the Bible is the real world. Wisdom shows us that there comes a point of reckoning when we can either choose to engage the world as it is or only as we wish it were. And our chance for engagement only seems more imminent with the passing months.

Christmas Keeps Coming

Pull down the lights one by one, dump the tree, then fill up your trash bags with the results of the holiday feasting, and somewhere in the depth of your mind there is a looming sense of inevitability—Christmas will be back for another round. Like an abused DVD we are forced to repeat the uncomfortable scenes, over and over, every eleven months. Christmas is always just leaving or approaching and forcing logically-thinking adults to bring out the worst in themselves.

The Definition Of Insanity

If you are the average hard working individual, your monthly spending reads something like:

AUG: Making Ends Meet

SEP: Making Ends Meet

OCT: Making Ends Meet

But once Black Friday and December come around, we become insatiable mall zombies with credit cards activated and bank accounts depleted for all possible cash. In the midst of our relocation under the nearest bridge, we are told that these actions somehow have a holy purpose:

“ Jesus is the reason for the season man”

“What does buying your nephew an X-Box have to do with Jesus?”

“X-Box represents myrrh, duh”

“What?”

To make matters worse atop of this hypocrisy, we encourage all the neighborhood kids by telling them they can expect twenty-four hour surveillance and illegal entry into their homes by some fat old man that watches them sleep? What is any level-headed adult to do?

The False Option

We do what I expect the majority of us feel forced to: grin and bear it. Just put up the tree because you have to make the place look “Christmas-y.” Just buy the gifts so the folks you secretly hate do not actually figure it out this year. Just attend all the parties, and dinners, and awkward gatherings, and just get it over with. All the while the people that do these things feel less and less in the “Christmas Spirit” as it were. Anyone that finds themselves with an inability for instant happiness is considered odd, depressed or lonely (please). Just try singing about roasting chestnuts as you watch a half-hour of the evening news and see what happiness that brings.

This season has brought me into conversation with more and more adults hopelessly trapped under the weight of this “joyous” season. Since they fail to see how flying reindeer applies to real life, they commonly resign themselves with the words: “Christmas is for kids.” Advertisers would agree but I call foul, the advertisers are mistaken.

The Answer is Advent

Christmas is only meant to be a jewel on the necklace of Advent. The ancient Christian tradition of Advent, meaning “arrival” or “coming” is the season which prepares us for Christmas. The focus of the season is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ (First Advent) and the anticipation of His rescue of the saints (Second Advent) and reign on Earth. It is the beginning of the Church year and celebrated from the Sunday following Thanksgiving to the Sunday preceding Christmas. It is not a celebration of Christmas, rather Christmas is a celebration of Advent Hope and Expectation. Christmas sometimes feels messed up by itself because our forbears never intended it to be.

Greater Expectations

It reminds me of the couple that spent their entire honeymoon on a cramped futon figuring it must have been the best their parents could afford on the luxurious resort, only to discover their last night that their magnificent suite had been on the other side of the door. They had spent their nights in the foyer! Greater treasures lie within the winter season for believers in Jesus Christ.

Christmas can be a meaningful holiday but only as part of a whole. Surely department store gift cards and gingerbread men are not our greatest hopes for the season. Our Advent Expectation is that God Almighty will soon crush the corrupt systems of power and sin. Advent says, 'the world is messed up, but watch the skies because it will not be that way for long.

Advent is the hope of Malachi 4:2, that “the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays.”

So perhaps instead of waiting for Santa Clause Christmas Eve, we would be better served awaiting the rising of our healing sun. 'O Come, O Come Emmanuel.'

In Him,

Jean-Marc

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.