I was 9 years old and sobbing into my pillow, begging Jesus to come into my heart. Suddenly, I felt the Holy Spirit enter directly into my heart (through my back) and fill my body. Instant peace. I always thought it was so cool for the Lord to grant a child's request so literally. I cried out to my God with complete and utter sincerity... I didn't need to understand repentance first or the Bible first; all I knew was that I needed and wanted Jesus in my life and He was happy to oblige.
Your style is so unique. It really pulls me in. I'm an artist that hasn't painted in over a decade because I got burnt out from painting for money instead of myself (I airbrushed motorcycles and cars), and never gave myself the chance to discover my own unique style; always painting what others wanted. Your work is inspiring me to pick it up again... for myself.
@BiblicalBeauty The longer we look away from God and focus on other things, the more likely our hearts are to harden, just like concrete. The kid's a genius.
John 16... The Promise of the Holy Spirit
…6Instead, your hearts are filled with sorrow because I have told you these things. 7But I tell you the truth, it is for your benefit that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him to you. 8And when He comes, He will convict the world in regard to sin and righteousness and judgment:…
@__Injaneb96 Everything used to be closed on Sundays here, too. We knew how to live without expecting to get whatever we want whenever we want. A known day of rest. It worked and no one died. But yeah, I do agree most Americans don't appreciate what they have.
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.