Monday, August 24, 2015

when nothing is wrong, everything's a sin.

I was enjoying some Spinach & Kale Greek Yogurt Dip (yum) on my chips the other day when 
being a compulsive reader
I happened to read the lid.


Guilt was  not something that had been on my mind at the moment.

Why would it be? 

Eating is not a sin. 

Yes, there comes a point when you are trashing the temple of the Living God...rather a serious offense...but eating is not the sin. (Not eating can also result in destroying that temple; but not eating is not the sin either.) Gluttony, Greed, a Lack of Self-Control are sins...the things that come out of a body. What you put in your body is not the issue. (Clearly I'm quoting Someone Else.)

But somehow I've noticed a trend. 
The more okay everything is, the less okay anything becomes.

porn can help your marriage

all forms of gender-identity and self-expression are beautiful and are to be accepted as such

it isn't murder if you make it medical enough

it's alllllll okay.

because somehow in the midst of all this okay-ness and tolerance and love for everything imaginable...the more guilt is present. 

the more food labels weirdly insist you should feel less guilt while eating their brand

the more mothers feel horrible and then violently defend their choices when they cannot breastfeed

the more unhealthy people get as they insist their bodies are to be loved

the more families fall apart while the definition of family expands

is it mental/spirital dissonance? we know something is wrong, we know we are not as we should be...and in blaming societal pressures and religious brow-beating, we somehow end up feeling guilty for things that don't remotely matter. somehow, despite all the advice on loving yourself and following your heart, there seems to be a lot of self-hatred and very lost people about.

in a world of people saying

I keep seeing

What about you? Do you find yourself "feeling guilty" when you don't finish all the food on your plate, or when you eat something unhealthy? Do you think you should feel guilt for that? Do you think people have misplaced guilt and no way to deal with it? Or do you see something else happening? 
talk to me.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

My Favorite Things About Medical School

The People.
I don't know why I wasn't expecting that...but there are seriously awesome people in medicine. Whether it's been random moments where my classmates were crazy sweet and helpful, or hilariously awesome doctors teaching us, I love being involved in something that seems to draw ridiculous percentages of incredible people. (No matter how out of place their brilliance and awesomeness makes me feel. XD)
And every time I watch a physician talk a patient through an emotionally difficult moment and how incredibly able certain doctors are in saying exactly what a patient needs to hear, I practically melt in awe. 
Yes, I fangirl over my preceptors. XD 
Also, nurses are just marvelous people in general. (Even when I hear them talking about how certain people are just too nice to be doctors and feel a pang of jealousy that I'm not quite that nice. But they're not wrong about personalities, and I'm really not cut out to be a nurse. XD) It's also slightly hysterical to work night shift with them sometimes.
Finally, you just have the opportunity to randomly meet some very incredible people. Every patient who walks in the door has their own amazing story and it really is a privilege to enter someone's life in the unique way that medicine allows and to learn from so many. 

The Knowledge
This was part of the reason I wanted to go to med school. I want to know why. Sure, the learning of it is a little much at times (and when I think of how much I don't know still I could cry), but as a med student and a writer and a person I adore it when I actually understand mechanisms (how every detail fits together and why seemingly unrelated symptoms actually make total sense) and seeing a good differential diagnosis (what are all the possible reasons for this symptom and what is most likely and what is most deadly...), as well as the simple fact that it's really fun to be around brilliant people. XD I love it when we can go from talking about science to Roman myths to referencing Sanskrit - the breadth of knowledge and education these people have is amazing. 

The Community 
I really don't if I would have survived a more typical med school. From what I've heard (and caught cringe-inducing glimpses of), med schools can be rather cut-throat places, full of type-A students all wanting to be the best of the best. I don't know if it's my school's mission, their admissions committee, or the class I ended up in, but everyone's goal, from the dean to the teachers to the students, was for everyone to do well. Classmates who excelled in a particular area were always more than willing to help out whoever was struggling with it, and teachers made all the time they could to explain or re-explain whatever subject we wanted. Notes were shared and study guides were collaborated on...guest instructors mentioned over and over how much they enjoyed coming to our school, because people were engaged and present in class. The few times issues came up, they stood out all the more because of how rare they were. Not that my class was not full of Type A's wanting to be the best (I'm the most non-type A med student I've ever seen, lol...), but everybody wanted everyone to best. (And it works - my class's scores were were very close to being the top scores ever for our school (if not the top - I haven't heard the latest breakdown yet), and also very close to beating some other, very competitive and way less nice, schools in our state.) XD

The Support
There's nothing like doing something extremely hard and realizing exactly how many people there are standing with you just because they love you. From my grandparents worrying over how much sleep I'm getting to getting random texts from friends who want to brighten my day/check how I'm doing to you guys praying and commenting here to my little sister putting up with ridiculous amounts of angst from her drama-queen sibling, med school so far has really made me realize how much I've loved and how absolutely amazing and awesome are all the people who love me. :) 
I'm so thankful I don't even know how to express it, you guys.

The Goodness of God
Just the way He's made His will for me so much clearer than I expected it to be. Whether it was the way I felt walking down the med school hall my 3rd year of college - you'll be here next year - or knowing who was going to interview me before I was given his name by the school or knowing even as I begged to pass my Board exam that no matter what happened He would make His plan for me work... 
Really, it was kind of funny how for a while it was a constant see-saw between awe and disbelief at how God was organizing my life and smoothing out every step before I took it to the point that it was almost unbelievable, and sobbing in the shower because I was homesick and everything was going wrong and med school is straight up hard sometimes. XD
But like I said, Moriah Peter's Brave could be my med school theme song...and I think/hope/pray I'm learning to listen to His voice and be thankful for the easy and trust through the hard.

Med school has clearly stretched me in ways I absolutely never expected, but I've also seen how much God cares for and loves me in ways I never expected either. So many answered prayers, both little and many. So many blessings I don't many things made unbelievably easy even as I was dealing with the hardest parts.

Growing up is weird, you guys. And med school does nothing to make it less weird. XD But despite the sometimes alternate-universe feel of it, it's a unique experience that I'm thrilled is mine.

Thursday, August 13, 2015


Hiding from me, hiding from You,
Doing the things I should not do.
Running and racing, hurriedly pacing
Keeping myself continuously spacing.
Insatiable for things I don't even need...
Starving for that on which I must feed.
Afraid of the time so quick running out,
I don't even know what this summer's about.
Tomorrow I will, but tomorrow I don't,
Is it because I can't or I won't?
Later, then later, then later again,
So I will change, just wait until then.

There is something about looking back and seeing the things I should have learned long ago being gently shown me again and again...ouch.
I wrote this poem probably last summer. (School somehow tends to make it so that I catch my breath and my brain during that short window of that I'm on rotations, I don't know when that time will be. But I know I need it.)
Wretchedly, the change that should have happened then (deadlines, focus, concentration, stillness...) were not effectively dealt with and did come around to slam me this spring.

But isn't it comforting to know that we really can be confident in Philippians 1:6, and know that the good work begun in us will continue to be performed until the One doing it returns? That He will perfect that which concerneth me, as Psalm 138:8 says? I am His and despite my slowness and stupidity He's not giving up on perfecting me. 

Which is not to say looking back doesn't make me wish I would have learned certain lessons last summer, or the summer before. Life is so much less painful when we actually pay attention and grow when we're supposed to... :) 

If there's something you should be learning right now...make this be your later. Change what needs to be changed and do whatever you have to in order to learn what you must. Don't let unintentionality become disobedience.

later never comes, i know i've said before,
but later has arrived, it's knocking at the door.
destiny is rubbish, but this moment i have now.
it's time to decide to whom i will bow.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Creator of all things, true source of Light and Wisdom, lofty source of all Being, graciously let a ray of Your Brilliance penetrate into the darkness of my understanding and take from me the double darkness in which I have been born, sin and ignorance.

Give me a sharp sense of understanding, a retentive memory, and the ability to grasp things correctly and fundamentally. Grant me the talent of being exact in my explanations, and the ability to express myself with thoroughness and charm. 

Point out the beginning, direct the progress, help in the completion. 
Through Christ, our Lord. 

- Thomas Aquinas

Friday, August 7, 2015

Quote Queste

so, now that it is time for next month's challenge, I finally join Miss Melody Muffin's July QQ as I semi-promised her I would. ah, me. (when did August happen. when. how.) Thank you, Lody, for giving me an actual scene in my story, and one which I was entirely not expecting. XD The credit for this bit goes all to you.

Also, I feel like perhaps Imperfecta deserves a word of explanation. 
The story started with a scene of a boy asking a doctor why he had worked so hard to save him at birth, because the world would have been better off without him. It was pseudo-historical fiction about a boy who everyone saw as cursed trying to find a reason to live. 

From there it began morphing into a story dealing with racism and family and love...but something was missing. I think at this point I have found the missing piece, and I'm pretty sure it's fantasy. 
[Or fantasy-feeling sci-fi. Because instead of dealing with aliens like sci-fi can, it's dealing with legends (particularly Scottish)...but not how fantasy normally deals with them. As in, there are fae - elves, brownies, whatever else they have been called in the old stories - but they are not part of our world, but in another dimension...and their limited ability to interact with our world explains the knowledge of them and the lack of their actual presence and a lot of other things, like second sight. Can you scientifically explain a myth? I'll find out. XD] 
Exactly how I will deal with the spiritual aspect I have not yet decided...but really, it is kind of a reaction against what I have seen of popular culture's desire to be more than human. Or, I should say, the story comes more from a massive desire to show the incredible value that humans, as humans, have, and what an awesome thing it is to have been created by the God that made the universe. What is it that makes humans love, or want to be, vampires, were-wolves, wizards, super-heroes, etc? 
As much as I adore my genetically modified assassin characters in Contract to Time Travel, I found myself coming up against the same trouble. While I don't think it's wrong to have characters more than human (if only to show why genetic modification is a bad idea...), I found myself wanting something that focused more on the miracle of being alive and the beauty and the tragedy of being human, in the midst of shattered family and senseless hate, as well as friendship, sacrifice, and love. 
It's not often that a story's themes appear so early in the writing process, and I'm not sure how that will affect the story, but I'm curious. So we'll see. XD


   "Do you wish to drive me fully insane?"
   Perhaps he already was.
   The fae king's laughter echoed through his mind at the thought. Perhaps? Either you are and have been since first you heard my voice or you are not. There is no perhaps, my dear.
   The heir to the Westmoore house and lands was wholly familiar with the way darkness amplified the thoughts and feelings of the day, but he sat upright in bed with a savagery that surprised even himself. "Let. Me. Sleep."
    But surely you have learned the legends of this land?
    "Do you exist then merely to make legends truth?" The amount of scorn he managed to infuse into his voice would have been almost satisfying if he had any hope that it would even faintly ruffle the calm of that untouchable creature.
   Ah, no. We are the truth of legends. Can you not feel it? 
   This time he did not answer, but instead buried his face in his hands, pressing fingers brutally against his burning eyes.
   Surely you have heard the saying. 'When sleep at night you cannot find, awake you are in another's mind.' Do you not wish to know who it is who dreams of you?
   Somehow the worst of it was that he could not lash out that it was all false. There was truth there, somewhere, and it was truth that would hurt him, else the king would not now torment him with it. But he laughed, throwing himself back against his pillow. "Does not his Honor dream of strangling me every night? And you have only now chosen to use it against me?"
    The king laughed with him, and he hated the sheer beauty of that laughter as he had never hated it before. But in the space that followed there was silence in his mind and he took a slow breath, hoping against hope that the king had wearied of this game. 
   The next breath would have seen him sleeping, but before he took it, birds began chirping. He glanced toward the door, confused that robins would be up already, wondering how they were so loud, his sleep-deprived brain unable to make sense of it for a moment.
   He flung himself upright once again, anger defying even the exhaustion of three sleepless nights. "Leave her out of it. She has nothing to do with you or with this, and I swear if you-"
   You swear what? The king's voice was gently mocking. But you know the way to keep her safe...if you would only take it...
   As if he was so stupid. 
   But if he was still arguing with the king, then he was so stupid. He forced himself to lay back down. He would not answer.
   You know we do not interfere. Cannot interfere. We can only watch. If she dreams of you, it is her that dreams, not us.
   He lifted his head off the pillow. "You do not call this interference? Are you brainless or do you only think that I am?"
   This time silence answered him. He had time to wonder if he had managed to offend the king once again, and then he was asleep.

  "Your grandfather says you have been falling asleep at meals."
  He noticed I was present? He would not have dreamed of saying it to St. Rivers, but the way the physician was looking at him, he would not have been surprised to learn the man could read his mind. 
  "He wonders if you are using that now to avoid eating." 
   He considered crossing his arms, pictured his Honor doing the same, and instead looked at the door across the room so that he need not look at the physician. "Do I appear to be wasting away?"
   The very silence seemed to fill with sarcasm, and when the silence was broken at last by St. River's voice, the sarcasm was still present. "I would not think a mirror necessary to know something was wrong if one felt half as bad as you look."
   That was rough touch to a wound still raw, and he looked back too quickly. "You said you would not speak of mirrors." 
   "I said I would not ask you of them. If you answered truthfully the rest."
   The physician waited, and he finally shrugged, jamming his hands into the pockets of his pants. "I have not slept well this past week."
   Again the physician waited, but this time he merely shrugged again.
   St. Rivers sighed. Whatever he was about to say was never said, for there was a sound at the door and the next moment Moll burst in, robin-red hair wildly askew, once-green cloak tangled about one arm as if she'd caught it up to run, and mud spattered clear up the front of her plain brown dress. 
   "Sorry!" she gasped, half-bending over to catch her breath. "I slept straight through the rooster crowing and my own mother making breakfast. And then I ran without looking and Angus Macdaniel, the crabbit brock, nearly rode his horse right over me, all for to teach me a lesson." 
   He swallowed the smile that would come. "You learned a lesson?"
   She tossed her head. "I'll be watching for his tousie face from now on, believe me."
   St. Rivers cleared his throat. 
   "Sorry!" she gasped again, then seemed to take an actual look at the patient they had come to see. 
    "What happened?" she cried, and he shut his eyes so she could not see him roll them. 
    You, apparently. He opened his eyes then, looking at her curiously. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you overslept."
    St. Rivers muttered something under his breath, but said nothing when Moll shot a glance at him, asking for permission or for rescue, he could not tell. 
    "Why I overslept?" she repeated, and that hesitation was enough unlike her that he believed for the first time the king might not have been lying about that part. 
    She laughed then, still breathless, and when she answered she was not looking at him. "It is nothing...just I've been dreaming this past week - the dreams where you feel more tired after than before you went to sleep." She glanced at him finally, then away as she gave her head a shake. "No matter, except that I did not wake on time this morning."
    That seemed all she was going to say, and he raised his eyebrows when she finally looked expectantly at him. "While you have been dreaming, I have been awake." More than you understand. "I have not slept well in a week, and if I am not eating it is because I am nearly too tired to breathe. It is not something I am purposefully doing, and if you can fix it, please do so." He looked at Moll as he spoke, though he knew both of them would think him speaking to St. Rivers.
    "And you will not tell me why you have not slept?" He could feel the physician's eyes on him.
    "If I knew, do you not think I would have fixed it myself?"
    "That is debatable," St. Rivers said gruffly, then reached for his brown leather bag. "But perhaps I can fix it regardless of the reason - drink a spoonful of this an hour before bed." He held out a tinted glass bottle, the length of his palm. "If one spoonful does not help, take two the next night."
    "It will make me sleep?" The clear liquid within did not appear powerful enough to keep the king out of his mind, but he took the bottle.
    "It should help," the physician said, and he supposed he would have to be satisfied with that.
    "Does it prevent dreaming?" he asked then, running his thumb across the rim of the smooth glass, and St. Rivers frowned, as if suspecting there was indeed something he had not been told. He did not care. "Does it?"
    "It should help with dreams also, yes. Why?"
    He smiled, and this time did not stop himself. "I will only take it if she does."
    "What?" St. Rivers exploded, and his smile widened. 
    "Both or neither. She will dream less and I will sleep more and all things will be right. If you know what you are talking about."
    "I will not permit you to use my assistant like that." There was a seriousness to the physician's tone that meant he would be coming alone to visit shortly, and there would be talking then, whether the patient wished to speak or not.
    "No, no!" Moll interrupted before he could respond. "I was just thinking to ask you about it, but he said it first. The dreams have been getting worse, and if I am to be of any use, I must be rested mornings. And if I am taking it, it will remind me to run over at night to make sure he has taken his - it will work finely." 
    St. Rivers looked at her a long moment, but at last reached again into the bag, withdrawing a bottle identical to the first. "You cause me more trouble than all my patients put together," he said, and she smiled.
    "And for all that I am a bletherie bother to you, you dinnae get scunnered with me. You have the patience of a saint."
   A healthy respect for St. Rivers he had, but at that he snorted. Patient the man was, a saint he was not.
   St. Rivers turned on him then, but even as he ducked his head in apology he could have sworn there was amusement in the man's blue eyes. 
   "Go to sleep, my boy. I will be back in two days, less if your grandfather calls for me. Moll will be over tonight to check on you. And perhaps earlier to see that you eat today."
   Then he was gone, and Moll lingered only long enough to shake her head at him and point authoritatively towards his bed.
   "Please be good," she said, and he shrugged silently.
   Then she was running down the spiral stairs after St. Rivers, and he listened to the sound of her footsteps until they faded away. 
   But why were you dreaming of me, little robin? I am sorry...
   He did not finish the thought, but pulled the cork from the bottle and put it straight to his lips. There was probably more than two spoonfuls gone when he set it down, but he pushed the cork back in and threw himself upon his bed. 
   Please work. Please, please, please work.


  Clever boy. Oh, clever, stubborn boy. 
  He opened his eyes, wondering why he ached all over. He shifted, and realized abruptly it was dark outside and he had not moved in all the hours since the morning's visit. 
   "Oh, thank heaven."
  He came upright with a start, shaking the sleep from his mind in something of a panic. But of course she was there.
   "I was going to wait five minutes more, then find St. Rivers. Did you see how much you took! And laying there so still and peeliewally! I thought you might never wake again."
   Quite careless of you. She is entirely right. Do not let it happen again, or I will find a way to deter you. 
   "I wish I had not," he said dully, feeling already the headache that came when the king insisted upon speaking when others were present.
   The hurt on her face caught him suddenly, and he realized what he had said. "Had not woken yet, not ever again," he corrected, wondering at how very relieved she looked at his words, and how much of a lie the words were. 
   The king laughed softly, and he clenched his jaw. 
    Oh, sleep so long as you wish, my dear. You should have given in. Now I must find another way to bring you to your senses.
   "The servants could not wake you for the evening meal...I have brought it up with me. Will you eat in bed or get up?"
   He shrugged, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was not hungry in the least. 
   "I brought up enough for two, so I will eat with you." 
   "You need not pretend you have not yet eaten so that you may watch me eat." He smiled. "Watch away, and report to his Honor whatever you must."
    She glared. "I do not report to him. I report to St. Rivers."
    He reached for the glass of milk on the tray she had set beside his bed. Perhaps that would go down without gagging him. "You think if his Honor met you in the hall and demanded how much I had eaten you would not answer him?"
    And you think I torment her. 
    The king was laughing again, and when he watched the hurt flickering across her face, caught between truth and guilt, he hated himself slightly more than usual. 
    "You have my permission to tell his Honor whatever he wishes to know regarding what I ate, my health, or the state of my general mental instability. If that helps." The milk was making him feel sick. 
    "Thank you," she said, but there was misery enough in her voice and eyes that he knew she would still feel as if she were betraying a patient if she did so.
    "Are you still afraid of him, then?" he asked, curious.
    "Everyone is," she said, looking at her hands. "Everyone except you. And St. Rivers."
     He thought for a moment. "I suppose." He hated the man too much to fear him. And for all the times he had wondered, he still did not understand why St. Rivers tolerated the man. "They do not seem likely friends."
    You could ask me. Did I say you were clever? Silly, silly boy. So many questions...and I could answer so many of them. 
    "If they were friends the world would be tapsalteerie. St. Rivers could not be, not with the likes of him." 
    She was too sure of it. But then, she thought St. Rivers a saint. 
    "You are not eating." She said it as though it hurt her to mention it.
    "I was thinking," he said, and reached for the bread. Perhaps with the fresh jam it would not entirely turn his stomach. 
     I have rather let you get out of hand. What if I promised not to speak to you tomorrow? Will you eat it all?
    He stopped with the bread halfway to his mouth. The king had clear and vested interest in his health, which directly decreased how much he himself cared. But it was not often the king would bargain, and much as he hated silently replying to the king - it legitimized the presence in his mind - he was willing for the possibility of a reprieve. Two days and the night between.
    I feel so unloved.
    It was painful to swallow a reply and simply wait. 
    Fine. The king was sulking now. 
   Do not dare break your promise. He held his breath.
   As if we would. Learn to trust me, silly boy. And eat, or you will be the one to break the promise.
   As if he would. He would eat if it choked him.
   Silence followed, and he took a breath of relief, then realized that Moll was staring strangely at him. 
   "Are you sure nothing else is wrong?" she asked.
   He smiled. "A good night's sleep and you will be surprised at how well I look. But have you no stories for me?"
   She narrowed her eyes at him, but leaned forward to rest her chin on her her hands. "Perhaps...Has Ani told you yet that she met Callum?"
   The sparkle was coming back to her even as he shook his head. His curiosity over why Ani meeting Moll's youngest brother was story-worthy paled before the delighted refrain within his mind. 
   Two full days without him in my head. Two full days. 
   Perhaps with space to think he could understand why her dreams had been there to be used against him.
   "Tell me the story," he said aloud, and she smiled, though whether to tell it or to see him eat he would not guess. But he knew which it was without guessing, and it made him ache to know it.
   Oh, little robin, why do you care so much for people? At least you should have left me out of it. 
   I'm only going to hurt you.


Tuesday, August 4, 2015

This week I...

nearly died:
of happiness that I passed Step 1. XD 
It was a bad day - I'd had to leave surgery [where I was actually helping and learning how to do laparoscopic surgery and everything was awesome!!] because I almost passed out, and then ended up not getting to do call that night because I was throwing up. (No clue what was going on, but I felt nasty.) Then I saw the email that my results were available and it was just like....I can't look right now. So instead I took a shower and fell into bed, slept for several hours, and then when I woke up, no longer feeling quite so awful, found my family because I figured they deserved to be involved, XD and finally got to see the results. :D

listened to:
one of the most gorgeous OSTs I've listened to in a while...
actually, listen to this song and then reload it in another window and listen to them both playing different parts at the same's weirdly cool. [or maybe that's just me. XD but seriously, listen to it.]

for several impossible things. because why not? :) 
also, this week I'm specifically praying about next week, both as far as studying for my first shelf exam goes, as well as getting feedback from one of my 3 preceptors (or more would probably be better), and getting more hands-on experience now that I'm 1/2 done with the rotation.

nothing. weep with me, my friends. [though hee, I might write something today{Sunday}... XD]

the thing that stood out to me most in school was:
helping. babies. get. born. is. awesome. 
Right now I don't think I want to do OB. At the same time, I am loving my OB/GYN rotation. So very much. 

random quote of the week:
"No, no, stay where you are. You're small--I can push you."
as I move to get out of my chair so a nurse can open a drawer behind

learned from the internet:
this. XD 

learned from life: 
It's funny how it all comes down to the little moments. To whether I choose to start praying as soon as my eyes open in the morning or to check my email. To whether I play a chapter of the Bible as I'm driving to the hospital in the morning or a song. 
As someone named Ken Levine said, "We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us." If I keep a hold of my little choices, big ones become so much easier. 

a thing that stood out to me in the Bible:
But king Solomon loved many strange women...and his wives turned away his heart. For it came to pass, when Solomon was old, that his wives turned away his heart after other gods: and his heart was not perfect with the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father. For Solomon went after Ashtoreth the goddess of the Zidonians, and after Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites. And Solomon did evil in the sight of the Lord, and went not fully after the Lord, as did David his father. Then did Solomon build an high place for Chemosh, the abomination of Moab, in the hill that is before Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the children of Ammon. And likewise did he for all his strange wives, which burnt incense and sacrificed unto their gods.

This is the wisest man who ever lived. This is a man to whom God spoke twice. This is him at the end of his life, after all that he saw God do in Israel...when he was old. He knew better. 

 Along with the point above about choices (you don't just get up one day after building the temple and watching the Shekinah glory fill it and go I'll try that with a different god today...), I think sometimes we get far too comfortable. Solomon had to have known the other gods weren't real. And maybe that was part of his problem. He was old and wise and found the concept stupid...if it made his wives happy when he built temples to their fantasies and bowed down with them...why not? It wasn't like it mattered anyway. Except it did. (Think about all those thousand wives/concubines ending up in hell because he thought making them happy in their pagan state a good thing to do.) 

1st Corinthians says, "Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come. Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." There is no point where we're 'home safe' until we actually are, and thinking we're past the point of having to guard against a particular sin at any time is probably the exact moment when it will hit us broadside.


Related Posts with Thumbnails