Tag Archives: Faith

A Conversation 

“Why did you start doing this?”

“I guess I wanted to say something”

“So say it.”

“I don’t know how.”

“What changed?”

“I wanted to tell them that life is beautiful. That it all meant something. Now I’m no longer sure it does.”

“So tell them that.”

“But they may judge me. Or worse, they may get upset.”

“The truth isn’t always pretty.”

“I know that. I guess I just wanted to…”

“You wanted to what?”

“I’m don’t know. What if this just isn’t for me? Writing, I mean.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“I guess so.”

“So tell them.”

“Tell them what?”

“That maybe life isn’t as beautiful as you thought it were.”

“Maybe life isn’t as beautiful as I thought it were.”

“Good. Now, why not?”

“Because I am in the biggest city in Sweden with two million people and I still feel lonely.”

“And that makes life not beautiful?”

“It’s not that it’s not beautiful, it’s just that it’s lonely sometimes.”

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“You wrote “sometimes”. You could’ve written life is lonely always but you didn’t.”

“I guess I did.”

“And you know what?”

“What?”

“You said it. You told the truth. Good for you. That’s the first step. Now you can tell them other things that are true.”

“What makes you so sure of this?”

“Because I’m you. You’re having a conversation with yourself, buddy.”

“I really fucking hate you sometimes.”

“I really don’t give a shit. I got you to write.”

My Dearest Maria

As I wake up, I’m on the floor in my room. I can’t remember how I got there. There’s a slight pain in my back so maybe I fell somehow off my bed. Another panic-attack; no memory of what I did before, or during it. Somewhere in my mind I find I’m happy I’m alone. Fumbling for my bed for support I realize I can’t get up.

I quite enjoy the view from the floor. There’s frames to look at with the “kind-notes”, a piece of paper were people are supposed to write nice things about you. Even from here I can see the writings. “Always happy!”, “Spreads joy!”, “Beautiful smile!”, “I love your laugh!”, Absolutely wonderful!”

I laugh to myself.

My eyes travel to my medicine box. Anti-depressants, anxiolytic-pills, benzo-like pills for emergencies. I curse my ability to laugh easily. What’s the happy girl to do when she’s not spreading joy, but waking up from a panic attack?

Also, what is she to do when she has been isolating herself for the past months, losing a close friend because of it, because she can’t fulfill the requirements she has now set up for herself? Because when she’s not the happy, joy-spreading person she used to be (or she really is, she doesn’t know), she hides. She doesn’t answer the messages from the people she loves. She doesn’t answer when they call. She doesn’t do what she loves.
She writes in third person because it is painful to apply this to herself.

The wall to my right is the wall of important things; souvenirs from Romania, post-its I have gotten, flight-tickets. The picture of us. The one I received after Christmas and never thanked you for. We look happy. Actually happy. (I can’t tell whether you really were happy or not. We never talked about such things.) Somewhere inside my head it clicked. I do not understand “the concept of being happy”, but I remember I was happy there with you.

“Is there anybody in here who has someone they look up to?”
My hand is lifted up somehow.
The lecturer points at me. “Yes! You at the back! What is her or his name?”
I clear my throat. “Maria”
“And what makes her someone you look up to?”
“She’s real.”
He nods.
“She’s genuine. She’s caring. If she is mad at God, she is, and that’s okay. She’s one of my favorite people in this world.”

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am sorry for not writing you. And thank you for that picture. I called a friend when everything had clicked, and I asked for help. He got me stable, got me to sit on my bed. Talked to me until I was calm. Because apparently, I don’t always have to be happy, Maria. 

Just know that I still think about you a lot and that I love you.

All my love, Sara

Sinner

The world’s
greatest
sinner
was I
and I ought to say I
enjoyed it.

Hopefully that’ll be enough

I loved you today.
Your hair was a mess
and your eyes were unfocused
and you pulled me closer.

I loved you yesterday.
Your hair was flatter
at least to some extent.
I talked too much
you didn’t talk at all,
and you didn’t answer the door
when I came to my senses.

I will love you tomorrow.
You don’t think about your hair
the way I do.
And you will be angry
and happy.
Pull me close
just to push me away.

But I will love you.

Far Off At Sea

On a pretty little island
far off at sea.
I was left to discover,
left with nowhere to flee.
Long were the days
putting faith in the ocean.
Long were the nights
getting lost in emotions.
I knew that one day I’d be taken away,
setting sails for the waters
and do nothing but pray.
But, oh, just for now
leave me be here ashore.
There’s still time for mercy
and so much to explore.

The Gift of Discernment

First of all, before you start reading I just want to inform you that the following is my experience. What I write is a bit personal and I also know that some people may not understand what I mean, even after I explain it.

I’d like to start off today’s blogpost with a bible-verse. I haven’t done that in a while.

“A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other. To one person the spirit gives the ability to give wise advice; to another the same spirit gives a message of special knowledge. The same spirit gives great faith to another, and to someone else the one spirit gives the gift of healing. He gives one person the power to perform miracles, and another the ability to prophesy. He gives someone else the ability to discern whether a message is from the spirit of God or from another spirit. Still another person is given the ability to speak in unknown languages, while another is given the ability to interpret what is being said. It is the one and only Spirit who distributes all these gifts. He alone decides which gift each person should have.”
– 1 Corinthians 12:7-11
All my life I have been able to feel things. I don’t know how else to describe it. It could be in people’s apartments, cities, stores, with people, etc. When I was a kid I could tell my mom that I didn’t like a certain person, and didn’t know why, I just knew there was something about that person I didn’t like.
In the summer of 2011 people began telling me that I might be having this gift, and what I am feeling is actually the spiritual world, which didn’t make a lot of sense, of course. That summer I experienced and saw a lot of God’s miracles, and I ended up not so confused. I realized that I actually am feeling the spiritual world, good and bad.
Months later I found this bible verse, and when I read the part about discernment… You won’t believe how reveled I was. Something I was experiencing, the Bible said was a gift. I wasn’t that weird.
Nowadays (wow, I felt old writing that!), people in church ask me when it comes to spiritual stuff. I have different hand gestures showing what I feel, that people know about, and they always ask me if I’m feeling anything at random places.
I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I guess it’s because it’s a quite big part of my life, and I kind of expect me to write more about it, as life goes along. I just wanted to let you know before so you won’t be completely lost later.
Do you have a spiritual gift you know about? Let me know in the comments!
Love, Sara

The Moment That Changed My Life

I have been a Christian for seventeen years, in other words: all my life. My mom got saved when she was young, and so were my relatives. I grew up in a loving, Christian home, (with a lost, distant father, sure, but that didn’t matter) and I went to church every Sunday with my mom. Sunday school was fun, and at the age of six I attended the church’s school. I grew up with weekly Bible verses and morning-prayers and I was taught that God does miracles and heals the sick, and I was taught that God loves every single person in this world. When I was around ten years old I began to get tired of it all, due to lack of evidence of everything I’ve been taught.

When I was twelve years I switched over to a Non-Christian school and I continued being sick of God. I was healed during this period of time from a disease causing me not to grow. For some reason this didn’t affect my Christian life and I lived on with my bitterness.
One day, a Saturday, three years later, at the age of fifteen, my mom went to a church located in another city, half an hour from were we lived. I don’t really know what happened that day, but my mom came home completely changed and began to watch GodTv. I was still mad at God, so the GodTv-watching bothered me, even though I told her it didn’t. The next day she more of less forced me to the church, which I’m today really thankful for. This church was different from any other I had attend. During the Worship people were crying, and they continued crying as they bowed in front of the golden cross that was placed at the front. I remember my mom’s tearstained face looking at me as she was mimicking the words: “Can’t you feel it?” I shook my head. Feel what? God’s presence. As I looked around, I realized I was the only one not feeling it, and it bothered me more than I dared to admit.
After the sermon, mom and I went to this man who had a weekly prayer-group meeting that day’s place. That’s where I met David. A beloved brother in Christ and one of the most intelligent persons I know. Do I even need to tell you I admired him? However, as we were there, during prayer and worship, everybody, except me, began to act strange. Some started to laugh and some were crying. They were either jumping around or laying on the floor. God’s presence was there, and again, I was the only one not feeling it.
After this, I, too, watched GodTv, and I cried each and every time someone was healed. We continued going to the prayer-group meetings and this continued to happen. It was the first time I’d seen people being touched by the Holy Spirit in real life. I remember one night very specifically because that time I saw someone being healed, for real, for the first time. Ironically, I was the one laying hands on her. One of her legs were shorter than the other causing her to have back-pain. It grew out before my very eyes. Instead of being happy or thanking God, as everyone else were doing, I ran out of there crying.
Understand this, dear readers, I had been mad at God for years, thinking he’s not who everybody said he is, if he even existed at all. Although, that night, I had all the evidence I needed. Even though it wasn’t the biggest miracle, it was enough. He was real. He is real. Everything I had been taught growing up, everything people had told me, everything, it was real. I remember feeling… relieved. For the first time I knew that whatever happened to me, he was there and he would take care of it. I was safe.
Love, Sara