"I used to think that wrath was unworthy of God. Isn’t God love? Shouldn’t divine love be beyond wrath? God is love, and God loves every person and every creature. That’s exactly why God is wrathful against some of them. My last resistance to the idea of God’s wrath was a casualty of the war in the former Yugoslavia, the region from which I come. According to some estimates, 200,000 people were killed and over 3,000,000 were displaced. My villages and cities were destroyed, my people shelled day in and day out, some of them brutalized beyond imagination, and I could not imagine God not being angry. Or think of Rwanda in the last decade of the past century, where 800,000 people were hacked to death in one hundred days! How did God react to the carnage? By doting on the perpetrators in a grandparently fashion? By refusing to condemn the bloodbath but instead affirming the perpetrators’ basic goodness? Wasn’t God fiercely angry with them? Though I used to complain about the indecency of the idea of God’s wrath, I came to think that I would have to rebel against a God who wasn’t wrathful at the sight of the world’s evil. God isn’t wrathful in spite of being love. God is wrathful because God is love."

— Miroslav Volf, Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace (via larrylin)

certainlittlething:

My two year old charge has trouble trusting me to take care of her.

A few minutes before noon, I usually get started on making lunch, and about that time she starts to break down

"I’m hungry," she tells me as I get bread from the pantry. I nod and tell her I know and that lunch will be ready any minute. "I’m huuuungry," she whines, following close behind me, sometimes bumping clumsily into my legs. 

"I know, love. I’ll feed you," I tell her, and I make her a grilled cheese sandwich or a pb&j. She sobs as I cut her fruit into slices and screams as I pour her some water. My sweet little storm of a girl will ask her older brother to make her lunch, wailing loudly for her mom and dad or anyone else she can think of. Today I found her gnawing tearfully on a wrapped cereal bar she’d dug from the pantry, all salty and snotty and puffy-eyed, gasping between her sobs.

"Don’t you know that I love you?" I want to ask her. Sometimes I do ask that question, but I know it’s a sort of foolish thing to ask a toddler. "Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’ll let you go hungry?"

But then, don’t I do this too?

So often, I don’t come to the god of the universe in faith to make my request but I come kicking and screaming, convinced that I have to beat my tiny fists on his chest to be heard. I ask him as if he doesn’t want to feed me. I ask him as if he’s not a good father. And don’t I go to every other source, pleading and sobbing for my daily bread, even though my dad is standing in the kitchen and patiently making me a feast?

If I’m a good caretaker, how much more will our perfect father care for us? How much better?

"Don’t you know that I love you?" he asks me, but I’m too busy chewing on whatever I can find.

Right in the gut. 

reflectorcz said: I always imagined God having a huge library filled with real stories from here that I have never heard before. I imagine that will be where I go most days in heaven, reading all the stories that I missed out on down here.:)

I also sometimes wonder if the stories we write are like mini-universes, and that God will bring them to life in a way that’s more real than we could ever have imagined.

(Source: joshtheyipper)

hannahbanena:

thekingofsarcasrn:

fandom-lair:

wedrinkmoriartea:

simonjadis:

callmeoutis:

secretlifeofageekygirl:

The amount of notes concerns me

i’m more concerned about the fact that this orange is still on the loose he could kill again at any time

the newspapers give this notorious killer a nickname
much to the dismay of the lead detective


BLOOD ORANGE OH MY GOD I’M CRYING

i cRY THIS IS AMAZING

HE DIDNT EVEN DELIVER THE PUNCHLINE AND ITS THE GREATEST PUN IVE EVER SEEN


OH MY FUCKING GOD

hannahbanena:

thekingofsarcasrn:

fandom-lair:

wedrinkmoriartea:

simonjadis:

callmeoutis:

secretlifeofageekygirl:

The amount of notes concerns me

i’m more concerned about the fact that this orange is still on the loose he could kill again at any time

the newspapers give this notorious killer a nickname

much to the dismay of the lead detective

BLOOD ORANGE OH MY GOD I’M CRYING

i cRY THIS IS AMAZING

HE DIDNT EVEN DELIVER THE PUNCHLINE AND ITS THE GREATEST PUN IVE EVER SEEN

OH MY FUCKING GOD

(Source: loadedsword)

hope-and-heartstrings said: Oh gosh, I think about that all the time. When I get to heaven, I want to run and interact with every animal that God has made. I have asthma and I can't run without it causing my lungs to shut down or be around animals without having severe allergic reactions. When I think about heaven, I dream of running and running and running and never losing my breath, and of being covered in wiggling puppies.

But I really love story. My heart sings for stories. I really want to meet each person from the Bible and listen to their first person accounts of each Bible story. Especially Paul. He’s pretty much my hero.

This makes me extremely happy. On both things.

One time, a mentor of mine asked me what questions I wanted to ask Jesus. He said his big question would be this: what hymn/song did Jesus and his disciples sing the night he would be betrayed? (c.f. Matthew 26:30)

Do you think about heaven much?

When I get to heaven, I really want to invent instruments. That’s perhaps my dream job. Maybe not forever, but for a little while - learning the technology and psychology and kinesiology and whatever the future holds, and then putting things together and creating new ways of making music - something to please both man and God.

I also wonder if God will ask us to help him build universes - that he’ll bring together the physicists and scientists and artists and authors to make new universes where we can go and explore and experience new realities together.

What do you want to do in heaven?

Typing with my new Bluetooth keyboard! YAY!

dynastylnoire:

literallysame:

my entire childhood in a twitter screenshot

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSss


Still me. In the front of the church.

dynastylnoire:

literallysame:

my entire childhood in a twitter screenshot

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSss

Still me. In the front of the church.

(Source: twitterscreencaps, via crimsoncord)

"I grew up hearing that God loved me, specifically that he loved me enough to die for my sins. And yet, horrible things happened to me. If I was worth so much, why did these things happen? I had trouble believing that God was good. Although I was very good at memorizing rules to follow, and tried to honor God by honoring those rules, it was very difficult to trust him. However, it is through learning to trust him that I have found my worth. The odd thing was that part of learning to trust him was by disobeying some of the rules, and seeing his response.

What I respect most about God (as I understand him) is the freedom he has shown me. (Mind you, the humans in my world did not always show me that same freedom. But I truly believe God did). I see the rule-keeping lifestyle as a cage I was locked in. However, eventually, I began to realize the door was open. As I became an adult, I realized that what I believed and why I believed it was my choice. I didn’t have to accept everything that was told to me. If I doubted God existed, I could do that. If I thought he was a jerk, I could curse him out. If I hated church, I could leave. If I decided not to believe the bible was written by God, I had full freedom to do that.

I was never struck by lightning. I don’t think I was ever really punished, even. Now, because I have seen that freedom, I know God loves me.

I know this sounds a lot like ‘I know God loves me because I get to do whatever I want.’ But in a way, that’s exactly what it is, and that’s not bad. I’m not saying God is happy with all of my choices, I’m not saying I haven’t sinned and had to ask repentance. I’m not saying there aren’t freedoms that I’ve taken that I look back on and regret. I’m just saying I’ve stopped resenting God, because in leaving some of the things I thought he wanted me to do, I found out that he still loved me. He didn’t stop me from making my own choices, and he still helped me when I felt I made a mistake and ‘came back’ to him, so to speak."

I am Tamar.: Worthlessness in General  (via gothicchristian)

(via gothicchristian)

whatanoutcast:

hedgehogjem:

tardiscookies:

moraniarty:

supholmes:

… and so sherlock and john never met. the end.

THE SHOW WOULD CONSIST OF JOHN LIMPING AROUND LONDON AT VARIOUS SPEEDS

image

“Who’d want me for a flatmate?” John asked, completely serious at the notion that anyone would actually want to room with him. He glanced at his old colleague when he heard him chuckling. “What?”

“Nothing, I just remembered a funny joke.” He said with a smile. It probably had something to do with two flatmates or something. John didn’t inquire.

“Oh.” He responded simply, returning his gaze to his cup of coffee. After a few minutes of silence, John looked up to ask Stamford a question but stopped when he saw a curious look on the man’s face. He almost seemed horrified. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Stamford stuttered. “It’s just…” He seemed to be trying to get a look at John’s back. “I just thought I saw something on your back.”

image

I didn’t.

(Source: fixshitfelix, via ginnybutnotweasley)