Roasted Peanuts & Calloused Coldness

To those hardened

To those who don’t feel

To those whose hearts no longer flutter

To those who insist that they are living although their “lives” have flat lined

I am writing this on a plane destined to New York City, and it was less than 5 minutes from boarding that I became sick. No I am not suffering from motion sickness, nor from flight anxieties. I am sick from what my young eyes have seen. I am sick because I’ve seen the lowest of human society. I am sick because my soul withers in disgust at the stone hearts of those surrounding me that I now get the pleasure of enduring for a 3-hour flight.

I understand human nature, I honestly do, but I was not prepared to experience such callousness as I have just experienced. Perhaps though it would be best to account for what I have seen before pushing forward.

We (myself and my girlfriends family) had just boarded the plane when the flight attendant spoke over the intercom and informed us that this flight was booked solid. Travelling in a pack of 5 we were more than joyous to have secured a whole row and another 2 seats right in front so that we could all sit together as one family. In a matter of minutes, awkward apologies, crab-like scuttles, and the slamming of over packed carry on spaces soon filled the cabin. It wasn’t long before every seat (minus 2-3 randomly spaced ones) was filled and everyone was settling in for the next 180 minutes of his or her life. It was then that my eye glimpsed a small child cradled in the arms of a young mother who was standing at the front.  Once more the attendant’s voice boomed overhead, informing us that there was a women at the front with a young child and a baby who needed a whole row together, and if some people could rearrange their seats she would be eternally grateful.  

You would have thought it was a morgue by how still everyone became, by how deadly quiet the once lively cabin had become, by how heartless all of the passengers seemed to be.

 Not one person twitched a muscle. Not one passenger dared looking that young woman in the eyes. It was as if every warm body had suddenly gone as cold and ethereal as a ghost. The attendant came on again, and you could hear her anger in her voice as she asked once more for people to move… still nothing! Finally a couple of reluctant people slid out of their seats and moved but one seat was still needed to make certain that the mother could be next to her children. My heart was already breaking, but it completely shattered when the flight attendant marched past my row and I could see the petrified face of the young child that clung to her back as she was forced to then be seated over 15 rows behind her mother, all because no one cared enough to move.

If life were like the Discovery Channel, that momma bear would have been tearing right up and down these aisles. Everyone knows that you don’t come between a mother and her child, but apparently in the 21^st century, where suits and java chillers rule, we have forgotten this age old adage… or more frightening, maybe we don’t care.

I could quote numerous Bible verses to support how sad and immoral that is, but I believe that it would be unnecessary.

I don’t care what your religion, or beliefs are, you know deep down what is right and what is wrong. The Nazi’s at Nuremberg were held to this standard and so should we be.

What has gone so wrong that we know longer know what wrong is?

When did we allow ourselves to become so hardened?

When did we forfeit the right to live?

When did we subject ourselves to lives devoid of emotions or feelings?

When did we grow cold?

There is a common misconception with Christianity…

Satan doesn’t win when we sin; there are enough scars to forgive us for that. Satan wins when we have become so calloused that we can no longer feel or care when we do sin.

Merely,

Chris Gerac

“You never come between a mother and her children.” – common sense

War & Peace

To those sitting,

I discovered that many people in our country have a fundamental flaw in their view of Jesus: they see a man of peace and not a man of war.

 

Many of you may be quick to assert that Jesus is “the lamb” and that he is a gentleman through and through. A God who is the author of love couldn’t possibly be anything other than soft spoken, gentle, and “slow to anger” (James 1:19) correct? But what happens when the New Testament, specifically the Gospel tells us differently?

Many of us when we picture Jesus inherently come to an image of a long haired, robe wearing man walking in a meadow carrying a lamb (or some slight variation). We seem to overlook the fact that Jesus was a vagabond, a wanderer, and a man who spent so many days in the wilderness alone that even Bear Grylls couldn’t hang with him. We seem to skip over the passage where Jesus, screaming and over turning tables, drives out people from His temple with a whip (see John 2). We seem to miss the whole book of Revelations, specifically the part where Jesus will be riding through a river of blood ( see Rev 19).

Jesus, himself goes so far as to say in Matthew 10:34, “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 

Jesus foresaw our tendencies to pacify Him, and our beliefs. Jesus knew that left alone we would seek peace and not war. However, whether we want peace or war is not an option. “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8, NIV). The devil has already begun the war. He won’t wait for you to realize that were on the frontlines, before attacking. We are already knee deep in battle.

Open your eyes, and see the battles all around you

Open your ears, and hear the heavenly clashes 

Open your heart, and see the Warrior inside of yourself and inside God

Were in the middle of a war, we can’t afford not to cry out

 So…“Shout it! Go on and scream it from mountains! Go on and tell it to the masses! That He is God!”

 – All Sons & Daughters

Merely,

Chris Gerac

“They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” Revelation 12:11, NIV

A Neverending Father & A Always Forgetful Son

I guess you could say I grew up without the presence of a father figure. Yes, I have a father who loves me very much, but the simple truth was he wasn’t able to be around much. He didn’t get to witness the first time I triumphed over the infamous two wheel riding machine. He didn’t get to witness the time I won the flag football championship. He didn’t get to witness the first time I shaved (which sadly is a relatively new thing). I do not say any of this to offend my father nor do I say any of these to throw a pity party for myself. I merely mention these things to give reasons for why I had such difficulties in trusting and relating to God.

Not having a male role model left me in an interesting predicament. Because I grew up without a dad present 24/7 in my life I felt like I had to become independent, like I had to be the “man” of the house, like I needed to figure out things for myself. And for the majority of my life this do-it-yourself philosophy worked wonders. That is until God began to knock so loudly on my door that I couldn’t possibly ignore Him any longer.

You see, by definition allowing God to enter into your life, means that you need to realize that you can’t do it on your own.

I know this isn’t mind blowing to a lot of you, but to a 15 year old boy who thought he was a “man”, this concept was revolutionary. God is our father, and I don’t mean in some intangible abstract terminology sort of way. I mean literally he is our Father. He is our Creator. He is our maker. He loves us unconditionally. He is eternally proud of us. Guess what? Any curriculum you use to classify someone as a good dad, He does all of it but much better. 

Romans 8:15-16 (arguably one of my most favorite passages) guarantees us that God not only loves us, but more so loves us so much that he counts us as his sons and daughters.

“The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” ¹⁶ The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.”

 

This wonderful relationship and testimony to God’s Father heart is only further reiterated in the story of the Prodigal Son (in which the proverbial father runs to greet his son who turned his back on him).

 I am writing this for every person who came from a broken or incomplete family; for every person who thought they were “fatherless”; for every person who doesn’t know what it’s like to be the apple of a father’s eye; for every person who has never felt the embrace of a dad.

I write this to encourage. 

I write this to bring hope

I write this to unite sons and daughter with their Eternal Father

I often forget to remember that I am the son of a King!

Don’t forget that He is and will always be your bedrock of comfort and security

Merely,

Chris Gerac

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” 1 John 3:1, ESV