Not A Real Post

Rather than writing a full post today, I'm going to direct you to TheRebelution.com. Why? Because today they published an article I wrote!

Here's the link, if you want to check it out:
How to Heal Broken Relationships

Write to Examine

If you know anything much about me at all, you probably know I want to be a writer. I've wanted to be a writer basically forever and I still hold that desire close to my heart. I wrote a novel for school because I want to be a writer. I stalk author's websites because I want to be a writer. I started this blog because I want to be a writer.

That last one is what I want to talk about today.

I don't remember my precise reasoning for starting this blog almost three years ago. It might have been for the writing. I might have been excited that other people could read what I wrote. Who knows? But I do know exactly what it's done for me.

It has helped me in my walk with Christ.

Over the past three years, my posts have been rather sporadic and random. Some were life updates, some were stories, and some were about spiritual things. Writing about the things that God taught me was really hard at first. I was worried about putting my faith on the internet (even with just a few people reading). I was especially worried that I would mess it all up and say everything wrong.

But, I must say, I am so glad that I did start writing about my faith. Now there are hardly any posts that don't have to do with what God's teaching me through His Word and the circumstances in my life and I am so happy about that.

My main purpose in writing this post is to urge you to do something similar to what I do.

Don't get scared on me, I don't necessarily mean starting your own blog and putting it out there for everyone to see (but if you want to do that, I do encourage it). What I mean is writing about how God is growing you. That could be on a blog or in a journal or on the back of a napkin at a particularly dull dinner party.

A lot of people will say that they aren't writers, and I get that. But I think there is real value to be found in writing about your walk with Christ on a regular basis, even if writing isn't your thing. And yes, I only mean writing - not talking or thinking or anything like that (though those are good too). Here's why:

When you write about something, you have to get your thoughts together on that subject. If you're working on a research paper about the federal government for example, you have to focus and organize your thinking around that one topic.

Writing about your faith is no different. When you make yourself put forth the effort to examine and record the details about one specific thing that God is doing in your life, it becomes clearer to you.

Writing also requires spending time thinking about the subject upon which you are writing. In this case, that means dwelling on how you grow and how you fail and on how God is working things in your mind and circumstances. Those are incredibly valuable things to think about.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
Philippians 4:8

I'd say your sanctification falls into quite a few of those categories.

Another benefit to writing about God's work in you is that it opens your eyes to your growth, and God's faithfulness to you. When you force yourself to take 20 minutes to think about what you're learning and struggling through and write about it, you see God so clearly.

When you do it by topic, you also think about that topic and see where it comes up in your day to day life. For example, when I was learning about contentment (as if I'm done ;), I wrote a blog post about it. I started noticing when I wasn't content, which helped me to change. I remembered the verses God had shown me, and I was able to pray that He would help me be content in those situations.

One final way writing about my spiritual life has helped me so much is that I can look back and see where I used to be against where I am now. This doesn't only apply to writing proficiency, but also to spiritual growth. It's so incredible to go back to old posts or journal entries or read through the notes in my Journaling Bible and see everything God's done for me. It reminds me that He is faithful, because I so often forget. And it reminds me that He's not done with me yet, because I forget that too.

So those are the reasons I would strongly urge you to make a weekly practice of taking a step back and writing about whatever theme seems prevalent in your life. It clarifies it so that you can work on it and praise God for the little victories of sanctification. You can never go wrong with examining your walk with the Lord, and writing is a very profitable way to do so.

-Kira

Seth's Journey: Part One

Seth licked his lips, tasting the dirt and grit covering his whole body in a film. The evening sun relentlessly bore down on him and he felt a drop of sweat run down his back. Why did it have to be so hot?

The position of the sun, though, reminded him that he was supposed to be home. He quickened his pace, pushing through all the Jews in the marketplace. There sure were a lot of them. Seth looked around, irritated by the crowds. None of them were moving. They weren't going around buying things like you were supposed to in a market. Instead, they stood still.

As he kept shoving through, a voice grew clearer and clearer above the rustling and whispering of the unmoving Jews. Seth caught a glimpse of a man in the middle of them all, talking. He was surrounded by people on all sides.

Seth stopped working his way toward home. What could be so interesting that all the people had stopped their work to just listen?

Apparently not much. The man told a story about some ungrateful servant who demanded payment after his own debt had been canceled. Seth shook his head and kept going toward home.

He took a deep breath before going inside. By now, it was almost dark and he knew his father would be angry with him for staying out so late. He was a Roman citizen and as such, he didn't need to mix with Jews. According to his father, anyway.

Seth tried to sneak in quietly, without being noticed, but it didn't matter. His father paced in front of the door. Seth's entrance made him look up.

"Seth!"

"Good evening, father." Seth didn't look him in the eye, knowing the irritation and impatience he would see.

"Where have you been? It's dark out and you should have been home hours ago!"

"I just went for a walk."

"A walk? Among the Jews? I told you to keep your distance! There are plenty of Roman citizens nearby. Play with one of them!" His voice was still relatively quiet. Seth wasn't sure whether that was a good sign. Usually, by now, his father would be yelling and Seth would wear the obligatory look of remorse while feeling no such thing. But he wasn't yelling.

"I'm twelve. I think I can take care of myself!" This change in the pattern gave Seth the courage to test limits.

"No!" His father put a hand to his head and rubbed his brow. He sighed. "I've told you not to go walking in the market place before and I won't tell you again. Those Jews aren't happy that we're here and I don't want anything to happen to you. Go to bed." He walked away, leaving Seth to marvel at the ease with which he escaped the encounter.



The next morning, Seth ate breakfast with his sister. 

"You could slow down a bit," Juliet scoffed.

"I went to the market yesterday."

"Oh." She knew that would mean no dinner and her growing brother was probably starving. "See anything interesting?"

Seth shook his head. He paused in his eating. "Oh, wait. There was one thing. A man was speaking - telling a story - and all the Jews had stopped to listen. It was strange." He shrugged and went back to eating before remembering something else. "Who was that coughing all night?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Juliet lowered her voice. "It was mother. She got sick yesterday. Father's very worried. The physician doesn't know what's wrong."

Seth looked at his sister. "Is she going to be okay?"

"We don't know." She lowered her eyes. "Finish your breakfast."

To be continued...



Let me know what you think!

-Kira

Write.

The perusal of the teen sections of our local libraries and bookstores has become increasingly depressing. Every third book is a convoluted romance and the ones in between contain vampires, violence, and poor writing.

What happened to all the good books?

I’ve always been an avid reader and realizing the depravity of the books offered to people my age was quite a shock. How am I supposed to find something good, clean, and wholesome to read in the midst of all of this - for lack of a better word - garbage?

Walking through the teen section of my library only renews my longing for something more. Why can’t anyone write something good for teenagers?

Wait a minute.

Why can’t I write something good for teenagers?

Writing is also a passion of mine and recently, I figured out why. I want to provide excellent things for people to read. I want not only excellent stories, but excellent characters, excellent words, and excellent morals.

I know the kind of book I want, so why don’t I write it? There are others like me out there - sick of the sin dripping through all the dust jackets encasing the stories aimed at people our age. I’m not the only one feeling the evil thrown at me all the time.

“Be the change you want to see in the world.” Kind of a cheesy quote, once you’ve heard it enough times. But it’s also a convicting one. If we want something different, let’s make it.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:8

What we read shapes what we think and God tells us exactly what kind of thing we’re supposed to be thinking. It’s not the kind of thing given to us from media (including books) on a regular basis.

So why don’t we start creating our own books to read? Clean books. True books. God-honoring books.

Don’t get me wrong - it’s going to be a long process. I hear it’s a lot of work to get a book published and it won’t happen overnight.

But will you work with me? All of you who desperately want to see their name on the spine of a story, will you join me in changing what’s given to young readers everywhere?

The only way to do that is to write. Pick up your pen, open your laptop, put ink in your quill. Work on your craft. Work bit by bit. Day by day. And maybe, someday, we’ll see our names there, in little letters, below a title we worked so hard to create. And when our brothers and sisters in Christ open the story we brought into the world, they’ll read new things. Encouraging things. Hard things. But good things.

It’s not going to be easy. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? We want good things to read. Let’s go make them.

-Kira

When Snow Touched the Earth

I recently pulled out an old school project because my sister's doing the same one right now. It was one of my favorites at the time and I think it still is. For the class, we were in the middle of reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. The idea behind the project was to take two sentences that you were given and expand them into a whole story or lecture or whatever you pleased.

Dickens was payed by the word and so he used a lot of them. This "maximalist" approach is what I used in my project, which I decided to post.

As you read this, you should know a couple points of background that I had in my head as I wrote. First, these are hobbit-like creatures. They're not hobbits, but they're quite similar. Second, they live in a future dystopian America, which happens to be part of the reason they're not actually hobbits.

Enjoy!

* * *

When Snow Touched the Earth

Beebo Appleby carefully yet firmly set his boot on the tile floor of his mother’s kitchen. He sighed. Twenty seven years old and still living with his mother, searching her kitchen for bites to eat. The room was small in a cute way. Not small in a cramped way as many houses were in those days. It was unusual to invite guests over in the winter for there was no space in which even to greet them. It was this new “regulated housing” that the fascist government had so raved about. They had insisted that it would be better for all the people, eliminating jealousy and thus also thievery, murder, and other crimes of the horrific type.

Some were happy with this new housing and others (like Mr. Appleby) were quite irritated by it. Not that being unhappy did any good. The government didn’t particularly care about what the people thought. Their iron grip was strong enough to allow them to do as they pleased.

The worn work boots padded their equally worn way across the black and white tiles to the small window on the opposite wall. They were lucky to have glass. Most of their neighbors had only sealed plastic wrap over the few openings in their walls. Beebo shivered in sympathy. Working for the government sure had its perks. Like central heating. The mayor insisted that there were simply not enough resources to heat every house in the city and the suffering of the few led to the benefit of the whole society.

Beebo rolled his deep brown eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. A shiver went down his spine as the temperature outside battled with that of his body. Snowflakes swirled in a graceful dance across the meadow, leaving behind a shimmery white blanket to cool the earth.

The snow reminded him of Joanna. Just yesterday they had been catching snowflakes on their tongues down by the ancient frozen river a mile yonder. Joanna had brushed a few crystals off of her nose and giggled. A rosy hue had risen to her freckled cheeks in response to the cold. She twirled in a circle, dress spinning and smiled at Beebo. “I love the snow! There’s something about it that makes it seem like all of the troubles in the whole world will go away forever under the quilt stitched every winter. Something almost magical.” Then she giggled again and collapsed into a snowbank.

The happiness and joy that had filled him at that frozen river now left him empty and depressed. He patted his jacket pocket. It was still there. The letter had been delivered just that morning. Drops of water stained the page and the tilted handwriting was a little messier than usual.

Joanna had written to tell him that they had been relocated to Arizona. She had found out as soon as she arrived at the large family’s miniscule house the previous day. They could never see each other again. The swirling snow no longer seemed to be filled with light magic but that of a darker force. Beebo tried to be happy for her. Now the whole Smugu family would be warm through the winter and her father could have a better job. Everyone knew the economy was better in Arizona than Maine.

The soft clicks of high heels sounded down the hallway, recalling Beebo to reality. His mother and Mrs. Smugu had been very good friends and now he would have to give her the upsetting news. He turned to the doorway, resolve written across his stout features.

* * *

By the way, you should defintiely go read A Tale of Two Cities! It's kind of long, but one of my absolute favorite books that I've ever been assigned for school - I would have read it without the assignment. :)

-Kira

Reasons and Excuses

If I were so inclined, I could produce a plethora of reasons (insert: "excuses") as to why I haven't written anything in the past few (ahem, five) months.

Fortunately for you, I am not so inclined.

I will, however, state one reason (do not insert "excuse" here): I haven't had anything to write about.

I'm completely serious. The author wannabe hasn't had a single thing to write about in nearly five months now. Not counting, of course, a few e-mails and texts and things of that nature. Though I will admit I am abominably slow at replying to such things. Oh, and homework. Who could forget a lovely thing like that?

But I haven't had anything to say on here, on this blog. As you likely know, I usually write things like fiction, anecdotes from my real life, and ways that God's been working on me.

Ah, ways that God's been working on me. Such a lovely thing to ponder... Wait a minute. If I haven't had anything to say on any of those topics for almost half a year, does that mean He's just stopped? I'm no longer growing? I've finally reached that point of perfection so long sought after?

I'm not going to insult your intelligence by trying to convince you of that. No one's perfect, believe it or not, and I'm pretty sure it's a safe bet to say you believe that.

So why the drought of words? If I haven't become the epitome of all that is beautiful and pure in the world, why have I had nothing to say on the subject of anything lately? Has God given up on me? Is that it? He threw up His hands in disgust and left to work on some holier project?

Um, no.

I can tell you with 100% certainty that God hasn't given up on me. If Jesus went all the way to the point of death on the cross for me while I was still as dead as a person can get in my sin, why would He stop molding me to His image now? The thing is, He wouldn't.

So that brings me back to my original question. What happened to all the thoughts that I normally transform so eagerly into sentences to push out into the wide wide world to be read by people who aren't me and my imaginary friends?

I'll tell you what happened. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say. Nope. Just ask my sister, I've been talking probably more than ever since the July of my last post. And we've already determined that God hasn't stopped working on me. Quite the contrary actually - He's been growing me in ways that make me beyond grateful and that I didn't see coming.

So are you ready for the answer then? The reason behind the lack of typed verbiage? There are two of them actually and here they are:

1. I didn't think any of it was good enough to say.

2. I didn't think I could do justice to what I did want to say.

Can we just take one second to laugh really hard at reason number 1? Seriously, go ahead. I have.

I'll explain that moment of laughter. If I claim to be a Bible believing, born again Christian (and I do), shouldn't I be growing in my faith every single day and not taking five month breaks? Yes, I should and yes, I have been. So if, like I've said, God has been working in me this whole time, isn't that part of my testimony or witness or whatever word you want to use? Yes, of course it is. My testimony doesn't end with salvation. That's more like the beginning. Finally, if that growth is part of my testimony, how can it possibly not be good enough to say? Am I really criticizing God on how He's been using me and growing me and telling Him it's not good enough to post on the internet? Let's take another laughing break, only this one should be in disbelief and with lots of head shaking.

But that's what I've been thinking. "Wow, I love all this growth and learning new stuff, but I don't think anyone else would want to read about it. So I'll just go read some other blog written by some interesting person." Really? First off, who cares if anyone wants to read it? My popularity (or lack thereof) in this life has absolutely nothing to do with who I am. Nothing. At all. Second, if God loves me as His daughter and is taking the care to grow me in a way that is special to me, He deserves praise and glory for that. Right? I mean really, am I right? Yes! So how dare I think that I don't have anything good enough to say! If God's working in me and through me, I should never run out of things to say, regardless of who reads them.

On to reason/excuse number 2.

I didn't think I could do justice to what I did want to say. So, yes. there were a few things that I thought I'd like to write about and post, but I didn't think I could say them well enough. I mean, I'm a teenager, still working on my writing, growing my fancy-schmancy vocabulary and learning how to make things interesting and fit together. How could I possibly say what God wants me to say in the way He wants me to say it? It simply can't be done.

I am really hoping right now that you read that last paragraph in the most sarcastic voice your brain could supply. If you didn't, please go back and try again. I'll wait.

Am I ever going to be perfect? Nope. So am I ever going to be able to perfectly show what God's doing in my life? Nope again. Well, if I can't do it perfectly, then why bother?

Turns out, I'm supposed to bother because God told me to bother. If I don't praise the Lord, the stones will. And who wants to lose in praising God to a bunch of rocks? Um, not me.

No, I can't write everything perfectly, no matter how hard I try. And I probably can't do it justice. But the point is that I try. I give my absolute best for God and quit acting like I have to be any good by my own strength before He can use me. Guess what. He can use me now. He could use this imperfect post I'm typing viciously away at however He feels like it. And who am I to stop using the words He's given me because I don't think they're good enough? No one, that's who.

So there you have it. That's why I haven't been writing. Because I'm a sinner who doesn't want to praise God for what He does for me.

Well, that's going to change. In fact, it already has. Look at this, I'm writing about what God showed me recently right this very second! I love my God and I want other people to love Him too. I want to be used by Him to show other people how great and amazing He is. I'm not going to do it perfectly, but I still want to do it. What could possibly be better than to have a testimony and a witness used by God in someone else's life? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So maybe now you could go back to where I said not to insert "excuse" and go ahead and put it in there. Because there is no reason good enough to not give glory to God.

-Kira

Booked

Hello everybody! I managed to find a spare minute when there was no school that I could really do (though plenty left, I assure you :D) to write an update.

But it's not so much an update as another introduction.

My last post, Introducing Following Orders!, was all about posting the book I'm writing on here. By the way, I'm nearing the end - yay! It was extremely jumbled up and I forgot to mention where you can even read the book, but it is all better now because...

I am taking down the first chapter of Following Orders!

If you were planning on reading it, please don't panic yet!

In addition to this change, I have started another blog exclusively for posting books. You can read any and all books that I post on that blog - Booked. This is not to make things crazier and more insane but to clean things up so that this blog can stay straightforward and simple.

At the publication of this post, there is only one post over on Booked, but it explains basically how I'm thinking things are going to work. I won't rewrite it all here, but you can go read all of that if you're interested. As always, suggestions and ideas are more than welcome.

The web address (correct terminology?) is: chaptersandscenes.blogspot.com. Now I need to go hunt out some more work that I can do. Bye!

-Kira

Introducing Following Orders!

If it's not obvious yet, I love to write. So much so, that I sincerely hope to be an author in the near future. I won't delve into how I define "author" right now because I know some people say you only have to write a book and others say you have to be published and on and on... Just know that I plan to be one.

As part of fine tuning my writing skills, my parents are allowing me to do a writing curriculum this year in which I get to write a novel. That's right - a whole novel. I'm so happy!!!

I wrote my first full novel last November as part of National Novel Writing Month and it's a little sloppy because of the speed and I haven't had time to edit it yet. I'm hoping to do something with it though - potentially post it on here after Following Orders. But we will see how this goes first.

So anyway, because of busy-ness and high school and blah blah blah, I haven't really been posting with any sort of consistency or speed - it's been a month and a half since my last post. By publishing my novel on here, I not only solve the no-posting problem, I also can test it out and see how it goes. I'm warning you right now, so don't say I didn't: if you don't feel like being a guinea pig for a very naive writer who has not really done a whole lot of editing on this round, don't read this novel. Got it? Good.

Now for those of you who are interested in being tested upon and asked relentlessly "What do you think? No, really?" keep reading. If you do decide to take this difficult road, please do not hesitate to tell me what you think! Even if you think that it was the worst thing you have ever read in your life and you'll never read anything I write ever again. I seriously want to know and it helps with editing too. :D

I'm not going to put a synopsis here because there's a little bit of one over in front of the first chapter so you can know a little bit of what you might be getting yourself into.

In short, if you are interested in reading Following Orders, please do. This is sort of an experiment because I've never done anything like post a really long story on here before. I think the longest I did was three parts...? Anyway, after the posts on "To Write or Not to Write: Broken" a few people asked me for the rest of it. Full disclosure, I do not have the rest of it. It's not written. I will tell you that I am interested in maybe returning to the idea and refreshing the plot but it is way back in line. Like, way, way, way back.

Bunny trail over.

This will be a full novel - all of it on here and all of it written. It tends to get finished more when it's assigned for school. :D So I hope you like it!

-Kira

P.S. I'm just going to give full credit to Mommy for this idea. I never would have thought to post a novel on here if she hadn't suggested it. And I love the idea! Thanks Mommy!

Potamiaena’s Prayer

This is a short-short story that I wrote as a project at the beginning of last school year. We were reading The Church History by Eusebius and we had to write a story about one of the many martyrs in the book. I chose a young woman named Potamiaena. Her story was only a page or two long, but I really liked it and wanted to spend more time thinking about it. So this is what I came up with . . .

* * *

Potamiaena stared up into the face of the judge, fear clouding her heart. She struggled to keep this same fear out of her voice and countenance. Her entire body ached, burned, and stung from the tortures she had already endured prior to this so-called trial. “I shall never worship your childish gods. They are invented only to provide something primitive and sinful for you to chase in ignorant hopes of fulfillment. I worship the one true God, the Creator of heaven and earth and His Son, Jesus Christ, now and forever!” Immediately, Potamiaena felt courage wash over her and she was now only faintly aware of the pain filling her body as she continued to stare at the judge, defiance on her face and in her stance.

The official’s look of shock and indignation rapidly evolved into one of anger and hatred. “Then you shall die! No one, not even a woman, can defy the gods and go unpunished!”

A soldier stepped forward to lead her away and Potamiaena willingly followed. As they made their way through the crowds to the road, he whispered her some comfort. “My name is Basilides. May I pray for you?” He began at Potamiaena’s nod of assent. “God, give this brave soul courage and faith through the end and keep Yourself at the forefront of her thoughts. Bring her to Yourself quickly and as painlessly as possible. In Your Son’s Name, Amen.”

Potamiaena whispered her thanks to the ground, so as not to endanger this kind young man.

Coldly, the crowd began jeering at her as she walked toward her imminent and torturous death. Basilides pushed the crowd away, driving them back and giving her room to walk, despite the oppressive nature of the bystanders. “Thank you for your kindness!” exclaimed Potamiaena, when they reached the place she was to die. She claimed one last glance at the single kind figure being swallowed by citizens of her former home. “I will ask the Lord for you and very soon I shall repay you for everything you have done on my behalf.”

With these faith-filled words, Potamiaena turned into the arena where she was to die. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away. Lord, she thought. Give me the strength to endure this for You. Help me to show them that I am not afraid to die for You. Let my death impact someone’s life. I look forward to seeing You soon. Oh, so soon. Potamiaena’s  prayer stayed in her heart through the last moments of her life. The thought calmed her from the fear of death and gave her a final smile at the thought of being martyred for her Savior.

-Kira

Wise Power

So I had to write a paper for a school project recently in a format used by scholars in ancient times. The format is called a chreia. A chreia is a type of progymnasmata (pro-jim-noz-mot-uh), a writing exercise meant to equip the student for on-the-spot situations where the skills involved in this paper might come into use.

We have been reading Dante's Inferno lately, so this chreia is about the inscription on the entrance to Hell in the epic poem. One of the goals in writing the paper was to write it so that an audience could understand it, so I thought I'd put it on here to maybe see if I fulfilled that goal. Please feel free to ask questions if you have any!

By the way, I have no idea what's up with the highlighting and line spacing at the end - I tried to fix it, but it didn't work....

***

Wise Power

Through me the way into the doleful city,

Through me the way into eternal grief,

Through me the way among a race forsaken.

Justice moved my heavenly Constructor;

Divine omnipotence created me,

And highest wisdom joined with primal love

Before me nothing but eternal things

Were made, and I shall last eternally.

Abandon hope, forever, you who enter.

    Dante of Florence was a wise and respected man. He wrote his thought provoking views on life after death in an epic poem entitled The Divine Comedy, a book which is still studied and examined in modern times. Dante was admired in his day and continues to be renowned today. Students and teachers for many generations to come will honor Dante with the study of his Divine Comedy.

    When Dante wrote the inscription on the gate into Hell, he was conveying the message that God created Hell. There is no power other than God who could have created any place at all, Hell included. Dante’s motivation for writing this inscription was to show the authority held by God over all of Creation. He wanted to demonstrate that God alone holds jurisdiction over Hell. Satan may seem powerful, but it is God Who is in control.

    If the opposite of this inscription were true, that God did not create Hell, there would be no reason to believe that Jesus can save us. Jesus is God, and God has power over Hell. But if He does not, then He is not all-powerful. A God with no power over death, has no power to save His people from death. If God did not create Hell, then there is no assurance that He has the power to save His children.

    The government builds prisons as places of punishment and sends those who commit crimes to serve their punishment in those prisons. In the same way, God created Hell as a place of punishment and sends those who have committed sins to serve their punishment in Hell. God’s authority and law is echoed in the way justice is administered in the United States of America.

An example of God’s power over Hell is given in 2 Peter 2:4, 9. “For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into Hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment….then the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials, and to keep the unrighteous under punishment until the day of judgment.” God has had power over Hell since before the moment that the first sin was committed.

In the Bible, God is said to have created everything. Psalm 89:11-12a says, “The heavens are yours; the earth also is yours; the world and all that is in it, you have founded them. The north and the south, you have created them.” God created everything. That includes Hell. The Psalmist recognized this. Jesus also testifies to God’s power over Hell in Matthew 10:28: “And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear Him who can destroy both soul and body in Hell.” The pronoun “Him” refers to God. We are to fear the Lord because He has power over body and soul, life and death.

    The inscription on the gate of Hell is a proclamation of God’s power. The Lord has authority over the deepest depths of Hell. He is the most powerful being in existence. He created Heaven, Earth, and Hell. He will create a new Heaven and a new Earth. God is all-powerful, all-wise, and all-just.

***

 Well, that's it! Let me know what you think.

-Kira

"Break Her Trust" Part Three

The last piece!!!! It turned out really short.... Hope you like it!

You can find Part One here and Part Two here.

The next morning, Megan left for school after ensuring that Justin looked presentable. She did. Once Megan was gone, Justin changed back into jeans with holes and a dark sweatshirt. She threw the nice clothes into her backpack to change into before coming home. She couldn’t let Megan see her without them. She even remembered to grab a brush on her way out the door.

    Justin shared a bus stop with Charlotte and she couldn’t start the day with teasing and questions. Instead, they talked about whatever came to their minds, including how poorly school was going. “I can’t get any of it!” Charlotte began. “It just won’t stick. I don’t know why they even try!”

    “Yeah. I just don’t get it. Especially math. What a pain!”

    “I know, right?” Just then, the bus pulled up and they climbed on, unhappy with the day planned out for them.

    Justin did not live up to the deal. She was late, she was dirty, and she still hung out with Marty’s group. But never in front of Megan. Things were going great until the next Wednesday when Justin’s mom got a phone call. From the school.

    Justin slouched in the cold plastic chair. She wasn’t so upset by the fact that she had been caught. That had happened plenty. It was the fact that the rest of Marty’s gang had split at the first sign of trouble. They had always got in trouble together if they did something together. If one of the group did something by themselves, it was on them. They weren’t getting bailed out by their friends. But they had never just left one person to suffer - it was usually at least two.

Justin hadn’t even noticed they had left. She was too busy reaching her thin arm up the vending machine and grabbing a soda to think of much else. That’s where Mrs. Newman had caught her. With her arm up the vending machine. It had been a short walk to the principal’s office, followed by a long lecture with a lot of “You’re better than this!” strung through it. The whole scene had been topped off by a phone call to her mother.

It wasn’t worth explaining things to her or the principal. They wouldn’t understand that it had been Marty’s idea, that the rest of the group had split as soon as Mrs. Newman had shown up. So she just sat and listened. She nodded and looked guilty when she needed to, but she didn’t think any of the adults were fooled. She was sitting there half listening when something caught her ear. “Since this is a third offense,” Principal Bright was saying. “I’m afraid it means a two day suspension this time.” That caught Justin by surprise. It had never been more than a week or so of detention before now. What would her dad say? Worse, what would Megan say?

    That’s what she was thinking about on the way home: what to say to Megan. Dad was like any other adult. Nod and look appropriately guilty. But Megan. She was not an adult. She really believed that Justin had been keeping up her end of the deal. She would be so disappointed. And Justin didn’t want to disappoint her. She didn’t want to break her trust.

 -Kira

"Break Her Trust" Part Two

Here's the unedited and unabridged part two of "Break Her Trust." You can find part one by clicking on the words "Break Her Trust" Part One. Enjoy!

The right time did not present itself that afternoon, though.

As soon as their little brother, Ben, got home, Justin withdrew from the world. This happened whenever she was around  Ben and their parents. She just felt so inferior to them. Her brother was a goody two-shoes, her mother a successful real estate agent, and her father an accomplished lawyer. Megan outshone her too, but she also had a way of making her feel a bit better about herself.

About an hour later, Justin’s parents got home within a few minutes of each other. Soon, they were all sitting down to dinner. All except Justin.

“Justin!” her dad called. “Dinner!”

“I’ll get her,” offered Megan.

She came back a minute later with Justin in tow. They sat down.

“Let’s say grace,” her dad began. “Father, we thank You for this food. Please bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

Justin sort of listened as she went through the motions of dinner. Get the food. Eat the food. Don’t listen to the conversation. But then something unexpected happened. “What have you been learning in Sunday School lately, Justin?” This was from her dad.

“I don’t know. Stuff,” she mumbled, without looking up from behind her hair. She knew what was coming and she didn’t like it. Sometimes she could come up with a satisfactory answer quickly enough to quiet his questioning, but tonight would not be one of those lucky nights.

“Why don’t you know?”

“Just ‘cause.”

“Do you mean because you haven’t been paying attention? At all?”

“I guess.”

"Why Justin? I thought we had talked about this before. You promised to pay more attention. You promised.”

Justin was silent.

“What else can we do to get you to pay good attention?”

She shrugged. Now for the promise.

“I want you to promise me you’ll start paying better attention and be respectful to the teacher.”

“I promise.” They both knew that the promise would not be acted upon. She was the only one of her friends that had to go to church. So she made up for it by texting Charlotte all through Sunday School, but there was nothing she could do during service under her dad’s watchful eye.

She tried to be even more invisible through the rest of dinner and excused herself as soon as she was done eating. She went straight to her room and lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

That’s where Megan found her 20 minutes later.

“Want to start back in with English?”

“Sure. I guess. But it’s hopeless. I’ll never understand it like you or even Ben. Why should I try?”

“Because you can. I know you have it in you. Just give it a shot. For me?”

“I said sure. May as well get good grades so Dad can’t get at me for that too.”

“Okay. Let’s get started.” It was a beginning at least. Maybe Megan could talk about Justin’s “friends” later.

After about an hour of English, Megan decided it was time. “Hey, let’s take a break. You’ve been working hard.”

“Okay. And do what?”

“Well, there’s something that I’d like to talk about.”

“Alright.” Megan looked determined. It must be something important.

“Your friends. Who do you hang out with?”

“Marty and the gang. Why?”

“Well, I think you should probably stop hanging around with them. They’re not a good influence.”

“I know that. But they’re the only friends I’ve got. I can’t stop hanging out with them! Anyway, Marty would kill me on the spot if I told him that. And he would have three helpers.”

“You don’t have to tell him. Just find some new friends.”

“It’s not that easy, Megan. You don’t just walk up to some kid and say, ‘Hey, I’m sorry I laughed all those times Marty shoved you down since sixth grade. Can we be friends now?’ ”

“Look, I know that. But I have an idea. Dress neater. Pay attention in class. Work hard. And don’t hang out with Marty!”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Wear jeans without holes in the knees for starters. And brush out your hair - like this.” Megan grabbed a brush and started pulling at Justin’s tangled mass of hair. Soon enough she had it smooth and shining. She parted it on the right. Megan sat back proudly. Justin looked like a new girl already. “Try being on time for class too.”

“Why should I do all this?”

“I honestly think things will turn out better for you if you just give it a shot. Please?”

“Just a trial run?”

“Just a trial run. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Great. Let’s find you a nice, neat outfit to wear to school tomorrow.” They proceeded to do so. Soon the whole day was planned out nice and neat, just like her clothes.

-Kira