A Lament for Unlamented Innocent Blood

I had very rude awakening today. On some level, I knew that embracing nature and living closer to nature was not guaranteed to drive evil out a person, and cause them to understand the sanctity of life. However, it was still a painful slap in the face when in my permaculture class - which is always going on about welcoming life of all sorts and all forms, and not using it's convenience and usefulness to us to determine whether it has a right to life or has value - was telling of a holistic method for abortion. Someone came to him pregnant and said she didn't believe in birth control, but did not want to have any more kids, so the teacher has planted pennyroyal in his garden specifically to make this person miscarry. He said "I'm not saying you should do this," but he wanted to make sure all us women knew that if we "load up on pennyroyal, it will cause you to have a miscarriage. I'm just saying there's an herb for everything." Yea, and if you don't like somebody, I'm sure there are herbs you could give them to get them out of your way too, and I'm not sating you should do that either, there's just an herb for everything. Including all kinds of murder, and probably rape too. I cringe to think of it. Anything can become evil if its used wrongly, even mother nature, as I was hit over the head with about an hour ago. That really messed up my day!Murder is everywhere. Bloodshed is all around. There is only one way to peace, and that is through genuinely making the Prince of peace lord of your life. Where in nature do you see mothers seeking ways to cast their young? if we are supposed to observe nature and imitate natural patterns, what place does abortion have in our lives?It has no place. Intentionally causing death of our of spring has no place in our lives if we celebrate life. When he said that, and shared that information to equip all of us women to kill our children with herbs, it felt like there was nothing sacred or safe left in the world. No "holy ground" like they have in the Highlander mythos. And maybe in the natural there isn't any safe haven, but that is not going to cause me to give up. I still have the Holy Spirit with me wherever I must go. (S)He was with Corrie ten Boom in the Nazi concentration camp, and none of that violence was strong enough to drive away Corrie's Shelter. Murders going on, and people feeling the need to get the how-tos out there in case I or any other woman would like to do likewise, is not going to take away the Presence. The Presence will destroy the evil that is going on there, and bring healing, but not if God's children refuse to stay in the middle of it to bring that healing and hopefully that corrective influence.

I almost quit the class over that, but I didn't because I need that information to save lives, and to demonstrate that all this killing is not necessary or good for anyone. Those who live by the sword will die by it, as Jesus said. There is no defense in shedding innocent blood, no reason for killing our children, other people far away, and people who have lived here longer. 

We are fallen, and our fallen state effects us whether we are out trying to build and use chemical weapons or sitting at home trying to reduce our impact on the environment, leave more for other people, and practicing permaculture. There is nowhere in the world where innocent blood does not cry from the ground, and there is no movement, political or other wise, whose hands are not filthy with blood. If they oppose chemical birth control, they'll overdose on penny royal and kill the child that way. If they oppose abortion as homicide and know that life begins at conception, they support corporations that annihilate whole tribes by destroying all the resources the people have. Our polarized  andevidently demon-controlled political system has it set up that way. "God gave us this, he blessed us. We are better than other people. We deserve what we have, we earned it. Never mind that life was lost to provide it. They did not work hard enough to earn what was theirs to begin with. We are the only god-fearing nation that ever was, and therefore we get the goods and the rest of the world can either find a way to earn it back or just die. It's not our problem" "I don't want a baby, and I answer to no one but myself. This child is no child because I said so, and I also say it will die. Butt out of my business, unless you are going to help me do it" The justification varies. The methods vary. What does not vary is rebellious flesh, carnal nature that wants to determine its own path apart from the ways of El Shaddai and Adonai.

God, there is none like you. The rulers and even the non-rulers of the earth claim to be gods, they try to act as gods, but they are not gods. Creation reflects and testifies of your glory, nature proclaims your nature, but it is not You. There is only one You and while you are everywhere, and everything speaks of you, everything is still not you.

You are the only one who must be called master, you are the only real source of life. The evil in us blinds us to you, because it does not want to see you. It wants your place and your glory. It wants to be wise and all knowing, it wants to be the one who says what is right, and is always right. It wants to live with no authentic judge. It wants to destroy you and it wants to control you, or be you, all at the same time. But you have a right to judge, and you are right when you do judge. Right now, you have already judged sin, and have chosen for the moment not to judge us. I thank you for your mercy.

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Holy spirit only you convict and convince of sin, and your conviction is the first step to accepting your mercy. I ask lord that you will convict, and that you will convince of true right and true wrong. I ask that you will show me how to be of use to you. To let you do your job and to still be the teacher of truth that you want me to be. In Jesus name, amen.

Throwing Down Both Gauntlets: Pt 2

 Thank you for reading the second chapter of Throwing Down Both Gauntlets. The name comes from the adage "throwing down the gauntlet" which means ready for a figurative fight. Throwing Down Both Gauntlets is to denote the intensity of Bronte's determination in the face of unimaginable odds. My research on life in Haiti has bred respect in me for its people. I read "But isn't Haiti Dangerous?" a blog by two charity workers who live there, and it drastically altered what I expected to find in this learning and writing process, and what I was willing to look for. I hope you'll take the time to read it too. It is posted on the Polysha Foundation's Facebook page as well, so you can look for it and other goodies there, too. Enjoy! :)

Throwing Down Both Gauntlets,
Continued . . .
           The pain was welling up again, and Bronte fought down the tears, Not NOW! She shouted within herself, I cannot show weakness now. No way, not at all. She took slow, deep breaths of the putrid air. Some vagabonds had evidently relieved themselves near here. Something had also died nearby, by the odor of it. The stench was terrible, and Bronte was frightened. She remembered the eight precious faces staring at her after dinner last night, raising no questions, no doubts. They were all completely convinced she could do as she said. She had to keep going, she had to.

          And she would.

          Suddenly, a large, calloused hand grabbed her arm, startling her. She turned, gasping, and saw a tall, kind-faced man smiling down at her. He was of average build, except for his height, and looked about forty or so. He had a birthmark, an indentation running down one side of his face, shaped like the blade of a scythe. He wore a white shirt and faded green trousers. “Let me walk with you, ma'am,” he said, “It isn't good to be out here alone. What is your name?”

          “Bronte,” she replied, returning his smile, “I am going to look for work in the factories.”

          “Well, hello Bronte. My name is Patrick. I know of two or three people that are said to be looking for seamstresses. Can you sew?”
           “Yes! Certainly!” She reached up to fix her kerchief. The wind had suddenly come up and attempted to blow it right off of her head.

           “I am looking for job openings myself. I work at Permashelter, but there is talk of a layoff, very soon.” Bronte was moved for him. Seydou had been beside himself when there was talk of a layoff at his company. He had barely slept for weeks. It was always hard on all the men and their families to hear such news. Sometimes not knowing was even worse than knowing that you were going to loose your job.
           “Oh! I am sorry to hear that." Bronte put her hand to her mouth in distress, "Do you have children?”

           “Yes,” Patrick replied proudly, “Three. Two boys and a girl.”
           “I have four boys and four girls. They all attend school, the ones that are old enough,” Bronte's chest stuck out with pride, “And I am going to keep them there.”
           They began to walk together, toward a clothing factory about twelve more blocks away. Tents were everywhere. At times, they had to excuse themselves and step over individuals reposing on the edge of the street.
           “What part of town do you live in?” Patrick inquired, as they passed the collapsed remains of a large apartment complex.
           “On the North side, between Mon Repos 44 and Mon Repos 42. How about you?”

           “I live on the East side, off of Therlonge and North Dupre. I'm just just a bit to the west of the intersection.”

           “Oh! I know where that is!” Bronte's eyes lit up, “My husband's family used to live near there, just a few blocks out.” The wind was to the back of them now, making her kerchief stick up behind her head and billow strangely. At least it helped speed them along.

           They soon found themselves at the facilities of the Webster, Webster and Cohen Ltd. clothing production plant. Patrick applied for warehouse work in case his position at Permashelter was eliminated. The pay wouldn't be as much, but if worse came to worse, it would be much better than nothing. Bronte applied to be a seamstress. Her experience would put her legal minimum pay-rate at about 25 Gourdes, or $0.75 USD, per hour. A meager salary, to say the least, but a start.

           “I hope your job at Permashelter proves to be steady,” she said sincerely, adjusting her kerchief again as they exited the building together.

           “And I wish you the best of luck in your seamstress work,” Patrick responded emphatically. “By the way, did you embroider that beautiful orchid on your blouse yourself?”

           “Yes,” she blushed, “I finished it a few weeks ago.”

           “You are remarkably skilled!” Patrick's eyes were wide, “If you would, please write down your address. I will tell the people in my church about your abilities. Maybe someone will know where you can pick up some extra work.”

           Bronte was so touched, she had to put in considerable effort to control her emotions. “Thank you,” she said again, keeping most of the tremble out of her voice.

           Patrick's smile was comforting. Bronte was very thankful she had found a new friend.

* * *

          It had been an eventful day. On the way home, Bronte had stopped at a couple of other clothing companies and applied. She had an interview scheduled, three days away, at the Yin Yeung Cho Corporation. 

          It was almost time for the other children to come home when Bronte stepped across her threshold with a satisfied sigh. It was wonderful to be home and she looked forward to being surrounded by her children again.The Lamarre's house had no lights. When the sun was up, the house was lit by opening the door, and the kitchen window also gave light to prepare food by. Little Guerda's hair was all in braids, courtesy of Fredeline's exceptional skill. Ritha's hair was, at the moment, amusing. One side was in braids, some of which were tied together in preparation for an elaborate up-do, like her younger sister had. Some of the braids were shaking loose from their bonds, making a big, bouncy lump on the side of her head which flopped about as she ran and jumped and danced around the little house. The other side of her hair had several sections separated and brushed straight out in preparation for braiding. Because of gravity and Ritha's rambunctiousness, though, these were now looking quite wilted. All except for one that is – it stuck straight out the side of her smiley little head like a tenacious black spike. Fredeline was waving a towel frantically at the cook stove.

          “What's wrong?” Bronte inquired.

          “The grease caught fire,” Fredeline replied, beating at the oven with the towel. 

          Bronte darted over to her dear friend's side so quickly it seemed she had wings and flew there. The fire was almost out already. It had not spread far. Bronte turned her attention back to Guerda and Ritha. Just then, Fredeline's son, Toussaint, started crying loudly. 

          “What's the matter, little Toussaint?” Bronte asked in her most indulgent, cutesy voice, slowing her words for greater effect. Little eighteen month old Toussaint continued to wail as if he had not heard anything. Bronte picked him up and held him. After a few moments, he calmed down. Toussaint had short, fuzzy hair that had taken unusually long to come in, and large eyes that were usually bright with joy and interest. He wore an orange shirt and nothing else.

          Fredeline came back from the oven, wiping her hands. “The fire's out,” she said, sounding tired.

* * *

          Over dinner, which today consisted of rice and a few vegetables, Fredeline and Bronte did most of the talking. They were discussing how to grow various crops together in the small strip of very poor soil the Lamarre's had by their house. They discussed the feasibility of different crops: apricots, avocado, banana, cantaloupe, plantain, pomegranate, potato, pumpkin, cassava, beans, guava, papaya, Plate de Haiti Tomato, and yam. Fredeline said it was ok to put the little garden in near the tree. “You need pigeon peas, badly. The soil here is in such bad shape, like mine was. They put something into the soil, called nitrogen, and this can heal the soil so it can grow food for you better. You can grow them with the beans, and it will help the soil and maybe even grow the beans better. If you get the vine-type of Plate de Haiti Tomato, it can climb the beans and the peas.”

          “Is there anything I can do to help?” Emanuel asked, “I'm strong, I can lift things, even if it's heavy.”

          “We will need your strength, Emanuel, a lot. Especially in the beginning. I will explain your situation to some of my friends, and we will bring you a strong shovel, a pick if we can get one. The ground has to be broken to let seeds in.

           “The soil can barely feed the tree. Look at it.” Elsie said, sounding mildly frustrated.

           “The tree will begin to do better when the soil gets better. The Peas will make the soil better. It takes time. You will get a crop the first year, but not a big one and it may not be good to eat it, if chemicals from the cars on the street have gotten on it. The peas will take the chemicals out over the winter months. When we do it like that, we call it a cover crop. Cover crops heal the soil by taking out the evil things in it and putting in good things.”

           “What can I do to help?” Elsie asked, as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. This started a cacophony of the same inquiry from the most of the other children, which in turn brought wails of discontent from little Guerda. Bronte took Guerda outside to calm her, trusting Fredeline to be able to delegate tasks, since she was the only one who had a clue what they were going to be doing.

          She looked out across the narrow street, crowded with small, saggy houses and tents, and the intermittent brick ruins standing out garishly among them. She wondered how this new life she had to make would work. At times, it seemed crazy to hope, but hope was what kept the world of good people turning. Evil of every sort grew out of giving up, and Bronte was determined never to do that.

Throwing Down Both Gauntlets: Pt. 1

When I read the back story of the Polysha Foundation, my heart warmed and at the same time it broke. It inspired me to write this story. This is not about Yves and Sharon Polycarpe, but their story did inspire this one. This is a work of fiction which is loosely based on the true story of Yves Polycarpe's family, found on the About Us page of the Polysha Foundation's website. I have done my best, through research and looking at numerous pictures, to make Bronte Lamarre's story resemble that of a woman in the same situation in Haiti today. Information on the daily lives of the poor are hard to come by, and where necessary I let my imagination lead the way. I recommend anyone moved by this story visit their page, and join the "Winner's Circle," and also visit and like them on Facebook. This story is not to make anyone feel guilty, but to see just how much can be overcome by the human heart if we choose never to give up, like Mr. Yves Polycarpe's amazing mother.
The links in the story show you images, or at times videos, which I used to determine what my character's world was really like. They also serve as illustrations of the story. Enjoy!! 

          The sun shown hot and harsh in the arid afternoon. In the distance, the mountains were shrouded in haze. A few scraggly trees reached desperately for the sky out of the parched earth. Bronte Lamarre was hanging clothes in front of her family's house in Carrefour, Haiti. The house was about 500 square feet, the roof and much of the rest of the house sagged badly, like many homes in the Lemarre's neighborhood. The family was very thankful the house was at least still standing, as many homes nearby had collapsed in the earthquake and had never been rebuilt. Their humble building had once been white, but time had taken its toll. Now, it could best be described as gray. Her very faded blue kerchief fluttered a little in the slight breeze. Sweat beaded on her brows and dripped down the her cheeks, where it mingled with the tears she had been trying, with intermittent success, to hold back. A sturdy woman of about 5'9, her face appeared wise and unusually hard for her mere 31 years. Bronte had already born eight children. The youngest, sixteen month old little Guerda, waddled over and tugged at her mothers skirts, wanting to be held. I can't let them see me cry, Bronte thought, They need me to show strength now, they need to believe it is going to be all right.

          It had been two days since her husband, Seydou's funeral. He had been making gravel when an avalanche was triggered. Seydou had been killed instantly, as he was the nearest one to the rock wall they were turning into gravel. She tried hard not to think about it, about whether or not it hurt, or whether or not it was anyone's fault. None of that did any good, and knowing the answers would never change anything. There was no way for her to know, really, and those thoughts made her anxious. Instead, she concentrated very hard on the clothes she was washing. Squeezing out the water, rubbing them together, pressing as hard as she could. She squeezed Emanuel's work trousers until her knuckles paled, gritting her teeth. She was almost done, and her fingers were starting to get sore. Despite her best efforts, tears began to pour down her cheeks again.

          Little Guerda started screaming suddenly, and Bronte jumped. “Stevsin! Webby! Ee-wsie!” Guerda shouted, toddling off toward the road. “Oh,” Bronte sighed, relieved. She scooped up her excited infant to keep her out of the street, and called over her shoulder to her dearest friend, Fredeline, who was in the kitchen beginning preparations for dinner. “The other children are home!” Guerda's elated shrieks lifted Bronte's heart a little, making it easier to retrain her tears. At the door, they saw the Lamarre Brood coming down the street. 
          Twelve-year-old Webster was carrying a big stick like a staff, swinging it back and forth in his right hand. His school-buy shorts, which were a bit short and tight, had a large tear in the left leg. How did he do that? Bronte wondered, more concerned for Webster than for the cost of the thread she would sew them with. Her eldest, Emanuel, looked serene, as usual. He stood tall resolute as he approached, like a king. He carried his worn pack with his school things in it. On closer observation, Bronte noticed he was carrying three other packs too. She wondered why.

          Stevenson, Elsie, and Leila were walking slowly toward home without their packs. Elsie and Leila had flowers in their hands. Ten-year-old Leila's bunch was at least twice the size of her sister's. Webster kept reaching out with his stick, holding it behind his younger brother to guide his wobbling gait and keep him on the road. He was not hitting him, though Stevenson's cheeks were tear-stained. They were bringing flowers they had picked along the road. Such flowers made Bronte sneeze.

          She suspected they were not for her, but for Seydou's gravesite.

* * *

          Bronte and Fredeline were in the house, at the table by the home's one window, discussing what the family should do next and cutting up vegetables. The children were all playing or doing homework. Fredeline had brought the vegetables from her garden, as well as some seeds for the Lamarre family to plant. She had attended a lesson for women's empowerment several months ago, when her husband abandoned her with their young son. She had learned about seed-saving there. “I have more if you need them,” Fredeline was saying, wiping her long, slender hand across her high, sweaty brow. A tall woman, almost as tall as Seydou had been, and so slim she looked almost frail, Fredeline had been Bronte's best friend since they were little girls. They had learned to cook and sew together, and played games together. They had been in each other's weddings, of which Fredeline's had proved to be a mistake. She adjusted her kerchief, “I have only one child to look after. You have eight.” Tears hung in Bronte's eyes, the pain was welling up again. Good thing it was only Fredeline here to see. “Thank you,” she said, tears trickling down her weathered face, “What would I ever do without friends like you?”

          “Don't mention it,” Fredeline said, waving her hand in front of her face for emphasis, “It's what girlhood friends are for. You would do it for me. Here, let me finish these for you. You rest for a few minutes, before you and your kids have to have your talk.”

* * *

          Over a dinner of rice and pork, prepared mostly by Fredeline, with some “help” from four-year old little Ritha, Bronte told her family the plans she had for the future. The children gazed at her silently, intently. She knew this was hard on them. They sat around the table in order of their birth. Emanuel sat beside his mother, on the left. His expression unreadable except for the veins showing in his eyes. A mere thirteen years old, he was already almost as tall as his father had been. Webster was fidgety, as usual. The exact opposite of his older brother, and nearly as tall, he was the nearest thing Bronte had to a “problem child.” His grades were usually average, though sometimes they slipped a little. It was not because he was less intelligent, it was because he was less interested in his studies.

          Leila the ten-year-old, was slightly over-emotional at times. She made things more dramatic than they had to be, in Bronte's opinion at least. Sometimes this trait made life in the Lamarre house more interesting and fun, sometimes it made things harder than necessary. Little Stephane, age two-and-a-half, sat on Leila's lap, looking around inquisitively. He was too young to fully grasp what was going on, but he knew that daddy was not coming home again. It had taken a while for him to “get” that, and he had been deeply upset for about two days. This was the first day he seemed to be back to normal. His large brown eyes looked around with interest. He had nothing on but his training pants. Elsie, who was eight, sat across from the pair, holding her little brother Stevenson's hand. Six-year old Stephenson was no longer crying, but his eyes were still quite red. His school-boy shorts were covered with dust that was going to be a challenge to get clean by morning. Ritha sat beside him, smiling as usual, too young to fully understand what faced her family right now. On Bronte's lap, little Guerda slept soundly. She was too young to have any clue what was up, and Bronte was thankful. It would be much easier to discuss plans with the others if the baby was sleeping.

          “Alright, first of all, I want you all to know that we are not giving upon your schooling – that goes for all of you. Education is the pathway to prosperity, and in no way will I ever take any of you off of it.

          “I am going tomorrow to look for work. Fredaline is coming over with her son to take care of Ritha and Guerda. When you get home from school, we will be adding to our garden to try and grow more food. Fredeline plans to stay and help. She says she also has some extra seed and knows some ways to grow more food in less space. Now, I want you on your best behavior. She has walked along way to help us today, and is going to do it again tomorrow. Any questions?”

          Eight of the most beautiful faces in the world stared back at her, silently. No one asked anything. With that, they began their dinner.

* * *

          The sun beat down on Bronte's head as she walked to the manufacturing district, looking for work. Dust hung in the air, coloring all she could see a pale, golden brown. She wore her best pair of blue jeans, and a slightly lighter blue shirt. She had embroidered a flower on the collar, it had taken her almost a month. The air smelled vaguely of garbage as she got further from her house. As a lower-class, uneducated woman, she had few prospects, and none of them paid well. She would probably need more than one. If someone would hire her on for sewing, she could probably do that on off hours from any job in the factory.

          Occasionally, sounds and smells from cafes in several locks away tickled her nose, making her mouth water. She remembered the unseasoned pork and vegetables she had eaten last night, prepared lovingly by her very dear friend, and she was thankful. The people eating in those restaurants did not have so much love in their food. The cooks would not serve them for free, or hold their hand while they wept. Though she was indeed very poor, Bronte Lamarre was also unfathomably rich.
          It was a dangerous trek, walking by herself across town. Bronte's somewhat exceptional size would not help much, either. Most men were at least her size and still much stronger. The majority of the men in her area were decent, fiercely protective and law-abiding, like her beloved Seydou. Nevertheless, there were also many evil men in Carrefour, and all it would take was one. There were a few women she knew of who had been infected with AIDS in an assault. Not a hazard to take lightly.

          She plodded along, eying every corner and every empty doorway with apprehension. There were many people camping on the roadside, homeless. Bronte and others had always helped when they could.  Seydou had repaired their family's house with a group of his friends, who had in turn fixed their own houses with his and Emanuel's help. Right now, she was not able to do that. She was in the season of receiving help right now, as they were, but her needs more more forward-looking while the needs of the homeless around her now were more immediate.

          The pain was welling up again. How she missed her beloved Seydou! She fought down the tears, Not NOW! She shouted within herself, I cannot show weakness now. No way, not at all. She took slow, deep breaths of the putrid air. Some vagabonds had evidently relieved themselves in an alley near here. Something had also died nearby, by the odor of it. The stench was terrible, and Bronte was frightened. She remembered the eight precious faces staring at her after dinner mast night, raising no questions, no doubts. They were completely convinced that she could do what she said. She had to keep going, she had to.

          And she would.

Making Money Online - A Discourse on Several Sites that Pay.

Lately, I have referred several people to some "make money online" opportunities. Today, someone else referred me to another one. I think it is likely to be useful if I write out the low-down on a few crowdsourcing and telecommuting sites.
The main downside to working online is that it takes a while to build up a good income. I started on Mechanical Turk, found at www.mturk.com. I transcribed business cards with a ten minute time limit and was paid a whopping $0.02 a piece. Then I started taking surveys and got as much as $2.00. but usually less than $1.00. There are transcription jobs on there that pay $50 or more, and have 12 hour time limits, and some have time limits lasting several days. You have to become "qualified" for those jobs, though.
Mechanical Turk jobs are called HITs, for Human Intelligence Tasks. There are many ways the employers, which are called requesters, determine your qualification for different HITs: taking tests, having certain number of similar jobs under your belt with a minimum rate of success, completing a minimum number of tasks on the site successfully and with a certain ratio of successful vs. unsuccessful task, and others.

Above, you will see that some of these jobs pay quite well, for a job on a crowdsourcing site. I am not considered qualified, though. For some qualifications, all you have to do is ask to be qualified, so it is still worth it to check out jobs you are not yet qualified for. Click "request qualification" or "take qualification test," and then see what happens.

If you check the box, "For which you are qualified" you will only see jobs the site knows you are qualified for - this does not guarantee you can do the job, and I will explain that later. You can limit how low the pay can be too, in the "that pay at least..." box. Here, I typed in $1.00. You can view details like who the requester is and what they want you to do by clicking the title. "View a HIT in this group,"over on the right, is where you go if you want to give it a shot.

More details are given here, usually. BE CAREFUL TO READ EVERYTHING. If there is anything key in making money online, it is that very statement. That is true for any site you go on. Sometimes you will get in here, and find the survey is only for a certain age group and you aren't in it, or other things that you need to know. You only need four rejected HITs out of 100 to be bared from a lot of opportunities.
Having at least 96% accepted work is important, and higher than that is better. With a lot of diligence and a 97% rating, and you can pay a small bill every month, or buy cat litter or do laundry something. Since your wages get deposited in amazon payments, you could buy some music or whatever you want. With a 98% rating, your prospects get much better. You can probably get most of one person's groceries "turking" with that rating, if you shop wisely. Most requesters do not want to work with you until you have completed 100 HITS, and having 1000 or more HITs completed successfully opens up much more. The more you do and the better you do it, the more opportunities open up, and more desirable ones too.
Another good thing is, returning HITs, or sending it back to let someone else do it instead, doesn't hurt your record. Your completion rate is recorded, but it does not seem to make much difference. I try to keep my completion rate high anyway.
You must have at least $1.00 to withdraw your earnings from Amazon payments to your bank, and it takes up to seven business days. There is no fee for withdrawing your money They will not release any funds to you at all until you have ten days with at least three HITs completed each day.
I humbly recommend avoiding the requester p9r. They have many easy HITs, but they do not always set them up well, and sometimes are inconsistent with what they consider good enough and what they do not consider good enough. You have to transcribe handwriting, which is surrounded by a pink box. The pink box is sometimes way out of alignment and the writing is sometimes illegible. You might think some squiggles surely mean some certain letter, the person who checks your work might disagree. I did 65 HITs for them one day, and 5 were rejected. My overall rating suffered severely, as it only takes one bad HIT out of 100 to drop you down by 1%, and that can make a serious difference.

Cloudcrowd.com posts a lot of jobs on mechanical turk, but have their own sites as well. I do not recommend accepting anything by Cloudcrowd on mechanical turk, because they habitually say they have work until you accept the job, then they tell you they have no work at all and you have to return it. They do supposedly have work on their actual website www.cloudcrowd.com, but at this time I have not accessed it. I took the exam and passed it, every time I visit the site I have to set up a new account. Therefore, the fact that I have proved my skills never shows when I want to find work there. If that ever gets sorted out, I will update this post, so stay tuned if you are interested. Crowdsurf is not to be confused with Cloudcrowd. They also do a lot through mechanical turk, and my experience with them there has been very positive.

A site that pays better than Mechanical Turk to begin with, but has much less opportunity for advancement and - in my opinion - less desirable jobs on the whole, is Microworkers.com.

There are some search and click jobs on there that, when the sites are not having trouble, are available in large quantities and pay $0.18 for less that three minutes (really, I think it is about 1 minute) of very easy "work." Dailysearches and MWsearch, are two of those requesters. Those requsters have a lot of technical problems, but when they work, they are easy money.
There are also many tasks on microworkers where you are paid to sign up for something, paid to visit and comment on a blog - or worst of all - paid to download something. I suggest using this site while you are starting out with Mechanical Turk and others, since it will make you more money, but then quit once the others take off and exceed its potential. If your rating collapses somehow, then come back to it until you recover. If your rating on microworkers drops below 75%, you get fired and barred from the site.75% is pretty bad, especially compared to Mechanical Turk, where most requesters want 97% positive ratings or better. It would be hard to mess these jobs up too, unless you wanted to or did not read the instructions.The only trick is READ EVERYTHING CAREFULLY so you will know what to do.

Microworkers.com will not let you withdraw the money you make with them until you have made around $10. There is a fee for withdrawal, based on percentage, and it varies by with payment method you choose. Paypal is the most expensive, it costs over 7%.

Someone just suggested this site to me today: http://weeklypocketmoney.com/?id=erdavis82 Naturally, I created an account. I do not understand how they are able to pay as highly as they seem to want to do, so I am a little suspicious. The reason may be the extremely high amount you must make in order to actually be paid. You must make $300 there before you can withdraw your earnings. It may be hard for many people to do that, and perhaps the money they save by not paying most people helps them to pay the people who do eventually make $300.00 or more on their site. I have no idea yet, time will tell. My malware fighters have not been triggered, the site is free, and they do not ask for bank information or much information ofany kind at all, so I can suggest giving it a shot. Time will tell if it pays what it promises; I had $20 on my account there in the first five minutes, but it does no good until it is fifteen times that much.
NOTE: a few weeks after this blog was posted, I found that my login information seemed not to work, though the link with my name in it did work. Without logging in, there is no way it can pay me. There is no button for a forgotten password, either. This site is just trying to get hits so they can advertise, it is not a legitimate prospect. I will leave this section here as a warning.

The highest paying sites I have seen for legitimately working online are freelancer.com, which I use but have a few problems with, and elancer.com. Freelancer has many highly technical jobs for freelance programmers and graphic artists, as well as virtual assistant, advertising, and writing jobs galore.

  Some of the employers there are looking for slave labor, and you may have to settle for one of those on a short term basis to get your foot in the door - I did. But as you build a reputation, this will change and you will be able to get better jobs.

 Your reputation will show up on your profile as the average of your previous employers' ratings and reviews of you, your completion rate, and more.

Freelancer.com is free to sign up on, but it costs to take qualification tests. If you have any doubts about passing, I suggest trying a free test like you can find on www.brainbench.com and see how you do. They may not be the exact same tests, but if I bombed a free test, I would not take a similar test that I had to pay for every time I took it. If I aced a free one, I would think I stood a good chance with similar, paid tests. 
Rather than just taking jobs that are given to whoever will do them, making just pennies, freelancer.com workers bid on jobs and submit proposals. Upon being chosen, employers send "milestone payments" to freelancer.com for your work, which are released to you upon successful completion of the assignment. Freelancer also charges $5 or 11% of your pay (whichever is greater). They add the $5 or the percentage to your bid in addition to the amount you actually ask for (see image below). They will take their share out of your account as soon as you accept the job, even if you do not have that much in there. They will pay you back when the task is finished and they release all the funds, the entire bid amount, to you and so pay you back. 

You must have a minimum of $30 in your freelancer.com account in order to make a withdrawal. There are no charges for depositing money from your account into your paypal account,but they will sit on your pay for an additional 15 dyas, minimum, the first time you attempt to withdraw it.They say your withdrawal is under review, and they are only going to do that once. Having your account verified in every way before hand does not prevent this additional verification period. They say it is for user's security, and that is as far as they will go in explaining it. You must meet certain qualifications to deposit directly into you bank, but if you qualify it costs nothing.
Freelancer will ask you to "promote" your bid for around $1.50 every time, but this is optional, as is "highlighting" your bid for $1. They will not let you bid less than $10 for a flat rate job, or less than $2/hr for an hourly job, in which case they split the earnings with you 50/50. You will get $5 of the ten, or $1 of the two. There is a limit to how many bids you can place in a month, and you get only ten with a free account. For a monthly charge, you can increase the bids, the refresh rate on you bids (how fast the bids sort-of "grow back" after you spend them"), the number of skills you can list, and the size of the portfolio you are allowed (portfolios consist of files uploaded by you, but you only get so much space). These can also be increased through earning points by being active on the site.
The main problem I have with freelancer.com is they tolerate indecent solicitations. This is not only under their unfortunate xxx "skill," which one can say that one has if one is willing to degrade oneself that way, but also under clerical work. A data entry position that kept coming up and being reposted for a while wanted an "entertainment girl, and office work" Data entry and virtual assistant, with some "entertainment in between to fill in the time." I could have killed whoever posted that, I was so angry. I am pretty sure that is not legal, but do not know who enforces it, since freelancer.com is based in Australia. I have reported these things more than once, freelancer tells me that "besides the positions you mentioned, we have many others..." They are unwilling to do anything, and no longer respond to my complaints about that at all. Sadly, posted jobs come up in the corner like IM messages and you cannot click them off. They stay until freelancer's system takes them down. So you have to sit and look at that rudeness when it is posted and the only way to get rid of it is to log off of freelancer, which is what I do when that happens. Sometimes that means I am not on the site very much for a little while. For this reason, I recommend using other similar sites if you have a lot of technical skill, and if you must use freelancer to build up a portfolio, do so, but get out of it as soon as you can and tell them why you are leaving (if the indecency is indeed why you are leaving). That is actually what I plan to do.

Elancer.com has a much longer process to get on. It requires an interview via skype and (I think, if I remember right) a background check, in addition to whatever interviews and so forth the actual employers want to give you. This site does not seem to have as many fees as Freelancer.com, and I do not think they tolerate indecent "employers" who are there to exploit people either. I have had some trouble with skype that I have not resolved, and that is why I am still using freelancer instead. I could not do the interview. From what I have seen, I think I can recommend it though.

On all these sites, you will have a multiple day process of setting your bank up with it, and verifying your accounts. Most of them like to use Paypal or similar methods of payment. Microworkers gives you different options for how to receive payment. Freelancer and Elancer want a scanned copy of your ID, but the crowdsourcing sites do not. Requesters or employers are not supposed to get in contact with workers outside of the sites, unless the job demands it. Crowdsourcing sites generally do not give even your name to the employers, but an alphanumeric code number instead so you cannot be found by the strangers you work for. Freelancer will delete an employer's or a worker's account if they post contact information publicly. I believe Elancer has similar rules, but like I said, I had trouble that kept me out of that so far.

I hope this little overview has been helpful. It is a long, slow process to begin making money online. However, what you are doing is building a business, and that always takes time but is well worth doing. It is also nice to have options for at least a little money that can add up, especially when you are out of work or need a bit extra for the moment.
God bless all!

Connecting to Blogkeen

Carnality and Subculture People Who Self-identify as Christians

I got out of a certain Facebook group conversation about lust. It was a volatile one anyway, but then some people came on there saying lust was not sin and it was part of gods' design and to look and fantasize is just a little fun in which there is no harm unless you start making plans how you are going to act on it. I was of course called self-righteous and was told I acted like I had the truth and etc. and was called a hypocrite. a hypocrite is a person who says one thing and does another. I am not that. I call it lust and sin if I entertain thoughts about stuff that belongs within marriage about someone I am not married to and may not have any inclination to marry for that matter. I don't call it that if it pops in my head and I throw it off, just if I let it roll for however long. I quoted the scripture and said "this is what it says" and they said I had "played the God card" by showing from scripture what he lord asks of us. they said it was unhelpful and offensive and that i was setting my opinions as god's when I did that. I said "Jesus said it is written all the time, and he taught as one who had authority, not as the scribes. If you don't like people doing that, then you wouldn't like his teaching either". I heard professing Christians say, "I think, feel and do this or that, and it is not wrong and God does not mind and I DO NOT CARE WHAT THE BIBLE SAYS" emphasis mine (somehow it was not setting themselves up as god to do that, though. go figure).
How did we get like that in our community?! Why are we so carnal? I have been abused by the church pretty badly myself. the one time i was sexually assaulted was in a church. I also lived in a place for girls off the street that was in the middle of nowhere and came out only knowing my name and my birthday about myself. Due to the so-called deliverance and counseling they did only for me (because I was Goth) that was conditional for getting to stay and i would have to walk fifty miles to town with venomous snakes and such around if i left or was kicked out and they knew i had no where to go, I finished their program unsure what i liked or didn't like and even doubting some of my own memories. they only did that to subcultures people, and i was the first. normally they really helped people get their lives together. It took me 6 years to really start recovering. THAT experience does not give me a right to dismiss things I hear in church that I don't like if I actually find it in God's word. Even if the way it is said is an emotional "trigger" it does not change God's will for my life or make God's word just another opinion I can take or leave and still call myself Christian. It's unlikely most Goths have had any worse crap from Christians in the name of God than I did, but somehow their experiences make it ok to make God up as they go and if someone stands with God then THAT person is a hypocrite whether or not the person practices what they preach. What is the issue? How does one become so carnal?

I need to review Ezekiel 3, which is what God gave me when he called me and he said "I will not make you a reprover among them, for they are most rebellious... but when i open your mouth...say exactly what i give you to say.be not dismayed before their faces for they are a rebellious house... he who hears, let him hear,and he who forebears let him forbear, for they are most rebellious" I always though the was just talking about the non-Christains, I thought most christian goths would pretty devoted and strong, because they would have be to hold on when the mainline church and the world both came against them. I guess I was mistaken, a lot of people in the subculture are just as carnal as any you'll find in the mainline, and perhaps a little more openly and unashamedly so... *sign* I pray that i will have discernment when God is opening my mouth and when I am. Then and only then can I be sure I am pleasing him when I stand my ground in an argument, because it is not fun. "Answer not a fool according to his folly lest you be like unto him. Answer a fool according to his folly lest he be wise in his own eyes" "there is a time to speak and a time to refrain form speaking". I think this time I was not supposed to talk, but I did. Even if I was right, I was unhelpful and accomplished perhaps nothing. Oh well. I'll live.

An Inspiring Story I am Very Motivted to Share with Everybody

PolyshaCares4Haiti  is still under construction in some areas. However, it is still informative and the work that they do can still be seen. The founders of this organization originally came from Haiti as children. This is a small organization, started grass-roots by two brothers in 1992 who grew up in Haiti with a widowed single mother of eight. They attended school because of her hard work and sacrifice, and now are working to give other kids in their homeland the same opportunity. I  love a story like that!
This is a story of perseverance, and of never forgetting where you come from. This is a story of a very strong woman who overcame odds for her children and raised them right, This is a story of the kind of successful people the world needs to see more of. After reading this story, I am inclined to do whatever I can to help them produce more stories like their own.
Who agrees?
That story, by the way, is found on the "about us" tab. I will definitely be checking back to see what it looks like when it is done. I expect I might even write about it again. Please share this link with others.
God bless and have a very nice day.

There is NO food shortage! The planet is NOT overpopulated! Wake up!

I am tired of hearing how abortion and euthanasia and etc are necessary because "we do not have enough to take care of every one in the world". Here is proof that that is not true, and explanations for why people are dying from hunger. People die from hunger due to inequality and greed (i.e. sin), not because God is an idiot who made a planet full of life but failed to stock it with enough resources to sustain it to its ending.
"The world produces enough food to feed everyone. World agriculture produces 17 percent more calories per person today than it did 30 years ago, despite a 70 percent population increase. This is enough to provide everyone in the world with at least 2,720 kilocalories (kcal) per person per day according to the most recent estimate that we could find (FAO 2002, p.9). The principal problem is that many people in the world do not have sufficient land to grow, or income to purchase, enough food. " Kilocalories are the same as calories.

http://www.worldhunger.org/articles/Learn/world%20hunger%20facts%202002.htm

Other places to find and verify this information are: 

the United Nations World Food Programme

 http://www.wfp.org/hunger/faqs

 and

http://www.foodfirst.org/node/239 

Some will then ask, "If we distribute the food so everyone has enough, wouldn't the population go up (due to less death and disease everywhere) that there really won't be enough food?"

Not likely. As stupidly and wastefully as we do things now, and asmuch cropland and possible food sources that are wasted in so many ways now, we STILL are increasing food production faster than population growth. If we use permaculture, stop tearing up the earths surface to extract non-renewable resources from deep inside, and stop blowing up or burning cropland because we hate each other we could do so much better than we are now. Therefore I would say I really seriously doubt that will ever be a problem... and get better at practicing monogamy. I read an article a while back about a 27year old who had over 40 children. If everybody lived like that, I suppose the day might come where the earths ability to support us would be truly strained, but as it stands I think we will be all right...

I agree but yet I do not: What is wrong with this wonderful video

This guy repeatedly says more food means more people. That's not true ("The Essence of Anthropology" 2nd Ed, pg. 106). He says that more food = more people, and says this is bad for the planet. THEN he advocates much more productive ways of growing food that require less effort (methods that I indeed support, and much of his info here is great. It's his anti-baby bias I resist here) His data on oil production matching population growth, which he thinks shows that more food means more people and etc, is bogus. A lot of fertilizer goes on lawns (earthobservatory.nasa.gov /Features/Lawn/lawn2.php - last paragraph says there are 3X as much lawn area in the US as there is irrigated corn!), some oil gets used to make plastics (www.eia.gov/tools/faqs/faq.cfm ?id=34&t=6), and oil extraction devastates local food supplies (web search "ogoni food supply" or better yet "workshop_IPPE_pyagbara. doc" for starters...) We're making the earth produce LESS, not more. The way we go about feeding everybody is ridiculous, and the way we distribute food is unjust (another story on another post, and pertinent to same "pro-choice" argument). Abortion is NOT the solution, since babies are not the problem. Corruption and ignorance in resource management ARE the problem. HOW does reducing birth-rate solve that problem?. I'll start on how there is enough food for everyone today, and why people starve anyway another time...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nLKHYHmPbo&list=HL1384142490&feature=mh_lolz

Rise

I wrote this for a college English class, actually my very first one. It was, I believe, my first English paper and the second paper I ever wrote. The assignment was to write about a specific event that changed your life or changed you as a person.
I have changed a lot since I wrote this, yet it is still a really good way to get to know me. If you are new around here at Cross Castle, this would be a great way to start out. I am still very proud of this paper. I hope you all enjoy it.

Rise

I have learned that going into a new phase of life and using your old survival skills is like walking around in a house on a rainy day with your umbrella still open. Moving from inclement weather into dry shelter requires certain adjustments. I have come through many changes in a rather short time. I invite you to come with me and we will see what we may learn together.

I am looking out the window at the neighborhood kids playing in the street. They have two jump-ropes and are taking turns in the middle, singing in unison all the while. I wish I could join them, but I cannot. In the first place, I am not allowed to leave the house, and I am never allowed to leave the yard. In the second place, I am white and they are all black, so they most likely would not accept me even if I could go out and play.

Now, I am laying in bed, trying to sleep, listening to the gunfire outside. It happens almost every night. It is why I cannot leave the yard. It is why I cannot go to school. My parents do not believe I can handle school in this neighborhood. They believe it is too unsafe. So, they teach me at home. I never have to write papers or anything else like kids on television do at their schools, but I can read very well. I can read novels written for grown-ups. I like to read them, too. It is like actually going somewhere and doing something important for a change, in the books I am powerful and I always win – even though it is really the imaginary characters in the stories doing everything, I feel as if I am with them. I am always sad when I am not reading. People always ask why I am sad and I cannot answer them because I do not know.

I am eighteen and I am angry. I wish the world would end. I hate my life and I know now why I was always so sad: no one should have to be holed up like that under any circumstances! The kids in the neighborhood that went to school have better prospects for their life than I do, and they are not alone like this. I must face entering the world with absolutely no idea what I am doing. I hate my parents and blame them for everything. My parents could not teach me any better than they did, so they refuse to admit my education was inadequate – except for reading, that is. My reading is great, but that will not get me a job. I do not know how to do anything that anyone will pay me for. I know I will certainly have to face the streets and hear again the sounds that came from the old neighborhood when I was small. But this time I will be out there, too. I am terrified. But I know where I'm going if I die as long as I don't commit suicide -- I strongly doubt that will be necessary. This thought will have to keep me calm for now.

I am nineteen and am driving to Springfield, MO. That is where Kim and Michele live. I met them at a big Women’s Convention last year. I spent my life savings to attend, hoping that preacher woman with an abusive past had answers that would work for me. Kim, Michelle and I have stayed in contact on the phone and through e-mail. It may be a place to start, I cannot be sure. I have only eighty-one dollars to my name. I have no idea where I will work, but there are more jobs there than in Northern Indiana. I know they cannot put me up, so I will have to sleep in the car. I have passed St. Louis and am entering the beautiful Ozark Mountains. Sometimes it feels like I am riding a roller-coaster, the front bumper of my little car pointing almost straight down. It makes me tremble or it may be my emotions causing that. I cannot believe all this is happening; I cannot believe I am doing this. Sink or swim, I am going in – because I have no choice.

I am twenty-one, and deeply disappointed. I am half-running down Commercial Street. There is an unscrupulous-looking character behind me. My heart is pounding and my mouth tastes terrible. I am on my way to take the GED at a building called The Kind Place. It is a thirty-minute walk one-way. It stinks in there, but the people who operate it are indeed kind. I am not certain the bedraggled man behind me is chasing me; he may simply be going in the same direction. He seems harmless and is letting me gain distance on him. However, since he was headed the opposite way until he saw me then nonchalantly changed directions, then crossed the street a few blocks back and is now on the same side of the road as me, I believe I will keep up my pace. You never know about people. It is far better not to take chances. I will arrive early for GED as usual. There is almost always a reason to run in this area.

I am sitting inside at a desk. Sometimes I still hate my life. I believe I belong here, on the streets. My GED teacher keeps talking about college. I do not believe I fits well with who I am. If I studied anything, it would be welding. I may pursue that at some point, but I need any job I can get and my own roof first. I am a roughneck, an under dog, and a survivor. I was born and raised that way. I study in the school of real life. It is a school of hard knocks sometimes, but sometimes it is a school of miracles and mercy. College is for people with silver spoons in their mouth who want to sit around all day in an office and make massive paychecks. I am not made that way. Even if I was, I am so infinitely behind in every subject except English that there is no school in the world that will accept me. They cannot be expected to understand. If I am to bloom, I will have to do it where I am planted. I will stay on this side of the tracks, stay out of trouble and see if I can contribute anything where I am. Sometimes that thought makes me want to puke. It hurts, it is not fair, but that is the way life is and my feelings do not matter anyway, period.

I am now twenty-six and presently making a second attempt at going to college. I changed my major last semester from Occupational Certificate in Welding to a B.A. in music with a minor in theatre. I have lived all over the Mid-West and have been homeless three times in the last seven years. I have an apartment and a car, again. This time, I have friends who share a lot of my interests. With them, I help run a little off-the-wall, hole-in-the-wall place called Wake the Dead. We attract kids who don't fit in (or believe they do not fit in) and try to be good examples and a good influence for them. I believe I have ruined the last two or three years of my life trying to be someone I am not but believed I was destined to be. I am not a roughneck. I grew-up in a rough-neck family, but I never felt I belonged with them. I am Gothic and plan to make Gothic music once I play well enough. I don't care that most Christians believe Goth is of the devil. They don't even know what it is.

I am studying to become an ethnomusicologist. An ethnomusicologist is a missionary who embeds temporarily with indigenous peoples, learns their culture, art and musical style, and puts passages of scripture and worship songs into that style, encourages them to start making Christian songs of their own, and expresses the Truths of God's Word in art and drama. God's word kept me off drugs, off the street corners and from killing myself or perhaps even someone else. With the same Word, I can make people's lives better, no matter what their preferred culture or lifestyle.

I cannot believe I am still alive. As imposing as the odds appeared, I didn't even see at the time how bad the odds always were. I hope everyone can learn that growing up around water doesn't make you a duck. One must adjust to the fact that change will be frightening and will hurt and may take a long time but you must do it anyway because it is worth it.

Anthropology and the Word of God

When I was an anthropology major, I learned a lot about God, and not just because I studied theology at the same time. I had so many challenges to the things I believed and the way I applied it, I had to seek revelation in order to continue to believe. I needed revelation to continue to cling to what had gotten me from the streets/ghettos and a rather rootless life believing I could not do academics, to one of the top schools in the nation with an international reputation. I did not believe, and still don't believe, that I or any other human is smart enough to figure out the cosmos, God, and the Truth. However, I DO believe we can be taught, not by each other but by God. God uses us to give each other lessons, but that is not the same as building our cosmology and beliefs on the sayings or doings of other people or on ourselves. God used what I learned in that short season to break strongholds in my life; it was either ask/allow God to show me the strongholds and divorce them from my world-view, or let go of the One I love. My pragmatic mind allows no other alternatives. I know I had to take that journey to prepare me to break even more strongholds and also help other people, and that preparation continues today.

I post a lot of stuff on indigenous rights and gender roles, particularly in my groups "For Woman- Friendly Goth" and "For Christ-Centered Environmentalism." I get extremely wired and hot-under the collar about a lot of teaching I have heard and still hear, and even the examples given in sermons to help people understand certain things. I now realize they are just trying to make analogies so people can grasp biblical concepts, but it still annoys me. In scripture, Paul used the slave system a lot to expound on things, not because slavery was of God, but because it was a deeply entrenched stronghold that was so ingrained and familiar, it was the best way to explain some things to his audience - and himself, I suppose.

Gender is a hot-button issue in our society, in church and out of it. Marriage is under attack from numerous fronts, and attacker is, of course, the devil (not the people he uses!). We are experiencing a chastening and a process of correction when it comes to some core, foundational aspects of our society (gender and subsistence) and the enemy is trying to twist it to his benefit. The Accuser of the Brethren is happy to say that we are wrong NOT ONLY in the ares God is trying to show us, but in supporting things that really are God's ways.
I am an ex-gay, or rather, an ex-bi-sexual. I am out of the closet now, I guess, but no matter how many times I openly self-identify as a person with a testimony of deliverance in that respect, it always feels like the first time. Gender issues have been a source of torment and potential alienation for me for as long as I can recall. The Bible does indeed condemn any surrender to the temptations I often had, and around which I once built my identity. The church has long been a scary place for me, and important areas of teaching - e.g. gender, marriage and family, etc. - a source of intense pain and confusion. Studying anthropology has exposed me to versions of darkness in this area I have never known, that boggle my mind and could make me cry.

It has also exposed me to the wonders and the works of the Lord in ways/degrees I would not have thought possible this side of Heaven. Those later things are a challenge to my Western/American pride like no amount of reciting scripture has been to me or anyone I have ever met. Seeing people who have never heard the Word LIVE IT DAILY in areas/ways the church here does not seem to dream of is both embarrassing and liberating at once. Paul observed this phenomena and mentioned it in Romans 2:13-15, "(For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified.For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves:Which shew the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else excusing one another." I've been exposed, albeit indirectly, to ways of life where "The Up-Side-Down Kingdom that is Right-Side-Up" as Joyce Meyer used to call it, is actually perceived as Right-side-Up without having any knowledge of scripture.

Initially, this put stress on my faith because unreached people groups were living better in some big ways that anyone here. If we are charged with bringing light into the darkness, what doe sit mean if the places without the Word already have so much light? Also there are lies in those studies I found later with more study that seemed to "prove" that what I believed about the universe was insupportable. So between all of that, I went through a lot of hell trying to make sense of my now transformed world. I refused to reason it out but walked the floor and prayed for revelation. I got "It is not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick." Throughout scripture, the worst or most unlikely heroes were the ones used by God. Why would we think God chose to give us the word and send us through the world because we were morally better than everyone else? of course He would choose the worst. Abraham came from a really screwed up place and was married to his sister. THAT is almost unheard of in all the world, no matter how unreached or dark. It is an instinctive moral conviction anthropologists don't know the source of, and it is very rare to lose that, but Ur of the Chaldeans had lost it. Abram's world was so foul, he thought people would kill him to take his wife away whenever he went to new places. That is a most unusual extreme of misogyny and violence, of course God started his redemptive plan among the peoples of the world that needed the most help. Why would I think otherwise? Because I was raised to think I was better and knew better than all the people's of the world, that the most moral and godly people on earth live in my society, or a similar one, and act/think like me.

This has resolved a lot of confusion for me about stuff I'd been taught and believed that seemed to contradict (they did contradict, but neither I nor my teachers could comprehend how to put it all to work the right way) and how to go about in this world. What I learn helps reveal answers to me for many serious problems, in the home and out of it, in my personal life and in the nation/world I live in. It has been instrumental in crushing deep, powerful strongholds that have kept me from living and thinking as God wants me to, and from doing what God destined me to do. If I sound confused at times it's because at times I am. It is hard to see things I believed about myself, people, or God that are really destructive and not really in scripture. When I see it, though, I can break free of it if I don't try to "figure it out" but listen and wait for God's guidance. When I write it, it may also help others to do the same. It will be tempting to assume I am "trying to make the Bible fit a left-wing view", but I am not part of the left. I am no longer part of the right, either. This process has been divorcing my heritage as a believer from my heritage as an American, my identity as a woman from demeaning stereotypes, my view of men from my view of dogs and drill Sergeants (in a manner of speaking), my view of love and sex from the media - both "Christian" and secular, cause both are often gateways into bondage - and my view of God from the past. It's not the be-all-end-all but it is wonderful, and great preparation for ministry and/or missions.

Every time I speak, I expect I might upset someone. Usually those most offended are the ones who most need to hear, but I can't help that. All I can do is share what I am learning as this process unfolds. I hope you can understand that.
Godspeed.