Please don’t be ashamed for speaking up about what you believe, your passion, your conviction. When you get blasted for it, please don’t back-pedal and soften up and defend yourself too long. I don’t mean that you avoid challenges or self-examination. Of course we gut-check our fragile egos. I…
If you see matters of social justice (feminism, inhibition of sex-trafficking, racism, and rape, etc) as trivial, I question your heart for Jesus and His commission. There is no time to turn a blind eye. Not when our society has become so deeply rooted in gender inequality - when half the jokes we say and the music we hear are about the objectification of women. Not when our society condones the shooting of an innocent human being for the color of his/her skin. Not when businesses are being made out of human bodies. Not when so much sexual assault happens around the world by the second, and the victims are being blamed.
No. No more. There is more to this life than ourselves. There are living, breathing human beings out there, who need justice, love, and grace. Who need a hope and a Savior.
How can you help? Start with yourself. Look at your conversations, your thoughts, your beliefs and your convictions. What does your life look like? Are you living for that brief high when hanging out with friends? Are you caught up with your self-image, looking so inwardly that you’ve forgotten how to look outwardly? Are you afraid of feeling pain? To hurt with others? What is it that constantly turns your eyes away from the substantial, real things going on in this world? Be honest. What is it? Because it’s time to be pruned.
A season has come when the culmination of evil is nearing. As church-y and as ominous as that sounds, it’s true. Now is not the time to be turning a blind eye for our own safety and pleasure. It’s time to take up our crosses, to do as Jesus did and to be as Jesus was. Let’s go.
I just want to enter into a specific season. No jealousy, no romantic feelings, no girls, none of that. Just my areas of ministry, good brothers, some sisters, myself, and you Father. Help my fickle heart.
“and we forgive and forgive again, right?
that’s you and me.
we love and love and love
no matter the circumstance.
i’m still with you.
you might not act the same, but you’re still my bestfriend dan hwang.
what are best friends?
when i see you, i see you when you were the best
and that’s who you are,
always and it doesn’t change at all.
you can be broken and twisted, but i’ll always see my brother.”—Simon
“So many people refuse to identify as a feminist because when they hear the word, they don’t think about the equality of the sexes. Instead, they think of a bitter, defiant, man-hater. This is sad for two reasons. For one, this isn’t an accurate depiction of what a feminist is. Second, and most importantly, in rejecting the woman who is bitter, defiant, and untrusting of men, you forget that there was a time when she was soft, blithe, and ingenuous until a man she trusted wounded her so deeply that she refuses to risk feeling that pain again. And instead of caring to ask, “Who did this to you?” you shame her lack of compassion, and in doing so, you forfeit your own.”—LB, From Her; To Her (via blakebaggott)
Rape isn’t about uncontrollable sexual desire. You only have to listen in on a Call of Duty game to see that. When that kid crows, “I raped you!”, he’s not calling the other guy sexy; he’s saying he defeated him, dominated him, humiliated him. That’s what rape is about, and that should scare you.
Because my cousin shared 3 rape experiences she had
And on all three occasions
She was wearing sweats and was brutally beaten
So there goes your excuse
That my tight dress was asking for it
It might have escaped your attention,
But I don’t wake up in the mornings,
And put on a skirt thinking,
Will this get me raped?
I don’t put on a tank top hoping,
Maybe this one will.
Because in school, they teach us that our bodies are offensive.
They pull us from classrooms
Demanding if we have longer shorts,
Or even a sweater,
Reminding us that the boys are distracted,
That the boys go wild for a peeking shoulder,
Or the sight of a sun burned thigh,
Because their education is more important than ours.
Because white men in pressed suits,
Expensive watches hanging from their wrists,
Red faces glinting with arrogance,
Have more say over my body than I do.
Because those same men,
Quoting the Bible and fake statistics,
Have never shed blood,
As a twisted sacrifice for being a woman.
Because those same men,
Have never walked the streets,
Fearing for their lives,
Clinging to keys between their fingers like a lifeline
With pepper spray in their bags,
Ready for someone to feel entitled to their body.
Because when a man says no to us,
It is a fault in OUR character.
It is because we are not
Thin, tan, or perky enough for HIM.
Because when WE say no to a man,
Its still a fault in OUR character,
We are the cold, ruthless bitch,
Saying no to the nice guy,
Who offered to buy us a drink,
And Who complimented our hair.
Because a UCSB entitled nine-teen year old boy,
Can record a video
Of his plans to shoot down all the
“Blond bimbos who denied him his right,”
And then do so,
Only to have his actions excused by the media,
Claiming he was depressed,
Instead of admitting that male entitlement is dangerous.
Because I am done being silenced
And I am done being polite.
I am done sitting by
As a country hypocritically cries
Equality and justice
But doesn’t have equal pay
Lets men make decisions for a woman’s body
And blames the victim for the actions of a rapist.
Because our NO won’t be enough one day.
Because I wasn’t asking for it.
Because “Boys Will Be Boys,” is still an excuse
Because “Not All Men Are Like That,” is still a defense.
Because enough blood has been spilled.
Because I am sixteen years old, and I am so afraid, when I shouldn’t have to be.
Humbled in more ways than one. I didn’t think the burdens of the Church could cause such visceral responses in me. God, Your heart is so immense that it physically pains me to feel glimpses of it. It’s also all You. I cannot and will no longer rely on myself. It’s all You. I’m just a messenger.
Nobody wants to be around someone who is depressed. Sad.
Pastors. Mentors. Friends. Family.
Depression deters people because nobody wants to deal with the crap a human heart can actually spew.
How “loving” people say they are. Love does not always entail immediate happiness. It entails sacrifice.
When are we going to start loving each other.
A co-worker closed the door to the staff room behind him.
It locked automatically and I started planning what I could use as a weapon: smash the glass beside the fridge into his eye, pick up the fork next to me and sink it into his leg, claw him across the face if I couldn’t get to anything in time. As I calculated how hard it would be to shove his body weight off of me, he finished making his lunch, said, “Sup,” and left, the door automatically locking behind him. I expect if I told him I was prepared to stab him with the corner of my staff ID if I had to, he would say what I’ve heard too often, the one we all know but are getting wearily suspicious of: Not all men are like That.
When I was eleven, all the girls in my class got sent to self-defense because they assumed we’d need it one day.
When I was twelve, there was a prostitute’s body dumped in the river next to my house because someone thought she was disposable.
When I was thirteen, it happened again and this time the man went to jailand people stood outside the courtroom and held up signs that he did the right thing.
When I was fourteen, my friend showed up to a sleepover late, chest heaving from sobbing and from running four blocks after getting chased by a man that followed her off the bus.
When I was fifteen, my mother accused me of being a Man Hater and I said, “No, but god, would you blame me if I was?”
I got catcalled and then got laughed at when I flipped them off. They pulled up beside me and I clutched my bag tighter, my hand going in for my keys and my mind going over how their noses would look if I smashed them in with my elbow. “What’s the big deal,” the guy at the steering wheel asked. “We’re just complimenting you. We’re not like That.”
Sorry, but I’m not going to trust you in case I end up on a poster labelled ‘MISSING.’ Even if you seem like the nicest guy, I’ll still have one hand holding my keys as the only knife I’m allowed, because I don’t know how far you’re going to take it: if you won’t back off when I tell you I don’t want to date you if you’ll shout BITCH at me when I don’t respond well to your catcall if you’ll expect my body as a reward for treating me like a human being if you’ll try to take what you think you’re owed by being a man if you’ll turn me into another statistic that people shudder away from.
I have been trained to assume that it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing
or face the consequences. I don’t know if you’ll nod when I reject you
or pump me full of bullets.
Every single woman I’ve talked to has a story where they haven’t felt safe in their own body because of what a man said or did.
"Every single woman I’ve talked to has a story where they haven’t felt safe in their own body because of what a man said or did." One is enough to validate this, but I’m sure most of us have more like ten stories. I know I do.
Jesus brought a word to people to stop being prideful and to love each other. Still, he was hated by so many. He flipped the societal ideals upside down and brought hope to souls who were condemned by hopelessness. Still, he had people wanting to kill him. People judged him and acted out of jealousy and rage because they could not understand his words and actions. So unreasonable. People’s hearts can be so dark. Expect it, Dan. Expect it.
The anger that comes from my heart in different circumstances is not a spontaneous overflowing of unprecedented emotion - it has always been there.
I must learn to come to a resting peace and a genuine forgiveness.
Without either, my heart will always be harboring.
Break these chains.
I think it’s so important to see past people’s exteriors.
When I was battling depression heavily, I wanted nothing more than to be alone, far away from anything. I wanted people to stop asking me what was wrong, I wanted them to let me be, to let me wallow and drown in my hopelessness. I didn’t appreciate the prayers being prayed over me, the lackluster attempts at reaching out to me, and the special recognition I got for being “sad” all the time. It all made me bitter. So, so bitter. I labeled the people as fake and, as a result, wanted to be alone even more. I stopped going out of my way to meet up with friends, I brushed off people who came to me for guidance, I never looked genuinely happy. I was no longer myself.
It wasn’t until my battle with depression had subsided when I finally heard love knocking on the door of my heart, quietly at first and then louder and harder until I could no longer stop it from rushing in. I began to see the previously infuriating actions of the people around me as glimpses of Jesus. The conflicted look my roommate, Isaac, would give me when he saw me lying on my bed, missing classes, not talking to anyone. He wanted to help, but I wouldn’t let him and so all he could do was pray for me and try to cheer me up, day by day. The messages on Tumblr I received from many people, telling me it would be okay and that God has a plan for my life. “I don’t want to live right now, so thanks but no thanks. Stop messaging me” would be my initial thoughts. The advice from people who would probably never understand my circumstance, the sermons I heard every week, the prayer nights I kept going to for some reason — all of it. All of these things cracked away at my shell of utter hopelessness towards life and bitterness towards everyone. Slowly but surely. I was being freed from the chains from which my mind had convinced itself that I would never and should never be freed.
And so my brothers and sisters, I encourage you to look deeper into every single human being who walks this Earth. There are people out there who are drowning and cannot even see it for themselves. I was one of those people, but there were God-sends in my life who saw me not for who I showed them, but for who I actually was. They saw things in me that I could not see myself. They saw love past the bitterness, they saw a testimony to bring multitudes to Christ through my depression.
Everybody has the potential to be a greater person than they could have ever imagined. Everybody has the potential to do something extraordinary. Some people just need to be believed in so much so that they start believing in themselves. Don’t count anyone out.
“You know, if you ain’t poor, you might think it’s the folks in them big ole fine brick churches that’s doin all the givin and the carin and the prayin. I wish you coulda seen all them little circles a’ homeless folks with their heads bowed and their eyes closed, whisperin what was on their hearts. Seemed like they didn’t have nothin to give, but they was givin what they had, takin the time to knock on God’s front door and ask Him to heal this woman that had loved them.”—Denver Moore speaking about Deborah Hall
How does one get rid of anger and bitterness? Do you know of any verses about why or how depression can be unfruitful?
We have to turn to different things. To surround ourselves with people, activities, and influences that change our attitudes. THEN, we can deal with the anger and bitterness. Anger puts a lens over our eyes - we begin to see things for what they aren’t and only through outside influences we can take off that lens. No verses come to mind as to WHY depression can be unfruitful, but Paul does say to keep our minds on things that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable. I don’t think he says those things to merely keep us happy, but because he probably knew the toxic effects depressing thoughts had on the mind and heart. Hey, but I would love to talk off anonymous with you, beautiful person. Don’t be shy! :}
When people say: I’m a mess they’re not warning you off they’re willing you closer to see past the sadness at 2AM, and the chain-smoking, the crying at pianists midnight meals, foetal positions and the sulk of bottom lips
there’s something inherently vulnerable about it 'i'm a mess' it’s filled with a soft stark pleading you won’t hear unless you’re listening right and all it means is 'please don't leave me here alone.'
“COMPLIMENTS THAT AREN’T ABOUT PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
1) You’re empowering.
2) I like your voice.
3) You’re strong.
4) I think your ideas/beliefs matter.
5) I’m so happy you exist.
6) More people should be listening to what you have to say.
7) You’re a very warm hearted person.
8) It’s nice seeing such kindness.
9) You’re very down to earth.
10) You have a beautiful soul.
11) You inspire me to become a better person.
12) Our conversations bring me a lot of joy.
13) It’s good to see someone care so much.
14) You’re so understanding.
15) You matter a lot to me.
16) You’re important even if you don’t think so.
17) You’re intelligent.
18) Your passion is contagious.
19) Your confidence is refreshing.
20) You restore my faith in humanity.
21) You’re great at being creative.
22) You’re so talented at ____.
23) I don’t get tired of you the way I get tired of other people.
24) You have great taste in ___.
25) I’m happy I stayed alive long enough to meet you.
26) I wish more people were like you.
27) You’re so good at loving people.”—3:29 p.m. feel free to add to this! (via expresswithsilence)
Looking back just makes me feel like a failure. I can see what is toxic for some people and what is not, but the issue is bringing it up. I can’t tell people what to do with their lives and it hurts that I can be brushed away so easily for toxic decisions. Maybe it’s my role to just step back and let life take its course. I don’t know. Looking forward.
A guy who innately hates people and would rather be alone most of the time fights to see the good in everyone while also trying to love them despite all circumstances.
- an honest autobiography by Dan Hwang
Ever since starting college, I've become more and more distant with faith. I kept telling myself that time would heal everything, but it's been three years now and I'm still in the same place. I don't really believe in anything on a day to day basis anymore, but I find myself calling to Him when things get tough, which I totally hate... Do I stop being Christian or do I keep trying? Thanks.
Keep trying, keep trying, my friend. Keeping the faith is a race, it’s a fight. It is something we must contend for on a daily basis. Come off anonymous so we can talk more about it! :} I know I was so late to reply to this question and I apologize for that. Please come talk to me!