<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315</id><updated>2012-02-15T22:57:44.968-08:00</updated><category term='change'/><category term='Religious'/><category term='Trust'/><category term='God'/><title type='text'>bl@'s mog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-972365895412664366</id><published>2009-01-13T00:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T00:39:25.665-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somewhere tonight</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Somewhere tonight is a person who is already sound asleep, having cast the worries and cares of the world around them off, or at least to the back of their mind, and are now contently engaged in their own slumber.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight an individual lies still and motionless, staring at the ceiling. Sleep evades them because they are consumed by worries and fears that they have no control over. Like a cancer, fear eats away at them- devouring dreams, thoughts, and joy and leaving trails of doubt, disbelief, and fear in its wake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight a girl sits curled up in a corner, trying to become so small that Daddy won't find her. Long before the bottle runs dry, she starts running- trying to find some place where she can hide that he won't find her. Only he always finds her. And then the insults and curses start flying, followed shortly by the fists. It'll last until Daddy gets too tired and collapses. Then she'll crawl away and clean herself up, all the while wishing she had the tears to cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight a boy sits at the edge of his bed as blood drips down his arm and onto the carpet. He doesn't really feel it anymore... he doesn't really feel anything anymore. Something inside of him compels him to the knife- what he can't really explain. The cutting is the only thing that really makes him feel alive anymore... and sometimes he wonders what it would be like if he wasn't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight she's giving herself away to another nameless face. Momma always told her she was good-for-nothing and she would never be loved by anyone. So she's brought herself here. Again. Just to prove Momma wrong. Only... she's just proving Momma right. Deep down inside she knows it, too. But she knows nothing else and no one else really seems to care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight she can't sleep from the noises around her. On the ground, only a few feet away, her brother's wheezing breath intensifies from the cold night air. He hasn't moved or been moved from his mat in weeks and she knows he probably never will again. It's not the boy's breathing that keeps her awake, but rather the fear that it will stop... and that brother will be gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight he sits with his back against the cell's bars. His lips, both swollen and bleeding, move silently with his eyes slit half open from the swelling. They've just thrown him back into prison for speaking about the love of Christ to the children in his neighborhood. It's his third time in here... and he knows he won't make it out again. His lips continue in their silent march, speaking not death towards his captors but life. He prays not for his deliverance but for the salvation of those who beat him and have cast him into this hole to rot. And he silently offers up prayers of thanks and praise for the situation God has placed him in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight the growling of his children's stomachs keeps him awake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight she's decided that the pills are going to finally end it all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight she questions her faith and if Christ really could be the person He claimed to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight her pastor wonders the same thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight dictators, presidents, prime ministers, and world leaders lie in drug-induced sleep because the fear of insurrection and assassination from within their regime would keep them up otherwise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight a soldier lies in a trench hole, having watched friends and allies die all around him for longer than he can remember. The stench of death seems unwilling to leave his nostrils and he asks himself if this is all really worth dying for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight hollow and ritualistic prayers are being lifted up to dead ancestors and deaf idols.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight youth are being training on how to be suicide bombers and become martyrs for their faith.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight she is being forced into a room with cameras and a strange man. She knows whats in store for her, which is why she fights it all the more. The penalty for her disobedience and lack of cooperation will be severe but she resists, nonetheless. She can't do this. She won't do this. She tells them this, at the top of her lungs. Over and over and over again... hoping and praying that maybe they'll listen to her. This time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Somewhere tonight, a God who looks like, smells like, acts like, feels like, and sounds like love desires to reach out and touch the lives of the broken, discouraged, confused, frightened, hurting, and lonely. He moves on the hearts of those people who call themselves His followers, urging them forward towards those in such dire need of His love. But many... so many do not. In a world where love is the only cure, many with this antidote choose not to share it with the dying. Why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Because somewhere tonight is a person who is already sound asleep, having cast the worries and cares of the world around them off, or at least to the back of their mind, and are now contently engaged in their own slumber.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-972365895412664366?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/972365895412664366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=972365895412664366' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/972365895412664366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/972365895412664366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2009/01/somewhere-tonight.html' title='Somewhere tonight'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-5256519729025244061</id><published>2008-11-20T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T11:49:31.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contemplative</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Well, I've taken to thinking as of late.  Contemplating, dreaming... seeking wisdom, guidance and grace as I prepare for this somewhat vague step that looms out in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironic, it would seem.  While in one hand I feel I have more vision, purpose, and direction for my life... I still feel this awkward sense of uncertainty looming over my head.  Though I can see the steps I need to take laid out before me, there is still the ominous feeling that I am taking blind steps of faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It stirs up an interesting combination of excitement and nervousness inside of me.  The future, while held in God's hands, is still a mystery to me.  The path that I will take to translate my dreams to reality has not been fully illuminated to me... only a few steps with an almost awkward spotlight on certain areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my dreams to be fulfilled so bad.  There are so many times I can see myself walking in those shoes... doing the things that I dream about doing.  These dreams help me to justify the time I spend in preparation, but than again there's the horrible doubts that like to crawl up like termites and gnaw away at my foundations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Will these things ever truly come to pass?&lt;br /&gt;                                              Am I wasting time dreaming and planning?&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                       Will I ever truly get to China to do those things I so desire to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sit here, in meditation and contemplation, praying that the dreams I feel have been placed inside will not always merely &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;be the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;dreams of a 20-something college student, but precursors to the life I was always created to live.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-5256519729025244061?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/5256519729025244061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=5256519729025244061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/5256519729025244061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/5256519729025244061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/11/contemplative.html' title='Contemplative'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-5943319895029400351</id><published>2008-10-08T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T07:52:49.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;It is a beautiful fall morning in East Texas, marked by its signature light breeze that keeps the blue flags on the "anvil" dancing and the crispness in the air that makes every breath feel like a gentle kiss from the Father.  It would seem that the highly anticipated Fall has arrived in Texas... finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is truly a glorious birthday present from my Father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite frustrations, difficulties, and times of pressure, I choose to make this day different.  Not in the self-conscious, pseudo-strength of my own humanity and not even, solely, because it is my birthday.  On the contrary, in essence I am choosing this day who I will serve, as Joshua did so long ago.  I do not desire to exalt myself or the situations I find myself in, but choose to exalt God, Almighty.  Times when we are hard pressed will continue to come- Christ told us this before His return to His Father's right hand.  But these times of trial are used to provoke us to a closer relationship with our LORD; they spur us to maturity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, perhaps it is due to my birthday I choose this new outlook on life and the situations that surround it.  Not that celebrating another successfully completed year of existence bestows "bonus" maturity or wisdom points to anyone.  It just seems that its about time I started living my life, not having my life live me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, God, for helping my through another year.  There is no way that I could ever have made it this far without You and the friends and family you have so richly blessed me with.  Help me to make this year different from the rest; one where I grow closer and closer to You and the calling that You have placed on my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-5943319895029400351?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/5943319895029400351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=5943319895029400351' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/5943319895029400351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/5943319895029400351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/10/reflection.html' title='Reflection'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-2485881658732925878</id><published>2008-08-07T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T20:17:58.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do the tears make it selfish?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Do the tears make it selfish?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Do I dare mourn for the imminent loss that waits just around the corner?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;This collapse of so much that I have come to know will cost me greatly; more so than many could ever perceive.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Even yet, there is this strange peace that engulfs it all.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A peace the surpasses all understand, just as promised.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Praise God for that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And this peace brings in a new perspective- a clearer vision of how the situation really should be perceived.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;How can I mourn for something that hasn't died?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;On the contrary, something is finally coming to life, like a child that grows in the shelter of its mother so as to reach maturity, untainted, before being brought into the world.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And just as an expectant mother is jubilant when this child breathes its first breath on its own, so I should rejoice for what is about to begin living on its own.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;With this peace and excitement for those things that God is about to begin doing... memories of the journey that has brought us all to this place replay in my head.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The laughter echoes through my mind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The faces shuffle across my imagination.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Times that are so precious to me; memories I wouldn't change or trade for anything in this world.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sadly, this trek down memory lane only reminds me that so much around me will soon be unrecognizable.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I cannot help but wonder at all the changes that await at my doorstep.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This realization brings tears to my eyes and I wonder...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Do the tears make it selfish?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-2485881658732925878?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/2485881658732925878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=2485881658732925878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/2485881658732925878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/2485881658732925878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/08/do-tears-make-it-selfish.html' title='Do the tears make it selfish?'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-6655453929367247950</id><published>2008-07-19T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T09:42:33.688-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>Shifting Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;It's all going to change.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every part of it... never to be the same.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tomorrow will look nothing like today because today will be gone forever.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nothing stays the same...ever.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You will realize just how precious the time we've been given is right before you realize its almost over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;And sure, things might look the same for a while.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; of the scenery hasn't changed or some of the same players are in the game.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Only the rules of the game are far different now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The once so familiar sights are seen with new perspective and different light.  The actors in the play now operate in completely different roles.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So while things might be the same... things are still very, very different.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;But is that all bad?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not necessarily.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No, these constant change and shuffle only goes to prove the Sovereignty of God- that even though things around us might constantly be shifting in and out of focus, Jehovah promises to always be consistent.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is our Rock that will not shift or change- the stability we need in a world where everything is constantly shifting and in motion.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;When the world rocks around you and it looks like things are crashing down... where else can we turn to?   Trusting in God doesn't make the tears sting any less as they cascade down your cheek.  It doesn't make the churching in your stomach dissipate as you watch your world crumble around you.   No, it doesn't save us from our own emotions- it  teaches us to trust in something so much more powerful than our emotions could ever be!  It  reminds us that Christ suffered emotional highs and lows during His time here ... And that His sole source of strength came from trusting in the Father.&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-6655453929367247950?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/6655453929367247950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=6655453929367247950' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/6655453929367247950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/6655453929367247950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/07/its-all-going-to-change.html' title='Shifting Changes'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-5297506095678624200</id><published>2008-07-17T16:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T16:19:21.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good of God?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;There you are:  casually living your life, existing without any hindrances or obtrusive entanglements when suddenly...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;BAM!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;You find yourself flat on the ground, looking up at the sky as the clouds spin wildly out of control above you thinking, "What on earth just broadsided me?  And what do I do about it now?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;No, it can't simply be the casual things- you're staring into the face of something that has the potential to shape the rest of your life.  Doors that might be opened... Others that might be closed.  Balancing between the all-encompassing question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is this good?  Or is the God?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then all of a sudden it hits you:  What if there isn't really a right or wrong in this situation?  What if it isn't a test of whether or not you will choose to follow His will.  Its just choosing how God will manifest Himself to you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The footsteps of the righteous are ordered by God...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But where do the next set of footsteps begin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-5297506095678624200?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/5297506095678624200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=5297506095678624200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/5297506095678624200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/5297506095678624200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/07/good-of-god.html' title='Good of God?'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-6699643106494760900</id><published>2008-07-12T14:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T14:44:52.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruined</title><content type='html'>When you look out at the world and realize that things aren't as picture perfect as you once thought they were... it leaves a mark on you. A burden is placed on your soul that doesn't just drift away. No, it changes you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a child tells you that they can't color the picture you gave them because they don't have crayons back home, its shocking at first. Surely you heard that wrong. You don't have any crayons? And not only do you not have crayons... you can't even go buy a box? You live in America. This is a land of prosperity- how can a five-year old child not own a box of crayons? Poverty like this... exists? Here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you begin sharing the Gospel of Jesus with a little child and they look back at you in perplexed wonder and tell you they've never heard of Jesus before...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you once thought you where immune to foolish, childish ideas of how the world looks, you suddenly realize that you have no clue how the world really functions. You have no clue what poverty looks like. You have no clue what hopelessness looks like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like the little kid down the street who doesn't wear shoes... and its not by their own choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like the children ravaged by the AIDS epidemic in Africa that we so quickly dismiss and sweep aside, assuming that God will place it on someone else's heart to intercede and do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like the little ones trapped in slavery and bondage, suffering in ways that defy every aspect of our logic and go farther than our worst nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like your neighbors and schoolmates who seem fine on the outside, while we know that deep down they are on the brink of collapse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's these "little" things that change you.  They change you in such ways that you want to stay changed forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They ruin you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that we all become ruined in this way...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-6699643106494760900?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/6699643106494760900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=6699643106494760900' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/6699643106494760900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/6699643106494760900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/07/ruined.html' title='Ruined'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-8462772634701052445</id><published>2008-07-12T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T14:44:06.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God Show</title><content type='html'>This world is not about us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, this can come as a shock for many of us. So much of what we do, what we listen to, what we seed into- we do for self-centered reasoning. We seek to feed our lust for self-gratification like a dog in heat. We build grotesque monuments to ourselves that would rival the Tower of Babel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the purpose of Babel? The people unified themselves to build a monument that would reach the heavens. Why? Where their motives to reach a closer level of intimacy with God, a nearness that couldn't be obtained any other way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not hardly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They weren't seeking a closeness to God. They wanted to rival God. They'd bought into the lie of the Garden, the original sin that promised equality with God...and maybe even to surpass Him. With unified vision and purpose, mankind set out to construct themselves into superiority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider what advancements could have been made if mankind, utilizing that same unification, set out to fulfill the command God had given them, to cover the Earth with the knowledge of Jehovah God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, God had to come down and scatter them across the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at us today? Are we all that different? Men build for themselves monuments to showcase their glory, though not always physical. We've elevated ourselves to where we think we are something far greater than what we really are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are small.&lt;br /&gt;We are minuscule.&lt;br /&gt;We are one against the backdrop of 6.2 Billion people across the world- 99.999999999% have never and will never know who you are.&lt;br /&gt;We are not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But GOD is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything we aren't, God is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And everything that He is, He wants to share with us. Not so that we can become self-righteous and to build up our already overly-inflated egos, but so that we can remain humble in the sight of an all encompassing, all enveloping God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's face the facts:  This life is not about us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is about God.  It's His show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-8462772634701052445?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/8462772634701052445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=8462772634701052445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/8462772634701052445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/8462772634701052445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/07/god-show.html' title='God Show'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1551206159563804315.post-4960908958056139239</id><published>2008-07-12T14:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T14:43:15.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Story</title><content type='html'>So it started.&lt;br /&gt;A day like any other day: a sunrise birthing light and life, morning awaking with all of its ruckus and activity. Some smile, some frown- few fully realize. Even fewer are grateful.&lt;br /&gt;But still, it starts.&lt;br /&gt;Not with a "bang" or unusuality.  Just... a day.&lt;br /&gt;Like today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1551206159563804315-4960908958056139239?l=hipcatmattio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/feeds/4960908958056139239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1551206159563804315&amp;postID=4960908958056139239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/4960908958056139239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1551206159563804315/posts/default/4960908958056139239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hipcatmattio.blogspot.com/2008/07/short-story.html' title='Short Story'/><author><name>m@</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06468148650659722598</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iyELV4IV0B4/SHknFkUtivI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VDtb4Y2UiYw/S220/HPIM1145.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
