Soft as an Oreo.

When I was a child, thirteen to be precise, I had my first experience of what if feels like when a large crowd of people name call you to the point of no return.

I had just been placed in boarding school and no sooner had my surname been uncovered than a crowd of boarder one class higher set to modifying it to contain the most foul of interpretations you can imagine. At first it was just one person and I cringed, then two and so on until crowd was chanting my name. (Now today I would have taken a bow as such attention.) But I had been through considerable trauma as a child and this just pushed me over the edge. Instanty I siezed the first boy in the crowd and punched him out. To my amazement the crowd dispersed and I was never troubled by that name ever again.

I got into rugby, and eventually ended up being one of the tough guys. No one so much as dared to pick a fight, for fear of the team would make mince meat out of them.

In my sixteenth year, I was at an all night party and it went on until the wee hours. Eventually we just crashed all over the place (it was a warm night) I attempted to get to sleep and suddenly I was slapped in the face by a cucumber sandwich (now I had cucumber on white bread) and I jumped up and headed in the direction from which the projectile had erupted and issued forth a warning of sorts, and was again pelted with one. I called to the darkness that the person who did this should show themselves for I was going to wack them. They came out and to my amazement was a really tall person with a crowd of buddies. I seized the element of suprise grabbed the shirt and popped my eager wielder of evil sandwiches right on the donk (nose) He went down like a sack of potatoes.

In my eighteenth year, I was now a little lamb for Jesus a work associate who did not have the Spirit of Christ, set to driving me to the edge of my control, by using me as a punch bag every lunch time. The transformation in my character was so great that no matter how he pounded me I did not retaliate, just trusting in the Lord. After a season of this torment, one day I just announced. "If you do that once again you are going to be sorry." Now I was fairly fluid in the martial arts and he just never saw it coming, I just gave him a straight jab to the nose and broke it and the lumbering giant, sort of like Goliath to me then, came crashing down.

I am not sure what is wrong with me these days. I guess I have gone soft inside like an Oreo. I have been called any manner of name and it just does not effect me like it did.

I was called a Calvinist, double header by Roman Catholics. An Arminian by Calminians. A Semi Pelagian by Reformed Christians, and lately I have been called a heretic. You know something it should bother me, but it does'nt because one day Jesus told me that He loves me and I am like an Oreo, hard on the outside but soft on the inside. I just want people to know this wonderful love of Christ, and I don't mind what sort of names they come up with to describe my kind of person, but right now I am having tea and I realize that the reason for so much of this hatred in Christians is because the have a spirit of accusation. Why? Cause they don't know they are loved.

Remember the story of Hook, when the little girls pipes up, "He really needs a Mommy". I do think the real problem why folks get so into accussing is because they just don't really have that assurance that Jesus loves them. So I want to say to you if you are a Christian, "Jesus loves you" and if you are not yet one and are thinking about it, "Jesus loves you". Why? Cause He really, really does.

I would like to learn if I should maybe change my song and say, "Jesus loves some and hates others" I guess it must be something to do with growning old, just want folks to get along and stop fighting with each other. A little bit of love goes a long way these days, huh?