our-faith

wolfman1138  asked:

Greetings! Your prompts are fantastic and I would love to get your input on something. Could you make some prompts about a villain being ordered by a king-like villain he views as a father to go find and kill a hero he used to be friends with? My apologies if it is a complex request.

1) “We could – we could contain-”
“I know this is difficult,” the older man said. “But I would not ask you if this was not of the utmost importance – look at me.”
The villain peeled their gaze up and resisted the urge to swallow.
“I loved him too, like a son. Have faith in our cause, as I have faith in you.”

2) “No.” The word burst out of them before they could choke it down, like projectile vomiting.
The man moved faster than the villain had thought possible for their age, and the next second they were on their knees, face throbbing from the force of the blow. They stared at the other in utter, foolish shock.
“Don’t disappoint me, boy. It was not a request. Look, see what you made me do to you? Think carefully who’s side you want to take.“


3) “I’ve never asked anything of you.” The villain took a step closer. “I have served you well, without flaw or hesitation. But please, I can’t. Not them. Send someone else.”
The man was silent, expression impassive as he considered him.
“Please,” the villain said again. “I won’t ask you to spare them, I know you can’t, but…”
The man sighed, and his features shifted almost kind. “Listen, my boy.” He placed a hand on the villain’s head like a blessing. “You are not your own person, you are nothing, so don’t hurt yourself thinking. You are mine and you will do as I say. Do you understand?”

When we praise God in good times, our faith endures. But when times get hard and we praise Him still, our faith increases.
—  Something I’m learning in my walk with Christ

We actually determine whether a calamity is to increase our eeman, to test our faith, to punish us or to remind us. It depends on how we respond to it. If we are off the path and calamity took us on the path then it would be considered a reminder. If we are negligent and a calamity comes to us and we bear it patiently, then it was a test of our patience and increases our eeman. If we are negligent and it comes to us and we don’t reflect and we suffer-only then we determine ultimately whether calamity is punishment, test, reminder etc
“And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient.” (Noble Qur'an 2:155)
“Who, when disaster strikes them, say, "Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return.” Those are the ones upon whom are blessings from their Lord and mercy. And it is those who are the [rightly] guided. (Noble Qur'an 2:156-157)

“…He was moved with compassion for them.” (Matthew‬ ‭9:36‬)

Thinking today about the compassion of Christ for us in the midst of the messy and the mundane. Jesus always seeks out where the hurting and suffering ones are, and that’s where He stays. Our faith is imperfect at best, our weaknesses are many. Yet we live in a land of hope: the light of grace shines bright and we are close to His heart of mercy.

Spurgeon writes, “His tender heart pities all the griefs of his dear people. There is not a pang they have but the head feels it, feels it for all the members. Still doth he look upon their imperfections and their infirmities, yet not with anger, not with loss of patience, but with gentleness and sympathy, "He is moved with compassion.”

Character Development

Other fandoms: look at our child so grown up, pass the depression, pass the sadness, now they know happiness, they get along with others, they go on adventures, they are no longer selfish, they found confidence, the future is brighter and everything’s gonna be alright because we have our faith in them that they will thrive and -

YOI fandom: fudging hell yuri katsuki you ain’t no cinnamon ball you power top viktor like there’s no tmrw i bet my 50 bucks on it

HAPPY HOLBY TUESGAY!! Just a bit of silliness to get a fan girl through Robbie’s reappearance 😋

“We all go forward, with a presumption of good faith in our fellow citizens—because that presumption of good faith is essential to a vibrant and functioning democracy. That’s how this country has moved forward for 240 years. It’s how we’ve pushed boundaries and promoted freedom around the world. That’s how we’ve expanded the rights of our founding to reach all of our citizens. It’s how we have come this far.” —President Obama speaking today in the Rose Garden on bringing our country together after the election: go.wh.gov/WJ48yw

npr.org
Trump Refugee Ban Clashes With Faith-Based Groups' Religious Missions
Six of the nine agencies that resettle refugees in the U.S. are religious groups. Their leaders say the president's decision to halt the refugee flow runs counter to their beliefs and ministry.

“It is deeply ingrained in our faith and our understanding of the Bible that we’re called to welcome the stranger and love and serve our neighbors,” says LIRS President Linda Hartke. “Not the neighbors that we choose, but the neighbors that God gives to us.”

The idea of prioritizing Christian refugees, as President Trump says he wants, does not come from Hartke’s church or from other Christian groups. The news that Trump wants to close the door to refugees, especially from Syria, has alarmed those Lutheran congregations that were prepared to accommodate refugees.

“My phone is ringing off the hook,” Hartke says, “from people in local churches who want to know when they can receive a refugee family. Those are hard calls to take — to have to tell people that the president’s decisions will likely mean that there won’t be refugees that they can be welcoming in the months and perhaps years ahead.”

#NastyWoman

by Nina Donovan, as performed by Ashley Judd at the Women’s March on Washington (1.21.2017)

I’m a Nasty Woman.
Not as nasty as a man who looks like he bathes in cheeto dust.
Not as nasty a man who is a diss track to America.
From Back to broken Back he’s stomped on, his words are just more white noise ruining this national anthem.
I’m not as nasty as confederate flags being tattooed across my city;
maybe the south actually is going to rise again
Or maybe it never really fell
Because we’re still drowning in vanilla coated power
Slavery has just been reinterpreted into the prison system
Black lives are still in shackles and graves just for being black in front of people who see melanin as animal skin
Tell me of a decade that didn’t have traces of white hoods burning up our faith in humanity.
I’m not as nasty as a swastika painted on a pride flag
And I didn’t know that devils could be resurrected but I feel Hitler in these streets
A mustache traded in for a Toupee
The Nazis renamed The Cabinet
Conversion therapy the new gas chamber,
Shaming and electrocuting the gay out of America
turning rainbows into suicide notes.
I’m not as nasty as racism, or fraud, or homophobia, sexual assault, transphobia, white supremacy, white privilege, ignorance, or misogyny
Not as nasty as trading girls like pokemon before their bodies have even evolved.
Not as nasty as your own daughter being your favorite sex symbol
Like wet dreams infused with your own genes.
But yeah!
I’m a nasty woman.
A phunky
Crusty
Bitchy
Loud
Nasty woman.
Not as nasty as the combo of Trump and Pence being served into my voting booth,
But I’m nasty like the battles women fought to get me in that voting booth.
Nasty like the fight to close the wage gap.
Nasty like conversations trying to remind people there is such thing as a wage gap.
Tell me that this is only because women usually go into lower paying fields.
So why did last year’s top actresses make less than half of what the top actors did?
Do you realize that the World Cup shelf of the U.S. men’s soccer team is as empty as Trump’s promises
But the women’s team has scored three World Cups,
In 2015, brought in 20 million more dollars in revenue than the men’s team,
but is still paid 75% less?
See even when women go into high paying careers, their wages are still cut with blades sharpened by testosterone.
Tell me why the work of a black woman and a hispanic women is only worth 63 and 54 percent of a white man’s privileged paycheck?
This is not a feminist myth;
this is inequality.
So we are not here to be debunked
We are here to be respected.
We are here to be nasty
like blood stained bedsheets.
In case you forgot,
women don’t choose when or if they get their periods!
Trust me, if could we would!
We don’t like throwing away our favorite pairs of underwear!
But men can choose to not have sex
And they know how to live without a full head of hair,
so why are tampons and pads still taxed, but Viagra and Rogaine isn’t?
Is your erection really more important than protecting the messy parts of my womanhood?
Is the thinning of your hair really more embarrassing than the period-staining of my jeans?
I know it seems petty to complain about a few extra cents
But it’s just the finishing touch on a pile of change I have yet to feel in this country.
So don’t try to justify our injustices with excuses that smell like your security when you’re walking alone to the bathroom
or your car
or down the street.
Security my eyes have yet to see
Their too busy praying to my feet
So you don’t mistake eye contact for wanting physical contact
I’ve been zipping up my smile so you don’t think I want to unzip your jeans.
I know you forget to examine the reflection of your own privilege
You may be afraid of the truth
But I’m not afraid to be honest
I’m not afraid to be nasty
Yeah I’m nasty
like the struggle of women still beating equality into the world,
because our rights have been beaten out of us for too long.
And our fight will continue to embody our nastiness.
I’m nasty like red, white, and blue bruises.
Nasty like Elizabeth, Amelia, Rosa, Eleanor, Condoleezza, Sonia, Malala, Michelle.
Our mothers, our sisters, us sisters are all nasty like history
And our pussies
ain’t for grabbing
They’re for reminding you that our walls are stronger than America’s ever will be.
They’re for birthing new generations of
Filthy
Vulgar
Bossy
Brave
Proud
Nasty women.
So if you a nasty woman
say hell yeah.

Pray for those who cannot pray

There are times in our faith journey, that we can’t bring ourselves to pray.

Some of us suffer from depression and other chronic illnesses that leave us silent in spirit. 

Some of us are just experience times of spiritual dryness or doubts.

Some of us are too busy, too distracted, it could be anything.

So if you see this and you can pray a simple prayer, please do it for those who need it and can’t do it for themselves.

To hold our tongues when everyone is gossiping, to smile without hostility at people and institutions, to compensate for the shortage of love in the world with more love in small, private matters; to be more faithful in our work, to show greater patience, to forgo the cheap revenge obtainable from mockery and criticism: all these are things we can do.
—  Hermann Hesse

Mugsy, Golden Retriever (2 y/o), Hudson & Barrow St., New York, NY • “He’s my soulmate (don’t tell my fiancée, though I think he already knows). He’s my 4th Golden. He loves the water – he’ll break through the ice to make himself a little swimming pool and loves to go to the beach. Our lives revolve around making him happy. We got him and were going to move out of the city, but he kind of restored our faith in humanity. Before we had him nobody would really talk to us; now everyone wants to talk to us.”

Read Chapters One and Two here.

Our Story

[December 24th, 1991] 

While Jamie and Claire’s studio remains the same, the flowers change with the turn of seasons: their petals have become felted cloth, now neon-bright as they hang from a child’s mobile. The pots along the sill are gone, their soil-dust trails cleaned and roots transplanted to a community garden. In their place, sits a collection of shiny, new tools for a shiny, new crib, which stands half-assembled beside the cot. All the while, the flower mobile blooms above it, suspended in silent wait for spring. For Faith.

Come April, Jamie and Claire will bring the sunshine into their home, no longer needing the single window and its lancing, evening light. Come April, they will have marigold walls, yellow linens, and bright rubber duckies floating in the sink. All of this for the baby that will sleep inside the shiny, new crib beneath the flowers that will never die.

Faith. This is the name they have given their future, no longer an unfurnished corner in their studio, but a growing presence inside Claire’s belly.

Ugh!”

“That bad is it?”

“Worse than bad. I look like a whale who’s just fucked a Christmas tree.” 

Jamie opens his eyes, his wife framed by his fingers, and he moves his hands to stifle a laugh.

“And a few wee penguins at that…”

You’re not helping,” Claire whines, examining her reflection in the mirror. Rounded cheeks, rounder stomach; sharp lines blurred by months of pregnancy. All afternoon, she has scolded and cajoled, bribed and threatened her cottons and nylons – “Stretch, stretch, stretch, damn you!” But the fabrics are stubborn, loath to surrender their claim on Claire’s body to the child pushing against them.

“Jamie, I can’t go out wearing this!”

“I dinna see how you’ve much choice in the matter, Sassenach,” Jamie replies. The sweater – the same one she’d worn the evening they met – hugs her stomach. Tight but still discreet, only a flash of flesh above her waistline. “Party’s at 8. We’ve no time to go shopping for a proper outfit. It’s either that or what God gave ye.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? A naked, pregnant woman sipping virgin egg nog in front of the buffet. Happy bloody Christmas!”

“Angus wouldna mind.”

“Well, so long as the host is happy…”

I wouldna mind…”

Claire snorts and twirls, as if to say, “Are you sure of that?” (He is, absolutely, and to the marrow of his bones.)

Jamie sighs. “D’ye want me to wear mine too?”

“You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

“Aye, that’s the one.” 

“Yes,” she replies, grinning. She remembers where it lies amongst the rest of their clothes, just as she remembers its wooly scratch against her breasts two years before. Jaime’s hands (so much larger than hers, even then) lifting it up and over, laying her bare beneath the fluorescent lights of his dorm room. “Yes, I want you to wear your Belligerent Santa jumper.” 

Jamie nods.

“And no beer for you, either. Just store-bought non-alcoholic egg nog. My misery needs company.”

“Fair is fair.”

“And – ”

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

Ach, weel. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, Rupert will be so grateful for the attention, Jamie.” 

“What are friends for?” He draws closer, vibrating. “But what about you, Sassenach?”

“Me? You’ll look more ridiculous than I will. I’ll be peachy and taking shots of fake egg-nog!”

Claire finds the sweater and throws it to Jamie, watches him catch it. The hem is still an unraveled spool, which she winds and winds around her finger. Once, twice, three times until it marks her skin in a pale, white ring. She pulls it taut, feels the slow draining of her finger as the blood retreats. Electricity between them (the pipes groan, the winter thaw come at last).

“Now,” Claire purrs, “put that on so I can take it off you.”

“D’ye think we have time?”

“Of course we do,” she says. (It will not always be this way but right now, in this moment, they are young and immortal.)

“Well then,” Jamie says, bowing. “Your servant, madame.”

Let Me Learn Y'all a Thing

Feyre isn’t going to sleep with Tamlin. It’s that cut and dry. And it’s not gonna be suspicious in any way.

Need I remind y'all that she has her daemati magic? She freaking brain washed Tarquin (given, he’s hella younger than Tamlin and Rhys) but have a little more faith in our girl. Feyre is very good at getting out of situations.

Le Tool does not stand a chance.