Not a thumping gizzard.

First I would like for you to go and read this post by a woman I know as Jamie the Very Worst Missionary.

Now then. Here is my response to her post.

Distant. Angry. Frustrated. Driven. Workaholic. Crude. Bastard. Jerk. Jock. Checked out. 
Layers upon layers of names have been given to men over the course of their lives. Crybaby. Queer. Punk. Sissy. Useless. Quitter. Failure. 

Over and over again, the lies wash over our identity hammering at who we really are. Denying what is the truest about us. That we were created to bear an image, to reign over all created things, to stand up to the adversary that seeks to ensnare and destroy the truth about you and me. 

And it has damn near worked. 

There is a voice that speaks other words, gives other descriptions...

Son. Warrior. Lover. King. Mighty one. Kinsman, Redeemer. Brother. Husband. Father. Friend. 

A voice that cries out from the dirt and the rocks. A voice that whispers through the breeze of a summer evening. A voice that sings with the birds and the thunder. A voice that stirs a place deep within my heart. A voice that knows the truth laying beneath the rubble. 

Strong. Honorable. Worthy. Enduring. Protector. Defender. Rescuer. 

The reason our hearts need guarding is that they are the most valuable thing we have been given. The heart is the place of true reason and faith. The heart bears eternity and is the stronghold of our true name. The name that was spoken to us before the sands of time began. The name that we were crafted to carry with honor and courage. 

Jamie, thank you for the reminder Dear One. 

I would like for you to join this thread and comment. To hear your story as well, either on this blog or on Jamie's.
God Bless you and speak to you your true name.

simply HIS,


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