Want to join in? Respond to our weekly writing prompts, open to everyone.
Want to join in? Respond to our weekly writing prompts, open to everyone.
from
Roscoe's Story
In Summary: * Very much a creature of habit, I find myself in the process of changing one of my longest standing Monday chores, and that leaves me a little unsettled. For many years, (honestly can't say how many, feels like forever), I've tried to do my weekly laundry on Monday. With our washing machine out of commission now (see the In Summary: section to yesterday's “Roscoe's Story” post) and it being some undetermined time before I can muster the energy to attempt its repair, that's a chore that was missed today. Buying a new machine or having this one professionally repaired are options outside my present budget. So I've ordered a “bathtub washing machine” which should be delivered tomorrow or the next day, and which should be fine for washing socks, underwear, shirts, hand towels, and light weight clothing. Jeans, sweats, big towels, etc. I can hand wash. The dryer in the garage still works fine. So laundry here should be doable in house. I'll just have to get used to scheduling and doing my laundry chore differently now.
Prayers, etc.: * My daily prayers
Health Metrics: * bw= 222.67 lbs. * bp= 145/85 (60)
Exercise: * kegel pelvic floor exercise, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups
Diet: * 06:30 – bacon, oatmeal * 07:00 – ham & cheese sandwich * 09:30 – mashed potatoes, baked beans * 12:00 – pizza * 16:40 – 1 philly cheese steak sandwich
Activities, Chores, etc.: * 05:00 – bank accounts activity monitored * 05:15 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials * 12:00 to 13:30 – watch old TV game shows and eat lunch at home with Sylvia * 13:45 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials * 17:00 – listening to The Joe Pags Show * 20:00 – listen to relaxing music and quietly read until bedtime
Chess: * 11:50 – moved in all pending CC games
from sun scriptorium
tree blue green with coolness, a slate quiet, sometimes sun warmed. time passes, and what i mark [ abeyance] tree walk until, shrinking, i moss become. little dew draws... and catch i hear the ruffling beat and, owl-footed, ...[ ]sing!
[#2025dec the 8th, #fragment]
from Douglas Vandergraph
There are moments in Scripture that quietly shift the entire direction of history while most people read right through them without stopping to feel the weight of what just happened. Matthew 16 is one of those moments. This chapter is not loud in the way miracles are loud. There are no crowds pressing in, no dramatic healings in the middle of the street, no feeding of thousands. And yet, this chapter changes everything. It is the chapter where Jesus names the rock on which His church will be built. It is the moment Peter confesses what heaven already knows. It is the moment the disciples realize that following Jesus will cost far more than admiration. This chapter is a turning point between admiration and surrender, between curiosity and commitment, between what people think about Jesus and what eternity declares Him to be.
At the beginning of Matthew 16, the Pharisees and Sadducees approach Jesus with a demand for a sign from heaven. This is one of the most spiritually revealing scenes in the entire gospel. These men were not ignorant of Scripture. They knew the Law. They memorized the prophets. They debated the fine details of theology. But when God stood in front of them in flesh and blood, they asked Him to prove Himself. It is possible to know every religious argument and still miss the living God standing ten feet away. Jesus tells them they can read the weather, but they cannot discern the signs of the times. That stings because it still applies. People can walk through life interpreting trends, predicting outcomes, reading everyone else’s motives with precision, and still completely miss what God is doing right in front of them. Jesus calls them a wicked and adulterous generation for seeking a sign, not because signs are wrong, but because they were asking from unbelief instead of surrender.
There is something deeply human in that moment. We often do the same thing. We ask God for confirmation after confirmation while ignoring the truth He is already showing us. We ask for proof while resisting obedience. We ask for clarity while refusing to move. Jesus does not argue with them. He does not perform for them. He simply leaves. And sometimes the most merciful thing God does when we continually refuse to trust Him is step back and let us sit with our own demands.
Then the scene shifts to the disciples in the boat, worried because they forgot to bring bread. They are still thinking in natural terms while walking with supernatural power every day. This detail matters because it reveals that spiritual maturity is not instantaneous. These same men have watched storms calm, demons flee, the sick healed, and the dead raised, and yet they are anxious over groceries. Jesus warns them about the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees, and they misunderstand Him completely, thinking He is scolding them for forgetting bread. That is staggering. It means you can walk closely with Jesus and still miss His meaning. You can hear His words and misinterpret His warning. And instead of rebuking them harshly, Jesus lovingly reminds them of how many baskets were left over after the miracles of provision. He is teaching them how to remember God’s faithfulness so that fear loses its grip.
This is one of the great battles of the soul. Fear survives by feeding on forgetfulness. The moment you forget what God has already done, anxiety regains authority. But remembrance pulls power out of fear. Jesus is teaching them to live from memory, not panic. He is preparing them for a confession that will cost them everything.
Then they arrive at Caesarea Philippi, a place heavy with spiritual symbolism. This is not a random backdrop. Caesarea Philippi was known for pagan worship, fertility gods, and what was called the “gates of hell,” a deep cavern where people believed the underworld opened into the earth. This is where Jesus chooses to ask the most important question ever placed before human beings. “Who do people say that I am?” The answers come easily. Some say John the Baptist. Others say Elijah. Others Jeremiah or one of the prophets. That part is safe. People are comfortable talking about what everyone else thinks. Most discussions about God stay right there. Public opinion. Cultural narratives. What the crowd believes. Theories. Comparisons. History. But then Jesus makes it personal. “But who do you say that I am?” Now there is nowhere to hide. This is the question that splits humanity. There is no neutral answer. There is no safe answer. There is no politically correct answer. There is only truth or self-protection.
Peter steps forward and says words that echo through eternity. “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” That is not a religious sentence. That is a declaration of allegiance. That is a public surrender. That is a confession that rewrites a life. Jesus immediately tells Peter that this revelation did not come from flesh and blood, but from the Father in heaven. That means spiritual truth is not discovered by intelligence alone. It is revealed. You can study God endlessly and still never see Him unless God opens your eyes. Revelation is a gift, not a reward for being clever.
And then Jesus speaks words that have built the foundation of the church for over two thousand years. “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” This is not about an institution. This is not about a building. This is not about religious systems. This is about what happens when a human heart confesses Jesus as Lord. The church is born in confession, not construction. It is birthed through surrender, not strategies. The authority of the church does not come from power structures or platforms. It comes from the spiritual reality of who Jesus is.
Jesus says He will give the keys of the kingdom. That is authority language. Keys represent access. Authority. Movement between realms. This is not a promise of comfort. It is a declaration of spiritual warfare. He is saying that hell will push back, but it will not win. And He says this at the very gates of hell as if to make the point unmistakable. Even the strongest demonic strongholds are no match for a surrendered church built on the confession of Christ.
But immediately after this mountain-top moment of revelation, Jesus begins to prepare them for suffering. He tells them plainly that He must go to Jerusalem, suffer many things, be rejected, and be killed. This is where the story becomes painful. Peter, who just received the highest affirmation of revelation from Jesus, immediately turns around and rebukes Him. Peter says, “This shall never happen to you.” From a human perspective, that sounds loyal. It sounds protective. It sounds loving. But Jesus responds with some of the strongest words ever spoken to a disciple: “Get behind me, Satan.” That moment reveals something terrifying and instructive. You can speak under the influence of heaven one minute and under the influence of hell the next if your mind is not anchored in God’s purpose.
Peter did not become evil in sixty seconds. What changed was the source of his thinking. The revelation was divine, but the resistance to the cross was human. This is where many believers stumble. We love the crown. We celebrate the throne. We rejoice in resurrection power. But we resist the cross. We want glory without suffering. We want victory without death. We want purpose without pain. But Jesus says suffering is not an interruption to the mission. It is the mission. There is no resurrection without crucifixion. There is no transformation without surrender. There is no kingdom without the cross.
Then Jesus turns to all the disciples and lays down one of the hardest invitations ever spoken. “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.” This is not symbolic poetry. This is a death sentence. In Roman culture, the cross only meant one thing: execution. Jesus is not inviting people to add Him to their lives. He is inviting them to die. The call of Christ is not self-improvement. It is self-denial. It is not behavior modification. It is crucifixion of the old self. This is why shallow Christianity collapses under pressure. Many people were never prepared to die to themselves, so they abandon faith the moment it costs them comfort.
Jesus continues and says that whoever seeks to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for His sake will find it. That is a paradox that cannot be grasped by logic alone. The world tells you to protect yourself, promote yourself, preserve yourself at all costs. Jesus tells you to lose yourself in Him and find real life on the other side of surrender. This is not about self-hatred. It is about misplaced identity. When your life becomes centered on your comfort, your safety, your applause, and your control, you lose the very thing you are trying to protect. Only when your life is surrendered to Christ does it finally become whole.
Jesus asks another piercing question: “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?” That question dismantles every definition of success the world offers. You can be rich and spiritually bankrupt. You can be famous and eternally lost. You can be admired and completely separated from God. Nothing in this world can compensate for a lost soul. No achievement redeems it. No applause resurrects it. No platform restores it. Eternity is not impressed by achievements. It responds only to surrender.
Jesus then speaks of His return in glory with His angels and that each will be rewarded according to their works. Matthew 16 is not only about confession and suffering. It is about accountability. The same Jesus who invites you to the cross will return as King. Grace is not permission to live without consequence. Grace is power to live transformed.
This chapter forces us to confront our own confession. Not what we post. Not what we say in church. Not what sounds good in public. But who is Jesus really to us when the lights go out and the crosses appear. Is He a comforter only, or is He Lord. Is He an inspiration only, or is He authority. Is He a motivational figure, or is He the Son of the living God.
Many people love the idea of Jesus who heals but recoil at the Jesus who commands. They love the Jesus who forgives but resist the Jesus who governs. But Scripture never separates the two. He is both Savior and Lord. He does not ask for agreement. He asks for allegiance.
Matthew 16 is where admiration turns into decision. It is where belief becomes costly. It is where spectators are separated from followers. And it is where the true church is defined, not by attendance, but by surrender.
And this is only the beginning of what this chapter unfolds in the heart.
Part 2 will continue seamlessly from here, going deeper into the spiritual weight of the confession, the hidden cost of discipleship, and what it truly means to belong to Christ in a world that still asks for signs but resists surrender.
What makes Matthew 16 so dangerous to shallow faith is that it refuses to let belief remain theoretical. This chapter does not allow Jesus to stay as an abstract idea, a comforting symbol, or a philosophical teacher. It drags His identity into the open and forces every listener into a decision. It exposes the difference between admiration and obedience, between agreement and surrender. And most unsettling of all, it exposes the temptation to rebuke God when His will does not match our preferences.
Peter’s collapse immediately after his great confession is not included in Scripture to embarrass him. It is included to warn us. Revelation does not make a person immune to self-interest. A person can truly see who Jesus is and still try to reshape His mission to fit human comfort. That is the paradox of discipleship. You can love Jesus sincerely and still fight the very path He must take to save you. Peter’s loyalty wanted protection. Jesus’ obedience demanded sacrifice. When those two collide, Jesus chooses the cross every time.
The phrase “Get behind me, Satan” is shocking because Peter did not suddenly become immoral or malicious. His offense was misalignment. His intentions were rooted in affection, but his reasoning resisted God’s will. This teaches us that satanic influence does not always arrive as cruelty or evil actions. Sometimes it arrives disguised as protection, preservation, and emotional reasoning that opposes obedience. Anything that pulls Christ away from the cross is anti-Christ in nature, even when it comes from someone who loves Him.
This is one of the most dangerous places believers live. We pray for God’s will until it costs us something we cherish. Then we start negotiating. We accept the parts of Christ that bless us and hesitate at the parts that break us. But Matthew 16 refuses to allow selective obedience. If Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then He is Lord of suffering as much as Lord of celebration. He governs valleys as much as victories.
When Jesus instructs the disciples to deny themselves, He is not speaking to their personality. He is speaking to their throne. Denial is not about rejecting desires. It is about rejecting self-rule. Every human heart wants to sit on its own throne. Jesus does not try to soften this demand. He removes the throne entirely. The cross is where self-rule dies.
The cross is not an accessory to faith. It is the center of it. Without the cross, Christianity collapses into sentimentality. Without the cross, grace becomes cheap. Without the cross, victory becomes entitlement. Jesus does not invite people to carry opinions. He invites them to carry instruments of execution. That truth alone dismantles consumer-driven spirituality. You cannot shop for crosses. You cannot customize crucifixion. You either die to yourself or you walk away.
And the most staggering part is that Jesus attaches real life to surrender. “Whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” The world calls that destruction. Heaven calls it resurrection. The lie we wrestle with is the belief that surrender will shrink us. The truth revealed in this chapter is that surrender is the only path to wholeness. Every chapter of Scripture echoes this upside-down kingdom. The proud are humbled. The humble are exalted. The first become last. The last become first. The dead rise. And the living finally learn how to live.
Then Jesus pivots the conversation again toward eternity. Salvation is not presented as a temporary emotional experience. It is framed as an accounting. “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” This question is meant to haunt us. It is meant to interrupt ambition. It is meant to interrogate dreams. It is meant to challenge definitions of success that ignore eternity. The modern world rarely asks questions that reach beyond the grave. But Jesus never speaks as if death is an ending. Every word He speaks assumes eternity is real and unavoidable.
Jesus also makes it clear that coming judgment is personal. “The Son of Man will come in the glory of His Father with His angels, and then He will reward each according to his works.” Grace does not erase accountability. It transforms it. Salvation is not earned by works, but works reveal allegiance. Obedience does not purchase salvation, but it proves surrender. The cross saves, but the cross also reshapes how we live.
Matthew 16 demands that believers examine whether their confession is merely correct or deeply costly. It is possible to say the right words without surrendering control. It is possible to call Jesus Lord without letting Him govern. It is possible to defend Christianity while resisting transformation. But Jesus did not die to produce defenders. He died to produce disciples.
The deeper warning in Matthew 16 is not directed at atheists. It is directed at followers. The danger is not merely denial of Christ. The danger is redefining Christ into something safe, manageable, and compatible with personal comfort. The moment we reshape Jesus to fit our preferences, we stop following Him and start following ourselves while using His name.
This chapter also exposes the warfare embedded inside spiritual identity. Moses confronted Pharaoh. Elijah confronted Baal. David confronted Goliath. Jesus confronts hell itself at Caesarea Philippi. And He announces that hell will not prevail against the church formed by confession. That means the church is not meant to hide from conflict. It is meant to confront darkness through surrendered authority. The gates of hell do not resist offense. Gates defend against invasion. That means the church is advancing, not retreating. When the church stops confronting darkness and starts chasing comfort, it forgets its assignment.
The confession “You are the Christ” is not religious language. It is spiritual warfare. It dethrones every other authority. It confronts every false identity. It disrupts demonic structures. It shatters cultural lies. The world tolerates Jesus as teacher. It does not tolerate Him as King. The confession of Christ always produces resistance because it threatens every throne that is not His.
Matthew 16 also reveals how quickly spiritual moments can become battlegrounds. One moment Peter stands as the mouthpiece of heaven. The next moment he becomes a stumbling block. This teaches us that spiritual influence is never neutral. When a person resists the cross, even unknowingly, they begin to hinder others from embracing surrender. Jesus takes that so seriously that He openly rebukes Peter in front of everyone. Love does not always speak softly. Sometimes it speaks decisively to protect eternity.
The cost of discipleship revealed in this chapter is not an isolated theme. It is the thread that runs through the entire gospel. Every healing, every teaching, every miracle is directing hearts toward surrender, not spectacle. The gospel is not an invitation to improvement. It is an invitation to death and rebirth.
Modern culture tells us to become the best version of ourselves. Jesus tells us to crucify the version of ourselves that insists on control. The world celebrates self-expression. Jesus commands self-denial. The world chases validation. Jesus offers transformation. The friction between these two messages creates constant tension in the believer’s soul. Matthew 16 forces that tension into the open.
The hidden mercy of this chapter is that it does not deceive us with false promises of ease. Jesus does not bait people with blessing and hide the cross until later. He places the cross at the very entrance of discipleship. He tells the truth up front. Following Him will cost you everything. It will dismantle identities built on applause. It will shake security rooted in possessions. It will challenge relationships built on control. It will confront theology rooted in comfort. But it will also lead to real life, not the fragile version the world sells.
The church was not built on charisma. It was built on confession. It was not built on platforms. It was built on surrender. It was not built on political influence. It was built on resurrection power flowing through crucified lives. Matthew 16 is not a commissioning for fame. It is a commissioning for faithfulness.
If we read this chapter honestly, it forces us to reassess our own version of Christianity. Are we following Jesus or defending our comfort in His name? Are we bearing a cross or simply carrying preferences? Are we seeking resurrection life or simply trying to improve the life we already refuse to surrender?
This chapter also reframes suffering. Suffering is not a sign of abandonment. It is often the confirmation of obedience. Jesus does not speak of suffering as misfortune. He speaks of it as necessity. “He must go… He must suffer… He must be killed.” The mission of redemption demanded suffering. And those who follow Christ should not expect gentler roads than the one He walked.
This is not a message that flatters the flesh. It is a message that resurrects the soul.
Peter’s story does not end at the rebuke. It continues through denial, repentance, restoration, and leadership. The same man who tried to protect Jesus from the cross would later be crucified for proclaiming Him. That is what transformation looks like. The cross Peter once resisted became the cross he embraced. This is what Matthew 16 begins but does not yet complete. This chapter ignites a process that will rewrite every disciple’s future.
Discipleship is not proven by a single confession. It is proven by the direction your life takes after that confession. The cross follows every true declaration of faith. Not as punishment, but as pathway.
Matthew 16 also confronts the illusion that spiritual authority can exist without personal surrender. The keys of the kingdom are not handed to spectators. Authority flows through obedience. Power follows surrender. The church does not advance through noise. It advances through crucified lives walking in resurrection power.
When Jesus says the gates of hell will not prevail, He is not speaking to an institution. He is speaking to people who have died to themselves and now live under His authority. Hell trembles not at sermons, but at surrendered saints. Darkness retreats not from programs, but from confession backed by obedience.
The world still asks the same question today that Jesus asked at Caesarea Philippi. “Who do you say that I am?” And every generation answers it not with words alone, but with the way they live. Our confessions are proven by our crosses.
The tragedy is not that people reject Jesus openly. The tragedy is that many redefine Him quietly. They follow a version of Christ who never disrupts comfort, never confronts sin, never interferes with ambition, never demands self-denial. But that Christ does not exist outside human imagination. The real Christ walks toward crosses and invites His disciples to follow.
This chapter stands as a dividing line between cultural Christianity and crucified Christianity. One is built on agreement. The other is built on surrender. One seeks influence. The other seeks obedience. One offers comfort. The other offers transformation. And only one of them is built on the rock of revelation.
Matthew 16 is not simply a chapter to study. It is a mirror. It shows us the difference between who we say Jesus is and who we allow Him to be. It exposes the gap between admiration and lordship. It illuminates how quickly revelation can be followed by resistance. It teaches us that the confession of Christ is only the beginning of a lifelong surrender that reshapes everything.
This chapter leaves us all standing at Caesarea Philippi, facing the same question that still echoes across eternity.
“Who do you say that I am?”
There is no safe answer. Only a costly one. And only that costly answer leads to life.
This is where the church was first spoken into the world. Not through applause. Not through crowds. Not through comfort. But through confession, surrender, suffering, and unshakable resurrection hope.
And that same church is still being built today, one surrendered life at a time.
Your friend,
Douglas Vandergraph
Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube
Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee
from
Micro Matt
I’m back after some travel for Thanksgiving, and now wrapping up many things for the year, personal and professional.
I was starting to feel overwhelmed lately, and as that usually does, it paralyzed me a bit. But I’m slowly getting through everything that has piled up over who-knows-how-long, and I’m feeling a little better about it.
On the Write.as front, we have a little early December sale on Write.as Pro and our WriteFreely iOS app that ends in a few hours (tonight at midnight, Eastern Time). There’s still time to grab that, if you want — see our Deals newsletter. Also, a few of us are still hanging out in the Remark.as Café lately. It’s been nice just chatting every once in a while over the course of the day.
Otherwise, I’m looking over all our costs for Write.as, because they’ve slowly grown without me keeping a close eye on it, and it’s getting less sustainable for me. Luckily, there are many places we can easily cut costs, like with old unused services we still host, and by switching to cheaper alternatives for others that have gotten out of hand.
As part of that, we’re going to start limiting the remote content we retain on our 8-year-old Mastodon instance, Writing Exchange, as those hosting costs have gone up about $50 every 2 or 3 months. With all of this work, we should be much leaner going into the new year.
#work
from Prov
Flow State and Manifestation
Lately I have found myself in a flow state with the universe. It feels natural and effortless, almost as if everything around me is aligning in ways that are intentional and designed specifically for my growth. Over the last two months, I have allowed myself to let go and trust the direction I feel guided toward. I have been in a kind of spiritual cruise control, focusing my mind only on outcomes that support me. I remind myself daily that things always work in my favor. This mindset has created a noticeable shift. I no longer carry the same level of worry that I used to. I have been practicing an abundance mindset, an overflow mindset, and it has brought me peace.
My needs and wants keep getting taken care of, often through unexpected sources. Strangers, health care companies, insurance providers, and opportunities I could not have predicted have stepped in to support me. I feel surrounded by the same love I have spent my entire life putting into the world. That realization alone has helped me understand why I succeed the way I do. Everything I give comes back to me.
I will be honest and say there was a time when I hoped manifestation alone would heal my body and free me from this wheelchair. I wanted that deeply. But I have learned something important. Manifestation is real. The law of attraction is real. However, there are certain experiences that are part of our path and our purpose. Some things are chosen before we come to this earth. They serve a role in shaping our character, our strength, and our understanding. These experiences cannot be bypassed.
The scientific part of my mind still questions this idea. If manifestation works, then why can certain things not be altered. The spiritual part of me answers that manifestation works within the structure of the life we agreed to live with God and the spiritual team that guides us. Certain lessons are non negotiable. They are not punishments. They are contracts. They are teachings we must walk through to become who we were designed to be.
I think about people who entered a wheelchair around the same time as me. Many of them are walking today. I have never felt jealousy or resentment about that reality. Instead, I reached a point where I understood that their journey is theirs, and mine is mine. My wheelchair is not a failure. It is part of my path. It exists to teach me something unique. Accepting that allowed me to embrace manifestation in a healthier and more truthful way.
When I look back at my life, I can clearly see situations I would have handled differently if I had understood manifestation earlier. My romantic life is one example. I chose partners who were not aligned with me or my future. Some relationships were beautiful. Some were painful. If I had known then what I know now, I would have taken more time to meditate and define the type of woman I wanted. I would have aligned myself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually with her. That alignment alone would have changed everything.
Right now, I do not feel called to have a partner. I am focused on living, growing, healing, and building. A serious relationship requires emotional and spiritual resources that I simply do not want to give at the moment. This is my season for myself.
My financial life also reflects this new understanding. If I had adopted an abundance mindset years ago, I would not have been afraid to take certain risks that could have moved my life forward. Bitcoin was presented to me several times, and I dismissed it because I thought it was similar to Forex. I avoided the stock market because my family treated it like something dangerous. Once I looked into it myself, I realized that the fear did not come from truth. It came from misunderstanding. When I studied it on my own, it made sense.
The core of everything I have said is that manifestation does not come from wanting something. Wanting creates distance between you and your desire. Manifestation comes from being. You must become the version of yourself who already has what you want. You must place yourself in the emotional and mental state of the reality you are calling in. This is not delusion. This is alignment. The universe responds to feeling, not wording.
If I say, I want to meet a woman who is into fitness, that is not manifestation. That sentence is built on lack. It expresses that I do not have her. Instead, manifestation sounds like this. It feels amazing to share my fitness goals with my partner. I enjoy our gym days and our dedication to health. I love the marathons we train for. I love the early morning workouts, the competitions we celebrate together, and the conversations where she understands me on every level. I feel supported and aligned with her.
This is the difference. One version speaks from absence. The other speaks from presence. Manifestation responds to presence, gratitude, and embodiment.
There is another part of this journey that matters, and it is important for anyone who is trying to change their behavior or mindset. Anxiety is something I have struggled with. My experiences and trauma shaped how anxiety appeared in my life. A few months ago, I told my therapist that I had made a conscious decision. I decided that I would no longer allow anxiety to run my life.
I want to clarify something for anyone reading. I do not have a clinical diagnosis of anxiety. If someone has clinically diagnosed anxiety and was created with a brain that requires treatment or medication, their situation is different. I am not dismissing anyone’s experience. I am talking about those of us who feel anxiety but do not have a clinical disorder. However, what I am about to explain may still help someone regardless of their diagnosis.
The choice I made was simple. I told myself that worry would no longer lead me. I would not let anxiety determine my reactions or decisions. I chose to live with the confidence that everything in my life has already worked out. I chose to live in the fullness of my life rather than fear what might go wrong. Whenever something happens that tries to pull me into worry, I remind myself that I already decided how this ends. I tell myself that this will work in my favor. Ninety nine percent of the time, that is exactly what happens.
When something triggers my anxiety, I immediately place myself in the emotional state of a person whose situation has already been resolved. That emotional state feels like peace, comfort, and contentment. I focus on that feeling until my body accepts it. I teach my mind that calm is the truth and fear is the illusion. Over time this became a habit. Eventually it became my natural state.
This is the reason manifestation works for me. I do not feed fear. I feed alignment. I feed gratitude. I feed the emotional state of the life I am calling forward. That is what keeps me in the flow state with the universe. That is what keeps everything moving in my favor.
Prov
from Prov
From Different to Unique
I went from feeling different to understanding that I was unique. When I arrived in college, it became one of the best experiences of my life. For the first time, I met people who understood me. These were not just classmates or acquaintances. These became friends I consider brothers and sisters today. I no longer felt like the outlier. The amount of deja vu I experienced in those years and continue to experience now made me feel seen and grounded in a way I never had before.
College helped me realize that nothing was wrong with me. My confidence started to grow, even though I still had a lot of healing to do. I was still dealing with depression from not having many friends in high school. I was still learning how to come into myself. But something important was happening. The seeds of my spiritual journey, the same ones I have spoken about in these blogs, began to evolve during this time. I will always be grateful for that.
I remember being approached by a member of the poetry club on campus. I went to a meeting, and instantly everything connected. We talked openly about the same things I write about now. The spiritual experiences. The intuition. The mysteries of the world. The deeper layer of existence that some people feel and some have glimpsed, but most never slow down enough to see. Everything I carried inside me, everything I thought made me strange or isolated, was normal in that room.
There is something incredibly powerful about finding a circle of people where you do not feel like the odd one out. It is rare. It is sacred. It is a privilege. I could finally speak freely. I could say that when I was a kid, I used to hear whispers in the apartment when I woke up in the morning. I would get up to investigate, and no one would be there. I knew even then that I did not have schizophrenia or any mental health disorder. Something else was happening. Something spiritual. Something subtle but undeniable.
I could tell them about my intuition. I could explain that it allows me to feel deeply for people, to sense things before they happen, to walk into a room and know what someone is going through without a word being spoken. I could talk about moments where emotion and energy moved through me so clearly that I understood what was about to unfold before it did.
For the first time in my life, I was surrounded by people who did not judge that. They did not look at me like I was strange. They understood it. Many of them had similar experiences. Many of them felt the same veil I always sensed around this world, the thin separation between the physical and the spiritual, the seen and the unseen.
College was not just an education. It was the moment I went from feeling different to embracing that I was unique. It was the moment I learned that my sensitivities, my intuition, my spiritual awareness, and my depth were not flaws. They were gifts. They were part of who I am and who I was always meant to become.
Prov
from
Kroeber
Diz Christof Koch que o paradigma vigente e errado, no que toca ao entendimento da consciência, é o “computational functionalism” que vê a consciência como software a correr no hardware que é o nosso sistema nervoso central. Segundo o neurocientista, não existe nenhum teste de Turing para a consciência. O que o teste de Turing mede é a inteligência: quão capaz de se fazer passar por um humano é uma máquina.
from
SPOZZ in the News
SPOZZ artists can now share their videos anywhere using simple embeds. This makes it easy to feature SPOZZ content on music blogs, artist websites, media platforms and more. The SPOZZ global content delivery network delivers smooth, uninterrupted video playback comparable to major platforms like YouTube, but fully direct to fan and without ads. A clean, professional way to showcase your work wherever your audience is. Try it out!

from Prov
Unconditional
I think about unconditional love often in the context of what happened to me, because violence is what put me in this wheelchair. That is the simple truth. I remember the dark feelings I went through during my recovery, and I remember how heavy everything felt. Those emotions still rise sometimes. I no longer try to block them. I let myself feel them, and then I choose a different direction for my heart.
Justice still matters. Justice has a purpose. There is nothing wrong with wanting accountability or consequences. I deserved justice, and anyone in my position would feel the same. Even with that truth, I still find moments where I feel compassion for the person who harmed me.
Maybe they never learned any better. Maybe they made a terrible decision because of fear or pressure. Maybe they were trying to impress the wrong people. Maybe they were forced into a life they never wanted. Maybe I was a case of mistaken identity. I cannot know the exact answer.
What I do know is that I feel for them. I feel for the human being behind the violence. I think about what must have been happening inside their mind and their heart that led them to that moment. They shot a person they did not know. They shot someone who had never harmed them. Something very broken had to exist inside of them for that to feel like a possible choice.
I wonder about their life now. I wonder if they sleep at night. I wonder if they feel regret. I wonder if they ever wish they could undo what they did. I will never know their current truth, but I imagine that they carry something heavy.
Even without receiving justice, I still choose love. I choose empathy. I choose compassion. I do not choose these things to excuse what happened. I choose them because I refuse to let hatred define my life. I refuse to let darkness shape the person I become. Unconditional love does not mean forgetting. It does not mean allowing harm. It means recognizing the humanity in someone who failed to recognize mine, and it means choosing to rise above what tried to break me.
Prov
from Douglas Vandergraph
Matthew 15 is one of those chapters that quietly rewires everything we think we understand about what God cares about most. It dismantles the idea that outward perfection impresses heaven, and it exposes how easily religion drifts into performance while the heart drifts into distance. This chapter is not gentle. It is not polite. It is surgical. Jesus does not soothe egos here—He confronts them. And the people who feel most uneasy are not the broken ones. They are the experts.
This is the chapter where tradition is put on trial.
This is the moment when the religious system is forced to look at itself in the mirror and realize it no longer recognizes the God it claims to defend.
Right at the opening, the religious leaders travel a long distance—not to be healed, not to learn, not to worship—but to accuse. Their concern is not that people are suffering, or that demons are being cast out, or that hearts are being restored. Their complaint is procedural. “Your disciples don’t wash their hands the way the elders taught us.”
On the surface, it sounds small. But underneonse.
He flips the accusation back on them and exposes the engine running beneath their religion. He tells them that they have found clever ways to break God’s commands while appearing to honor them. They use tradition as a loophole. They protect their assets. They preserve their power. They speak God’s name with their lips while holding their hearts at a careful distance.
ath it is massive. Because what they are really asking is this: “Why are you letting people approach God without following our system first?”
And Jesus does not ease into His resp
And Jesus says the sentence that still shakes churches today: “These people honor Me with their lips, but their hearts are far from Me.”
Not rebellious hearts.
Distant hearts.
That’s the danger most people never see coming.
Because distance can look like devotion.
Distance can sing.
Distance can quote.
Distance can show up weekly, dress correctly, say the right words, and still never actually touch God.
And that is what Jesus will not tolerate.
He is not impressed by spiritual theater. He is not moved by religious choreography. He is not intimidated by titles, robes, or generations of tradition if those traditions now block people from encountering the Father.
So He gathers the crowd. Not just the scholars. Not just the insiders. He calls everyone close enough to hear, and He says something that detonates centuries of ritual mindset: “It’s not what goes into your mouth that defiles you. It’s what comes out.”
In other words—your true condition is not revealed by what you avoid externally. It is revealed by what flows out of you internally.
You can eat the cleanest food on earth and still speak poison.
You can keep every outward rule and still carry bitterness like a second language.
You can satisfy an entire religious checklist and still be fueled by pride, violence, lust, greed, and contempt.
And Jesus lists what actually makes a person unclean: evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. All heart-originated. All invisible first. All devastating eventually.
Religion tries to manage surface behavior.
Jesus targets the source.
This is why people either fall in love with Him or feel deeply threatened by Him. Because He will not let you hide behind what you appear to be. He always asks who you are becoming.
Then, without warning, the scene shifts dramatically. Geography changes. Culture changes. And suddenly Jesus is in Gentile territory—far away from the religious rule-keepers of Jerusalem—when a Canaanite woman appears.
According to every social rule of the time, this woman has no leverage. She is not part of the covenant family. She is not educated in Torah. She is not protected by status. She is not invited by rank. She is a desperate mother with a tormented daughter and a voice that refuses to be silenced.
She begins shouting, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me.”
That title alone is explosive. A Gentile woman calling Jesus the Messianic King of Israel. Outsiders often see what insiders miss.
At first, Jesus does not answer.
That silence unsettles people. We do not like it when God does not respond on our schedule. We assume delay means denial. We assume silence means rejection. But the gospel consistently shows that silence is sometimes the pause before revelation.
The disciples, irritated, ask Jesus to dismiss her. Not heal her. Dismiss her. Get rid of the noise.
Jesus finally speaks and says that His mission is first to the lost sheep of Israel. On the surface, it sounds like a refusal. But she does not retreat.
She kneels.
She does not argue theology.
She does not defend her worth.
She simply says, “Lord, help me.”
And then comes one of the most misunderstood and emotionally difficult lines in the New Testament. Jesus says, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
At first glance, this sounds brutal. But the language He uses matters. He uses the small household word for dog—the kind that lives near the family table. Still, the weight of the moment remains heavy.
Here is the turning point.
She does not protest being called unworthy.
She does not fight the hierarchy.
She does not storm off in offense.
She agrees with Him—and then reframes the entire moment with faith so clear it stops heaven’s breath.
“Yes, Lord. But even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
In other words: I do not need position. I do not need priority. I do not need the spotlight. I just need proximity.
And Jesus responds with the sentence that only appears a few times in Scripture, reserved for extraordinary faith: “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done just as you wish.” And instantly, the daughter is healed.
No ritual.
No delay.
No probation period.
Faith activated from the margins reached the heart of God faster than tradition seated at the center.
This moment alone shatters religious entitlement at its root. It proves that access to God is not reserved for those who look like they belong. It belongs to those who trust like they belong.
From there, Matthew 15 turns again. Jesus moves along the Sea of Galilee, climbs a mountainside, and crowds gather with the broken, the blind, the lame, the mute, and many others. He heals them. Mass healing. Public restoration. Open compassion.
And the reaction of the people is telling. They praise the God of Israel. Not the system. Not the leaders. Not the institution.
They praise God.
Because when healing is real, God gets the credit.
Then comes another miracle of provision—the feeding of four thousand. This is not the same as the earlier feeding of five thousand. Different crowd. Different region. Different people. Same compassion.
Jesus sees that they have stayed with Him three days with nothing left to eat. And instead of telling them to plan better next time, He says, “I do not want to send them away hungry.”
That sentence reveals the heart of God in plain language.
God does not want people spiritually full and physically starved.
He cares about the whole person.
Bread matters to heaven.
The disciples once again look at their supply instead of His sufficiency.
Seven loaves.
A few fish.
Not enough in their eyes.
Plenty in His hands.
And once again, Jesus breaks what seems insufficient and multiplies it into abundance. Everyone eats. Everyone is satisfied. And there are leftovers again—this time seven baskets.
God does not just meet needs.
He leaves evidence.
Matthew 15 ends with overflow.
But to understand why the overflow matters, you must trace how the chapter began. With confrontation. With exposure. With the collapse of hollow spirituality. With the revelation that God is not impressed by polished appearances but is drawn to surrendered hearts.
Matthew 15 does not flatter religious comfort. It challenges it.
It tells the truth that many people avoid: that tradition can become a barrier instead of a bridge.
That silence does not mean rejection.
That faith does not require status.
That crumbs from God’s table carry resurrection power.
That proximity matters more than position.
That compassion still multiplies what logic says cannot.
And that what comes out of us will always reveal what is actually living within us.
What makes this chapter so dangerous—in the best possible way—is that it does not allow anyone to hide behind heritage, title, posture, or rulebook.
It asks one relentless question beneath every conversation:
Where is your heart really aimed?
Not what do you claim.
Not what do you repeat.
Not what system shaped you.
But what actually flows out of you when pressure touches your life.
Because that is where truth lives.
The longer you sit with Matthew 15, the more you realize that this chapter is not about food, hands, crumbs, or crowds. It is about access. Who believes they have it. Who believes they do not. And who quietly walks into it anyway because faith refuses to stay in its assigned corner.
Jesus does not merely challenge tradition here. He exposes the unseen emotional contract people make with religion—the one that says, “If I behave correctly, I am safe. If I follow the rules, I am secure. If I appear clean, I must be close to God.”
And then He tears that contract up in public.
He does not argue that rules have no value. What He rejects is the illusion that rules alone can heal the heart. He rejects the idea that spotless behavior proves spiritual health. He dismantles the belief that outward compliance equals inward transformation.
Because the human heart is not neutral territory.
The heart is a generator.
And what it generates eventually surfaces.
That is why Jesus does not warn about dirty hands. He warns about hidden motives. He lists murder, adultery, slander, greed—not because everyone outwardly commits these acts, but because everyone wrestles with the impulses that give birth to them. And religion that only modifies behavior without addressing desire simply trains a person to hide better.
This is one of the deepest dangers of spiritual systems.
They can teach you how to look healed without ever being healed.
They can train you to speak repentance without touching brokenness.
They can reward compliance while neglecting restoration.
And people grow very comfortable living two lives—the presentable one and the private one—until eventually even they can no longer tell which one is real.
Jesus refuses to participate in that split.
He exposes the interior because that is where freedom begins.
This is why the Canaanite woman matters so much to this chapter. She does not know how to play the system. She does not perform religious fluency. She does not cloak her desperation behind polished speech. She brings need directly to mercy. She brings pain directly to hope.
Her daughter is tormented. Her heart is breaking. Her voice is the only thing she has left to use—and she uses it.
And when silence meets her cry, she does what most people fail to do.
She stays.
Silence is one of the most misunderstood spiritual experiences in the life of faith. People assume silence means abandonment. They assume it means disqualification. They assume it means they prayed wrong, believed wrong, waited too long, failed too often.
But Scripture shows that silence often precedes unveiling.
It slows us down.
It strips us of leverage.
It removes the illusion that we can control outcomes.
And it reveals whether we want God for His power or for His presence.
This woman wants help. But more than that, she wants Him. And she is willing to kneel in unanswered space if that is what keeps her close.
Then the statement comes—the one that has unsettled readers for centuries. The children’s bread. The dogs. The line of division.
But here is the hidden truth most people miss.
Jesus is not testing her worth.
He is revealing her faith.
And she passes the test not by arguing status, but by leaning harder into trust.
Her response is not defensive.
It is dependent.
“Yes, Lord. But even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
This sentence is one of the most concentrated expressions of real faith in all of Scripture.
Because it contains no entitlement.
No bitterness.
No bargaining.
No accusation.
Only confidence that whatever falls from God is enough.
She is not asking for a throne.
She is not demanding equal footing.
She is not seeking validation.
She is seeking mercy—and she is so convinced of God’s abundance that she knows even leftovers carry resurrection weight.
This is why Jesus calls her faith great.
Not because she performed.
But because she trusted.
Not because she argued doctrine.
But because she trusted God’s nature.
Not because she was positioned well.
But because she believed well.
And her daughter is healed instantly.
No hands laid.
No oil poured.
No ceremony enacted.
Faith alone bridged the distance.
This moment carries a message that still rattles religious structures today.
God’s power moves faster than our categories.
And compassion reaches beyond our borders.
After this encounter, Jesus moves on and the crowd shifts again. Now the broken come. The maimed. The blind. The lame. The mute. They are brought to Him in waves. And the Scripture says He healed them all.
Not selectively.
Not cautiously.
Not conditionally.
All.
This is not a random healing scene. It is a direct continuation of the truth Matthew 15 has already established: access to God is not gated by pedigree. It is activated by faith.
And something remarkable happens in the response of the people. They glorify the God of Israel. That detail is important. These are not necessarily Israelites praising their own identity. These are outsiders praising a God they are now encountering personally.
When God moves publicly, ownership collapses and worship expands.
Then comes the feeding of the four thousand.
Three days with Jesus.
Three days of teaching.
Three days of presence.
And they are starving.
This tells us something critical about the nature of spiritual hunger.
Being near Jesus does not erase physical needs.
And meeting physical needs does not replace spiritual hunger.
We are both dust and breath.
And God tends to both.
Jesus sees their condition and says words that reveal the core of heaven’s compassion: “I do not want to send them away hungry.”
This is not the voice of a distant deity.
This is the voice of a present Shepherd.
This is not obligation.
This is empathy.
This is not rescue at a distance.
This is provision up close.
The disciples respond with what feels sensible.
They look at supply.
They look at geography.
They look at limitation.
They look at numbers.
And they say what we all say when logic is louder than faith: “Where could we get enough bread in this remote place?”
They still have not learned that remoteness is God’s favorite stage.
They still assume that scarcity defines what God can do.
They still think logistics lead.
But once again, Jesus takes what seems insufficient, blesses it, breaks it, and multiplies it.
And everyone eats.
And everyone is satisfied.
And there are leftovers again.
Leftovers are the signature of God’s sufficiency.
They are heaven’s evidence that what God provides does not barely survive—it overflows.
And this time, the overflow is seven baskets.
Seven.
The number of completeness.
The number of fulfillment.
The number of wholeness.
Matthew 15 begins with people arguing over clean hands.
And it ends with God feeding multitudes with clean mercy.
The arc of the chapter is unmistakable.
It moves from confrontation to compassion.
From exposure to healing.
From boundary to abundance.
From tradition to transformation.
The deeper question, though, is what Matthew 15 reveals about us.
Because we still live in a world that loves categories.
We still divide people based on who deserves help.
We still rank moral value.
We still assume access must be earned.
We still confuse spiritual polish with spiritual depth.
We still fight over rituals while people starve for real presence.
And Matthew 15 stands like a mirror held to the modern church and asks whether we still recognize the Jesus we preach about.
Because He is not impressed by our performance.
He is not threatened by our questions.
He is not limited by our systems.
He is not repelled by our distance.
But He is deeply drawn to our trust.
What made the Pharisees uncomfortable was not Jesus’ miracles.
It was His refusal to be managed.
He would heal without permission.
Forgive without consultation.
Welcome without qualification.
Break every invisible social fence that religion had built and called holy.
And that is still the part of Jesus that makes people uneasy today.
Because a God who can be tightly regulated is safe.
But a God who cannot be predicted is dangerous.
Matthew 15 reveals that the danger is mercy.
That the threat is grace.
That the disruption is compassion.
That the collapse is control.
And the restoration is trust.
This chapter also tells us something quietly devastating about offense.
The Pharisees were offended.
The disciples noticed.
Jesus did not retreat.
This is a difficult truth for a culture built on approval.
Sometimes being faithful means being misunderstood.
Sometimes speaking truth means losing favor.
Sometimes obeying God means violating expectations.
Not because God enjoys confrontation—but because false peace is still false.
Jesus was not chasing offense.
But He refused to avoid it if truth demanded it.
This is one of the most important distinctions modern faith communities must rediscover.
You do not measure truth by applause.
You measure truth by alignment with the heart of God.
Matthew 15 shows us a God who is not impressed by spiritual language that lacks spiritual fruit.
It shows us a Messiah who will not endorse systems that look holy on the outside but leave hearts untouched inside.
It shows us that hunger—real hunger—draws heaven faster than credentials ever could.
And it shows us that the people who receive the most from Jesus are often the ones who believe they deserve the least.
The Canaanite woman did not approach as a customer.
She approached as a beggar.
And beggars are not picky.
They do not argue over presentation.
They reach for life.
And she found it.
The crowds did not approach as consumers.
They approached as the wounded.
And they found healing.
The four thousand did not approach as planners.
They approached as followers.
And they found provision.
The Pharisees approached as regulators.
And they found exposure.
Every response to Jesus in Matthew 15 reveals something about posture.
The question is not how many verses we can quote.
The question is where our faith actually leans when silence answers first.
Where our loyalty anchors when offense knocks.
Where our trust settles when crumbs are all that fall.
Because the truth is, most of life is lived in crumbs.
Most prayers are whispered without fireworks.
Most faith grows quietly.
Most obedience feels unseen.
Most provision comes disguised as barely enough.
And Matthew 15 teaches us that barely enough from God is always more than plenty without Him.
This chapter also corrects a dangerous misunderstanding many people carry quietly for years.
They believe that if they were really welcome in God’s presence, things would come faster.
They assume that delay means dismissal.
They assume that unanswered space means they are outside the circle.
Matthew 15 shatters that assumption.
The woman was not outside the circle.
She was being drawn deeper into it.
And her persistence was not irritating Jesus.
It was revealing her faith.
Delay does not mean denial.
And silence does not mean absence.
Sometimes it means God is letting your trust stretch until it breaks open into something stronger than certainty—into confidence in who He is rather than in how He responds.
Matthew 15 also reframes what greatness looks like in the kingdom.
Great faith is not loud.
It is not polished.
It is not credentialed.
It is not performative.
Great faith whispers, “Even crumbs are enough.”
Great faith kneels when it could protest.
Great faith trusts character over outcome.
Great faith remains when logic leaves.
And great faith always moves heaven.
The leftovers in this chapter matter because they signal something else.
God does not exhaust Himself in the miracle.
He leaves margin.
He leaves proof.
He leaves abundance behind.
There is always more with God than the moment reveals.
And that matters to a generation trained to live on depletion.
Matthew 15 reminds us that God does not do transactions.
He does transformation.
He does not manage behavior.
He remakes hearts.
He does not ask us to impress Him.
He asks us to trust Him.
He does not reward performance.
He responds to dependence.
And dependence terrifies modern pride.
Because it strips away the illusion of control.
But it is the posture heaven responds to fastest.
This chapter also speaks to anyone who has ever felt disqualified by culture, by church, by history, by failure, by shame, by labels, by past, by reputation.
The woman had every cultural reason to stay silent.
She refused.
The crowd had every practical reason to give up.
They stayed.
The disciples had every logical reason to limit expectation.
They watched God exceed it.
Matthew 15 does not argue for inclusion as a concept.
It demonstrates it as an act.
It does not preach compassion as a value.
It unleashes it as a force.
And it does not promise comfort as the goal of faith.
It promises trust as the doorway to power.
There is one final truth hidden beneath all the movement of this chapter that must not be missed.
The thing Jesus actually cleans in Matthew 15 is not hands.
It is vision.
He cleans how people see God.
He cleans how people see themselves.
He cleans how people see each other.
He restores reality to a world distorted by religious filters.
Because when the heart is clean, the world looks different.
The outsider becomes a neighbor.
The broken becomes a candidate for healing.
The hungry becomes a guest.
The unbearable becomes bearable.
And the impossible becomes a question mark instead of a verdict.
Matthew 15 is not a chapter you read.
It is a chapter you stand inside.
It asks whether we are more concerned with being right or being near.
Whether we prefer order or obedience.
Whether we trust crumbs or demand control.
Whether our faith leans on access or credentials.
And whether we believe that God still multiplies what feels insufficient when it is surrendered.
Because if Matthew 15 tells us anything clearly, it tells us this:
God does not measure worth the way people do.
God does not distribute mercy based on hierarchy.
God does not build fences where hunger exists.
And God does not leave people starving when they follow Him into the wilderness.
He feeds them.
He heals them.
He sees them.
And He invites them closer.
Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube
Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee
Your friend,
Douglas Vandergraph
#Matthew15 #FaithAndTradition #JesusRevealsHearts #CrumbsOfGrace #GreatIsYourFaith #SpiritualTransformation #FaithOverPerformance #GospelDepth #ChristCenteredLife
from
John Karahalis
I will make certain my next laptop has an AMD graphics card. NVIDIA graphics cards have caused me so much pain and frustration on Linux. I should have known better than to go with NVIDIA for this laptop, honestly. I don't know what I was thinking.
I've heard that NVIDIA drivers for Linux are improving with the growth of AI, but it's too little too late. I want something stable that just works!
#AI #Business #Technology #UserExperience
I have another website where I write about being a stay-at-home father, private investigator, and writer. While I enjoy writing these topics, however, as the years go by, the website turned from a personal blog to a professional portfolio. It’s good if I ever go back to the workplace, but my original goal to write about my experiences and provide some wisdom, I have failed.
Instead of writing for myself first I’ve focused on writing for other’s expectations. I ended up self-censoring myself, something most writers fear. Other than writing on notebooks with pencils I need an online space to share myself with others without the risk of holding myself back when something important needs to be said. Also, I need to focus on the writing without too many revisions and second guessing.
This is what this blog is for. Whether I’m talking about writing tips, short-stories, short-form random thoughts, or a long-form essay this is the place for me to post them. And it doesn’t matter whether I make a single cent or not and whether you like or hate my content. The most important thing is I’ll always be truthful to myself and to you, the reader, as best I can.
So let’s see where this journey goes. I do want to thank Write.as for giving me this platform to write on despite the many options out there. So if you happen to stumble onto this blog and like what you’re reading, thank you.
God Bless.
Sincerely,
Ernest Ortiz 12/08/2025
from Patrimoine Médard bourgault
Au Québec, un avenant est un acte juridique qui modifie, complète ou précise les termes d’un contrat existant sans remplacer ce contrat en entier. En pratique, il permet d’adapter un accord initial aux nouvelles circonstances ou besoins des parties (par exemple en ajustant les délais ou les obligations). Pour qu’un avenant soit valide, il doit être formulé par écrit et signé par toutes les parties concernées, afin de bien constater leur consentement mutuel aux changements apportés. On parle d’avenant non notarié lorsque ce document est signé en privé (sous seing privé) sans l’intervention d’un notaire.
En droit québécois, la plupart des contrats peuvent être conclus sous seing privé et demeurent juridiquement valables s’ils respectent les conditions de base (consentement libre, capacité des parties, objet et cause licites, etc.). Ainsi, une entente écrite signée par un organisme sans but lucratif (OSBL) tel que la Corporation Médard Bourgault et par l’autre partie peut avoir force de contrat même sans notaire. Cependant, certains types de transactions exigent obligatoirement la forme notariée. Notamment, le Code civil du Québec stipule que la donation d’un bien, meuble ou immeuble, doit être faite par acte notarié en minute et publiée, à peine de nullité absolue. Autrement dit, si le domaine Médard Bourgault avait été transmis à l’OSBL par donation, cette donation ne serait valide que via un acte notarié dûment inscrit aux registres publics. De même, les actes modifiant les droits immobiliers publiés (tels qu’un titre de propriété, une hypothèque, une servitude, etc.) doivent respecter certaines formalités. Un document sous seing privé qui affecte un immeuble ne peut être publié au Registre foncier sans être attesté par un notaire ou un avocat. Ces exigences visent à assurer la sécurité juridique et la transparence des transactions immobilières.
En résumé, un avenant non notarié est théoriquement valide s’il porte sur un contrat ordinaire n’exigeant pas l’intervention d’un notaire. Mais s’il modifie un contrat touchant à un bien patrimonial important (comme un immeuble historique) ou un engagement grave, il peut souffrir d’un manque de reconnaissance légale s’il n’est pas conforme aux formalités requises. La valeur juridique d’un tel avenant dépend donc du contexte : s’il contrevient à une règle de forme (ex. absence de notaire là où la loi en requiert un), il risque d’être inopposable aux tiers, voire nul. Même lorsqu’aucune loi n’impose le notariat, il faut garder à l’esprit qu’un avenant non notarié n’a pas la même force probante qu’un acte authentique. Un acte notarié offre une date certaine et fait foi jusqu’à preuve du contraire, ce qui n’est pas le cas d’un simple document privé signé entre parties.
Les problèmes surgissent surtout lorsqu’un avenant non notarié est utilisé de manière opaque, par exemple pour dissimuler des défauts de paiement importants ou modifier secrètement un contrat initial. Dans un OSBL gérant un domaine patrimonial, de telles pratiques comportent plusieurs risques juridiques et éthiques :
En somme, un avenant non notarié utilisé dans le but de contourner ou de cacher des obligations expose l’OSBL à un cercle de risques : fragilité juridique de l’acte, découverte éventuelle du pot aux roses, sanctions légales possibles et dommages collatéraux en image et en gouvernance. La fin ne justifie pas les moyens : même si l’intention est de « gagner du temps » ou de préserver temporairement l’organisme d’un scandale, les conséquences d’une telle opacité risquent d’être bien plus coûteuses à long terme.
La gestion d’un domaine à valeur patrimoniale – par exemple la maison-musée ou le site historique lié à Médard Bourgault – impose à l’OSBL responsable un niveau élevé de rigueur et de devoirs, tant sur le plan légal que moral. Voici les principales obligations et responsabilités à considérer :
Face à ces enjeux, comment un OSBL peut-il agir prudemment lorsqu’il envisage de modifier un contrat ou de faire face à des imprévus financiers concernant un domaine patrimonial? Voici quelques bonnes pratiques recommandées pour assurer la pérennité du legs culturel dans la transparence et la légalité :
En appliquant ces bonnes pratiques, un OSBL augmente considérablement ses chances de préserver le legs patrimonial dont il a la charge, tout en évitant les écueils juridiques. C’est une approche basée sur la prudence, la conformité et l’éthique, qui reflète le sérieux attendu pour gérer un bien culturel d’intérêt collectif.
Le patrimoine légué par un artiste de l’envergure de Médard Bourgault est un trésor culturel et identitaire. En confiant son domaine à une corporation sans but lucratif, la communauté s’attend à une gestion exemplaire, transparente et respectueuse des volontés fondatrices. Un avenant non notarié utilisé à mauvais escient – pour cacher des manquements ou remanier discrètement un accord – représente tout ce qu’il faut éviter dans un contexte patrimonial. Non seulement sa validité juridique est incertaine au Québec, mais il trahit un manque de transparence contraire aux valeurs d’un OSBL à vocation culturelle.
Au fil de cette réflexion, nous avons vu que la loi québécoise offre des outils robustes (notariat, registre foncier, lois patrimoniales) pour encadrer la gestion des biens d’importance historique. La vigilance est de mise : chaque administrateur d’OSBL doit garder à l’esprit qu’il agit en gardien d’un patrimoine pour les générations futures. Cela implique de respecter scrupuleusement les règles, d’assumer les difficultés avec honnêteté et de rechercher l’appui de partenaires plutôt que de succomber à la tentation de “cacher la poussière sous le tapis”.
Protéger le legs Bourgault – ou tout autre domaine patrimonial – demande une combinaison de rigueur juridique et de transparence morale. En étant proactif dans les bonnes pratiques (consultation juridique, actes notariés pour les changements, communication ouverte, etc.), l’OSBL se prémunit contre les dérives et consolide la confiance du public. À l’inverse, la moindre entorse dissimulée peut fragiliser des années d’efforts de mise en valeur. La leçon à retenir est claire : aucune économie de temps ou d’argent ne justifie de prendre des raccourcis juridiques risqués lorsqu’il s’agit d’un héritage culturel. La rigueur, la transparence et l’intégrité doivent primer, afin que le domaine Médard Bourgault demeure une source de fierté collective et traverse les décennies sans être compromis par des imprudences évitables. En définitive, la sauvegarde d’un patrimoine ne se joue pas seulement dans la restauration des œuvres ou des bâtiments, mais aussi dans la rectitude des gestes administratifs posés à son égard. Être vigilant, c’est honorer la mémoire du passé tout en assurant l’avenir de ce bien commun.
from
The happy place
👋 hello
👋
It’s been Monday again.
And a rainy one too.
Now the snow is gone, gravel on the wet sidewalks looks like they’ve put poppy seeds on there although bigger and not on bread.
But on sidewalk…
I’m feeling today: 200 years old!
Another work day done, gaining some valuable insights and experience. I picture it a big cross-stitched embroidery; every day I add another cross to there:
An awesome sight.
I show it to peope and claim that it’s abstract art.
It’s colourful, but the aida cloth underneath has got holes in it, it’s also right now gray: I’m stitching to cover a gray part with too many holes, using a bright yellow, because it is almost — but not — gold.
There’s something nice about even a dirty cloth which isn’t perfect can have embroidery just like that
It’s beautiful even though right now my fingers are bleeding and my eyes are sore from embroidering
It takes more than will, and embers
It takes discipline I think
Especially on the gray
from Patrimoine Médard bourgault
Peut-on encore créer « dans l’esprit de Médard Bourgault » sans renier notre époque ? La continuité avec un maître suppose-t-elle une fidélité au figuratif ? Une opposition à l’art contemporain ? Ou bien un engagement plus profond — esthétique, moral, spirituel ?
Ce texte propose une réflexion ouverte, ancrée dans les écrits de Médard Bourgault, son œuvre et les enjeux de la création actuelle.
Continuer une œuvre, ce n’est pas la copier. C’est transmettre un regard, une exigence, un rapport au monde. Médard Bourgault n’a jamais demandé à ses élèves de l’imiter. Il transmettait un idéal :
Créer dans sa continuité, ce n’est pas figer son style — c’est prolonger son éthique.
Médard était figuratif. Il le revendiquait. Il critiquait les formes modernes qui, selon lui, défiguraient le sacré. Il écrivait :
« Je conseillerais à tous nos artistes de ne pas s’inspirer, de grâce, à toutes ces laides figures qui sont d’art moderne. »
Mais cette critique ne visait pas toute modernité. Il admirait Henri Charlier — sculpteur figuratif, mais novateur. La continuité avec Médard n’exclut donc pas la modernité, si elle reste fidèle au vrai, au beau, à l’humain.
👉 Un artiste peut créer dans sa lignée sans sculpter des saints — s’il respecte les valeurs fondamentales : lisibilité, sens, dignité.
Voici quelques repères concrets pour reconnaître une œuvre dans l’esprit de Bourgault :
Créer comme Médard ne veut pas dire faire du « Médard ». Ce serait trahir son désir d’authenticité. Il écrivait :
« La persévérance est la mère des grands bâtisseurs de pays. »
Autrement dit : trace ton propre chemin, mais avec rigueur, respect, et sincérité.
👉 Un jeune artiste qui sculpte des figures contemporaines, en bois local, avec une approche figurative expressive, dans un esprit humble et attentif — est dans sa continuité.
Dans un monde où l’art devient parfois spéculatif, inaccessible ou désincarné, l’approche de Bourgault est un rappel : Créer, c’est transmettre. C’est bâtir. C’est relier.
Sa vision peut encore guider :
Médard Bourgault ne nous lègue pas une école fermée, mais une exigence ouverte. Continuer son œuvre, c’est :
Sa continuité n’est pas une ligne droite : c’est une fidélité en mouvement.

For millions of rural Chinese children, English is far more than a school subject—it is a bridge to wider opportunities, greater confidence, and a future that reaches far beyond the borders of their village. In communities where resources are limited and educational gaps are often deep, English can become one of the most transformative tools a child can learn.
Many rural students dream of entering strong high schools or universities, yet competition is fierce. English is a core component of key examinations, including the zhongkao and gaokao. A child with strong English grades immediately stands out. For students who already face disadvantages in funding, teaching quality, and access to learning materials, mastering English can be the factor that equalises their chance.
Rural communities can feel isolated—physically and culturally. Learning English gives children access to global ideas, music, stories, and friendships. It expands their worldview far beyond the fields they grew up in. A child who speaks even simple English begins to see the world not as something distant, but as something they can be part of.
In many rural classrooms, children grow up believing that success is reserved for the city or for the wealthy. When a rural child begins speaking English—when they realise “I can do this”—their confidence shifts. This new sense of identity often influences their behaviour, ambition, and willingness to try new things.
A confident child is more likely to stay in school, pursue higher education, and break out of generational cycles of poverty.
Educational inequality is one of the biggest challenges for rural China. Large cities have access to foreign teachers, strong curriculum, and better resources. Rural children are left behind—not because of lack of intelligence, but lack of opportunity.
English programmes in rural areas directly reduce this gap. They give disadvantaged children access to a skill that is normally expensive to obtain. For many families, even a simple English workbook is a luxury. Providing structured, quality English education brings long-term, life-changing benefits to children who would otherwise never receive it.
China’s future economy relies heavily on international trade, technology, tourism, and global cooperation. Employers value workers who can communicate in English. For rural children who want to work in larger cities or attend vocational colleges, English becomes an economic asset. It improves job prospects, earning potential, and the ability to move upward in society.
When one child succeeds, entire families benefit. A single rural student who gains a good job because of their English skills can support siblings, pay for grandparents’ medical needs, and help parents reduce their financial burden. Over time, entire villages experience change.
Your support helps rural Chinese children access opportunities they deserve. Together, we can keep their classrooms bright and full of possibility. Thank you for considering being part of their journey.
© 2025 Europe China Monitor News Team