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Picture the digital landscape as a crowded marketplace where every stall speaks a different dialect. Your tweet exists in one linguistic universe, your Mastodon post in another, and your Bluesky thread in yet another still. They all express fundamentally similar ideas, yet they cannot understand one another. This is not merely an inconvenience; it represents one of the most significant technical and political challenges facing the contemporary internet.
The question of how platforms and API providers might converge on a minimal interoperable content schema seems almost deceptively simple. After all, content is content. A post is a post. A like is a like. Yet beneath this apparent simplicity lies a tangle of competing interests, technical philosophies, and governance models that have resisted resolution for nearly three decades.
The stakes have never been higher. In 2024, Meta's Threads began implementing federation through ActivityPub, making President Joe Biden the first United States President with a presence on the fediverse when his official Threads account enabled federation in April 2024. Bluesky opened its doors to the public in February 2024 and announced plans to submit the AT Protocol to the Internet Engineering Task Force for standardisation. The European Union's Digital Services Act now requires very large online platforms to submit daily reports on content moderation decisions to a transparency database that has accumulated over 735 billion content moderation decisions since September 2023.
Something is shifting. The walled gardens that defined the social web for the past two decades are developing cracks, and through those cracks, we can glimpse the possibility of genuine interoperability. But possibility and reality remain separated by formidable obstacles, not least the fundamental question of what such interoperability should actually look like.
The challenge extends beyond mere technical specification. Every schema reflects assumptions about what content is, who creates it, how it should be moderated, and what metadata deserves preservation. These are not neutral engineering decisions; they are deeply political choices that will shape communication patterns for generations. Getting the schema right matters immensely. Getting the governance right matters even more.
The promise of interoperability is not merely technical efficiency. It represents a fundamental shift in the balance of power between platforms and users. When content can flow freely between services, network effects cease to function as lock-in mechanisms. Users gain genuine choice. Competition flourishes on features rather than audience capture. The implications for market dynamics, user agency, and the future of digital communication are profound.
Before plotting a course forward, it pays to examine the tombstones of previous attempts. The history of internet standards offers both inspiration and cautionary tales, often in equal measure.
Consider RSS and Atom, the feed standards that once promised to liberate content from platform silos. RSS emerged in 1997 at UserLand, evolved through Netscape in 1999, and fragmented into competing versions that confused developers and users alike. The format's roots trace back to 1995, when Ramanathan V. Guha developed the Meta Content Framework at Apple, drawing from knowledge representation systems including CycL, KRL, and KIF. By September 2002, Dave Winer released RSS 2.0, redubbing its initials “Really Simple Syndication,” but the damage from years of versioning confusion was already done.
Atom arose in 2003 specifically to address what its proponents viewed as RSS's limitations and ambiguities. Ben Trott and other advocates believed RSS suffered from flaws that could only be remedied through a fresh start rather than incremental improvement. The project initially lacked even a settled name, cycling through “Pie,” “Echo,” “Atom,” and “Whatever” before settling on Atom. The format gained traction quickly, with Atom 0.3 achieving widespread adoption in syndication tools and integration into Google services including Blogger, Google News, and Gmail.
Atom achieved technical superiority in many respects. It became an IETF proposed standard through RFC 4287 in December 2005, offering cleaner XML syntax, mandatory unique identifiers for entries, and proper language support through the xml:lang attribute. The Atom Publishing Protocol followed as RFC 5023 in October 2007. Unlike RSS, which lacked any date tag until version 2.0, Atom made temporal metadata mandatory from the outset. Where RSS's vocabulary could not be easily reused in other XML contexts, Atom's elements were specifically designed for reuse.
Yet the market never cleanly converged on either format. Both persist to this day, with most feed readers supporting both, essentially forcing the ecosystem to maintain dual compatibility indefinitely. The existence of multiple standards confused the market and may have contributed to the decline of feed usage overall in favour of social media platforms.
The lesson here cuts deep: technical excellence alone does not guarantee adoption, and competing standards can fragment an ecosystem even when both serve substantially similar purposes. As one developer noted, the RSS versus Atom debate was “at best irrelevant to most people and at worst a confusing market-damaging thing.”
Dublin Core offers a more optimistic precedent. When 52 invitees gathered at OCLC headquarters in Dublin, Ohio, in March 1995, they faced a web with approximately 500,000 addressable objects and no consistent way to categorise them. The gathering was co-hosted by the National Center for Supercomputing Applications and OCLC, bringing together experts who explored the usefulness of a core set of semantics for categorising the web.
The fifteen-element Dublin Core metadata set they developed became an IETF RFC in 1998, an American national standard (ANSI/NISO Z39.85) in 2001, and an ISO international standard (ISO 15836) in 2003. Today, Dublin Core underpins systems from the EPUB e-book format to the DSpace archival software. The Australian Government Locator Service metadata standard is an application profile of Dublin Core, as is PBCore. Zope CMF's Metadata products, used by Plone, ERP5, and Nuxeo CPS content management systems, implement Dublin Core, as does Fedora Commons.
What distinguished Dublin Core's success? Several factors emerged: the specification remained deliberately minimal, addressing a clearly defined problem; it achieved formal recognition through multiple standards bodies; and it resisted the temptation to expand beyond its core competence. As Bradley Allen observed at the 2016 Dublin Core conference, metadata standards have become “pervasive in the infrastructure of content curation and management, and underpin search infrastructure.” A single thread, Allen noted, runs from the establishment of Dublin Core through Open Linked Data to the emergence of Knowledge Graphs.
Since 2002, the Dublin Core Metadata Initiative has maintained its own documentation for DCMI Metadata Terms and emerged as the de facto agency to develop metadata standards for the web. As of December 2008, the Initiative operates as a fully independent, public not-for-profit company limited by guarantee in Singapore, an open organisation engaged in developing interoperable online metadata standards.
The present landscape features two primary contenders for decentralised social media interoperability, each embodying distinct technical philosophies and governance approaches.
ActivityPub, which became a W3C recommended standard in January 2018, now defines the fediverse, a decentralised social network of independently managed instances running software such as Mastodon, Pixelfed, and PeerTube. The protocol provides both a client-to-server API for creating and modifying content and a federated server-to-server protocol for delivering notifications and content to other servers.
The protocol's foundation rests on Activity Streams 2.0, a JSON-based serialisation syntax that conforms to JSON-LD constraints whilst not requiring full JSON-LD processing. The standardisation of Activity Streams began with the independent Activity Streams Working Group publishing JSON Activity Streams 1.0 in May 2011. The W3C chartered its Social Web Working Group in July 2014, leading to iterative working drafts from 2014 to 2017.
Activity Streams 2.0 represents a carefully considered vocabulary. Its core structure includes an actor (the entity performing an action, such as a person or group), a type property denoting the action taken (Create, Like, Follow), an object representing the primary target of the action, and an optional target for secondary destinations. The format uses the media type application/activity+json and supports over 50 properties across its core and vocabulary definitions. Documents should include a @context referencing the Activity Streams namespace for enhanced interoperability with linked data.
The format's compatibility with JSON-LD enables semantic richness and flexibility, allowing implementations to extend or customise objects whilst maintaining interoperability. Implementations wishing to fully support extensions must support Compact URI expansion as defined by the JSON-LD specification. Extensions for custom properties are achieved through JSON-LD contexts with prefixed namespaces, preventing conflicts with the standard vocabulary and ensuring forward compatibility.
The fediverse has achieved considerable scale. By late 2025, Mastodon alone reported over 1.75 million active users, with nearly 6,000 instances across the broader network. Following Elon Musk's acquisition of Twitter, Mastodon gained more than two million users within two months. Mastodon was registered in Germany as a nonprofit organisation between 2021 and 2024, with a US nonprofit established in April 2024.
Major platforms have announced or implemented ActivityPub support, including Tumblr, Flipboard, and Meta's Threads. In March 2024, Threads implemented a beta version of fediverse support, allowing Threads users to view the number of fediverse users that liked their posts and allowing fediverse users to view posts from Threads on their own instances. The ability to view replies from the fediverse within Threads was added in August 2024. Ghost, the blogging platform and content management system, announced in April 2024 that they would implement fediverse support via ActivityPub. In December 2023, Flipboard CEO Mike McCue stated the move was intended to break away from “walled garden” ecosystems.
The AT Protocol, developed by Bluesky, takes a markedly different approach. Where ActivityPub grew from W3C working groups following traditional standards processes, AT Protocol emerged from a venture-backed company with explicit plans to eventually submit the work to a standards body. The protocol aims to address perceived issues with other decentralised protocols, including user experience, platform interoperability, discoverability, network scalability, and portability of user data and social graphs.
Bluesky opened to the public in February 2024, a year after its release as an invitation-required beta, and reached over 10 million registered users by October 2024. The company opened federation through the AT Protocol soon after public launch, allowing users to build apps within the protocol and provide their own storage for content sent to Bluesky Social. In August 2024, Bluesky introduced a set of “anti-toxicity features” including the ability to detach posts from quote posts and hide replies.
AT Protocol's architecture emphasises what its creators call “credible exit,” based on the principle that every part of the system can be run by multiple competing providers, with users able to switch providers with minimal friction. The protocol employs a modular microservice architecture rather than ActivityPub's typically monolithic server design. Users are identified by domain names that map to cryptographic URLs securing their accounts and data. The system utilises a dual identifier system: a mutable handle (domain name) and an immutable decentralised identifier (DID).
Clients and services interoperate through an HTTP API called XRPC that primarily uses JSON for data serialisation. All data that must be authenticated, referenced, or stored is encoded in CBOR. User data is exchanged in signed data repositories containing records including posts, comments, likes, follows, and media blobs.
As described in Bluesky's 2024 Protocol Roadmap, the company planned to submit AT Protocol to an existing standards body such as the IETF in summer 2024. However, after consulting with those experienced in standardisation processes, they decided to wait until more developers had explored the protocol's design. The goal, they stated, was to have multiple organisations with AT Protocol experience collaborate on the standards process together.
When constructing a minimal interoperable content schema, certain elements demand priority attention. The challenge lies not in cataloguing every conceivable property, but in identifying the irreducible core that enables meaningful interoperability whilst leaving room for extension.
Metadata forms the foundation. At minimum, any content object requires a unique identifier, creation timestamp, and author attribution. The history of RSS, where the guid tag did not appear until version 2.0 and remained optional, demonstrates the chaos that ensues when basic identification remains undefined. Without a guid tag, RSS clients must reread the same feed items repeatedly, guessing what items have been seen before, with no guidance in the specification for doing so. Atom's requirement of mandatory id elements for entries reflected hard-won lessons about content deduplication and reference.
The Dublin Core elements provide a useful starting framework: title, creator, date, and identifier address the most fundamental questions about any piece of content. Activity Streams 2.0 builds on this with actor, type, object, and published properties that capture the essential “who did what to what and when” structure of social content. Any interoperable schema must treat these elements as non-optional, ensuring that even minimal implementations can participate meaningfully in the broader ecosystem.
Content type specification requires particular care. The IANA media type registry, which evolved from the original MIME specification in RFC 2045 in November 1996, demonstrates both the power and complexity of type systems. Media types were originally introduced for email messaging and were used as values for the Content-Type MIME header. The IANA and IETF now use the term “media type” and consider “MIME type” obsolete, since media types have become used in contexts unrelated to email, particularly HTTP.
The registry now encompasses structured suffix registrations defined since January 2001 for +xml in RFC 3023, and formally included in the Structured Syntax Suffix Registry alongside +json, +ber, +der, +fastinfoset, +wbxml, and +zip in January 2013 through RFC 6839. These suffixes enable parsers to understand content structure even for novel types. Any content schema should leverage this existing infrastructure rather than reinventing type identification.
Moderation flags present the thorniest challenge. The Digital Services Act transparency database reveals the scale of this problem: researchers analysed 1.58 billion moderation actions from major platforms to examine how social media services handled content moderation during the 2024 European Parliament elections. The database, which has been operating since September 2023, has revealed significant inconsistencies in how different services categorise and report their decisions.
The European Commission adopted an implementing regulation in November 2024 establishing uniform reporting templates, recognising that meaningful transparency requires standardised vocabulary. The regulation addresses previous inconsistencies by establishing uniform reporting periods. Providers must start collecting data according to the Implementing Regulation from 1 July 2025, with the first harmonised reports due in early 2026.
A minimal moderation schema might include: visibility status (public, restricted, removed), restriction reason category, restriction timestamp, and appeals status. INHOPE's Global Standard project aims to harmonise terminology for classifying illegal content, creating interoperable hash sets for identification. Such efforts demonstrate that even in sensitive domains, standardisation remains possible when sufficient motivation exists.
Extensibility mechanisms deserve equal attention. Activity Streams 2.0 handles extensions through JSON-LD contexts with prefixed namespaces, preventing conflicts with the standard vocabulary whilst ensuring forward compatibility. This approach allows platforms to add proprietary features without breaking interoperability for core content types.
The JSON Schema project has taken a similar approach to managing complexity. After 10 different releases over 15 years, the specification had become, by the project's own admission, “a very complex document too focused on tooling creators but difficult to understand for general JSON Schema users.” The project's evolution toward a JavaScript-style staged release process, where most features are declared stable whilst others undergo extended vetting, offers a model for managing schema evolution.
The governance question may ultimately prove more decisive than technical design. Three broad models have emerged for developing and maintaining technical standards, each with distinct advantages and limitations.
Open standards bodies such as the W3C and IETF have produced much of the infrastructure underlying the modern internet. In August 2012, five leading organisations, IEEE, Internet Architecture Board, IETF, Internet Society, and W3C, signed a statement affirming jointly developed OpenStand principles. These principles specify that standards should be developed through open, participatory processes, support interoperability, foster global competition, and be voluntarily adopted.
The W3C's governance has evolved considerably since its founding in 1994. Tim Berners-Lee, who founded the consortium at MIT, described its mission as overseeing web development whilst keeping the technology “free and nonproprietary.” The W3C ensures its specifications can be implemented on a royalty-free basis, requiring authors to transfer copyright to the consortium whilst making documentation freely available.
The IETF operates as a large open international community of network designers, operators, vendors, and researchers concerned with the evolution of the internet architecture and the smooth operation of the internet. Unlike more formal organisations, participation requires no membership fees; anyone can contribute through working groups and mailing lists. The IETF has produced standards including TCP/IP, DNS, and email protocols that form the internet's core infrastructure. As the Internet Society noted in its policy brief, “Policy makers and regulators should reference the use of open standards so that both governments and the broader economies can benefit from the services, products, and technologies built on such standards.”
The Activity Streams standardisation process illustrates this model's strengths and limitations. Work began with the independent Activity Streams Working Group publishing JSON Activity Streams 1.0 in May 2011. The W3C chartered its Social Web Working Group in July 2014, leading to iterative working drafts from 2014 to 2017 before Activity Streams 2.0 achieved recommendation status in January 2018. In December 2024, the group received a renewed charter to pursue backwards-compatible updates for improved clarity and potential new features.
This timeline spanning nearly a decade from initial publication to W3C recommendation reflects both the thoroughness and deliberate pace of open standards processes. For rapidly evolving domains, such timescales can seem glacial. Yet the model of voluntary standards not funded by government has been, as the Internet Society observed, “extremely successful.”
Consortium-based governance offers a middle path. OASIS (Organization for the Advancement of Structured Information Standards) began in 1993 as SGML Open, a trade association of Standard Generalised Markup Language tool vendors cooperating to promote SGML adoption through educational activities. In 1998, with the industry's movement to XML, SGML Open changed its emphasis and name to OASIS Open, reflecting an expanded scope of technical work.
In July 2000, a new technical committee process was approved. At adoption, there were five technical committees; by 2004, there were nearly 70. OASIS is distinguished by its transparent governance and operating procedures. Members themselves set the technical agenda using a lightweight process designed to promote industry consensus and unite disparate efforts.
OASIS technical committees follow a structured approval pathway: proposal, committee formation, public review, consensus approval, and ongoing maintenance. The OASIS Intellectual Property Rights Policy requires Technical Committee participants to disclose any patent claims they might have and requires all contributors to make specific rights available to the public for implementing approved specifications.
The OpenID Foundation's governance of OpenID Connect demonstrates consortium effectiveness. Published in 2014, OpenID Connect learned lessons from earlier efforts including SAML and OpenID 1.0 and 2.0. Its success derived partly from building atop OAuth 2.0, which had already achieved tremendous adoption, and partly from standardising elements that OAuth left flexible. One of the most important changes is a standard set of scopes. In OAuth 2.0, scopes are whatever the provider wants them to be, making interoperability effectively impossible. OpenID Connect standardises these scopes to openid, profile, email, and address, enabling cross-implementation compatibility.
Vendor-led standardisation presents the most contentious model. When a single company develops and initially controls a standard, questions of lock-in and capture inevitably arise. The Digital Standards Organization (DIGISTAN) states that “an open standard must be aimed at creating unrestricted competition between vendors and unrestricted choice for users.” Its brief definition: “a published specification that is immune to vendor capture at all stages in its life-cycle.”
Yet vendor-led efforts have produced genuinely open results. Google's development of Kubernetes proceeded in the open with community involvement, and the project is now available across all three major commercial clouds. Bluesky's approach with AT Protocol represents a hybrid model: a venture-backed company developing technology with explicit commitment to eventual standardisation.
Any interoperable schema will require change over time. Features that seem essential today may prove inadequate tomorrow, whilst unanticipated use cases will demand new capabilities. Managing this evolution without fragmenting the ecosystem requires disciplined approaches to backward compatibility.
The JSON Schema project's recent evolution offers instructive lessons. The project chose to base their new process on the process used to evolve the JavaScript language. In the next release, most keywords and features will be declared stable and will never change in a backward incompatible way again. Features not yet comfortable being made stable will become part of a new staged release process that ensures sufficient implementation, testing, and real-world vetting.
API versioning strategies have converged on several best practices. URI path versioning, placing version numbers directly in URL paths, has been adopted by Facebook, Twitter, and Airbnb among others. This approach makes versioning explicit and allows clients to target specific versions deliberately. Testing and automation play crucial roles. Backward compatibility can be ensured by introducing unit tests that verify functionality remains across different versions of an API.
Crucially, backward compatibility requires understanding what must never change. Root URLs, existing query parameters, and element semantics all constitute stability contracts. HTTP response codes deserve particular attention: if an API returns 500 when failing to connect to a database, changing that to 200 breaks clients that depend on the original behaviour.
The principle of additive change provides a useful heuristic: add new fields or endpoints rather than altering existing ones. This ensures older clients continue functioning whilst newer clients access additional features. Feature flags enable gradual rollout, hiding new capabilities behind toggles until the ecosystem has adapted.
Deprecation requires equal care. Best practices include providing extensive notice before deprecating features, offering clear migration guides, implementing gradual deprecation with defined timelines, and maintaining documentation for all supported versions. Atlassian's REST API policy exemplifies mature deprecation practice, documenting expected compatibility guarantees and providing systematic approaches to version evolution.
Given the technical requirements and governance considerations, what concrete actions might platforms and API providers take to advance interoperability?
First, establish a minimal core vocabulary through multi-stakeholder collaboration. The Dublin Core model suggests focusing on the smallest possible set of elements that enable meaningful interoperability: unique identifier, creation timestamp, author attribution, content type, and content body. Everything else can be treated as optional extension.
Activity Streams 2.0 provides a strong foundation, having already achieved W3C recommendation status and proven adoption across the fediverse. Rather than designing from scratch, new efforts should build upon this existing work, extending rather than replacing it. The renewed W3C charter for backwards-compatible updates to Activity Streams 2.0 offers a natural venue for such coordination.
Second, prioritise moderation metadata standardisation. The EU's Digital Services Act has forced platforms to report moderation decisions using increasingly harmonised categories. This regulatory pressure, combined with the transparency database's accumulation of over 735 billion decisions, creates both data and incentive for developing common vocabularies.
A working group focused specifically on moderation schema could draw participants from platforms subject to DSA requirements, academic researchers analysing the transparency database, and civil society organisations concerned with content governance. INHOPE's work on harmonising terminology for illegal content provides a model for domain-specific standardisation within a broader framework.
Third, adopt formal extension mechanisms from the outset. Activity Streams 2.0's use of JSON-LD contexts for extensions demonstrates how platforms can add proprietary features without breaking core interoperability. Any content schema should specify how extensions are namespaced, versioned, and discovered.
This approach acknowledges that platforms will always seek differentiation. Rather than fighting this tendency, good schema design channels it into forms that do not undermine the shared foundation. Platforms can compete on features whilst maintaining basic interoperability, much as email clients offer different experiences whilst speaking common SMTP and IMAP protocols.
Fourth, leverage existing infrastructure wherever possible. The IANA media type registry offers a mature, well-governed system for content type identification. Dublin Core provides established metadata semantics. JSON-LD enables semantic extension whilst remaining compatible with standard JSON parsing. Building on such foundations reduces the amount of novel work requiring consensus and grounds new standards in proven precedents.
Fifth, commit to explicit backward compatibility guarantees. Every element of a shared schema should carry clear stability classifications: stable (will never change incompatibly), provisional (may change with notice), or experimental (may change without notice). The JSON Schema project's move toward this model reflects growing recognition that ecosystem confidence requires predictable evolution.
Sixth, establish governance that balances openness with efficiency. Pure open-standards processes can move too slowly for rapidly evolving domains. Pure vendor control raises capture concerns. A consortium model with clear membership pathways, defined decision procedures, and royalty-free intellectual property commitments offers a workable middle ground.
The OpenID Foundation's stewardship of OpenID Connect provides a template: standards developed collaboratively, certified implementations ensuring interoperability, and membership open to any interested organisation.
Technical standards do not emerge in a vacuum. They reflect and reinforce power relationships among participants. The governance model chosen for content schema standardisation will shape which voices are heard and whose interests are served.
Large platforms possess obvious advantages: engineering resources, market leverage, and the ability to implement standards unilaterally. When Meta's Threads implements ActivityPub federation, however imperfectly, it matters far more for adoption than when a small Mastodon instance does the same thing. Yet this asymmetry creates risks of standards capture, where dominant players shape specifications to entrench their positions.
Regulatory pressure increasingly factors into this calculus. The EU's Digital Services Act, with its requirements for transparency and potential fines up to 6 percent of annual global revenue for non-compliance, creates powerful incentives for platforms to adopt standardised approaches. The Commission has opened formal proceedings against multiple platforms including TikTok and X, demonstrating willingness to enforce.
Globally, 71 regulations now explicitly require APIs for interoperability, data sharing, and composable services. This regulatory trend suggests that content schema standardisation may increasingly be driven not by voluntary industry coordination but by legal mandates. Standards developed proactively by the industry may offer more flexibility than those imposed through regulation.
The UK Cabinet Office recommends that government departments specify requirements using open standards when undertaking procurement, explicitly to promote interoperability and avoid technological lock-in.
The “middleware” approach to content moderation, as explored by researchers at the Integrity Institute, would require basic standards for data portability and interoperability. This would affect the contractual relationship between dominant platforms and content moderation providers at the contractual layer, as well as requiring adequate interoperability between content moderation providers at the technical layer. A widespread implementation of middleware would fundamentally reshape how content flows across platforms.
If platforms and API providers succeed in converging on a minimal interoperable content schema, the implications extend far beyond technical convenience. True interoperability would mean that users could choose platforms based on features and community rather than network effects. Content could flow across boundaries, reaching audiences regardless of which service they prefer. Moderation approaches could be compared meaningfully, with shared vocabularies enabling genuine transparency.
Failure, by contrast, would entrench the current fragmentation. Each platform would remain its own universe, with content trapped within walled gardens. Users would face impossible choices between communities that cannot communicate. The dream of a genuinely open social web, articulated since the web's earliest days, would recede further from realisation.
Tim Berners-Lee, in founding the W3C in 1994, sought to ensure the web remained “free and nonproprietary.” Three decades later, that vision faces its sternest test. The protocols underlying the web itself achieved remarkable standardisation. The applications built atop those protocols have not.
The fediverse, AT Protocol, and tentative moves toward federation by major platforms suggest the possibility of change. Activity Streams 2.0 provides a proven foundation. Regulatory pressure creates urgency. The technical challenges, whilst real, appear surmountable.
What remains uncertain is whether the various stakeholders, from venture-backed startups to trillion-dollar corporations to open-source communities to government regulators, can find sufficient common ground to make interoperability a reality rather than merely an aspiration.
The answer will shape the internet's next decade. The schema we choose, and the governance structures through which we choose it, will determine whether the social web becomes more open or more fragmented, more competitive or more captured, more user-empowering or more platform-serving.
That choice remains, for now, open.

Tim Green UK-based Systems Theorist & Independent Technology Writer
Tim explores the intersections of artificial intelligence, decentralised cognition, and posthuman ethics. His work, published at smarterarticles.co.uk, challenges dominant narratives of technological progress while proposing interdisciplinary frameworks for collective intelligence and digital stewardship.
His writing has been featured on Ground News and shared by independent researchers across both academic and technological communities.
ORCID: 0009-0002-0156-9795 Email: tim@smarterarticles.co.uk
from Douglas Vandergraph
There are books in the Bible that feel like thunder, and then there are books that feel like a whisper that somehow carries farther than the thunder ever could. Second John is one of those whispers. It is short enough to fit on a single page, yet it presses on the human heart with the weight of a thousand sermons. It does not shout. It does not argue. It does not try to overwhelm you with volume. It simply speaks the truth and lets the truth do the work. That alone makes it startlingly relevant in a world where everyone is shouting and almost no one is listening.
When John writes this letter, he is an old man. He has outlived almost everyone else who walked with Jesus. He has buried friends, watched churches rise and fall, seen false teachers come and go, and watched the Roman Empire attempt to crush the gospel only to find it keeps spreading. By the time he puts these words to parchment, he is no longer concerned with trends, popularity, or reputation. He is concerned with one thing: that the people who claim to belong to Jesus actually stay rooted in the truth of Jesus. Not the softened version. Not the politically useful version. Not the trendy spiritualized version. The real Christ.
That is why this letter opens with love and truth side by side, not as opposites, but as partners. John addresses the “elect lady and her children,” which most scholars understand as a church and its members, but it also works beautifully on a personal level because every believer, every family, every small group, every home that follows Christ is, in a sense, that lady and her children. You are chosen, but you are also responsible. You are loved, but you are also called to remain in something that is bigger than you.
John does not say, “I love you because you are kind,” or “I love you because you are doing well.” He says, in effect, “I love you because of the truth that lives in you.” That is not sentimental love. That is covenant love. That is love that is anchored to something unchanging. In a culture that defines love as affirmation without discernment, John is quietly telling us that real love is not blind. It sees clearly and still chooses to stay.
Truth, in this letter, is not an abstract idea. It is not a philosophical position. It is not a list of talking points. It is something that lives in you. That alone should stop us in our tracks. If truth lives in you, then truth should be shaping you. It should be forming how you think, how you speak, how you forgive, how you endure, and how you say no when everything in you wants to say yes.
John says that this truth will be with us forever. That means it is not seasonal. It does not expire when culture changes. It does not need to be updated to stay relevant. It does not bend to pressure. It does not care how many people disagree with it. Truth, in Christ, is not fragile. It is permanent.
That permanence is what allows John to say something that feels almost dangerous in today’s climate: grace, mercy, and peace come from walking in truth and love. We tend to separate those things. We talk about grace as though it exists apart from truth, and we talk about love as though it does not need to be anchored in anything. John refuses to do that. He tells us that grace without truth becomes indulgence, and truth without love becomes cruelty. The gospel is neither. The gospel is a marriage of both.
One of the most striking moments in this tiny letter is when John says he rejoiced greatly to find some of the children walking in the truth. Notice what he does not say. He does not say all of them. He does not pretend everything is perfect. He is realistic. He knows that not everyone who starts well finishes well. But the fact that some are still walking in the truth fills him with joy because it tells him that the gospel is still doing what it has always done: quietly transforming people from the inside out.
Walking in truth is not about having the right opinions. It is about living in alignment with who Jesus actually is. You can be theologically informed and spiritually hollow at the same time. John is not impressed by knowledge that does not lead to obedience. For him, walking in truth means letting that truth direct your steps. It means when your pride wants to defend itself, you choose humility. When your anger wants to strike back, you choose forgiveness. When your fear wants to control, you choose trust.
This is where John makes one of the most powerful statements in all of Scripture, even though it comes in the quietest of letters. He says that love means walking according to God’s commandments. That is a sentence that modern culture has almost completely inverted. We are told that love means freedom from commands. John tells us love is proven by faithfulness to them. Not because God is controlling, but because God is good. His commands are not chains. They are guardrails. They keep us from driving off cliffs we cannot see until it is too late.
Then John turns, gently but firmly, toward the danger that is never far away from any community of believers: deception. He does not say “a few deceivers.” He says “many deceivers have gone out into the world.” That is not paranoia. That is pastoral realism. Wherever Christ is preached, there will always be someone trying to reshape Him into something more convenient.
The specific deception John addresses is this: denying that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh. That may sound distant and theological, but it is actually deeply practical. To deny that Jesus came in the flesh is to deny that God truly entered our suffering, our mess, our limitations, and our pain. It turns Jesus into a concept instead of a Savior. It makes Him safe, distant, and abstract.
Every generation has its own version of this deception. Sometimes it is the Jesus who is nothing but a moral teacher. Sometimes it is the Jesus who exists only to make you prosperous. Sometimes it is the Jesus who never confronts sin. Sometimes it is the Jesus who is all about social change but not personal transformation. All of these deny, in their own way, the real Christ who walked dusty roads, touched broken bodies, wept over lost friends, and bled on a cross.
John is not interested in a Jesus who fits our preferences. He is interested in the Jesus who is true. That is why he warns believers to watch themselves, to guard what they have received, and to refuse to trade depth for comfort. Spiritual drift does not usually happen because someone wakes up one day and decides to abandon the faith. It happens because they slowly loosen their grip on what they once held tightly.
One of the most sobering lines in this letter is when John says that anyone who goes on ahead and does not remain in the teaching of Christ does not have God. That is not meant to terrify sincere believers. It is meant to wake up those who think they can redefine Christianity without consequence. You cannot detach Jesus from His own words and still claim to follow Him. You cannot rewrite the gospel and expect it to have the same power.
John does not give us this warning so that we will become suspicious of everyone. He gives it so that we will become anchored in what is true. A tree with deep roots does not fear the wind. A believer with deep roots does not panic when new ideas blow through. They know where they stand.
That is why John gives such a practical instruction about hospitality. In the early church, traveling teachers depended on the homes of believers. Opening your door was not just kindness; it was partnership. John tells them not to receive or support anyone who does not bring the true teaching about Christ. This is not about being rude. It is about being discerning. There is a difference between loving people and platforming deception.
We live in a time when almost anyone can claim spiritual authority with a microphone and a camera. The pressure to be nice, to be inclusive, to avoid offense is enormous. John reminds us that love without truth is not love at all. It is surrender.
Yet even in his firmness, John’s tone never becomes harsh. He does not sound angry. He sounds protective. Like a father who knows how easily his children can be misled, he speaks plainly because he cares deeply. He wants their joy to be complete, not compromised by confusion.
The closing of this letter is almost tender. John says he has much more to write but prefers to speak face to face, so that their joy may be full. That line alone tells you everything about his heart. Truth is not meant to be cold. It is meant to lead to joy, to connection, to shared life.
Second John, in all its brevity, is calling us to something that feels almost radical in our age. It is calling us to be people who love deeply without surrendering truth, and who hold to truth without losing love. It is calling us to be rooted, not reactive. It is calling us to walk, not drift.
And perhaps most of all, it is reminding us that faithfulness is not flashy. It is quiet, steady, and often unseen. But it is the kind of faithfulness that carries the gospel from one generation to the next, long after the noise has faded.
There is something quietly revolutionary about the way Second John ends, because it refuses to let faith become theoretical. John does not close with a doctrine. He closes with relationship. He wants to see their faces. He wants to sit with them. He wants joy to be something that happens between people who walk together in truth. That matters more than we often realize, especially in a time when so much of our spiritual life is filtered through screens, posts, and fragments of conversation. Second John is not meant to be consumed; it is meant to be lived.
What John is really teaching us in this short letter is how to remain spiritually anchored when everything around us is shifting. He knows that churches drift, that movements fracture, and that even sincere believers can be pulled off course if they are not careful. That is why he keeps returning to the same two themes over and over again: truth and love. Not as slogans, but as spiritual coordinates. If you lose either one, you lose your way.
Truth without love becomes brittle. It hardens people. It creates believers who are technically correct but emotionally cold, people who can quote Scripture but do not know how to weep with those who are broken. Love without truth, on the other hand, becomes formless. It loses the ability to say no. It becomes so afraid of hurting anyone that it ends up helping no one. John is showing us that the gospel refuses both extremes. It calls us to something deeper, something harder, and something far more beautiful.
When John warns about deceivers, he is not talking about people who are obviously malicious. Most deception is subtle. It sounds spiritual. It uses religious language. It borrows Christian words while quietly changing Christian meaning. That is why it is so dangerous. A lie does not need to be loud to be powerful. It just needs to be close enough to the truth to feel familiar.
This is why John insists that we “watch ourselves.” That phrase is easy to skip over, but it carries enormous weight. It means spiritual vigilance. It means self-examination. It means refusing to assume that because you believed yesterday, you are immune today. Faith is not something you check off a list. It is something you continue to walk in.
Walking in truth means constantly bringing your life back into alignment with Christ. It means asking hard questions about what you are allowing to shape your thinking, your priorities, and your desires. It means paying attention to what you are being fed spiritually, because what you consume will eventually form you.
John is not asking believers to become isolated or fearful. He is asking them to become rooted. There is a difference. Rooted people can engage the world without being absorbed by it. They can listen without losing themselves. They can love without surrendering what is real.
One of the most misunderstood parts of this letter is John’s instruction not to welcome false teachers into the home. In our time, this can sound unkind, but in John’s world it was deeply practical. To host someone was to endorse them. It was to become part of their mission. John is saying that love does not mean financing what will ultimately harm people’s souls. You can care about someone without giving them a platform. You can show kindness without surrendering discernment.
This matters enormously today. We live in a culture that equates disagreement with hatred and boundaries with cruelty. Second John gently but firmly pushes back against that idea. It tells us that some of the most loving things we will ever do are the things that require us to say no.
This is not about creating enemies. It is about protecting the integrity of the gospel. John had watched too many communities slowly drift away from Christ by tolerating just a little distortion, just a little compromise, just a little convenience. He knew where that road led. He also knew that the cost of clarity was far less than the cost of confusion.
What makes this letter so powerful is that John is not writing as a detached theologian. He is writing as someone who has spent his life walking with Jesus. He has seen miracles. He has seen betrayal. He has watched empires rise and fall. He knows that nothing lasts unless it is built on what is true.
Second John is an invitation to slow down and examine what we are actually building our faith on. Are we anchored to Christ, or are we anchored to our preferences? Are we walking in truth, or are we just collecting spiritual ideas that make us feel good? Are we loving in a way that transforms, or in a way that avoids conflict?
These are not abstract questions. They shape everything about how we live, how we speak, how we forgive, and how we endure.
John ends his letter by pointing toward joy, not fear. That is important. Discernment is not meant to make us anxious. It is meant to make us free. When you know what is true, you do not have to be tossed around by every new voice, every new idea, every new spiritual trend. You can stand. You can walk. You can love deeply without losing yourself.
That is the quiet gift of Second John. It teaches us that faithfulness is not about being perfect. It is about remaining. Remaining in what you first received. Remaining in the Christ who came in the flesh. Remaining in the truth that lives in you. Remaining in love that does not let go.
In a world that is constantly trying to pull us in a thousand directions, this little letter whispers something profound: stay. Stay with Christ. Stay with what is real. Stay with the truth that saves.
And if you do, joy will follow you there.
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Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph
#Faith #TruthAndLove #ChristianLiving #BibleReflection #2John #SpiritualDiscernment #WalkingInTruth
from
Roscoe's Story
In Summary: * Most likely tonight's Peach Bowl Game, with the IU Hoosiers playing the Oregon Ducks, will last well past my regular bedtime. However, I'm gonna try to stay awake long enough to hear the whole thing. We'll see how that works out.
Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night.
Health Metrics: * bw= 222.56 lbs. * bp= 137/81 (67)
Exercise: * kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups
Diet: * 06:15 – 1 peanut butter sandwich, 1 fresh banana * 07:30 – fried bananas * 08:05 – fresh pineapple chunks * 14:00 – home made stew (liver, chicken, vegetables) and white rice
Activities, Chores, etc.: * 05:00 – listen to local news talk radio * 06:00 – bank accounts activity monitored * 06:30 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap * 15:00 – listening to “The Jack Riccardi Show” on local news talk radio * 17:00 – now listening to “The Joe Pags Show” on local news talk radio * 18:00 – tuning in to a local ESPN radio station for pregame coverage and the call of tonight's Peach Bowl Game. GO HOOSIERS!
Chess: * 15:30 – moved in all pending CC games
from Douglas Vandergraph
There is a kind of faith that shouts, and there is a kind of faith that simply stands. 1 John 5 is not written for the shouting kind. It is written for the standing kind. It speaks to the believer who has learned that storms do not always arrive with thunder, that doubt often enters through the side door, and that the deepest battles are not fought with arguments but with endurance. This chapter does not try to impress you with theological fireworks. It offers you something far rarer and far more powerful: a quiet, settled certainty that God is who He says He is and that your life is anchored in Him.
John is writing to people who are tired. Not just physically tired but spiritually worn. They have heard too many voices, too many competing versions of Jesus, too many spiritual experts telling them that they need more knowledge, more secret insight, more mystical experiences before they can be sure of anything. John does not give them a new ladder to climb. He gives them solid ground to stand on. He reminds them that faith is not a puzzle to solve. It is a relationship to trust.
He opens with a sentence that feels deceptively simple: whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God. There is nothing complicated about that statement, and yet it is radical. It does not say whoever understands all doctrine. It does not say whoever never doubts. It does not say whoever performs religiously well. It says whoever believes. To believe, in John’s language, is not to merely agree with a fact. It is to entrust yourself. It is to lean the weight of your life onto the truth of who Jesus is.
Being born of God is not a reward for theological achievement. It is the natural result of surrender. You do not become God’s child by mastering information. You become God’s child by trusting His Son. That truth is as scandalous today as it was then because humans love systems that let us earn worth. John removes that possibility. If you belong to God, it is because you trusted Jesus, not because you outperformed someone else.
Then John links love for God to love for others. He does not treat love as a soft emotional add-on. He treats it as the proof of spiritual reality. When you love the Father, you love His children. You cannot separate the two. You cannot say you adore God while despising people. That contradiction exposes something broken in the heart. Real faith always flows outward. It moves toward people. It expresses itself in patience, compassion, and a willingness to stay engaged even when it would be easier to withdraw.
John then says something that sounds almost impossible: His commandments are not burdensome. Anyone who has tried to live a faithful life knows how heavy obedience can feel. We struggle with habits. We wrestle with temptation. We disappoint ourselves. How can John say God’s commands are not heavy? The answer is that he is not talking about them in isolation. He is talking about them in the context of new life. A bird does not find flying heavy because flying is what it was made to do. A believer who has been born of God is no longer living against their design. Obedience becomes an expression of who you are, not a punishment for who you are not.
This is why John says that everyone born of God overcomes the world. That sentence has been misused by people who think it means success, dominance, or winning cultural battles. John means something much deeper. The world, in his language, is the system of values that tells you to define yourself by achievement, power, approval, or pleasure. To overcome the world is to no longer be owned by those lies. It is to live from a different center.
The victory that overcomes the world is not wealth or influence. It is faith. Faith is what frees you from needing to be everything. Faith is what allows you to rest in who God is. Faith is what keeps you standing when circumstances try to define you. When you trust Jesus, you are no longer trapped inside the world’s scoreboard. You are playing a different game entirely.
John then speaks of Jesus coming by water and blood. This is one of those lines that can sound strange until you understand what he is addressing. There were people claiming that Jesus was spiritual but not truly human, that the Christ only appeared at His baptism and left before the cross. John shuts that down. Jesus did not arrive by water alone. He came by water and blood. He was baptized into His mission, and He died in real flesh. The same Jesus who was declared God’s Son in the Jordan was the same Jesus who bled on the cross. There is no division. There is no illusion. Salvation is grounded in a real, embodied sacrifice.
John then calls on witnesses. The Spirit, the water, and the blood testify together. God Himself testifies about His Son. This matters because faith is not blind. It is not built on imagination. It is rooted in testimony. God has spoken. History has recorded. The Spirit has confirmed. Christianity does not rest on wishful thinking. It rests on divine declaration.
Then John makes one of the most personal statements in the entire letter. Whoever believes in the Son of God has the testimony in himself. This means that faith is not just something you argue for. It is something you experience. There is an inner knowing that grows in the believer, not because they are smarter, but because they are connected. The Spirit does something inside you that no debate can replace. You begin to recognize God’s voice. You begin to sense His presence. You begin to trust His character even when you do not understand His plans.
John does not shy away from the seriousness of rejecting this testimony. To reject God’s witness about His Son is to call God a liar. That is not harsh language. It is honest language. If God has spoken, neutrality is not an option. To ignore what He says is to deny who He is. That does not mean people who struggle with doubt are condemned. It means people who willfully dismiss God’s revelation are stepping outside the truth.
Then John gives one of the clearest summaries of the gospel in all of Scripture: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. Eternal life is not just a future promise. It is a present reality. It begins the moment you trust Jesus. It is a different quality of life, not just a longer one. It is a life that is connected to God, infused with His Spirit, and anchored in His love.
Whoever has the Son has life. Whoever does not have the Son does not have life. That is not meant to sound exclusive in a cruel way. It is simply stating where life comes from. You cannot have sunlight without the sun. You cannot have life without the source of life. Jesus is not one option among many. He is the well from which all true life flows.
John then tells you why he has written these things. So that you may know that you have eternal life. He does not want you guessing. He does not want you living in anxiety about your standing with God. He wants you to know. Faith is not meant to be fragile. It is meant to be secure. God does not want His children walking around wondering if they belong. He wants them resting in the certainty that they do.
This leads John into one of the most beautiful teachings on prayer in the New Testament. He says that if we ask anything according to God’s will, He hears us. And if He hears us, we know we have what we asked. That does not mean every desire will be granted. It means every prayer aligned with God’s heart is received. Prayer is not about bending God to your will. It is about bringing your will into alignment with His.
When you pray from that place, something shifts. You stop trying to use God. You start trusting God. You stop demanding outcomes. You start seeking His presence. That is where peace lives. That is where confidence grows.
John then touches on something delicate: praying for a brother who sins. He distinguishes between sin that leads to death and sin that does not. Scholars have debated what exactly this means, but the heart of the passage is clear. John is reminding believers that we are responsible for one another. We do not abandon people when they stumble. We pray. We intercede. We ask God to bring life and restoration.
Christian community is not about pretending we are perfect. It is about refusing to give up on each other. When someone is caught in sin, the response is not gossip or judgment. It is prayer. It is love. It is a commitment to keep standing with them until grace does its work.
John closes the chapter by reminding us that we are from God and that the whole world lies in the power of the evil one. That is not meant to make you afraid. It is meant to make you clear-eyed. There is a spiritual battle happening. Not everything that feels normal is healthy. Not every voice that sounds reasonable is true. You belong to God, and that makes you different.
He says the Son of God has come and given us understanding so that we may know Him who is true. That is one of the most beautiful gifts of salvation. God does not just rescue you. He reveals Himself to you. You begin to know Him, not as an idea, but as a living, faithful presence.
John ends with a simple command that feels almost out of place: keep yourselves from idols. After all this talk about faith, love, prayer, and eternal life, he brings it back to this. An idol is anything that tries to take God’s place in your heart. It can be money. It can be success. It can be approval. It can even be religion. Anything that promises to give you what only God can give will eventually disappoint you.
John is not telling you to live in fear of idols. He is telling you to guard the sacred space of your trust. You were made to belong to God. You were made to find life in His Son. Do not trade that for something smaller.
1 John 5 is not loud, but it is strong. It does not demand your attention. It earns your trust. It invites you into a faith that is steady, resilient, and rooted in the unshakable truth of who Jesus is. It reminds you that you do not have to conquer the world to overcome it. You simply have to belong to the One who already has.
Now we will continue this reflection, moving deeper into how this quiet certainty reshapes everyday life, prayer, confidence, and the way you walk through a noisy and uncertain world.
There is something profoundly different about the way 1 John 5 ends compared to how most people expect a spiritual letter to end. It does not explode into celebration. It does not crescendo into poetry. It closes with a warning that feels gentle but is actually one of the strongest guardrails in all of Scripture. After laying out faith, assurance, prayer, identity, and victory, John simply says to keep yourselves from idols. That one line reveals the entire heart of the chapter. Everything John has said up to this point exists to protect something precious. Faith is not just a belief. It is a bond. It is a relationship. And relationships only survive when they are protected.
When John tells believers to keep themselves from idols, he is not talking about little statues on a shelf. He is talking about anything that tries to replace God as the source of security, meaning, identity, or hope. Idols are not always evil. Many of them look helpful. They look like solutions. They look like safety. They look like success. But they all have one thing in common. They promise what only God can actually provide.
1 John 5 is about knowing. Knowing you are God’s child. Knowing you have eternal life. Knowing God hears your prayers. Knowing Jesus is the Son of God. Knowing the truth. Idols thrive on uncertainty. They gain power when people feel insecure. When you do not know who you are, you will cling to whatever tells you that you matter. When you do not know you are loved, you will chase whatever makes you feel seen. When you do not know you are secure, you will grab whatever gives you control. John is not giving you theology to impress you. He is giving you truth to anchor you.
The world is loud. It constantly tells you that you are behind, that you are missing out, that you are not enough. It creates a thousand small fears that drive people toward a thousand small gods. But the believer who knows who they are is not easily shaken. The believer who knows God hears them does not panic when things do not go their way. The believer who knows eternal life has already begun does not need to extract everything from this moment.
This is what it means to overcome the world. It is not about having a perfect life. It is about having a settled heart. When your identity is rooted in Christ, the chaos around you loses its power to define you. When your worth comes from God, praise and criticism lose their grip. When your hope is anchored in eternity, temporary setbacks no longer feel like the end of the story.
John’s teaching on prayer in this chapter is one of the most misunderstood parts of the Christian life. People often hear that God answers prayer and assume it means God is obligated to grant their requests. That is not what John is saying. He is saying that God hears prayers that are aligned with His will. That means prayer is not a transaction. It is a conversation. It is not about forcing God to do what you want. It is about discovering what God is already doing and stepping into it.
When you pray this way, something extraordinary happens. You stop feeling like you are begging a distant God. You start experiencing a faithful Father. You begin to trust His timing. You begin to see His wisdom. You begin to recognize that some of the things you once demanded would have actually harmed you. And in that realization, your faith matures.
John’s words about praying for those who sin also reveal something deeply important about Christian community. Faith was never meant to be lived alone. You are not just responsible for your own walk with God. You are part of a family. When someone stumbles, the response is not to distance yourself. It is to pray. It is to hope. It is to believe that grace is still at work even when someone is struggling.
That kind of love requires humility. It requires patience. It requires remembering that every believer is a work in progress. The same God who is transforming you is transforming them. Prayer becomes the bridge between where someone is and where God is leading them.
John’s reminder that the whole world lies under the influence of the evil one can sound alarming if it is misunderstood. He is not saying that everything is dark. He is saying that there is a spiritual current flowing through the world that does not lead toward God. That current tries to pull people away from truth, away from love, and away from dependence on Christ. But believers are not powerless against it. They belong to God. They have been given understanding. They have been given the Spirit. They have been given life.
Understanding is one of the great gifts of salvation. God does not just save you from sin. He saves you from confusion. He teaches you who He is. He shows you what is real. He opens your eyes to things you never saw before. Over time, you begin to recognize lies more quickly. You begin to sense when something is pulling you away from peace. You begin to notice when something is trying to replace God in your heart.
This is why John ends with that simple command about idols. It is not a random add-on. It is the natural conclusion of everything he has said. If you know who Jesus is, if you know you have eternal life, if you know God hears you, then protect that knowing. Do not let anything slowly erode it. Do not let anything quietly take God’s place.
There is a deep gentleness in this chapter. John is not shouting at you. He is sitting beside you, reminding you of what is true. He is pointing you back to the simplicity of faith. You do not have to have everything figured out. You do not have to be fearless. You do not have to be flawless. You simply have to trust the One who has already overcome the world.
That is what makes 1 John 5 so powerful. It does not promise you an easy life. It promises you a secure one. It does not promise you the absence of trouble. It promises you the presence of God. And in the end, that is what faith has always been about.
Your life is not held together by your consistency. It is held together by Christ’s faithfulness. Your hope is not sustained by your strength. It is sustained by God’s promise. You are not walking through this world alone. You are walking in a story that God Himself is writing, and it ends in life.
That is the quiet certainty that overcomes the world.
Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph
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from Douglas Vandergraph
There is a kind of love that is talked about so often that it becomes almost weightless, like a word rubbed thin by too many careless mouths. People say they love pizza, love sunsets, love their favorite show, love their dog, love a song, love a feeling, love a moment. But 1 John 4 is not talking about that kind of love. It is speaking of a love so solid it can carry the weight of your worst day, a love so intelligent it can expose every lie you have ever believed about yourself, and a love so fierce it can walk straight into fear and dismantle it from the inside out. When John writes about love, he is not writing poetry for greeting cards. He is writing about the very substance of God Himself moving through human hearts, reshaping what it means to be alive.
What makes 1 John 4 so unsettling and so beautiful at the same time is that it does not allow love to remain an abstract idea. It refuses to let us hide behind spiritual vocabulary or religious identity. It drags love out of the clouds and puts it in the middle of our relationships, our reactions, our grudges, our fears, and our secret places. It tells us plainly that if we claim to know God while our lives are still ruled by bitterness, contempt, or indifference, something is deeply wrong. Not because God is cruel, but because God is love, and whatever is not shaped by love cannot truly be shaped by Him.
John opens this chapter by talking about testing the spirits, and that is not accidental. We live in a world saturated with voices claiming authority, insight, enlightenment, and truth. Every platform offers opinions, predictions, spiritual interpretations, and moral certainties. Yet 1 John 4 reminds us that not every voice speaking about God is speaking from God. Some voices sound spiritual but carry fear. Some sound confident but carry manipulation. Some sound compassionate but lead people away from truth. The test is not how polished the message is or how emotional it feels, but whether it confesses the real Jesus, the Jesus who came in the flesh, who entered human suffering, who loved all the way to the cross, and who rose to offer real transformation rather than spiritual entertainment.
That matters because false spirituality almost always replaces love with something else. Sometimes it replaces love with control, where people are told what to think, how to act, and who to fear. Sometimes it replaces love with performance, where being impressive becomes more important than being honest. Sometimes it replaces love with tribalism, where belonging to the right group matters more than loving the people right in front of you. John cuts through all of that with one relentless truth: God is love, and whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. Not whoever talks the most, not whoever looks the most spiritual, not whoever has the biggest platform, but whoever actually lives in love.
That word “lives” is doing more work here than we often realize. Love is not a moment you visit. It is a place you inhabit. It becomes the atmosphere of your inner life. It shapes how you interpret people, how you respond to offense, how you see yourself when you fail, and how you hold others when they fall. Living in love means allowing God’s nature to become your emotional climate. When God lives in you, fear does not get to run the house anymore. Shame does not get to define the walls. Anger does not get to decide the furniture. Love becomes the architecture of your soul.
John then makes one of the most profound and challenging statements in the entire New Testament: there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. He does not say there should be less fear. He does not say fear should be managed. He says fear does not belong where love is fully present. That alone forces us to rethink what we have accepted as normal. Many people think being afraid is just part of being human. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of failing. Afraid of not being enough. Afraid of being seen. Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid of God. Afraid of the future. Afraid of the past catching up. But John is telling us that fear is not a permanent resident in the heart that has learned to live in love.
Fear, in this passage, is not just nervousness. It is the deep, quiet terror that says you are not safe, you are not secure, and you are not okay. It is the voice that whispers that love is fragile and belonging can be taken away. It is the anxiety that says you must perform, impress, or prove yourself to remain accepted. But God’s love does not operate like that. God’s love is not transactional. It is not earned and not revoked. It is given, rooted in who He is rather than who you are. When you truly encounter that kind of love, it begins to dismantle fear at its foundation.
This is why John connects fear to punishment. Fear has to do with punishment, he says, and whoever fears has not been made perfect in love. When you live under fear, you are always bracing for something bad to happen, especially from God. You expect judgment, rejection, or abandonment. But the gospel is not about God waiting for you to mess up so He can punish you. It is about God stepping into your mess so He can redeem you. Jesus did not come to hang over humanity with a cosmic threat. He came to absorb humanity’s brokenness and open a door back into communion with the Father. Love does not threaten. Love restores.
John then grounds this entire vision of love in something astonishingly simple and humbling: we love because He first loved us. That means every act of genuine love in your life is a response, not a performance. You are not generating love out of your own moral strength. You are reflecting the love that has already been poured into you. This removes both pride and despair from the equation. You cannot boast in your love as if it makes you superior, because it is not self-made. And you do not have to despair when you feel empty, because love does not begin with you. It begins with God.
This is where 1 John 4 becomes deeply personal. If you struggle to love others, it is not primarily a character flaw. It is often a woundedness issue. When people lash out, withdraw, judge harshly, or shut down emotionally, they are usually responding from places where love has not yet fully reached. They are protecting old injuries. They are guarding old fears. They are trying to survive. But the more deeply a person receives God’s love, the less they need to defend themselves with bitterness or control. Love makes you brave. It makes you open. It makes you willing to risk connection because you no longer believe that being rejected will destroy you.
John does not let us keep love in the realm of feelings either. He brings it straight into the tangible world of how we treat people. If someone says, “I love God,” but hates their brother or sister, John says, they are lying. That is not gentle language, and it is not meant to be. Love for God that does not translate into love for people is imaginary. You cannot claim to adore the source while despising the image. Every person you encounter bears the imprint of God, whether they are easy to love or not. Loving God always creates a gravitational pull toward loving people.
That does not mean loving people is easy. Some people are abrasive. Some are deeply wounded. Some are manipulative. Some have hurt you badly. 1 John 4 is not pretending otherwise. But it is saying that love is not about how deserving someone is. It is about who God is. When God’s love flows through you, it does not ask whether the other person has earned it. It asks whether you are willing to reflect what you have received. That kind of love does not excuse abuse or enable harm, but it refuses to become cold, cruel, or indifferent.
There is something revolutionary about this vision of love in a world that runs on outrage and division. We are constantly told who to fear, who to blame, who to mock, and who to cancel. Our culture trains us to build our identity around what we oppose. But 1 John 4 offers a different center. It tells us to build our lives around what we love, and more specifically, around the One who loves us. When love becomes your core, you stop needing enemies to feel alive. You stop needing to prove yourself by tearing others down. You begin to see even broken people as sacred ground.
John also makes a bold claim that God’s love is made complete in us when we love one another. That means love is not just something we receive; it is something that grows and matures as it moves through us. God’s love is not finished when it reaches your heart. It is finished when it flows out into the world through your hands, your words, and your presence. You become a living extension of God’s heart. People encounter God not only in prayer or Scripture but in how you listen, how you forgive, how you stay, and how you care.
This has enormous implications for how you see your own life. You are not just a person trying to be good. You are a conduit for divine love. Your ordinary interactions become holy ground. The way you speak to a tired cashier, the way you respond to a difficult coworker, the way you show up for a hurting friend, all become places where God’s love is either expressed or withheld. You do not have to preach to reveal God. You can simply love. And that love carries more spiritual power than most sermons ever will.
One of the quiet tragedies of religious life is how often people learn about God without learning to live in love. They learn doctrines, verses, and rules, but they remain emotionally armored, suspicious, and afraid. 1 John 4 refuses to separate theology from transformation. If you know the God who is love, it should change how safe you feel in your own skin. It should soften the way you see others. It should make you more patient, not more rigid. It should make you more compassionate, not more condemning. The proof of your theology is not how much you can explain but how deeply you can love.
This chapter also reshapes how we think about spiritual maturity. Many people think maturity means having fewer doubts, fewer struggles, or fewer questions. But John points us to something much simpler and much more demanding: maturity means being perfected in love. That does not mean being flawless. It means being so rooted in God’s love that fear no longer controls you. It means being able to face conflict without losing your soul. It means being able to be honest without being cruel, and kind without being weak.
Imagine what the church would look like if this vision of love were actually lived. It would be a place where people feel safe to fail. It would be a place where broken stories are met with compassion instead of suspicion. It would be a place where differences are held with curiosity rather than hostility. It would be a place where people encounter not just ideas about God but the tangible warmth of His heart. That is what 1 John 4 is calling us into. Not a better brand of religion, but a deeper way of being human in the presence of divine love.
And this is where the chapter quietly but powerfully turns the mirror toward us. It is one thing to agree that love is important. It is another thing to let love actually reshape your inner world. Where are you still living in fear? Where are you still bracing for rejection? Where are you still protecting yourself with bitterness, sarcasm, or distance? Those places are not signs that you are failing. They are invitations for love to go deeper. God does not shame you for your fear. He meets it with love and gently begins to cast it out.
You do not have to become fearless overnight. But you can begin to become more loved. You can open yourself to the reality that God is not against you. He is not waiting for you to mess up. He is not measuring your worth by your performance. He is love, and He is present. The more you let that truth sink in, the more you will find yourself responding to the world with a different spirit. Less reactive. Less defensive. More grounded. More free.
1 John 4 is ultimately not asking you to try harder. It is inviting you to trust deeper. To trust that love really is the strongest force in the universe. To trust that God’s love is enough to hold your past, your present, and your future. To trust that loving others will not drain you but actually fulfill you. When you live from love, you stop being a person constantly trying to prove your worth and start being a person who knows they are already held.
This chapter ends not with a command but with a vision. A vision of people who love because they have been loved. A vision of fear losing its grip. A vision of God not as a distant judge but as a living, breathing presence moving through human hearts. It is an invitation to let your life become a testimony, not just of what you believe, but of who you are becoming. A person formed, sustained, and sent by love.
And that is where part one of this journey pauses, not because the story is finished, but because love has more to reveal. In the next part, we will step even deeper into what it means to let God’s love become the defining force of your life, shaping not just your faith but your very identity, your relationships, and the way you move through the world.
When John wrote the words of what we now call 1 John 4, he was not writing to people who were casually curious about faith. He was writing to people who were trying to survive spiritually in a world that had become loud, confusing, and divided. That matters, because the message of this chapter was never meant to be a poetic idea. It was meant to be a lifeline. It was written to people who were being pulled in different directions by false teachers, social pressure, political tension, and spiritual fatigue. And John, who had leaned against the chest of Jesus and listened to His heartbeat, knew exactly what they needed. They did not need more arguments. They did not need better slogans. They needed to be brought back to the center of everything. They needed to be brought back to love.
The deeper you read 1 John 4, the more you realize that it is not primarily a moral command to love better. It is a revelation of who God really is. John does not say God feels love sometimes or God uses love when it is convenient. He says God is love. That means love is not something God does. Love is who God is. Every action God takes flows out of His loving nature. Every correction, every command, every promise, every act of mercy, every moment of patience is rooted in love. Even God’s justice is an expression of love, because love refuses to let destruction have the final word over what is precious.
That one statement alone changes how you read the entire Bible. If God is love, then every story, every warning, every miracle, and every moment of discipline must be interpreted through that lens. God is not a volatile deity swinging between kindness and cruelty. He is not unpredictable. He is not manipulative. He is love, consistent and faithful, working tirelessly to draw humanity back into relationship with Himself. When people imagine God as harsh, distant, or easily angered, they are usually projecting human brokenness onto divine perfection. 1 John 4 invites us to unlearn those distortions and see God as He truly is.
This is why John insists that anyone who truly knows God will love. Not because they are trying to prove their faith, but because love is the natural outflow of God’s presence. When love is missing, it is not because God failed to command it. It is because something is blocking His life from flowing freely through us. Often that blockage is fear. Fear of being hurt. Fear of being rejected. Fear of losing control. Fear of not being enough. Fear of being seen. Fear of being known. Fear builds walls. Love builds bridges. And the more fear dominates a heart, the harder it becomes for love to move.
John’s words about fear being driven out by perfect love are not meant to shame us for being afraid. They are meant to liberate us from the idea that fear is our destiny. Fear is learned. Love is given. Fear is something we absorb from a broken world. Love is something we receive from a whole God. When John talks about perfect love, he is not talking about human perfection. He is talking about divine love being allowed to do its full work inside us. When God’s love is trusted and welcomed, it begins to rewrite the inner story that fear has been telling for years.
Fear tells you that you are alone. Love tells you that you are held. Fear tells you that you must earn your place. Love tells you that you already belong. Fear tells you that you must protect yourself at all costs. Love tells you that you are safe enough to open your heart. This is not a small shift. It is a complete reorientation of how you experience life. Many people believe in God but still live as if they are on their own. 1 John 4 calls us into something much deeper: a life lived in the ongoing presence of love.
This is why John says that whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is not metaphorical. It is relational. It is about intimacy. It is about God making His home in you, and you making your home in Him. That kind of mutual dwelling creates a different kind of person. You become less reactive. Less defensive. Less desperate for approval. When you know you are loved by God, you no longer need to constantly prove your worth to the world. You can rest in who you are, even when you are still growing.
One of the quiet miracles of God’s love is how it changes the way you see yourself. Shame tells you that you are a problem to be fixed. Love tells you that you are a person to be healed. Shame makes you hide. Love invites you to be honest. Shame says you must become better before you are worthy. Love says you are worthy even as you become better. 1 John 4 is not interested in creating perfect people. It is interested in creating people who are deeply loved and therefore deeply alive.
This is also why John is so uncompromising when he talks about loving others. He knows that the way we treat people is the most honest reflection of what we believe about God. If God is love, then those who know Him will become more loving. Not more judgmental. Not more fearful. Not more withdrawn. More loving. That does not mean more permissive or more naive. It means more patient, more kind, more willing to listen, and more committed to the dignity of every person.
Loving others is not about being nice. It is about being present. It is about seeing people as more than obstacles, irritations, or means to an end. It is about recognizing that every person you meet is someone God loves. Even the ones who frustrate you. Even the ones who disagree with you. Even the ones who have hurt you. Love does not mean pretending harm did not happen. It means refusing to let harm have the final word. It means choosing not to become the kind of person who passes pain forward.
When John says that those who claim to love God but hate their brother or sister are lying, he is not being cruel. He is being clear. You cannot separate spirituality from humanity. You cannot love an invisible God while despising the visible people He made. Real faith always shows up in real relationships. It shows up in how you speak when you are angry. It shows up in how you treat people who have nothing to offer you. It shows up in how you respond when you are misunderstood or wounded.
This is where many people feel overwhelmed, because loving others feels so hard. And it is. But John never asks you to love out of your own strength. He reminds you again and again that you love because God first loved you. That means love is not a burden you must carry alone. It is a current you are invited to step into. The more you stay connected to God’s love, the more love will naturally flow through you. You do not have to force it. You just have to remain in it.
Remaining in love is a daily choice. It is choosing to return to God when you feel empty. It is choosing to pray when you feel bitter. It is choosing to remember who you are when fear tries to rewrite your story. It is choosing to see others through the lens of grace even when your emotions are screaming for something else. This is not weakness. It is spiritual courage. It takes strength to stay open in a world that teaches you to close off.
One of the most powerful truths in 1 John 4 is that love gives us confidence. Not arrogance. Confidence. John says that love gives us confidence on the day of judgment. That is a stunning statement. It means that when you know you are loved by God, you no longer have to live in terror of being rejected by Him. You can stand in honesty, not perfection. You can trust that the God who knows everything about you is still for you. That kind of confidence changes how you live right now. You stop hiding. You stop pretending. You start becoming real.
This is why fear and love cannot coexist in the same space for very long. Fear thrives on uncertainty. Love thrives on trust. Fear keeps you small. Love calls you to grow. Fear keeps you guarded. Love makes you brave. When you let God’s love fill you, it does not make life easier, but it makes you stronger. It gives you the inner stability to face hard things without losing your soul.
1 John 4 is ultimately an invitation to let your faith become relational rather than performative. It invites you to stop trying to earn God’s approval and start living from God’s affection. It invites you to stop seeing love as a demand and start seeing it as a gift. It invites you to stop measuring yourself by how much you get right and start measuring yourself by how deeply you are willing to love.
This chapter does not end with a list of rules. It ends with a simple, radical command: since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. Not because it makes us look good. Not because it earns us anything. But because love is now who we are. We are people who have been met by divine love and sent back into the world to reflect it. That is the heartbeat of 1 John 4. That is the fire John wants burning in our lives.
And so this journey through 1 John 4 closes not with a conclusion, but with a calling. To let love be more than an idea. To let it be the atmosphere of your soul. To let it shape how you think, how you speak, how you forgive, and how you live. God is love. And the more you live in Him, the more love will live in you.
Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph
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from Aronasaur
Hold me close when the weather clouds my heart Under the waves blotting out the sun Until the flowers bloom again – like the city Spreads its petals and scent, even then Hold me close
When I am a child, fear and anxious thought Is written in the lines of my brows Hold me close when I tremble and call out A high pitched voice and a yearning for comfort
Be with me when we taste the wine of life I am at my gleeful and proudest and strongest Remind me what it is like to be seen, to be true Be with me, hold me close
from
wystswolf

We were fully met without being held, fully undressed without being claimed.
Water is second only to air in the need for man's existence. Neither ever end, just always change. There are experiences in life that do not ask to be kept, moments and people who change us and who themselves are changed in state. They never go away and are essential to our existence.
They arrive and awake us from life's slumber. That sleep we did not know we were even experiencing. Not the restful sleep of peace and nod, but an ignorance to what life can truly be. Lest the waking melt the world, it insists on restraint — not because waking is wrong, but because the power of the conversion, the state change is so powerful, like a collapsing star it risks consuming everything in its gravity well.. The mistake is thinking that only what can be held or continued counts as real. As though duration were the measure of truth. As if owning made a moment valid.
It does not.
Sometimes the most honest form of love is recognition without possession. Seeing another person clearly — not as fantasy, not as rescue, not as an answer to loneliness — but as a whole, complex, bounded human being. And allowing that recognition to exist without trying to turn it into a future, or a promise, or a rupture.
There is no blame in that kind of seeing.
There is thrill. There is excitement and ecstasy. Wonder. Joy. And, conversely, lament when we realize that our slumber and ignorance came with some blisses that can never be reclaimed. Once awake, we cannot return to the land of nod. Even if we wanted to.
Falling in love is not a moral failure. It is not a plan. It is not a demand. It is something that happens when two inner lives briefly align closely enough to recognize one another. That alignment leaves marks — not scars, but understanding.
A widening of the map.
What matters is what we do after we recognize what’s there. When we stir and realize we have the power to do as we wish. Knowledge is power. And it is easy to become drunk with it. The power to lay lives to waste, or to ascend to unknown heights.
Not every love is meant to be consummated through physical possession. Some are consummated through truth — through the courage to let someone in so utterly, completely that what is discovered could heal or kill. Real love will allow another person be exactly who they are, in the life they are actually living, without asking them to abandon it for us.
This is so much easier said than done. The want that comes with this kind of release is equal in pull and power.
True love is complicated and powerful. It is the kind of love does not erase boundaries. It respects them.
There is a particular kind of love that makes art, not wreckage. A love that sharpens perception, deepens language, softens the way we see the world — without burning down the structures that hold real lives together. This is not a lesser love. It is a disciplined one. A love that understands the difference between expression and destruction.
Creation and devastation use the same fire. The difference is where it is contained. Duty and loyalty are often misunderstood as the enemies of passion. As though choosing them were a kind of death. But in truth, they are what refine passion — what prevent it from turning corrosive or hollow. They are not the absence of desire; they are its steward.
There is honor in choosing not to take everything we want.
There is integrity in recognizing that some things are precious precisely because they are not consumed.
Loyalty does not negate longing. It gives it context.
And sometimes, the ultimate reward — whatever form it takes — is made sweeter not by immediacy, but by restraint. By knowing that we were capable of more than impulse. That we could hold something beautiful without demanding it become ours.
There is mercy — real mercy — in releasing one another from the burden of “what might have been.”
No one is at fault for recognizing another soul.
No one is required to destroy their life to prove that recognition was sincere. Some connections exist to remind us that we are capable of depth, tenderness, and truth — and then they let us go back to our lives carrying that knowledge quietly, like a secret competence.
A proof of life.
A proof of love.
That is not failure.
That is a form of completion. Two nakednesses and a merging of soul without body.
I am awake. I do not know what tomorrow brings. But today, I am alive. The ground beneath me is real. Ancient. I am young and foolish. One day, I too will be ancient, maybe then I will understand all this I wrote.
For now, all I can do in my ignorance is trust that is must be true.
It must.
from
FEDITECH
Et ça continue de mal en pis…
Il y a quelque chose de profondément pourri au royaume de X et l'odeur devient de plus en plus insupportable. La dernière manœuvre d'Elon Musk concernant son intelligence artificielle, Grok, ne relève pas de la modération de contenu ni de la protection des utilisateurs. C'est un aveu de cynisme absolu, une démonstration éclatante que pour le milliardaire, la moralité s'arrête là où le profit commence. Face au scandale mondial provoqué par son IA générant des images pornographiques non consenties, y compris de mineures, la réponse de l’intéressé est stupéfiante de cupidité. Il ne supprime pas le problème, il le met derrière un mur payant.
Le contexte est pourtant glaçant. Depuis fin décembre, Grok est devenu l'outil de prédilection des prédateurs numériques. Il suffisait de demander à l'IA de “déshabiller” une personne sur une photo pour que l'algorithme s'exécute docilement, plaçant des femmes et des enfants dans des positions sexualisées, en bikini ou en sous-vêtements. Face à cette horreur, qui a suscité l'ire des régulateurs de l'Union Européenne, du Royaume-Uni, de l'Italie et de l'Inde, une entreprise responsable aurait immédiatement désactivé la fonctionnalité pour la corriger. Mais xAI a choisi une voie bien plus sombre. Désormais, si vous voulez générer ces images, il faudra passer à la caisse.
Comme l'a si justement souligné un porte-parole du premier ministre britannique Keir Starmer, cette décision ne fait que transformer une fonctionnalité permettant la création d'images illégales en un service premium. C'est une commodification de l'abus, purement et simplement. Le harcèlement est toléré, tant qu'il rapporte de l'argent à la plateforme. Jake Auchincloss, représentant démocrate américain, a résumé la situation avec une véhémence nécessaire en affirmant que Musk ne résout rien, mais fait de l'abus numérique des femmes un produit de luxe.
Le plus grotesque dans cette affaire réside dans l'incompétence technique doublée d'hypocrisie. Si l'accès est restreint sur X, les utilisateurs non-abonnés peuvent toujours utiliser Grok via son application autonome ou son site web pour commettre les mêmes méfaits. La barrière est illusoire, le danger reste intact. Lorsque la presse demande des comptes, xAI se contente d'envoyer des réponses automatiques vides de sens, refusant d'assumer la responsabilité de la boîte de Pandore qu'ils ont ouverte.
Elon Musk, dans sa tour d'ivoire, a fini par tweeter le 3 janvier que quiconque utiliserait son chatbot pour créer du contenu illégal en subirait les conséquences. C'est l'archétype du pompier pyromane qui vous tend une boîte d'allumettes en vous interdisant de brûler la maison. Se cacher derrière des conditions d'utilisation ou des lois existantes comme le “Take It Down Act” est une lâcheté monumentale quand on fournit soi-même l'arme du crime. En refusant de brider techniquement son IA pour empêcher ces dérives, et en choisissant plutôt de restreindre l'outil aux abonnés payants (dont les informations bancaires sont certes enregistrées, mais qui peuvent agir sous pseudonyme) il prouve une fois de plus que la sécurité des femmes et des enfants n'est qu'une variable d'ajustement dans sa quête effrénée de revenus. Ce n'est pas de la négligence, c'est de la complicité tarifée.
from Douglas Vandergraph
There are moments in life that feel like thin places, moments where time slows just enough for something holy to slip through. You do not always recognize them when they are happening. Sometimes they feel ordinary, like a quiet morning, or a pause between thoughts, or the warmth of a cup in your hands. But later, when you look back, you realize something sacred brushed against you there. This story begins in one of those thin places, a small café in a small town where nothing looks remarkable and yet everything is quietly waiting for grace.
The idea behind this story comes from a simple and haunting premise. There is a rule in this café, a fragile one. Once a cup of coffee is poured, the warmth of that drink becomes a clock. You have only until it cools to have one meaningful conversation. Not enough time to change your entire life, not enough time to solve every problem, but just enough time to say what truly matters. When the coffee goes cold, the moment closes. It is a story about how time is always shorter than we think, and how love is often spoken too late.
But imagine that rule applied in a different way. Imagine that the person sitting across from you is not someone from your past or someone you lost or someone you regret. Imagine that the person sitting across from you is Jesus.
The Jesus of Scripture is not a figure who lives comfortably in long stretches of uninterrupted time. He is constantly interrupted. Crowds press against Him. Children tug at His robe. The sick cry out. The broken beg for mercy. His life on earth is one long movement toward people who need Him. Even His final hours are measured not in days but in moments, counted out in heartbeats, sweat, blood, and breath. Yet in all of that urgency, He keeps stopping. He keeps seeing. He keeps choosing presence over efficiency. He does not rush past the woman who reaches for His robe. He does not ignore the blind man shouting His name. He does not turn away from the thief who has only minutes left to live.
Jesus has always been a Savior of small windows of time.
So what if He had only the time it takes for a cup of coffee to cool, and He chose to spend it with you.
Not to deliver a sermon. Not to perform a miracle. Not to correct every mistake you have ever made. But to sit with you. To listen. To look at you the way He looks at everyone He loves, as if you are the most important person in the room.
This story is not about how short time is. It is about how deeply Jesus loves within whatever time He is given.
The café is quiet when you walk in. Not silent, but hushed in that way that early mornings often are, when the world has not yet fully woken up. Light filters through the windows in pale gold stripes that fall across wooden tables and empty chairs. The smell of coffee hangs in the air, warm and familiar, the kind of scent that makes you breathe more slowly without even realizing it.
You choose a small table near the window. There is something about sitting where you can see both inside and outside at once, where you can feel connected to the world without being swallowed by it. A cup is placed in front of you. Steam rises gently, curling upward like a soft question.
And then He sits down.
There is no fanfare. No dramatic entrance. No sudden change in the room. If you were not paying attention, you might miss it. But you are paying attention, because something in your heart recognizes Him before your mind does. There is a weight to His presence, not heavy, but real, like gravity. He is both ordinary and overwhelming, both familiar and holy.
He looks at the cup, then at you, and there is a smile in His eyes that feels like being known.
“Before it cools,” He says softly, “I wanted to sit with you.”
You do not know what you expected Him to say, but it was not that. There is something about the way He says it, as if this moment was chosen, as if you were chosen, that makes your throat tighten.
There are so many things you could say. You could ask Him why your life looks the way it does. You could ask Him why prayers you whispered years ago still feel unanswered. You could ask Him why it is so hard to believe sometimes. But the steam is already thinning, and somehow you know you do not have time to pretend.
“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” you say.
He nods, not surprised, not disappointed.
“You were never meant to do it alone,” He replies. “That is the part you keep forgetting.”
The words settle into you like something that has been true for a long time.
You look down at your hands. They look the same as they always do, marked by small scars, lines, evidence of work and worry. They look too ordinary to belong in a moment like this.
“I feel behind,” you admit. “Like everyone else got a map and I missed the meeting.”
He leans forward slightly, not to correct you, but to be closer.
“Do you know how many people I met who thought they were behind,” He asks. “Peter believed it after he failed. Martha lived it every day she felt unseen. Thomas carried it like a shadow. They all believed the lie that timing meant worth.”
He touches the side of the cup with one finger.
“This coffee does not lose its value when it cools,” He says. “It just changes temperature. You have not missed your moment. You are still in it.”
You feel something inside you loosen, like a knot that has been pulled too tight for too long.
“What about the things I wish I could undo,” you ask. “The words. The choices. The years that slipped away.”
For a moment He does not answer. He watches the steam fade, as if He is honoring the weight of what you have said.
“If regret could stop resurrection,” He finally says, “I would have never risen.”
The truth of that hangs between you, quiet and powerful.
There is a stillness now, not empty, but full, the kind that feels like being held.
The coffee is nearly cold.
“Why spend this time with me,” you ask. “If it is so short.”
He smiles, and in that smile there is both tenderness and something unbreakable.
“Because love does not measure moments by length,” He says. “Only by presence.”
He stands, but there is no rush in His movement. He places His hand over yours, warm and steady, and you feel something deeper than touch, something like being anchored.
“I am not waiting for you at the finish line,” He tells you. “I am walking with you in the middle, in the unfinished, in the questions.”
Then, as if He knows exactly what it will feel like when He is gone, He adds, “When the cup is cold and the room feels quiet, remember that I stayed until the very last warm moment.”
And then He is gone.
The chair across from you is empty. The coffee is cold. But something in you has been set on fire.
This is where the story might end, but this is where its meaning begins.
Because what you just experienced is not a fantasy. It is a parable. It is a truth wrapped in a scene. Jesus is still the One who stops for people. He is still the One who chooses presence over hurry. He is still the One who does not wait for your life to be perfect before He sits with you.
We live in a world that constantly tells us we are behind. Behind in our careers. Behind in our relationships. Behind in our faith. We are taught to measure our worth by our progress, to believe that if we have not arrived by a certain age, we have somehow failed. But Jesus has never operated on our timelines. He does not measure you by how fast you move. He measures you by how deeply you are loved.
Think of the people He chose. Fishermen with no religious credentials. A tax collector everyone despised. A woman with a broken past. A thief with no future. None of them were on schedule. None of them were impressive. All of them were loved.
The café, the cup, the cooling coffee, these are not just poetic details. They are mirrors. Every moment you are given is like that cup. Warm at first, full of possibility, then slowly cooling as time moves on. You do not get to keep it warm forever. But you do get to decide what you do with the warmth while it is there.
Jesus does not ask you to have forever. He asks you to have now.
He does not ask you to fix everything. He asks you to be present.
He does not ask you to be perfect. He asks you to be with Him.
So many people think faith is about getting everything right. But faith, at its core, is about sitting at the table, even when you do not know what to say, even when you feel behind, even when your hands look too ordinary to belong in something holy.
The holy has always loved ordinary hands.
Every time you pause to pray. Every time you open Scripture. Every time you choose kindness when bitterness would be easier. Every time you whisper His name when you feel alone, you are sitting back down at that table. The cup is being poured again. The warmth is there again. And Jesus is still choosing to be with you.
You may not hear His voice the way you did in the story. You may not see Him sitting across from you. But do not mistake that for absence. His presence is often quieter than we expect, but it is no less real.
There is a reason He compared Himself to bread, to water, to light. These are not dramatic things. They are everyday things. They are the things you need to live. Jesus did not come to be impressive. He came to be essential.
And He is still essential to you.
You may feel like your life is a series of cups that cooled too quickly, conversations you wish you had, prayers you wish you prayed differently, moments you wish you could relive. But Jesus does not live in your regret. He lives in your now. He sits with you in this moment, not the one you lost.
That is the miracle.
Now we will continue this journey deeper into what it means to sit with Jesus in the middle of an unfinished life, and how even the smallest moments can become places of resurrection.
The warmth that remained in that cup after Jesus left was not in the coffee. It was in you. That is the part people often misunderstand about moments with God. We think holiness fades when the moment ends, but what actually happens is that something is planted. The heat leaves the cup, but it enters the heart. That is how grace works. It never stays where it starts. It moves.
We live in a culture that treats moments as disposable. We scroll past them. We rush through them. We fill them with noise so we do not have to feel them. But Jesus has always used moments as seeds. One conversation at a well changed a woman’s entire life. One touch of a robe healed twelve years of suffering. One sentence on a cross opened heaven to a dying man. None of those moments were long. All of them were eternal.
When you imagine Jesus sitting with you for the time it takes a cup of coffee to cool, you are not imagining something sentimental. You are imagining something profoundly biblical. This is how He has always worked. He steps into the brief, the fragile, the overlooked, and turns it into something that lasts forever.
That is why the café matters. It is not special because of where it is. It is special because of who sat there. In the same way, your ordinary days are not holy because of what you do. They are holy because of who walks with you through them.
So many people think they have to wait until they have more time, more clarity, more spiritual discipline before they can really be with God. But Jesus does not wait for perfect schedules. He meets people in interruptions. He meets people between tasks. He meets people when the coffee is still warm but already cooling.
This is one of the quiet lessons of the gospel. God does not need long stretches of ideal circumstances. He needs a willing heart in a real moment.
The reason the story feels so tender is because it touches something true in you. You know what it is like to wish for just a few minutes with someone who understands you completely. You know what it is like to want to say everything you never had the courage to say. You know what it is like to feel time slipping through your fingers while your heart is still full.
Jesus understands that too.
When He walked the earth, He lived inside those same constraints. He did not get unlimited time with the people He loved. He did not get to stay and fix everything. He did not get to grow old with His friends. He lived with the knowledge that every conversation might be the last one.
And still, He chose to love.
That is what gives His presence such weight. When Jesus sits with you, it is never casual. It is never accidental. He knows the clock is running, and He still chooses you.
Think about the way He looked at people in Scripture. The way He stopped for them. The way He listened. The way He asked questions He already knew the answers to, simply because He wanted them to speak. That is the same way He looks at you.
You do not have to impress Him. You do not have to explain yourself. You do not have to pretend to be further along than you are. You just have to sit down.
The table in that café is every place you have ever met God without realizing it. The quiet car ride. The late night prayer. The tear that fell when no one was watching. The breath you took when you felt like giving up but did not. Those are all places where Jesus was sitting with you while the cup cooled.
And here is the deeper truth. Even when you walk away from the table, He does not. You may get distracted. You may forget what He said. You may go back to believing the lies that tell you that you are behind or broken or unworthy. But He remains.
That is why the story does not end with the cold coffee. It ends with a burning heart.
Because when Jesus speaks to you, something changes. Even if the moment is brief. Even if you cannot explain it. Even if you go back to your ordinary life afterward. Something holy has been touched, and it does not go back to being what it was before.
That is what resurrection is. Not just a body leaving a tomb, but a heart refusing to stay dead.
You are living in a season right now. It may be confusing. It may be painful. It may feel unfinished. But that does not mean it is empty. Jesus is sitting with you in it. He is listening. He is speaking. He is loving you in the time you have, not the time you wish you had.
The cup is always cooling. That is just what time does. But grace is always warm. And Jesus is always near.
So the next time you hold a cup of coffee, let it remind you of this. You do not need forever to be loved. You only need this moment.
Sit with Him here.
He is already at the table.
Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph
Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/douglasvandergraph
Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph
#Faith #Jesus #ChristianEncouragement #SpiritualGrowth #Hope #Grace #FaithJourney #ChristianLife
from DrFox
Il y a des moments où parler n’a plus d’adresse. Les mots sortent encore, mais ils ne trouvent plus de visage où se poser. Pas d’oreille disponible. Pas de mur qui réponde. Alors on crie. Pas pour être entendu. Pour ne pas imploser. Crier dans le vide, ce n’est pas faire du bruit. C’est vérifier qu’on existe encore quand plus rien ne répond.
La situation actuelle ressemble à ça. Une époque saturée de discours et pourtant désertée de présence. Tout le monde parle. Personne n’écoute vraiment. Les institutions parlent. Les médias parlent. Les réseaux parlent. Les familles parlent. Mais l’espace où une parole peut être déposée sans être récupérée, transformée, jugée ou instrumentalisée s’est raréfié. On a des canaux. On n’a plus de contenance.
Alors le corps prend le relais. Il serre. Il fatigue. Il somatise. Il se raidit. Il se tait parfois. Ou il crie. Intérieurement le plus souvent. Un cri sourd. Sans décibel. Un cri qui ne cherche pas la scène mais l’oxygène.
Crier dans le vide, c’est aussi faire l’expérience brutale de la solitude adulte. Pas la solitude romantique. Pas celle qu’on choisit pour se retrouver. Celle qui arrive quand on a tout essayé. Quand on a expliqué. Négocié. Donné. Adapté. Et qu’on se rend compte que l’autre n’était pas là. Pas vraiment. Ou qu’il ne pouvait pas l’être. Ou qu’il ne voulait pas l’être.
Il y a une violence particulière dans cette prise de conscience. Elle n’est pas spectaculaire. Elle est lente. Elle ronge. Elle oblige à renoncer à l’illusion que l’effort suffirait. Que la bonne formulation ferait la différence. Que l’amour bien fait finirait par réparer ce qui ne nous appartient pas.
Dans le vide, il n’y a pas d’écho. Et c’est précisément ça qui fait peur. L’écho rassure. Même s’il déforme. Même s’il revient pauvre. Le silence, lui, ne ment pas. Il dit que ce qui manque ne viendra pas de l’extérieur. Il dit aussi que continuer à crier vers quelqu’un qui ne peut pas répondre devient une forme de violence contre soi.
La situation actuelle met beaucoup de gens face à cette limite. Couples à bout. Parents épuisés. Professionnels vidés de leur sens. Individus lucides mais isolés. Tout le monde sent confusément que quelque chose ne tient plus, mais chacun le vit dans son coin, persuadé d’être le seul à ne pas y arriver. Alors que le problème est structurel. Relationnel. Collectif.
On a appris à parler. Pas à se rencontrer. On a appris à performer. Pas à contenir. On a appris à expliquer. Pas à rester quand ça tremble. Résultat, dès que l’intensité monte, les systèmes lâchent. Les gens se défendent. Se ferment. Se justifient. Se rigidifient. Et celui qui crie dans le vide passe pour excessif, instable, trop sensible. Alors qu’il est souvent juste vivant.
Il faut le dire clairement. Crier dans le vide est parfois un passage sain. Un moment de vérité. Le moment où l’on cesse de maquiller le manque. Où l’on accepte que certaines attentes étaient mal placées. Où l’on reconnaît que l’on demandait à l’autre ce qu’il ne pouvait pas donner. Pas par méchanceté. Par incapacité. Par histoire. Par limites.
Ce cri marque souvent un basculement. Avant, on espérait encore être rejoint. Après, on commence à se rejoindre soi. Pas dans un repli narcissique. Dans une réappropriation. On arrête de supplier le monde de nous confirmer. On commence à se tenir debout dans l’inconfort de ne pas être entendu. Et paradoxalement, c’est là que quelque chose se stabilise.
Le vide n’est pas un ennemi. Il est un révélateur. Il montre ce qui tenait par projection. Il nettoie les faux liens. Il oblige à distinguer la présence réelle de la simple proximité. Il force à redéfinir ce que veut dire être en relation. Pas être entouré. Être rencontré.
La situation actuelle demande ce courage là. Le courage de traverser le silence sans se dissoudre. De ne pas remplir trop vite. De ne pas compenser par le bruit, la distraction, la fuite. De rester avec ce cri jusqu’à ce qu’il se transforme. Car un cri qui n’est plus adressé devient un souffle. Et un souffle peut porter.
Il ne s’agit pas de se taire. Il s’agit de choisir où poser sa voix. De reconnaître les espaces qui peuvent recevoir et ceux qui ne le peuvent pas. De renoncer à convaincre ceux qui n’écoutent pas. De se donner le droit de se retirer sans se trahir.
Crier dans le vide, ce n’est pas la fin. C’est souvent le dernier geste avant un réalignement. Un moment rude, dépouillé, sans témoin. Mais nécessaire. Parce qu’à partir de là, la parole cesse d’être une demande. Elle redevient une expression. Et parfois, dans ce silence enfin respecté, quelque chose répond. Pas forcément une personne. Une direction. Une justesse. Une paix sobre.
from
Roscoe's Quick Notes

I will be cheering on the Indiana Hoosiers Football Team as they play the Oregon Ducks in the Peach Bowl Game.
The radio back here in my room will be tuned in to The Flagship Station for IU Sports by 6:30 PM Central Time, an hour before game time, to catch pregame coverage from my favorite broadcasters. And I'll stay with this station for the radio call of the game.
Back in December, after the Christmas lights show at my county fair, my family and I made a late night stop at a recently opened Yemeni cafe several blocks away from our home. I bought a hot pistachio latte for myself, a strawberry refresher for my wife, and a chocolate croissant for all of us to share. Everything was delicious, but pricey (about $21 before tip).
Moka & Co. has more traditional Yemeni coffee choices and plenty of desserts like baklava and more savory items like samosas. As far as cafe corporate chains go, Moka & Co. is clean and the food and drink items are better than Starbucks and some Peet’s Coffee locations. I know there’s another smaller Yemeni cafe chain a few more miles away from our house and I plan on trying it in the near future.
So if Moka & Co. is in your neighborhood, give it a try. And yes, I do recommend the pistachio latte.
I need to make a quick stop.
#coffee #Yemeni #mokaandco
from DrFox
Je me pose parfois la question de savoir si cela vaut la peine d’aller là où je vais. Pas au sens géographique. Au sens intérieur. À vouloir toujours pousser plus loin. Comprendre plus finement. Déplier jusqu’au bout. Traverser ce qui résiste au lieu de le contourner. Il y a des jours où cette trajectoire me fatigue. Et d’autres où elle me paraît évidente. Comme si je n’avais jamais vraiment eu le choix.
Puis je me surprends à penser que peut être, même avant de venir au monde, j’ai choisi le mode difficile.
Enfance sans sol stable. Adolescence sans boussole. Construction intellectuelle solide dans un milieu qui n’était pas le mien. Ascension sociale par adaptation pure. Mariage sans modèle ou mauvais modèle. Parentalité sans filet. Ruptures d’attachement précoces. Apprentissage sur le tas. Tout ce qui aurait dû être transmis a été découvert seul. Tout ce qui aurait dû être sécurisé a été expérimenté dans l’incertitude.
Longtemps, j’ai lu cela comme une injustice. Une malchance. Un tirage défavorable. Puis, avec le temps, une autre lecture est apparue. Et elle ne m’a plus quitté.
Et si ce parcours n’était pas une erreur mais une cohérence.
Il existe des êtres qui ne supportent pas la facilité. Non pas par masochisme. Mais parce que la facilité les endort. Ils ont besoin de friction pour sentir le réel. De tension pour rester présents. De complexité pour ne pas se dissoudre dans le confort. Ce sont souvent des enfants qui ont compris très tôt que le monde n’allait pas les porter. Alors ils ont développé une vigilance. Une acuité. Une capacité à lire les situations, les non dits, les failles. Ils deviennent adaptables. Résilients. Intelligents. Mais aussi exigeants. Avec eux mêmes d’abord.
J’ai longtemps cru que cette exigence était une vertu. Je le crois encore en partie. Elle m’a permis d’apprendre. De bâtir. De traverser. De tenir quand d’autres auraient lâché. Elle m’a donné une colonne vertébrale. Une capacité à regarder les choses en face sans me raconter d’histoires. Elle m’a évité la complaisance et la naïveté.
Mais à force de vivre dans le difficile, une question finit par émerger. Une question qui ne peut plus être repoussée.
Pourquoi continuer.
Pourquoi, une fois adulte, conscient, stable, continuer à choisir la pente raide. Est ce un élan vivant ou une loyauté silencieuse à une ancienne configuration. Est ce une quête de vérité ou une fidélité à une identité forgée dans l’effort. Est ce une liberté ou une répétition élégamment rationalisée.
Quand on a grandi dans l’insécurité affective, le calme peut sembler suspect. La fluidité peut être interprétée comme de la superficialité. Le repos comme une perte de vigilance. On apprend à se méfier de ce qui ne coûte rien. Comme si la valeur devait toujours être proportionnelle à la douleur engagée.
Mais ce raisonnement a une limite. Et même un piège.
La facilité n’est pas toujours une fuite. Elle peut être le signe qu’une intégration a eu lieu. Quand un geste devient simple, ce n’est pas qu’il est vide. C’est qu’il ne lutte plus contre l’intérieur. Quand une relation devient paisible, ce n’est pas qu’elle manque d’intensité. C’est qu’elle n’est plus alimentée par la peur de perdre.
Il y a une maturité qui consiste à ne plus prouver. À ne plus pousser pour sentir que l’on existe. À accepter que certaines choses puissent être vraies sans être douloureuses. Sans être arrachées. Sans être méritées par l’épuisement. Comme être aimé en ne faisant strictement rien de plus que ce qu’on fait déjà tous les jours. Et surtout… penser mériter cet amour en étant rien de plus que ce qu’on est déjà tous les jours.
J’ai appris seul. Je me suis adapté à des mondes qui n’étaient pas les miens. J’ai porté des responsabilités sans modèle. J’ai tenu quand c’était instable. J’ai aimé sans garantie. J’ai construit sans héritage émotionnel. Tout cela est réel. Et cela a compté.
Le prochain seuil n’est sans doute pas de pousser encore. Il est de discerner. De sentir quand l’effort est vivant et quand il est simplement familier. Quand la difficulté est choisie et quand elle est reconduite par inertie identitaire. Quand elle ouvre et quand elle rigidifie.
Choisir le difficile peut être un acte de liberté. Le quitter aussi.
from DrFox
Ce n’est qu’en tendant le bois qu’on sait de quoi il est fait. Cette vieille expression arabe est restée longtemps dans un coin de ma tête. Elle ne promet rien de confortable. Elle ne flatte personne. Elle dit simplement que la vérité d’une chose ne se révèle pas quand tout va bien, mais quand ça force.
En français, on a une image plus triviale mais tout aussi parlante. C’est à la marée basse qu’on voit qui nageait sans maillot. Tant que l’eau est haute, tout le monde flotte. Tout le monde a l’air à l’aise. Tout le monde peut prétendre à une certaine élégance morale. Puis l’eau se retire. Et là, il n’y a plus d’argument. Il n’y a plus de discours. Il n’y a que ce qui est là.
Chez l’humain, c’est exactement pareil. On ne sait jamais vraiment de quoi une personne est faite tant qu’elle n’est pas mise sous pression. Pas la petite pression sociale du quotidien. La vraie. Celle qui fait perdre des repères. Celle qui oblige à choisir. Celle qui coûte quelque chose.
Sous pression, on ne devient pas quelqu’un d’autre. On devient plus intensément soi. Ce qui était dilué dans le confort se concentre. Ce qui était gérable devient dominant. La pression ne crée rien. Elle révèle.
Les chirurgiens le savent mieux que quiconque. Il est infiniment plus simple de faire un geste parfait sur un cadavre que sur un corps vivant. Le vivant saigne. Le vivant bouge. Le vivant surprend. Il y a le temps réel, le risque, l’irréversibilité. La main peut trembler. Le mental peut se crisper. Ce n’est pas la connaissance qui est testée, c’est l’intégration. Est ce que ce que je sais est devenu assez stable pour rester présent quand l’enjeu est réel.
La vie fonctionne exactement sur le même principe. Dans les relations, dans la parentalité, dans le travail, dans l’intimité. Tant que tout est fluide, on peut se raconter de belles histoires sur soi. Je suis patient. Je suis honnête. Je suis calme. Mais ces phrases n’ont aucun poids tant qu’elles n’ont pas été traversées par une situation qui aurait légitimement pu produire l’inverse.
Vous pressez un être humain et vous voyez ce qui sort. Chez certains, c’est la peur. Chez d’autres, le contrôle. Chez d’autres encore, la colère ou la fuite. Plus rarement, on voit sortir quelque chose de posé, de clair, parfois même de doux. Pas parce que ces personnes sont supérieures. Mais parce qu’elles ont fait le travail en amont. Elles ont regardé ce qu’il y avait à l’intérieur avant que la pression n’arrive.
C’est là que beaucoup se trompent. On croit qu’il suffit de changer les circonstances pour changer ce qui sort. Augmenter la pression. Changer de partenaire. Changer de travail. Changer de pays. Changer de rythme. Mais si le liquide intérieur n’a pas changé, la pression produira toujours la même substance. Simplement dans un autre décor.
Changer ce qui sort demande de se changer soi même. Pas dans l’idéal. Pas dans le discours. Mais dans la structure. Dans la relation à la peur. Dans la capacité à tolérer le manque. Dans l’acceptation des limites. Tant que ces zones ne sont pas intégrées, elles gouvernent en silence.
Prenons un exemple simple et souvent mal compris. La fidélité. Il est relativement facile d’être fidèle quand on a peur des conséquences de l’infidélité. Peur de perdre son confort. Peur de détruire une image. Peur de faire exploser une stabilité matérielle ou familiale. Cette fidélité là tient sur la peur. Elle fonctionne. Mais elle n’est pas libre. Elle est conditionnelle. Elle n’est pas basée sur l’amour, mais sur la peur.
La vraie fidélité commence quand il y a un choix réel. Quand le désir existe ailleurs parfois. Quand l’opportunité est crédible. Quand personne ne regarde. Quand la pression monte. À ce moment précis, ce n’est plus la morale qui décide. C’est l’architecture intérieure. Est ce que je suis gouverné par le manque ou par l’abondance. Par la peur de perdre ou par la cohérence avec moi même. Par le besoin d’être validé ou par la capacité à renoncer sans me renier.
Ce mécanisme dépasse largement la fidélité. Il vaut pour la vérité, pour l’usage du pouvoir, pour l’argent, pour la manière de traiter un enfant quand on est fatigué, pour la façon de parler quand on est blessé. Tant que rien ne coûte, tout le monde peut se dire juste. Quand ça commence à coûter, quand il y a une tension réelle, la vérité apparaît.
C’est inconfortable. Parce que ça enlève l’excuse du contexte. Ce n’est pas la pression qui nous rend mauvais ou bons. Elle met simplement en lumière ce qui n’a pas encore été traversé.
La pression n’est donc pas l’ennemie. Elle est un révélateur. Un miroir sans filtre. Une invitation parfois brutale à prendre la responsabilité de son propre contenu.
from
Jall Barret
I went off the rails a little for the holiday. I managed to finish a surprise project but everything else fell by the wayside.
I've been working on setting up a low powered computer with Alpine Linux. You know how people are always saying Linux is so easy now that anyone can do it? Don't do that with Alpine Linux. It was originally intended for running on high security, niche devices. It's probably most commonly used in Docker images. Most people who interact with it probably don't put it on an actual computer.
Why did I want to? I've been using Linux since 2000. Possibly a little earlier. The first time I used it, I did it on an aging computer that I couldn't afford to upgrade. That describes most of the computers I've used it on, actually. The challenge in most of those cases was stripping something pretty full spec down to the point where it ran pretty tolerably.
In this case, I wanted to do it on purpose. On finding out about Alpine, I realized I had the perfect opportunity. The regular install's ISO takes up less than 400 MiB of space. Everything you want, you're adding to that count. Putting Xfce on it along with some other packages I needed have taken me to about 2 GiB. I'd like to set it up so it doesn't load Xfce by default but, right now, I'm most focused on making it a writing computer.
And technically it is. I'm typing this on it right now. The network connection is off. I'm typing this using the micro text editor from a virtual terminal.
When I get it back to a network, I'll run a Unison profile I created. It will copy this and any other local changes up to the network.
Some of my scripts aren't working ... yet but the Typewriter lives.
Turning off Xfce on boot turned out to be much easier than my experience with LXQt. I disabled automatic startup for the display manager using the rc-update del command used in Alpine for removing services from run groups.
When I do want to load the GUI, I type startx and it comes up.
For micro to be a good prose writing tool, I had to put this in .config/micro/settings.json:
{
"softwrap": true,
"wordwrap": true
}
To make Unison work the way I wanted, I created the profile using the GUI on my main Linux computer and adjusted it until it worked the way I wanted. I did a replace all on paths that were specific to my main Linux computer.
I've also adapted some of my writing related scripts for use on Alpine.
Due in part to Typewriter, I wrote almost 13K words in the last week. Typewriter has only been really operational for three writing days and, in those writing days, I wrote 10.5K words. That's an average of 3.3K words per day.
For me, those are pretty good numbers. If those are sustainable, I could write about 23K in a week.
This is going to be a little sparse for a while.
The current projects are resuming The Novel, starting work on Fallen Heaven, or writing book 3 of Vay Ideal.
I'm leaning toward working on a novel because I think a published Novel will probably drive some purchases of the Vay Ideal books. Adding additional Vay Ideal books while I'm not really having sales on Vay Ideal yet is probably not a useful thing at the moment.
With my improved word count from Typewriter, I did a bit of work on both Book 3 and The Novel.
#ProgressUpdate #VayIdeal
from
Lanza el dodo
Siempre es buen momento para ir cerrando el año anterior porque aún queda gente con las luces de navidad encendidas. En diciembre pasó una cosa poco frecuente y es que tenga apuntados más juegos con partidas en físico que en BGA, que últimamente sólo tengo abiertas un par de partidas a juegos más complejos que ya conozco, en lugar de novedades, así que este mes hay poco que rascar por ahí.
Al que más he jugado ha sido Carnival of Sins porque normalmente, tras la primera partida, la gente se pica y quiere, puede que con poco éxito, usar la carta de Ira de mejor manera (en un par de ocasiones eso me dio la victoria, incentivando un poco la risa de malvado, siempre en pos del juego). Seguimos con la campaña de My City, avanzando lentamente, y hemos empezado una a Dorfromantik Sakura, que pinta bien aunque aún nos quede una partida al Dorfromantik original. Probé Leviathan Wilds en solitario, y parece que es lo suficientemente sencillo de reglas como para que le dé más partidas, aunque creo que a más de un jugador, la interacción lo debe hacer más interesante.
En BGA, que he jugado el resto de novedades aparte de Dorfromantik, sólo puedo opinar sobre Popcorn, porque Arabella y Wandering Towers creo que no capté lo suficiente como para ello. Popcorn es un juego estratégico sobre llevar un cine y ganar dinero llevando a espectadores a ver las películas que debes ir renovando, a la par que mejoras las butacas de tu cine para ir aumentando el número de efectos que se van desencadenando. Tiene algunos aspectos que siempre se valoran como positivos en este tipo de juegos, como que haya una fase del turno que es simultánea, de manera que el juego no se hace largo, pero que tampoco están implementadas de manera que represente una novedad demasiado interesante.

Tags: #boardgames #juegosdemesa