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Growing up

5 feet 2 inches too tall to accept that you really do know what is best. 5 feet 2 inches too short to reach and lay my pride to rest.

I used to think that the more i live the more i become like you but lately I have realized that the contrary is true. Dead to the world, alive in you. For there really is a difference between growing tall and growing up. They look at me and they say, she is a good person and good is enough for it is subjective to them. In latin, it says, nil magnum nisi bonum, no greatness without goodness but what if the goodness of my humanity is corrupted by the greatness of my evil. Voltaire would agree, perfect is the enemy of the good and yet in you perfection is all I see, exposing the world for what it is meant to be, perfect and good simultaneously.

The seed dies so the tree can live and if live then bear fruit, take caution for even good soil may only bring forth thirtyfold. Thirty percent spirit seventy percent flesh. Thirty percent christian seventy percent secular. Thirty percent hypocrite, seventy percent tolerant. For what we do not understand, we cannot explain and what we cannot explain, we ignore, out of sight out of mind, and ignorance is contagious. Division by multiplication. For how can we grow if we do not show up in places where no one will go. And how can we claim to be good, if we only stand in our pews claiming brotherhood with men we never understood.

My friend greatness never comes easy. If dead men tell no tales they why does the blood of martyrs scream that sacrifices must be made and many tears shed.

The world kills their own so they can grow, claiming victory in death.  Its simple, they say multiplication by division, math operations made friends. But is two times two always four if my twos hold a different value than yours. Let us murder instead our ambition, our pride, our self indulgent heart, the spirit condemns.For the measure of greatness is not what you take but what you give, not what you begrudge but what you forgive.

The risen lamb, given not in abundance out of many, but the only one, forsaken before the universe begun so that you and I may be won through blood and sweat mixed crimson. And though with spots, just like the moon still shines from borrowed light from the sun, I know there is another one who created the heavens and the stars, who lend his light to you and me when he said it is done. So I hope that one day I really will grow up, looking more like my heavenly father, a clear picture of a daughter of a king, resting after a race well run not measured anymore in feet and inches but by the righteousness of His only begotten Son.

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