Judgement

I’m tired of getting called judgmental by judgmental people who don’t admit that they’re judging me.

Because when you call me judgmental, you are, in fact, judging me.

Now, I never said that I never judge people. Here’s the reality people; we all judge. Yes, you judge people too. Every last one of us make judgments about people and events.

I try not to judge people, and I thought I had been doing a pretty good job about only judging the sin on my blog post, but when I slip up, it’s not really your job to call me out, because that my dear friends is called hypocrisy.

Again, I’m not saying that I’m never hypocritical, but try to think through it before you call me judgmental. I’m trying my best not to be. Are you when you call me out on my every failure?

On a different note, we’re supposed to judge fellow Christians and try and make them aware of their sins. That’s what I’m trying to do. We need to be more careful when we talk to non-believers, and that’s something I need to work on, but I’m blogging mostly to believers and mostly believers comment.

Read these verses in context:

Hebrews 3:12-13

John 7:24

John 8:16

I Corinthians 5:12

1 Corinthians 6:2

Galatians 5:26- 6:2

Ephesians 4:25

Colossians 2:8

Before you throw it at me, Romans 14:13 needs to be read in context. It is talking about different levels of maturity in faith, and how you should not judge if one’s faith is slightly different than yours, not whether or not you should judge sin or make him aware of it. Please, please, please read all the verses in context so they are not abused. You can’t just pick and choose.

Also, Paul, who was not blameless like Christ, spoke out against sin to the churches. He was not silent. He straight up told them what they were doing wrong.

In short, we have been called to judge sin. That is what I am doing. Judging the sin, not the sinner. If you have any reason why that is not Biblical, please tell me, but don’t talk about “feelings” and ignore what the Bible says.

The Midnight Society {part 3}

My Monday schedule: wake up, eat breakfast, worry that I didn’t get all my projects done. Go to math class, worry that I didn’t get all my projects done. Read for an hour, worry that I’m forgetting something. Eat lunch, talk to phoebe, worry… well you get the picture.

            It’s not that I’ve ever actually forgotten an assignment or haven’t finished in time. I just worry about it. A lot.

That particular Monday however, I had an evening appointment.

            The mansion looked so different in the daylight. It was well-kept but the magic of the classical music and lanterns was gone. Phoebe and I hesitantly approached it, senses tingling. Her heels clicked against the stone walkway while my Converse remained silent.

            I was about to knock but the door was opened before my closed fist made contact with the splintering wooden door.

“Come in,” Branden himself ushered us inside. Phoebe and I exchange a wary look, but she followed closely at his heels.

“So what’s going on? You didn’t give much of an explanation last night,” Phoebe said. Branden gave her a mysterious smirk, but remained silent.

            Jason walked by us in one of the halls. I almost didn’t recognize him, if hadn’t been for those eyes. His hair was a wavy mess and he wore jeans and a V-neck tee. He glanced at Branden quickly, but other than that he remained stoic, not acknowledging me or Phoebe.

            I tried not to be bugged by it. Honestly, we had only talked for like three minutes. But we had kind of flirted. Well I flirted. Maybe he wasn’t flirting. Ugh. Whatever.

            Branden led us to the overly-large living room. It was still devoid of the usual furniture and there were nine other people there. They all gave Phoebe and I an odd glance, but then continued whispering among themselves.

            Branden gestured for us to join the tiny crowd and we did so, as he moved to the front like he had last night.

“So I’m guessing you’ve heard of the CIA?” He started.

Um, was this a trick question?

“And the FBI. And the NSA. And MI6. All those?”

Those of us in the crowd nodded warily, not positive where he was going with this.

“Well you probably don’t know that they’re constantly recruiting college kids, such as yourselves. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, which I’m sure you have or else you wouldn’t be here, my job is to seek out those worthy of recruitment.”

Ok, this had to be some sort of college prank. Branden couldn’t be serious. This was too ridiculous.

“I see your faces, your expressions of disbelief, of doubt. Rest assured, I am very serious. I am an agent for one those agencies, as is almost everyone at the gala last night.”

Jason was a secret agent? A spy?

I glanced at Phoebe to see if she was buying this. Not only was she buying it, it looked like she was stocking up on it, eyes glued to Branden. There would be no dragging her away from this.

“So, why don’t we get started. If you’ll look to the back,” All heads turned simultaneously. “You’ll find a table with a change of clothes for you. You should have no problem finding your size.”

It was obvious that was our cue. As the eleven of us headed back to find whatever he was talking about, he told us that there were plenty of rooms upstairs to change in.

On the table, there were uniform workout clothes, grey sweatpants with dark blue tanktops. Sure enough, it wasn’t hard for Phoebe and I to find the right sizes. We headed upstairs together to get changed.

 

The Midnight Society { part 2 }

A little while back I posted the first installment of the Midnight Society. I hope you enjoy this second part.

 

After our dance was over though, I didn’t talk to Jason Clyde again that night. I danced with two other perfect gentlemen, one named Justin, the other, Kameron. I saw Phoebe dance with several men including both Branden and Jason. I couldn’t help but wonder why Branden didn’t ask me to dance.

            Around 2 a.m. Branden stepped onto the musician’s stage to make an announcement.

“I believe this has been put off long enough. Those of you who were invited are probably wondering why.”

I felt Phoebe move to my side.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t quite tell you yet,” There were subtle groans from the few in the crowd that had been expecting answers, including me. “But, I can tell you this. As you know already, this is a society. An exclusive one. A dangerous one.” He paused long enough for me to whisper to Phoebe.

“What on earth is he talking about?” She just shrugged, still glued to the ruggedly handsome Branden.

“But if you’re up for it stick around. If you don’t have time, think I’m joking, or aren’t ready for some excitement and danger then I would ask you to leave.”

Someone scoffed in the back. “Are you serious?” A male voice called.

Branden gave him a cold stare. “Deadly.”

I heard shuffling. “Whatever. I’m out of here.” He left and was shortly followed by about a dozen other people, laughing about the ridiculousness of the party.

            Phoebe and I looked at each other. I had a feeling we were on the verge of something fantastic, life changing even. I wasn’t sure I was ready. Branden was a statue up there, the very picture of seriousness.

I saw the sparkle in Phoebe’s eye. She wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

So neither was I.

“Well that was over half our recruits. I guess that means my little speech was a success,” He gave the crowd a smile and there was chuckling from the members of the society, like it was an inside joke. I suppose it was.

“The rest of you will report here tomorrow evening at seven for initiation. Goodnight ladies and gentlemen,” And quick as that he was ascending the stairs.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” I said. Phoebe nodded, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the mysterious figure of Branden Gates. I pulled her out the door and to her car. We chatted about the guys we had danced with, the dresses the other girls wore, and we pondered what was so dangerous about the Society I think we had just joined.

I’m not positive I was ready to find out.

The Midnight Society

Here’s a glimpse into one of the many projects I’m working on. It’s really just a concept, not too much more than what I’ve posted. If you’ll kindly look past the grammatical errors and awkward sentences, that would be fantastic. It’s just a rough draft. But please, please, let me know if you like it and want to read more 🙂

 

“Floor-length gowns and four inch heels were not my style. But what else do you wear to a mysterious midnight gala that was by invitation only. We were almost to the antique mansion, and my best friend Phoebe and I could hear the classical music. I touched her arm.

“Are you ready for this? Because, this is super weird. Seriously, think about it. What if we get involved in some sort of criminal activity or something?”

“Lyric, this is the chance of a lifetime. I can smell the adventure. Now come on. We can only take fashionably late so far.” She grabbed my hand and dragged a stumbling me to front door.

            A guy, probably around twenty years old and wearing a sharp looking tux, was at the front door.

“Invitations.” Was the only word that man ever said to us. It wasn’t even a question. It was a demand. We handed the small cardstock squares with fancy calligraphy to him. He simply nodded politely and opened the door for us.

And that was the last time I ever saw him.

            I think it was Vivaldi wafting through the air, but I’m not positive of anything about that night. Everyone looked perfectly comfortable there, probably around fifty people. Young men in suits and women in ball gowns floated effortlessly around the room. I wondered if any of them had been invited the way Phoebe and I were.

            I gently touched my blonde hair, hoping the French twist I had worked so hard on would stay.

“Come on, there’s Branden,” Phoebe led me to the handsome man who had given us the invitations.

“You made it,” He observed politely. I didn’t even know what to say, but Phoebe was already taking charge.

“Did you think we would pass up the opportunity to attend a gala hosted by Pacific University’s elite?”

“Touché,” Branden gave Phoebe a half smile. “Well, girls, mingle, eat, and dance. Enjoy yourself.”

He walked off before I could ask why we had been invited.

            Phoebe turned to me, positively giddy.

“Oh my gosh, I handled that ridiculously well. Did you see his face? I was so cool, too, it was just like BAM response!”

I tried to quiet her down, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ok, ok, I get it. Now shall we mingle?”

“We shall.” And it was all I could do to keep up with those strappy red heels of hers.

            She was a sight to behold, completely at home in her attractively cut red dress, and her elegant hair-do. Her alluring smile caught every male’s attention.

Me? I’m afraid I’m just slightly more awkward in social situations. I wouldn’t go so far as to say outcast, or wallflower, but small talk has never been my strong suit.

            There was a single person besides Phoebe there that I knew. A girl named Kira Drake. I had my writing class with her. She was friendly and we talked a second about our creative writing assignment due on Friday. One thing about college is that there was always something due, even worse than high school. Seriously, it kept you on your toes.

            A waltz started about half an hour in.

“May I have this dance?” I turned to my right to see where the voice was coming from. A guy, around my age, possibly older, was holding out his hand, peering at me with piercing eyes. For some reason he reminded me of old black and white movies; the tux, gray eyes, black hair combed neatly in an old fashioned way.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to waltz,” I apologized, hoping he would take it as a no. Instead he took my hand and led me to the dance floor.

“Nonsense. I’ll teach you.”

“Oh, um, okay.” I tripped after him. He led me in a simple 1-2-3 pattern that became natural quicker than I had imagined it would.

            “My name’s Lyr-“

“Lyric Anastasia Romanoff. I know.”

I blinked at him, but I realized he must be a member of the party that invited us. “That leaves me at a bit of a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Jason. Jason Clyde.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Jason,” I remarked. He gave me a quick smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Were we flirting? I’m 76% positive we were flirting. “