New York. Africa. Japan. Wherever.

Monty.

A coffeehouse. A grocery store. post office. Whatever.

Heavy breathing.

A distant “Maaarch!” and faceless boots pound the hard earth harder.

Dust flies.

Monty Grace, head in hands, breathing heavy and sweating. Sitting in a

dark room

in front of a big front window. It’s raining outside, and it’s cold. Like an October

morning at 5:59.

Raining.

“Swallow hard, like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

Wake up, like you would go to battle.”

Smell the coffee.

 Hot, on his forehead, the cup in his hands. Too close. He lowers it down to the

table beside him beside today’s headline on some paper. He lifts his head up to rest on his

left hand and stare, unfocussed, out the window. He holds onto the coffee cup on the table

with his right hand.

“This is not a love story. This is not somebody else’s story.”

This is your story.

“Monty.” This is you.

This is the first day of the rest of your life.

..

“what is your worst fear?” the reflection in the window asks.

...

“Failure.” … “That every risk I ever took was a mistake, is a mistake. That every chance

I get, I will miss. Every hope I have is false.”

“That I will wake up one day, and find out that everything I believe to be true is a lie.”
….

“Wake up.”

…………………………………………….

“Christmas Day. Jesus’ birthday.” The reflection.

“A $200 billion dollar a year lie.

“Originally Yule was a celebration of the winter solstice. Marked by pagan traditions such

as hanging mistletoe, holly, and wreaths. It’s interesting that Christians don’t question the

holiday. The ancient prophet Jeremiah even wrote about the tradition of decorating trees,

and rebuked those who practiced such witchcraft.”

Very interesting.

“And while we’re on the subject, take a look at Christ’s name. Yahushua. “Yahovah

Saves.”

wait… Yahovah? Where’s the “J”?

“Actually there never was a ‘J’ sound in the name. In fact, there is no ‘j’ sound in the

entire Hebrew language. Why was the letter used in translating Yahovah? Well, the Old

English ‘j’ was actually pronounced like the ‘y’ in ‘yes.’ Thus, when the first Hebrew
Scriptures were translated into English, ‘y’ became ‘j’ (think ‘Hallelujah’). And thus,

Yoseph, Yoshua, Yoel, and Yehovah became Joseph, Joshua, Joel, and Jehovah. We just

pronounce them wrong.

And Yahushua? In Hebrew, “Yehovah Saves.” Matthew 1:21 “And you shall call his name

Yahushua. For He shall save His people from their sins.

Not Jesus. Yahushua. There’s misinterpretation for you.

Smell the coffee.

Monty lifts the coffee to his lips with his right hand. Hot, but not too hot, the coffee. He

cups the coffee with his left hand. With his right hand, he reaches for today’s headline.

It’s dark, but not too dark.

Some people died somewhere.

“Reading in the dark does no damage to your eyes.”

I don’t care.

The coffee.

“Doesn’t dehydrate you.”

 Stop!

Shut up. Be quiet. Stop. Look. Listen.

Rain. Cars and wet tires through puddles on wet pavement. Wet shoes on wet sidewalk.

Cold, and wet.

Loud, the reflection. And cold, and wet.

Monty is warm.

The coffee is warm.

Somewhere it’s time to do something.

Wake up.
“Good morning!” The door swings open and some girl - Dani, Jessi, whatever, pretends to

be cheery. “It’s dark in here.” She says, and goes for the light switch.

I know. It’s fine.

“That’s better!”

it’s not better.

“You’re quiet.”

I’m fine.

“What’s wrong?

Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s wrong. Go away.

Coffee cup in left hand, paper in right hand, a cold and wet reflection, and a pretty, pretty

fake girl.

Smile and say yes. Say no. Say nothing.

“Nothing.” nothing that matters.

“It’s 6:30” In English, in America, somewhere, that means something.

“Somewhere, everything means something.”

Here it means coffee.

I feel like coffee is my life.

“The better part of it.”

What’s the worse part of it? I don’t want to know…

“Shit.”

I hate my reflection.

I get up. I walk somewhere. I do something. I eat, and then more. Is this me?
 “No.” the mirror.

he’s right. My Hugo Boss, my BMW, my Jim Carrey, Budweiser, Gillette. Everything I

pretend to be, pretend to have, pretend to need.

This isn’t me.

No, this isn’t me.

What is me?

I think women look in the mirror and see all the things they hate. They see their fears.

Their problems. Their lack. When women look in the mirror, they see everything they

don’t want to be.

When we look in the mirror, we see our hero. We see Superman. We see Jesus, we see

God. When we look in the mirror, we see everything we want to be.

They look in the mirror and see everything they want to get rid of.

We see what we want to have.

Hope.
Walk into a Gold’s. A wall full of mirrors. I believe that wall of mirrors is Gold’s single

best marketing tool.

Hope. An interesting concept. Not want, not need, not have, not be. Not know.

Hope, an optimist’s unknown.

It could lead a man to give his fortune, his life. It could lead a man to sin, or to stop

sinning.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.

“Have a drink.” My reflection. My hero. Me, but better. Who I could be. He is risk, He is

hope.

And I am fear. He is who I could be, and I am the inhibitions that hold me back.

I am you.
“You’re walking down the road one day,

and suddenly you come upon a stump.

Stumped, you look at it and wonder why

anyone would ever kill a tree.

So lovely and wonderful, magnificent

these growing things -

this dying thing could be.

You wonder why someone decided

this one wasn’t good enough to live.

Jesus spake of planting seeds, choosing ground

and raking leaves, and everything that innocence allows,

But never seemed to mention axes, saws,

weedeaters and pruning shears.

Or perhaps He did,

but that’s the part we skipped or didn’t hear.

Well here I am to remind you,

that you may live successfully,

overcome your obstacles,

find the truest calling you could have,

and then some day some crazy bitch

with half a brain and twice the balls you have,

will come into your life and end it.

The moral of the story is actually quite boring,

But a good enough rendition of the truth:

Never, never, never, never,

ever, ever, ever, ever,

never, never, never trust a woman.

They aren’t logical, or rational,

or peaceable, or nice, unless they want

something they know they’ll never have,

and then they’re only nice.”

-the mirror.

Pretty things, women. Growing up in church I always heard things like “He who finds a

wife finds a good thing.” And “It’s not good that Man should be alone.” And understood

that all good little Christians got married. “Singles” were a group to pity, and “reach out”

to. They banded together until two by two, they found each other, and their happily ever

after.

I doubt any of those men ever met my reflection. If they had, they would have heard
I Corinthians 7:7 “I wish all men were as I am,” and Matthew 19:10, where Jesus’

disciples come to the realization that “it is better not to marry at all” than to be stuck with

one woman for the rest of your life.

You’d think Christians would question themselves once in a while. You’d think Christians

would question a lot of things. Christians must not have mirrors.

You’d think they would.

You’d think a lot of things if you met my reflection.

“Fuck you.”

…he doesn’t want to talk to you yet.

Maybe later.

When I was about 15 or 16, I remember going with my dad down to Las Vegas. The

lights, the colors… the women. Porn lining the streets. The card pushers and magicians

and fake looking fake buildings inside fake looking real buildings. Monstrous screens
projecting fake looking people with big, fake smiles. I remember driving away, looking

back over the city and thinking

“…all those poor, lost people.”

That’s what I learned in Sunday School.

I remember wondering how any sane person could sit at a machine, shoving quarter after

quarter, dollar after dollar, just dropping them into a faceless hole. “How could people be

so stupid?” I thought. I always figured I’d never know.

Then I met Steve.

Steve is my second cousin. I’ve always known who he was, but last year I got a job

working with him, and finally got a chance to get to know him.

Steve is a gambler. He likes to figure odds, and then bet on them. Anything, really, but his

favorite is the lottery. I’d watch him buy card after card, each loser an embarrassment, and

each winner an example of his “skill.” I used to wonder if he really believed skill had

anything to do with it. No, he was just being ridiculous.

I’ve always thought Steve would make a great missionary. I was probably 10 when I heard

he was going to Bible school, and I thought “Oh good, he’s gonna do it!” He’s an

adventurer at heart, and he loves risk. He loves to teach people how to manage their lives

better, and tell stories. Here was true potential. And now, this.

He talks about gambling like it’s as real as life itself. “Man, I was sooo close to winning

that one. I should’ve went with my instincts.” Like that would change it. It seems so

pathetic. So needy.

“But take a closer look.”

Expand you’re mind. Learn.

 Grow.

We switch back to Monty. Back to you. Sitting there in an easy chair reading. Something.

Anything to get your mind off the fact that your life is turning to total shit right before

your eyes. Except I’m not here to help you forget about you.

I am you.

And your life is about to change. Watch.

“A poker game. Four men at a table. The Cross. Soldiers

drawing lots, straws. Pick a card. Roll the dice. Flip a coin.”

Steve.

30 years old. Stuck in a boring job. Pretty wife, good friends, no life. Bored, and desperate

for some kind of challenge, some kind of risk, some kind of excitement.

Enter, the lottery.

A three dollar gamble. a cheap chance. An easy hope.

Just enough excitement to keep his mind off the fact that his life needs change. Just

enough risk to satisfy that incessant desire deep within his soul to be free. To be Man.

“God is a gambler.”
To gamble. To give your best, and hope it’s good enough. To face fear.

To risk, because you believe.

To have faith.

Steve has faith in his ability to win. He risks his money and pride because of that belief.

“God has faith in humanity. He risked Yahushua and His love because of that belief.”

Peter had faith in his ability to follow God, and God’s ability to hold him up. He walked

on water.

David had faith in God’s strength. He killed the giant.

How do you kill a giant? How do you walk on water? How do you tackle your

insecurities?

How do you move mountains?

“take a gamble.”

“God is a perpetual gambler. Take Job, for instance. Satan just went to see what’s up, and

God’s like “Have you seen my servant Job?”

God was looking for a challenge. Satan called, the bet was on.

God said to Adam “Eat anything you want, except that fruit riiight there.”

To gamble. To risk.

That balance of fear and hope. Drama.

Excitement.
For 2,000 years, God’s church was the Jews. The Hebrew nation His people. For over

1,500 years, that was exciting. But something happened. The Jews started focusing too

much on rules and laws. They began to sacrifice the risk - the excitement - that God loves,

for the surety and ease of knowledge and doctrine. It got so boring, 400 years of history

weren’t even worth writing about.

Then God sent Yahushua. The ultimate gamble.”

What’s so risky about Christianity?

Nothing. Yahushua was not a Christian.

Yahushua was a Jew.

But He changed all the rules…

He didn’t change any rules.

He set us free…

Free indeed.

…well… what does that mean?

Haha…

You’re not ready for that.

I went back to Las Vegas recently. It was everything I remembered, yet something had

changed. I saw the same fake buildings and fake smiles, fake breasts and fake love, fake

happiness. But something was different.

Me.

As I walked past all those lost people, I began to realize I no longer felt sorry for them. I

was no longer wishing they were better. In fact, I no l onger f el t bet t er t han t hem.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window, and stopped to ask myself.

“What do you see?”

6 years ago, I said. “Look at all those lost people.”

“And now?”
Look at all these people searching. Look at all these people hoping. Look at all these

people trying.

Look at all these people giving.

Jesus said ‘seek, and you will find.’

To me it was a symbol.

I always thought we gave, because we were better than sinners. We gave to prove

ourselves blessed.

Here, these people believed they were blessed, and they gave to receive their blessings.

They gamble, because they believe.

“Ask, and it shall be given to you.

Knock, and it shall be opened.

Take a step of faith.

Take a gamble.”

I think I’m beginning to understand my reflection. I’m

beginning to see his point of view.

I can’t quite predict his words, but I’m pretty sure I won’t

like them.

“The Pharisees didn’t like Yahushua.”

Shut up.

Jesus, the cross, a dove. The Bible. All my life I’ve seen these symbols, worshipped them.

Blindly, I’ve followed Pastor Bob, Dr. James, Mother Theresa. Too sure they knew the

answers, to ask for my own. Too content with the church’s doctrine to seek any of my

own. Too scared to knock on doors for fear of what was on the other side. Now here I

am, on my own.

And the mirror on the door.

I ask. Who are you?

“I’m God. I’m Jesus. I’m the Bible.”

No you’re not.

“I’m a symbol, Jack. Like you. Like God. The Bible.”

“What you have to do is figure out what I symbolize. Yes, I am you minus your

inhibitions. Yes, I am who you could be, would be, and can be. I am who you want to be.

It’s your job to figure out why you want this.

Look closely… what do you see?”

You lean forward and gaze into your own eyes.

“Passion...

Hope.”

“Look deeper.”

freedom.

“Freedom.”
And who are you?

You, the fucker reading right now. You. Who are you?

And why am I even talking to you?

You don’t even know what I mean when I say that, do you. You have no idea why I don’t

respect you. All you Christians.

Alright. Do you believe the Bible is the only inspired and written Word of God? Of course

you do. You don’t even have to answer. If you’re a Christian, you believe it. It’s in every

church creed in every Christian church.

Well let’s take a look at that little fact, shall we? Of course we shall.

Read on.

In the beginning, God created the what? Heavens and the earth. Right. And the Word was

with God, and the Word what? WAS God. In law this is called a ‘definition,’ and it’s used

to show a word’s meaning implied throughout the document in which the word is used.

Word with a capital ‘W’ equals God. God is Word, Word is God. Got it?

Alright.

Now let me ask you. How many times have you heard something like “Let’s turn to the

Word,” or “read from the Word.”? How many? You don’t know, do you. Too many.

Even a five-year-old could point out the misinterpretation here. The “Word” is God, right?

The Word is His Spirit. Him. His livelihood. Who He Is. God’s Word lit the universe and

calmed the seas. Before the world was, God is, and His Word is.

There is a very obvious fundamental difference between a spirit and a written document.

2+2 = 4 not Jonathan Taylor, ‘Word’ means ‘God’ not ‘Bible.’ Never once in the entire
document is the document itself referred to as the “Word.” The “Word” is a formal title

for God’s Spirit, His Holy Communication.

Of course, you’re going to argue that the Bible is God’s Holy Communication in it’s

entirety. I know you will, I’ve heard it before. You’re not the first you. However, I may be

the first me, and so I doubt you’ve ever really, truly, honestly considered what I’m about

to relay. I will go slow.

When was the Bible finished? When did it all come together?

Actually that’s an interesting story. It would seem as though it was all done a few years

after Yahushua died, rose again, and ascended into Heaven, right? Anyone who didn’t

know the story might easily assume that, based on the way we talk about it. Obviously it is

untrue. In fact, it wasn’t until c. 170 AD that a guy named Melito, Bishop of Sardis (an

ancient city of Asia Minor), produced the first ‘Christian’ attempt at even an Old

Testament canon. He basically copied the Jewish Septuagint, only leaving out Esther.

In 360 AD… three hundred and sixty… the council of Laodicea produced the first New

Testament canon of the Christian church.

The council of Hippo finally chose which books the Roman Catholic church would accept.

It is the same today.

However … …you know what… Fuck it. I could go on all day proving to you how

fucked up your beliefs are, but what’s the point? So what if you believe me, you’ll be no

better off than you are right now believing someone else’s lies. Yes, it’s true that most of

what you believe to be core “Christian” doctrine is complete shit, but that doesn’t matter.

What matters is what you’re doing with it. I don’t mean youth groups and “outreach.” I

don’t mean Bible studies and prayer circles. You’ve got that covered.
I mean passion.

I mean risk.

I mean gambling.

Christians have made an idol out of Paul. Why? Because Paul is safe. We know what Paul

was like, because he had rules for everything. Paul never messed up, because he followed

the rules.

Peter was dangerous. Peter lived life on the edge. He liked to push himself, and take risks.

Peter walked on water.

Which would you rather be?

Safe?

Dangerous

Interesting

Boring.

Unpredictable

Predictable.
 I find it interesting that Yahushua chose Peter’s

revelation as the ‘rock’ on which the entire Christian church was to be built.

I also find it interesting that the entire Christian church is built on Paul’s teachings.

Peter has been made into a spectacle.

We all know the words Yahushua spoke as he lifted a sunken Peter out the sea.

“Oh ye of little faith.”

Poor, silly Peter.

We all know of Doubting Thomas.

Job.

Moses.

Such embarrassingly faithless men.

Or such a delicious

gamble.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

I bet if Peter were alive right now, he’d be skydiving. Or he’d be in Africa feeding starving

children. Or New York talking to gang members. China. Brazil. Tahiti.

Paul would be in church.

Peter would be stripping people of their

inhibitions.

Paul would be making more rules, to make sure you don’t end up like me.
 I’d be hanging out with Peter.

And You, reading this right now, you would be too.

Because gambling is addictive.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

……………………………………………………………………….
.

………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………….

……………………………………….
.

…………………….

…………

So what now?

Most people get to this point of a book, make a mental assessment of the story thus far,

and decide - maybe subconsciously - what the ending will be. It’s called assuming, and it

happens even without their acknowledgement. It is your mind trying to assert control on

at least a partial level.

But here, there is no definite story. There are no definite characters. In fact, there may

even be no purpose at all.

If you were smart, you would realize this, and stop reading.

I’ll just tell you right now. There is no purpose at all to this book.
Of course, I might be lying.

And that, right there, is curiosity.

You don’t know the future, and you want to, so you are still reading. You’re not risking

much, but you are gambling.

There. Feel that? You’re changing. By tomorrow you’ll be burning churches and starting

revolutions.

Read on.

Acts chapter 1 verse 26. The man who replaced Judas to become the new twelfth apostle

was chosen by drawing lots.

Acts chapter 10. Cornelius, a Roman officer became the first non-Jewish Christian

condoned by an apostle, approximately ei ght year s after Yahushua’s death. And you

thought He came for the Gentiles.

Haha… far from it.

In Matthew 15:26, Yahushua calls Gentiles “dogs” and answered a Gentile woman’s plea

for help with “God sent me only to the lost sheep of Israel.” When He sent out the

apostles to spread the ‘good news,’ He told them in Matthew 10:5 “Don’t go to the

Gentiles, or to anywhere the Samaritans live. But go to the people of Israel, the lost

sheep.” Interesting, isn’t it? Of course if Yahushua taught this way, it might make the

other apostle’s response to Peter’s dealings with Cornelius a little more understandable.

Acts 11:1-3 “The apostles and the believers in Judea heard that some who were not Jewish

had accepted God’s teaching too (remember, this is approximately ei ght year s after the
Christ’s ascension and the alleged ‘Great Commission’ in which Yahushua supposedly

sent the apostles to “all the world”). But when Peter came to Jerusalem, some people

argued with him. They said “You went to the homes of people who were not circumcised

and ate with them??” Peter, the rock on which Christ’s church was to be built, defending

his own honor - in his own church - over saving a sinner.

And you thought you knew your religion.

So when did everything change? How is it that the Messiah is now the Savior of the

Gentiles? What happened?

I’ll tell you what happened. Jesus. The greatest invention of mankind. The perfect man -

half God, half human. Never made a mistake, always did the right thing. Stronger than a

thousand men, gentle as a lamb. Handsome, charming, coy, peaceful.

And He loves you.

Enough to give you a case of the warm fuzzies.

You and just about everyone else.

Everyone wants to dream. We have to dream. We are human; we have to believe in

something bigger than us.

We need our Superman.

We need our Hero.

And we are willing to throw away everything to keep that dream - that Hero.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to present… Sar Shalom. the Prince of Peace.

Peace.

Tranquility.

Amity.

A cordial disposition.

Who knew that Yahushua actually said “I come not

to bring peace, but a sword. I came to turn a son against his father, a

daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her

mother-in-law. A person’s enemies will be members of his own family.” Sar Shalom really

should have been translated “Prince of the Culmination.”

“Prince of the Climax.”

The star of the show.

How greatly we underestimated our Hero. To see Him as a peaceable nice guy, dolling out

miracles and love and acceptance to Jews and Gentiles alike.

We were so naïve.

No, Yahushua was a Jew, totally and completely. He was a Jew, and believed like a Jew.

He was King of the Jews. He created Jews, loved Jews, ministered to Jews, and preached
Judaism to… Jews. …Think about it. He talked in the Jewish Temple and read out of the

Jewish scrolls to who? Jews. Even the ‘sinners’ with whom Yahushua ate and made

friends were born Jew.

Of course. What else would “lost sheep of the house of Israel” refer to?

Jesus was a Christian. A safe Christian.

Yahushua was a Jew. A dangerous Jew.

One is a symbol, and a religion.

One is a gamble, and a faith.

Which would you worship?

And which have you worshipped up til now?

…You’re changing.

I like it.

So Yahushua was a Jew. In fact, He was the culmination of everything Jewish. He was the

full representation of God’s intimate relationship with His Jews. God became onewith the

Jews, in Every way. Now God could truly Give His Kingdom to His People.

“for God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever

believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

For YHWH. I AM THAT I AM. The BEGINNING… and the END.

So loved you.

you.

you.

That He gambled His only Son away, so that you might believe.

you.

you filthy, heathen dog.

But wait. Didn’t Yahushua come for the Jews?

Yes, but…

John 1:11 “He came unto His own, and His own received Him not.”

That’s why when the Samaritan woman embraced Yahushua’s put-down and replied

“True, Lord. So, the dogs delight to eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table,”

Yahushua said “Woman, you have extraordinary faith. I will do what you ask.”

And when the officer from Capernaum came to see if Yahushua would heal his servant,

Yahushua said “This is the greatest faith I have found, even in Israel.”
Over and over Yahushua refers to His People as faithless hypocrites. Over and over

Yahushua commends us Gentiles for our unmat ched faith.

Think about it.

How many Gentiles do you know that go to church week after week, ready to accept

anything the preacher wishes to say? How many Gentiles do you know that believe the

Messiah has come, and are willing to follow Him?

My friends, find joy. For we are to be… an example.

Yes, there is a place for us Gentiles. But it is not a place of self-righteousness.

We are the dogs under the master’s table.

If you will - the underdogs.

We are David, facing Goliath.

We are Sparta facing the Persians.

We are Superman.

We are Jesus.

We are risk.

We are hope.

And that, my friend, is beautiful.

Wake up. Smell the coffee. Live. Learn. Love.

Alright, I think you’re ready for what I was about to tell you about the so called ‘Holy

Bible.’
Haha…

Prepare to be changed.

360 AD. The first rough assembly of what we now call the ‘only inspired and written

Word of God.’

My question: when did God say He quit inspiring people to write His words?

Many people point to Revelation 22:18, where John writes “If anyone adds anything to

these words, God will add to that person the disasters written about in this book.” It

seems to make sense, because it’s close to the end of our little assembly of old writings,

and seems like a good closing command. The problem, of course, is the fact that this was

written three hundred years before anyone had the notion that the Law, Prophets, Psalms

and Proverbs, Gospels, Letters, and other writings needed to be put together. Obviously,

John wasn’t talking about everyone else’s writings, or even his own previous writings. He

was talking about the book, Revelations.

That’s it. So, if John didn’t command God to stop inspiring the writing of scripture, then

who did?

I’ll tell you.

You did.

When you raised your ‘Bible’ in the air and chanted “This is my Bible. The only inspired

and written Word of God. I will believe what it says, and follow what it teaches. This is

my guide. It will lead me closer to God. I will keep it close to my heart and meditate on

it’s every word.”

In neuro-linguistic programming lingo, this is called “anchoring.” You use words to induce

a feeling or emotion, while allowing your subconscious mind to associate that feeling with
the awareness of an object (the anchor) - in this case a book. Thus, whenever the object -

or the anchor - is brought into your awareness, those same feelings will seem natural.

So, when I say ‘In Hebrews 1:11,’ you automatically open yourself up to whatever is

going to be said next.

You have willingly programmed yourself to be a mindless drone.

In neuro-lingistic programming lingo, you’re fucked.

Over and over you’ve told God “No, I won’t let You inspire people to write Scripture.

Even if You do, I won’t believe it!”

Over and over you’ve told God “I will decide who You are, what You say, and how You

say it, and if You go against my wishes I won’t believe it’s You.”

Over and over and over, you fucked yourself.

If God ever wanted to open Himself up to a Gentile, it would not be you. It coul d not be

you.

And that is why you are here.

Here is what you are going to do: Tell God you’re sorry. Tell Him “I’m sorry I’ve limited

Who You could be in my life - how You could speak to me. I’m sorry I closed my heart

and my mind off to Your Holy Communication. God, I now ask that You will forgive me,

because I didn’t know I was doing it. I ask that You Yourself show me Who You are, and

how You want to speak to me. Even if You decide to be a cucumber, and write Your

Scripture through my best friend Luke, I will follow You, God, and I will believe. Like the

gamble You made when You sent Yahushua to set this world free, I now gamble away my

control, and I set You free.

Thank You.”
Thank you.
How does it feel? Scary? It should be a little scary, because if God really does turn out to

be a cucumber and write Scripture through your best friend Luke, you’re going to feel

pretty silly.

It’s a little scary, but not bad.

And I bet you would have screamed at me if I told you gambling was good for you, before

you got here.

What else can I change about you?

Haha…

want to know something funny? I’ve neuro-linguistically programmed you to feel a touch

of intrigue when you see me laugh.

What’s even funnier, is that even though you now know this, I can heighten your

experience simply by telling you, you’re going to start feeling these feelings grow.

In fact, every time you see me laugh, you will feel this intrigue grow to double. Like this:

Haha…

And this:

Haha…
And now you just can’t wait to turn the page.

A subway. Amtrak. Cities passing.

A bus honks as you fly by at who cares what speed.

It’s dark, that kind of dark that makes you wish something was different.

Dark, and raining.

Front door. Keys. Raining.

Wet shoes. damp socks. barefoot.

Cold. Wet. Hot. Wet.

Stop.

Something is different.

‘…somebody is inside my house.’

Look.

Nothing.

Listen.

Nothing. Wait… no, nothing.

Call the cops.

No, there’s nothing.

quiet.

fists. knife… kitchen.

quiet.

listen:

breathe slow

breathe slow
 gamble

walk quietly… hallway

nothing

kitchen

nothing knife

slowly, slowly,

living room

nothing

bedroom

nothing

i’m going crazy.

“No you’re not.”

the mirror.

…Listen. You can’t stay here. You changed my life, ok great. Now go away. This is my

house. This is my bathroom door, my mirror, my reflection. This is me.

 “kiss me.”

Fuck you.

“kiss me.”

I am crazy.

“kiss me.”

no.

“embrace me.”

I AM you.

“then face me.”

I am.

“look at me.”

I am.
“do you know who I am?”

You are superman.

“then embrace me.”

how?

“touch me.”

cold, the glass.

“kiss me.”

no, that’s weird.

“kiss me.”

why?
 “why not?”

Gamble.

To try, believing good will come of it.

To let yourself fail.

To lose all fear.

what are you scared of?

A knife in your hand, you are the danger.

You are the risk.

Lose all fear.

Go out on a limb.

“kiss me.”

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.

“kiss me.”
Alone, in your house, and you can’t do it.
You’ve never done it before.
You’re holding a knife.
What do you have to lose?
Fear.

Let go.

You’re sweating, take off your coat.

Look at the mirror, who is it?

It’s you, and you’re holding a knife.

You’re the threat.

You’re the gamble.

You’re David.

You’re Sparta.

And you’re going to kiss your own reflection.

Why? Because you can. Because you’re fucked up. Because you’re a heathen dog.

Because you want to.

Yes, you want to.

You want to try, and fail. You want to run, and lose. You want to die.
But before you do, you want to live.

Before you lose, you want to run.

Before you fail, you want to try.

Roll the dice.

Draw a straw.

Pick a card.

You are Monty Grace. You are Jack Sparrow. You are Joseph. You are Jesus.

You are a hero, facing fear.

You are danger, facing disaster.

You are risk, facing ruin.

And you’re in your bedroom seducing yourself in the mirror.

This is beauty.

This is balance.

God, and humanity.

Yahushua, and Jesus.

Peter, and Paul.

“Me, and you.”

Me, and you.

Hot, this coat.

Take it off.

Let go.

Let go.

Let go.

“come.”

Why.

nothing.

nothing.

Breathing.

“embrace me.”

I amyou.

Then face me.

I am.

“kiss me.”

I am.
Cold, the glass.

And wet.
the END.
My I nf l uences:

Books:

Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (the book, not the movie)

Blue Like Jazz (the second half)

God’s Debris

Wild at Heart (the second half)

God is a Gambler

Embraced by the Light (the second half)

Peopl e:

Ross Jeffries (search on video.google.com)

Darren Brown (search on video.google.com)

King David

Apostle Peter

Mike

Movi es:

Fight Club

Instinct

Bridging Heaven and Earth Show # 193 with Michele Denman