Operation "Sleep Early on Saturday Night"

I don't like to sleep early

That's a pretty bad and unhealthy habit

yes, i'm trying...

But i don't quarrel with Saturdays nights

I remember Ps Dan mentioned about honouring God by sleeping early on saturday nights so that we'll be up and about on sundays.

The photo above is a 630am sunday morning shot.

way too early...for most of our liking.

Even though it's hauntingly beautiful




smiling and 6am morning devotions don't quite go together.
That's probably very staged. =)




but this isn't.....



nor was this....

you see, a few of us got together and we realised that we really like hanging out...but not very much was accomplished all the time.
Fun has always been very important to me. I love suppers, movies...
and i don't have to convince anyone about that.

anyhow,
a page from the past...

i remember wondering the streets on sunday afternoons after church with the rest of the "singles' club", trying to create some meaning in being together.
We were often dead tired but no one would want to go home till we really had to.
We have real issues, questions, doubts, fears and needs that we hoped others would be able to meet during those extensive, exhaustive hang out times.
i usually end up home on sunday night, disappointed, tired and dreading the impending monday.

but i WANT to be with my friends

and that hasn't changed since i was 14.

There MUST be some good we can do for each other?



It's a pretty vicious cycle i got trapped into.
I had problems and i couldn't find solutions that would fix me.
I tried to find "quick fix"es in my friends but often mess it up
We jeered, teased, put down, competed, talk down to each other most of the time.
we didn't know any better.

Ironically there were answers in THE Book i've never come across
And i never came across cos i've never tried searching.
or seeking
or hearing

I had needs and words weren't going to help

we don't have all the answers
we don't have to.
we just need to be asking the Source

Quiet time/devotions are NEVER easy.
I haven't met many youths who never had struggles doing it
If we're so into each other for so many hours each time we meet,
why not help and do some good?

So,
some of us are meeting together.
We find a spot and take 30 min to be alone with God and His word.
We practice being still and hearing
and i believe if we do it often enough, we will hear
i've heard.
it works.

After the 30 mins we come together to share and pray(over breakfast)

If i try it on a sunday morning and i get to internalise a Promise from the Source,
then i might find it easier to attempt it again on monday, tue, wed, thur...
even when i'm alone

Seeking and finding isn't second nature but it can be
If we're all doing it together
Everything IS easier when we do it together

Even if we have to wake up at 5am on sunday

Over time, i started to get more tired on sunday afternoons...
and over time, received wisdom to go home for naps
=)

Please join Operation "Sleep Early on Saturday night"!
All are welcome!

the vision...be inspired

The vision?





The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.

The vision is an army of young people.

You see bones? I see an army. And they are FREE from materialism.

They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.

They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday.
They wouldn't even notice.

They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.

They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport..

People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision ?

The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.

It makes children laugh and adults angry.

It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars.

It scorns the good and strains for the best.

It is dangerously pure.

Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.

It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.

This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.

A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose

that they might one day win

the great 'Well done' of faithful sons and daughters.

Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night.

They don't need fame from names.

Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: "COME ON!"

And this is the sound of the underground

The whisper of history in the making

Foundations shaking

Revolutionaries dreaming once again

Mystery is scheming in whispers

Conspiracy is breathing…

This is the sound of the underground

And the army is discipl(in)ed.

Young people who beat their bodies into submission.

Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.

The tattoo on their back boasts "for me to live is Christ and to die is gain".

Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.

Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them ?

Can hormones hold them back?

Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them ?

And the generation prays

like a dying man

with groans beyond talking,

with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and

with great barrow loads of laughter!

Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.

Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules.

Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide.

Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials.

The advertisers cannot mould them.

Hollywood cannot hold them.

Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive

inside.

On the outside?

They hardly care.

They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.

Would they surrender their image or their popularity?

They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell.

A throne for an electric chair.

With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,

they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)

Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.

Their words make demons scream in shopping centres.

Don't you hear them coming?

Herald the weirdo's!

Summon the losers and the freaks.

Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.

They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.

Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.

And this vision will be. It will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon.

How do I know?

Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God.

My tomorrow is his today.

My distant hope is his 3D.

And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great 'Amen!' from countless angels, from hero's of the faith, from Christ himself.

And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.

Guaranteed.