Abstract #1: Word Said.

Words are so pretty. As the ink settles onto the page, falls into a grove, and dries to a permanent imprint of a writer’s thought—something new is formed. Conveying moment after moment of insightful musings. Some words terrify us—words like “terrorist.” A terrorist drove a white pickup truck through crowded Bourbon Street in New Orleans during the early morning hours of New Year’s Day. Fourteen beautiful souls—so many young souls—lost their lives and many others injured. Reading the words on the page, in the media, on the screens that keep us scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Reading names, locales, families, faces. Shattered words. Shattered hearts. Shattered families. Words fuel tears.

Because words can also be grotesque, sacred, hanging us in suspended disbelief as our hearts race, seeking something to anchor our footing while our minds sort through panic. Racing words. “What if,” words or “why,” words, or “could this happen again” words? We wonder. The anxiety subsides as we chase those words down with determined courage of different words: “Evil will not win.”

Some words destroy lives. Friendships. Institutions. Selfish or arrogant utterances spoken or written, spark wars. One writer said, “Our words create worlds.” Indeed, they do. Worlds of peace of panic. Worlds of chaos or compassion. Words slandered Jesus’ name and reputation. Words crucified Him. But the Word also resurrected. Word resurrected. Word brought life. He is the living Word. THE Word is powerful, written or oral, He alters lives and atmospheres. He uproots bitterness and brokenness. When we eat Him for breakfast and digest Him through meditative practices each day, He illuminates. He rids this world of dark words. The Word is transcendent. Word said, “Let there be Light.” And that Light is the light of men. Word is light to see.

Written at my desk at home after decluttering on a Saturday morning.

KC

An Unapologetic Apologist by Kim Noble Calhoun

At heart, I am an apologist, which is simply a believer who contends for the Faith. The art of apologetics comes from the Greek word, apologia, meaning “to make an explanation for” or “to give justification for something.” A few conservative schools today still instruct students in the art of apologetics. You might imagine ancient Greek symposiums where discourse and argument took place. Even more, picture Jesus debating in the temple with the Pharisees and Sadducees about the Scripture.

Jude 3 admonishes God’s people to “earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.” That EARNEST press projects a serious tone, and I consider it to be one of the most significant battles to fight daily. As this world pushes against the knowledge of Christ, weaving immorality into the educational and political systems, writing laws that encourage sinful behavior, and endorsing ungodly leadership in high places, it is imperative to “earnestly contend for the faith.”

Fighting for the cause of Christ permeates my dreams. In prayer, God often instructs me like a drill sergeant to walk upright, eat the Book, be instant in season and out of season, and speak the Truth without wavering. The image of wrestling for what is most valuable and eternally consequential walks with me throughout the day. As sin intensifies and disregard of God multiplies as it did in the days of Noah, the need to contend for the Faith simultaneously elevates.

Even more, 1 Peter 3:15 reminds us to “be ready to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason for the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.” People will ask questions as you live a life that imitates the Word. But do you really know why you believe what you believe? Why do you obey God? Why do you strive to live a life of holiness? Why is pleasing Jesus Christ the most important priority? Why were you baptized in Jesus Name? Why did you receive the Holy Ghost and how?

I feel fire exactly as did Paul remarked in 2 Timothy 1:12, “I am not ashamed; for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.” I have zero qualms or reservations that God is exactly who He said He is in His Word. He will keep me each day of my life because I have committed my life to Him. He has proven Himself to me time and time again. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and feel fire flowing in my spirit. God daily teaches me how to conform to His Word. He teaches me when to speak and be quiet. He continues to lead every single decision.

Modern vernacular and cultural ideologies often attempt to belittle the potency of the power of God. Slogans like “Jesus & coffee” or “All I need is Jesus & a therapist” suggest that God must be paired with something more because He is not good enough.

Listen, I am FULLY persuaded that Jesus Christ is everything I will ever need. I have experienced the miraculous invasion of the Holy Ghost in my life, and His Spirit will not equate to nor ever be compared with a conversation with a human therapist or a caffeinated drink. I often believe people resort to such tactics because they willfully withdraw from fully surrendering their hearts, minds, and souls to Jesus Christ, the only wise God. The noise, slogans, and methods of this world are loud. The voice of Jesus Christ must be the loudest.

Jesus Christ filled me with the Holy Ghost in June 2008, and I have yet to meet a single thing that is more meaningful to me than my relationship with Him. I am fully persuaded of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel. I will always contend for the Faith and remain an unapologetic apologist because the Word of God is enough to satisfy humanity. He is still the answer. He is the way. He is the Truth. He is the great I AM—all that you need. I am a witness.

I Remember by Kim Noble Calhoun

I plan to dedicate a collection of writings this May to remember the mothers—those who remain with us, those forgotten, and those who’ve left this earth, still living in our memories.

First, a poem:

I remember the scent of crawfish etouffee, steaming over rice, tantalizing Cajun flavors, filling my mouth.

I remember Hurricane Andrew, bark flying off trees as I run home

from school through the fierce winds.

And I remember my dad taking his last breath on our blue sofa

in the living room, my child eyes confused and afraid.

I remember ice cream truck tunes filling the neighborhood, hoping

Mama gave me four quarters before the tasty treats rolled away.

And Aunt Connie sitting on the sofa with Penny, her toy poodle—she

loved her fluffy pooch dearly.

I remember Mama promising me a whooping when we returned home,

fear in the pit of my stomach at the thought of the skinny board against

my legs.

And summers spent at church camps or the beach or hotel swimming pools.

I remember my brothers cleaning the driveway of oil spots, pushing gravel

across the stains with a broom, soaking up the residue.

And dollar movies at Broadmoor theater, the dirty floors and stale

popcorn and the stench, but a bounty of laughter.

I remember watching fireworks for the Fourth of July with Mama, and

my siblings, by the levee, a Star-Spangled display, but that was yesterday.

A few things happened in the year 2017 that forever sealed the nostalgic I experience during the month of May:

1. A doctor declared my mother healed enough for driving and rehabilitation.

2. I shared prose at the Listen to Your Mother event about my mother, to my mother, in an audience of hundreds, with my family present.

3. We celebrated Mother’s Day—we cooked pasta for the mom’s in our lives.

4. My nephew celebrated a birthday, interrupted by my mom’s death the same day--the Sunday after Mother’s Day.

Three distinct events: Listen to Your Mother, Mother's Day, nephew's birthday interrupted. I’m sure my siblings and family will never forget those traumatic moments that changed each of us in different ways. God continues to help me remember the blessing my mother has been—and in many ways still is, despite her absence—with each passing day.

This week, a quote from Maya Shanbhag Lang’s book, What We Carry, brought just a little more healing. In regards to stories and how we each perceive things, she writes, “We see what we want to see…without it, I don’t know that I could have accomplished what I did.”

I saw my mother as my hero, and a great woman of Faith. Her struggle inspires me. Her persistence compels me. Each memory of her is a steppingstone, a shot into uncharted territory. I know I’ll land on my feet, among stars, because her Faith in God taught me how.

Thank you, mom. Thank you, God. I remember.

5 May 2023