Molds Are Made To Be Broken

Have you ever felt like you just don’t fit, no matter how hard you try?

Everyone has an idea of how you should behave, what you should believe, what you should do, how you should do it, what you should be like, how you should talk, how you shouldn’t talk, how you should make sure not to offend anybody – and they all push these ideas onto you, in reality doing all of the things TO you that they say you shouldn’t be doing to anyone else!

It gets tiresome and frustrating. Especially when what I do is based entirely on my religious convictions according to God’s Word and the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

I don’t mind being ridiculed for them, but eventually it becomes exhausting. Standing up for what is Right is not at all easy. Nothing about it is easy. Nothing about this is easy.
It’s not fun to be outcasted or muted by your “friends”, to be called names and shunned…
Losing friends isn’t any fun either, or being held to their standards and judged because you’re different.

Being of a diffferent perspective of Faith, a different concept of Spiritual beliefs outside of denominational teaching and traditions, having right-leaning political beliefs, having Holistic values in healthcare, being an herbalist, being an Activist for fundamental Freedoms and Rights – it’s emotionally exhausting.

But– if I stopped, and I gave in to silence, what does that benefit anyone?
Sure. I can decide I don’t care about not feeling at home in a church this side of Heaven, and not deeply bonding in Spiritual connection with believers around me.

I can worship God as I desire despite being judged. Whatever are they judging me for anyway? Standing up with arms spread wide worshiping our Creator? How silly is that? They’re the ones who put ashes on their foreheads to show off that they’re fasting. According to Scripture, we’re to fast in private (Matthew 6:16-18), and worship on the mountain tops. (John 4:21-24).

It’s hard to find common grounds in a crowded room.
It’s hard to stand up for what is Right in a world that doesn’t care about the Freedoms they don’t even know they’re losing.

I don’t mind being Brave, and walking alone.
I don’t mind not fitting into your mold of who I should or shouldn’t be.

We were told all through our formative teenage years to be Ourselves, be true to who God created us to be…. and then when we get into the World, nobody wants us to be our true selves. It’s a dark kind of ironic.

Personally, I have had enough of the church. I, like most other disenfranchised believer, am tired of how the Denominations have treated people – and myself included. If I didn’t go back to church ever, I’d be okay with that. However, my spirit LONGS to connect with other Believers in the Depths of the mysteries of God. To have intellectual conversations about deep Biblical Truths. To discuss the BEAUTY of the Human Body and how God created it in perfect order, and how we’re screwing it up in so many way with “modern medicine”. To discuss the wonderful plants that God gave us, and how to use them as He designed for the benefit of our health and wellness.

To talk about Spiritual Warfare and dive headfirst into freeing people from Spiritual Bondage. Identifying Satan at work in their lives, and sending the demons packing.

To talk about the Holy Spirit alive in the Believers, and Prophetically minister to one another.

To pray in tongues in a group of Believers committing ourselves to intercessory prayer, entirely directed by the Holy Spirit as He guides, and discuss what happened with joy to other Believers – not to be condemned for doing these things.

To discuss the amazing power of Creation and how Science points toward the TRUTHS of God as Creator.

Why must there be so much division and persecution? Why must those of us who whole-heartedly pursue an AMAZING and BEAUTIFUL God be shamed for desiring Him more?

Why must the people who fight so hard for what is Right and Just be laughed at and mocked?

I desire to be who GOD created me to be, and He has always mattered most of all.

Speak Out

She cared too much for the injustice
She cried out in frustrated agony for the oppressed
She ached for everyone who felt the pain
She knew their scars, she knew their brokenness
She saw the tormented, she was their confidence
She sheltered the hearts of the broken
When she defended them from those who did not know the same pain,
she bore the weight of the scorn
crying in the darkness alone for the ones with no voice that she sheltered in her heart.
Because when push came to shove, they fell down the stairs into the dark alleyways where we hide the injustice no one wants to face.
Fighting hateful words and hateful people
Fighting back with her voice, crying out for Justice to the lawmakers.
They would never stand up on their own. They were terrified of what might happen.
But she had no more fear of being scorned.
The people she protected mattered more than hateful words.

No one should ever know desperation and terror.
And yet far too many did.
The doors locked them in, they had no where to flee.
They were mocked on every side.
Break the silence! BE their voice!
Selfishness met the cries for Justice.
“IF I CAN’T, THEY CAN’T! STAY THE **** INSIDE!”
And in their homes, the oppressed would die.
Abandoned. Alone.
Watching their friends say hateful things about the people they see in public.
Watching their friends say hateful things about “taking care” of “those who mattered most”.
Knowing they could trust no one with their secrets.
Knowing there was no hope.
The words of people they trusted stung.
They could trust no one.

And so she screamed in rage at the hateful comments
She called out the insensitive hashtags.
She said NO MORE, and spoke out for them.
Because she already knew whatever she said would be mocked.
She didn’t say it for the mockers to roll their eyes at.
She said it for the ones who didn’t have a voice to say it for themselves.

What did they know anyway?
How was she helping in the background, in ways unseen?
What difference would it make, and what kind of shift would it bring if everyone saw the injustice the way she did?
Did they ask?
They mocked. As they mocked the abused.
As they mocked their friends.
And they judged.
Hateful words flood the space between us.
They would rather ignore the problem than see it called out for what it is?
Who is in the wrong? Those speaking up for the speechless? What sense does that make?

Author Spotlight: JGJ Fairhurst

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What inspired my novel –

Inspiration came from many sources. Reading other novels & authors is an obvious answer but far too important to leave out for the sake of avoiding cliché. Personal experience is a huge part too. For example, I have a friend who wears glasses. Whenever it’s just me and him he would shout “hey, four eyes!” when he seen someone else wearing glasses. The offended party would turn round, see my friend with glasses on and then see me without. I’m sure I don’t need to point out who was always chastised for the yelled insult. Thankfully, It never lead to me being punched or beat-up but if looks could kill I would be dead fifty times over by now. I put this ‘trick’ in one of my short stories. There are lots of real life incidents that can make for interesting reading. If you remember it, then by definition it’s memorable. Chances are someone else will see the humour, the joy, the sadness, the awkwardness or whatever the case may be too. There are countless novels in your memory bank, the hard part is working out how to best utilise the material you have stored there. I used my “hey, four eyes!” memory in a short story called ones boy’s war. I think it made for a brilliant read but hey, we would all love to write our own reviews, right?

What’s it about –

The children of duty & justice interweaves fantasy, romance, politics and religion with mental illness, gender relations, and broken families.

The book follows Osyron Rymore as he leaves the family home to find his way in life. He joins the marshals (the law) in the hope of seeing justice done and being someone of worth in the world. However, it’s not long before world events outmatch one ideological boy and his honourable intent. All kingdoms have united into two empires that now sit tentatively side by side. Guided by scripture, Emperor Horim of Olbaid foresees an inevitable war and plots to strike before being struck. Horim hatches a plan to frame neighbouring empire, Miria as instigators to win support for his holy conflict. Despite a predicted death toll in the millions and a war expected to span decades, Horim see’s no price too great to shape his legacy and see off the preordained demonic invasion.

Due to this brewing war, most seasoned marshals are conscripted into the army leaving Osyron and fellow recruits with tasks that outweigh their experience. Opportunity is on the rise for criminals and a child trafficking ring is suspected to be operating in a coastal village in the far reaches of the empire. Osyron is sent alone. Here he meets Daniela Callahan, a fisherman’s wife who leads him on a journey further that any charted map and beyond all belief.

Additional info –

I have a deep love of the fantasy genre and wanted to create a medieval, fantasy world that incorporates and explores modern topics and issues. I wanted to write a novel that did not lean too heavily on fantasy elements just for razzmatazz sake. The idea was to keep real people with real issues as the meat and potatoes of the story and use fantasy as flavoursome gravy. I find there are too many novels that do it the other way around. At the very least I wanted to offer a fresh take on the traditional cornerstones of the fantasy novel, something a little different without sacrificing what makes fantasy such a well loved genre to begin with.

If anyone reading this is contemplating writing a novel or even a short story, then I urge you, do it. Don’t tell yourself you’re not a writer. You were not a walker once and if you applied that same logic back then you’d still be crawling today. It’s challenging but you can do it. Writing yourself off leads nowhere, writing a novel leads to be continued.

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Author bio – I was born and raised in Glasgow, Scotland and still enjoy living there today. I worked as a stock auditor for seven years which involved travelling around the towns of Great Britain and Ireland. What may sound glamorous on paper were countless hours daydreaming out of a mini-van window. My first novel, ‘The Children of Duty & Justice’ is a direct product of those daydreams. Like a lot of folk, I wanted to write a novel but always dismissed the thought, telling myself. “But you’re not a writer.” This horse before the cart logic only pacified me for so long. I decided to test the waters with a short story, something light to gauge my aptitude with the pen, or as these are modern times, I guess the keyboard would be more apt. That short story became my 116,000 word debut novel. Maybe I was a writer after all, or perhaps I just really suck at short stories.