Intro part (I)
Hey
This is Winta. For now, I am a female homosapien who's about to spam you- again. As you can see, this is quite a long text for an average message on social media. I write a lot. Sorry. It's an impulsive thing. As a small child, whenever my father would return home, he'd lift me up from the floor to hug me. And I always reached out for the pen he had in his breast pocket. One of my family friends said that this was a sign that I was going to be an author in the future. He could have seen my actions as the early behavior of a lousy future thief, but I'm lucky nobody had interpreted it that way. It was still too early on for this guy to predict anything at all but he'd chosen to see the good. These letters are to another Father.
The thing is, about every time I was writing lately, I wrote with one Addressee in my mind. Whenever I publish what I write on Reading Abysinniya- my other blog- or anywhere for that matter, I often try to restrain from referring to that Addressee because I thought: hey, you're writing to a broader audience, behave. But at some point, I thought: who am I kidding? Why can't I just write with the original Addressee, since as a human, He's the one occupying my mind for a huge chunk of my consciousness, and as a writer He's the One who knows my thoughts and my words best, so it feels like a conversation that can never be misinterpreted.
The thing is I've done so-called crazy things before. I had trespassed into buildings, intentionally gone bald, lit up things that explicitly had 'flammable' warnings on them, asked out a couple of folks, stalked a famous author (and successfully found him)-- and the list goes on. I know folks who'd led much more eventful lives but I am too lazy to go further than I have. Still, sharing these letters to about my entire contact list is probably the 'craziest' thing I have done so far.
So, these letters have to do with my new-found faith. That's what this is all about. About every letter after this one will be addressed to a Being I think about very often whenever I write.
This is about the Being who I now consider my Father. It's a blasphemous position to take in some folks' view and some people get offended when I talk about it. But this is my reality now: I had accepted my Creator as my Father, and one of the ways I worship Him is by writing to Him. And as a writer, I wanted to share these letters with folks- even people on my contacts list who I may be spamming (sorry). And if it makes you uncomfortable reading any of this, you can leave any time of course.
So how did this blabbering lady come from the point of trespassing to um, this?
I'll be getting to that a few letters later.
I don't study writing the traditional way though; I don't think that would've worked for me. I am studying architecture. This channel is basically about my relationship with the Architect. One can call it Christianity: the whole 're-union of a Creator with the created' thing. Their referral to God with the intimate title of 'Father' and such.
There is nothing original about what I write here, really. But what He's done is the main thing I think about lately. For several reasons, it's become extremely significant in my life. It's this compelling story I never tire of telling. (Perhaps the ultimate antidote to writers' block?). It's the tale of a god who became the kind of creature He made, the creature that mutated into this self-destructive being after having lost contact with the Creator. A creature that was so far gone, it could never have risen back up to the standard of goodness it was created in. There was no way up so the Creator had to make His way down, so the fallen beings can stand a chance at being restored to who they were meant to be.
This is about a Creator who let the hell humans had kept unleashing on each other- in degrading words, in physically deforming weapons, in murder- direct itself on Him, in the Person of Christ. He let all that exhaust itself on Him, so it doesn't have to destroy anyone else who'd cling to Him. It's through that Intercessor that this ongoing re-union plan between the perfect and the broken can be possible.
I believe it's the largest restoration plan in history. And it's a spiritual affair- the mind will fight a lot of it. My mind did. I mean, how is any of this even possible? The whole replacement thing? The whole intercession thing? Trying to process the particulars still fries this little brain of mine but the divine confirmation that I'd received and kept receiving is beyond logic.
Yep, this is where one is free to cringe.
