The Shortcut to Ruin

My son, if sinful men entice you, do not give in to them. … These men lie in wait for their own blood; they ambush only themselves! Such are the paths of all who go after ill-gotten gain; it takes away the life of those who get it. Proverbs 1:10, 18-19

The glow from Davi’s smartphone was more of a torment than a distraction. Every scroll through his feed was a reminder of his failure. College friends showing off their new cars, trips abroad, newly purchased apartments. Meanwhile, he shared a studio apartment with a roommate, and his student loan statement looked like a phone number.

“God, I just need a chance,” he whispered to the moldy ceiling. He was a good programmer, smart, dedicated. But the market was saturated, and his salary barely covered his bills.

The “chance” appeared in the form of Fábio, an old college acquaintance who always seemed to have it easy. Fábio invited him for coffee in an upscale neighborhood, speaking with the confidence of someone who had already “made it.”

“Davi, forget that mediocre job of yours,” Fábio said, gesturing with an expensive watch on his wrist. “I’m on a new project. Big stuff. An investment app that uses a… let’s say, a ‘specialized’ algorithm. The return is insane.”

Davi’s eyes lit up.

“What kind of algorithm?”

Fábio smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“That’s where you come in. We need someone with your talent to make a few ‘tweaks’ to the platform. Nothing illegal, of course. It is just a way to… anticipate market trends. A shortcut.”

He opened the photo gallery on his phone, showing cars, parties on yachts, an apartment with a breathtaking view.

“Come with us, Davi. In six months, you will clear your debt. In a year, you will be living in a place like this. We are going to have it all!”

Fábio’s words were like music. A siren song that promised to drown all his financial worries. The invitation was for a second meeting, to meet “the other partners.”

Davi went home with his head spinning. The offer was far too tempting. That money would solve everything. He could finally help his parents, have a decent life, stop feeling like a failure. “Nothing illegal, of course,” Fábio’s phrase echoed, but with a false note his conscience could not ignore.

On Sunday, he went to the small church he had attended since he was a child. The pastor, a simple man, was preaching from the book of Proverbs.

“The wide path that seems right to a man,” he said, “often leads to a trap. Greed whispers that you deserve more, that you deserve it now, that you deserve it easy. But wisdom knows that a hasty harvest is often bitter.”

Every word was an arrow to Davi’s heart. He saw himself at a crossroads. On one side, Fábio’s path: wide, paved with promises of instant wealth. On the other, the path he knew: narrow, steep, but with the peace of a clear conscience.

During the week, the pressure from Fábio increased. Text messages. Phone calls. “So, are you going to count pennies forever?”

On the night of the scheduled meeting, Davi got dressed, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He saw the weariness in his eyes, the anxiety creasing his forehead. And then, he remembered the verse the pastor had quoted, “Such is the path of all the greedy; whoever follows it brings about his own destruction.”

He would not just be programming. He would be becoming an accomplice. He would be building his success on the losses of others. He would be setting a trap for his own soul.

With trembling fingers, he picked up his phone and typed a message to Fábio, “I appreciate the opportunity, but I’m out. This isn’t for me.”

The reply was immediate, full of scorn, “Your choice, sucker. Stay poor.”

Davi took a deep breath, feeling an immense relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He might not have the apartment with the breathtaking view, but he would have peaceful nights of sleep. He had protected himself from that path.

Months later, a financial scandal was all over the news. An investment app was, in fact, a sophisticated pyramid scheme that had defrauded thousands of people. The photos of the “partners” being arrested were released. Among them, the pale, shocked face of Fábio.

Davi looked at the news on his computer screen in his humble studio apartment. He did not feel joy at another’s misfortune, but a deep, serene gratitude. He understood that true wealth was not in the assets one accumulates, but in the troubles one avoids. He had been tempted, but he had not consented. And that night, his pillow had never felt so soft.

(Made with AI)

Lack of Bible

The Christian world had turned into division,

All this disunity has a clear reason.

The faithful ones read the Bible no longer,

They prefer to believe in what they hear.

 

They are believing in many false doctrines and lies,

Nobody checks if it agrees with the Bible, it is unwise.

They think that every person speaks on behalf of God,

And that everything they say was given by God.

 

That is why Christianity is so divided,

The Holy Book, the “practitioner” does not want to read.

This lack of commitment makes lies spread like fire,

And everyone will abandon God’s truth in their lives.

 

Christians need to pay attention to theology,

They will really understand the Bible and all of it.

They also need to read it every day, it is clear,

Applying it as a manual for their lives in reverent fear.

 

Only then, people will free themselves from deception,

They will no longer believe in false doctrines or misconceptions.

They will only practice the truths of God,

Christianity will be reformed and back to the Lord.

 It will be a reformation like the one of old,

Believing in the Bible and leaving people’s words.

Christianity will return to its original focus,

All the people will read the words of Jesus.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume VI.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/4EBjBl

The Wonder of Creation

It is so wonderful, all of God’s creation,

Everything He made has a useful function.

Nature, with all its particularities,

It could only have been created by great ingenuity.

 

Details impossible to reconstruct,

In all living beings; their marvelous vital structures.

Not all human knowledge could create,

Only God Almighty could design everything, it is a fact.

 

In the design, God sketches his great perfection,

Showing to humankind the nature of His heart, his affection.

The Lord has a very loving heart,

Creating a perfect world for his people, a nice start.

 

In that empty world, some humans, He placed,

Soon that people multiplied,

And humans began to explore the earth,

Using the water, the mountains, and the herbs.

 

Humans saw that their activity was lucrative,

And decided that they would make a living from it.

They continued to exploit what God had left to them,

They did not worry about the earth’s renewal for their descendants.

 Because of greed, the world is condemned,

All natural resources will be depleted.

Humankind has destroyed the Creator’s perfect world,

Ending a great project of love.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume VII.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/38l5Oa

My Mother’s Necklace

Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching. They are a garland to grace your head and a chain to adorn your neck. Proverbs 1:8-9

The night before Mariana moved to the state capital, her mother, Lúcia, sat on the edge of the bed amidst cardboard boxes and open suitcases. She did not bring an expensive gift, only a small, worn velvet box. Inside lay a simple pearl necklace, the same one Lúcia had worn at her own wedding.

“This isn’t a piece of jewelry, my dear,” Lúcia said, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s a reminder.” And then, as she had done her entire life, she distilled her wisdom into short, almost telegraphic phrases. “Be the first to smile. A grateful heart has no room for envy. And most importantly: never forget to talk to God, even if it’s just to say ‘thank you.’”

Beside them, her father, Roberto, added in his deep, calm voice, “Mariana, the world will offer you many shortcuts. Remember that the right path is rarely the easiest one. Honest work and a clear conscience are the best pillow.”

Mariana hugged her parents, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. She loved their simplicity, but deep down, she felt their advice was… insufficient. It was meant for a small town, for a life she was leaving behind. In the capital, at the advertising agency where she would be a trainee, the language was different: networking, disruption, KPIs, fierce competition. A “grateful heart” would not pay her rent.

The first few weeks were a whirlwind. Her apartment was a shoebox with a view of a brick wall. The job was relentless. Her boss, Verônica, an elegant and sharp-tongued woman, seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in belittling the work of newcomers. “Is this your best?” she would say, tossing Mariana’s presentation back on the table. “This is amateurish.”

One evening, during a happy hour, Mariana listened to the advice of her more experienced colleagues. “The secret here is to be seen,” one of them said. “It doesn’t matter if the idea is yours; what matters is who presents it in the meeting. And, of course, you have to know the latest gossip about everyone. Information is power.”

That was the “teaching” of her new world. Mariana, feeling the pressure to fit in, began to participate. She laughed at a joke about a fired colleague, remained silent when Verônica humiliated another trainee, and started to see her coworkers not as people, but as rungs on a ladder or obstacles. Her parents’ advice felt like a forgotten dialect from a distant land. The pearl necklace remained at the bottom of a drawer.

The opportunity to take a “shortcut” came quickly. Mariana had a brilliant idea for a new client’s campaign. She worked on it over the weekend. On Monday, before she could present it, she heard her colleague, Ricardo, explaining her idea to Verônica, with minor alterations. He had seen it on her computer.

An icy venom crept up her spine. Her first reaction was rage, the desire to expose him, to play the dirty game. To fight with the same weapons. But as her mind formulated the words of accusation, her father’s voice echoed in her memory, “Honest work and a clear conscience are the best pillow.”

She did not say anything. She watched, with a heavy heart, as Ricardo took the credit. That night, she could not sleep. The pillow felt as if it were filled with stones.

The next morning, exhausted, she felt defeated. On the crowded subway, everyone seemed gray, worn out. And then, she remembered her mother’s voice, “Be the first to smile.” It was an absurd, ridiculous thought. But, moved by an impulse she did not understand, she looked at an elderly woman squeezed beside her and smiled. A small, tired smile. The woman, surprised, smiled back, and for an instant, the train car seemed less oppressive.

It was a small sliver of light. When she arrived at the office, instead of sitting at her desk ruminating on the injustice, she went to the breakroom and made coffee. She brought a cup to the young trainee who had been humiliated the day before. “Your work yesterday was good,” Mariana said simply. The girl looked at her with eyes full of tears and gratitude.

Mariana did not know it, but Verônica, her boss, was watching the scene from her office doorway.

That day, Mariana did not focus on Ricardo’s betrayal. She focused on doing her work with the excellence her father had taught her. At the end of the day, as she was preparing to leave, Verônica called her in.

“Your campaign idea was very good, Mariana,” she said bluntly. “I know it was yours. Ricardo does not have that kind of ability.”

Mariana remained silent, surprised.

“What you did today,” Verônica continued, “bringing coffee for Letícia, smiling… that is not common here. Talent is easy to find. Character is rare. Tomorrow, you will work directly with me on this project. I want to see what else you have got.”

When she got home, Mariana opened the drawer. She took the small velvet box and removed the necklace. The pearls were cold to the touch, but when she fastened it around her neck, she felt a warmth that seemed to radiate from within.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her parents’ advice was not a set of chains, nor a burden. It was, in fact, the most beautiful thing she possessed. The words were not just words, but an invisible ornament of grace that protected her, and a necklace that gave her a dignity that no position at the company could ever offer. They were the wisdom that set her apart, that made her valuable not just as a professional, but as a person. And, for the first time in a long time, she felt truly at home.

(Made with AI)

The Image

One day, a person found an image,

And said that figure had a message.

It was said to be a message from the Lord,

And that everyone should worship it like God.

Thus, many saints are being proclaimed,

Of all kinds, from the simple to the decorated.

To all of them is attributed some kind of power,

They say those images can do something, every hour.

This doctrine is just a form of distraction,

Taking people away from true adoration.

Leading them to do what is condemned,

About this sin, God has already warned them.

When someone questions such a tradition,

People say it is part of their religion,

And that there is no reason for reprehension.

They do not know that they practice great abominations.

Many are losing their way with this thought,

They are not understanding the truth spoken by God,

God said that only He is worthy of adoration!

Only the Lord God should have their hearts’ possession!

And whoever does not follow it in their lives,

Will have no part in his kingdom with Jesus Christ.

They will be cast into the deep and terrible abyss,

Where they will pay for their sins eternally.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume VII.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/38l5Oa

Battles

There will be days when great battles will arise,

There will be extremely hard battles, and we will fight.

Some battles that can discourage us,

There are hard battles that can bring tears to us.

 

The tear is the scream of desperation; some help, we are asking,

The tear indicates we are tired of continuing fighting.

To cry does not indicate we are cowards or weak,

To cry indicates we are humans and have limits.

 

In the middle of desperation, we receive light in our lives,

We receive a flame of hope to support us in the fights.

This hope is called Jesus, that one who is amazing!

Only Jesus can come to us and dry our crying.

 

Jesus comes to us and gives his hand to raise us,

Regardless of the situation we are facing, He will help us.

A new way of peace, happiness, and wins, Jesus will show,

With us in this new way, Jesus will always go,

If a new battle comes, He will be on our side to help us.

This poem is part of the book Life Through the Words.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/bQpQ7d

The Beginning of Everything

 

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction. Proverbs 1:7

Dr. Arnaldo Peixoto, Ph.D., gazed at the stack of books on his desk and felt nothing but a deep, hollow exhaustion. The spines boasted his name in gold lettering: Paradoxes of Power, The Deconstruction of Myth, Sociology of the Postmodern Crisis. He was prominent in his field, a celebrated intellectual whose lectures filled auditoriums. His mind was a palace of complex theories and erudite quotations, but his heart was an empty room.

The problem was not the books. It was the audio message vibrating in his pocket—the tenth one he had ignored that day. It was from his wife, Helena. Her voice, a mix of pleading and exhaustion, said the same thing it always did, “He’s still not home, and he’s not answering my calls. I’m going to pray.”

Lucas, their son. Twenty years old, a bright future ahead of him, yet a soul that seemed to be sprinting toward an abyss. Plummeting grades in college, questionable friends, the smell of alcohol on his clothes. Arnaldo had already tried everything. He had used logic, psychology, intimidation, bribery. He had argued with the eloquence of a debater and strategized like a general. And he had failed. Miserably.

“Pray,” he muttered to himself, with a disdain that tried to mask his own powerlessness. “Outsourcing responsibility to some cosmic entity.” To him, Helena’s faith was a coping mechanism—quaint, perhaps, but useless. Knowledge was power, and he, Dr. Arnaldo, was a man of vast knowledge. How could he have no power over his own son’s life?

That night, he left the university later than usual. The campus was silent, almost spectral under the yellowish glow of the lampposts. As he passed the humanities building, he heard the familiar squeak of a cleaning cart. It was Mr. Afonso, the night janitor, a man with skin weathered by the sun and hands calloused by life.

“Good evening, Professor. Long day, huh?” Afonso said with a simple smile, pausing his mopping.

Arnaldo just nodded, wanting to be on his way. But something in the man’s peaceful gaze disarmed him.

“Too long, Mr. Afonso. And useless,” he replied, the bitterness escaping without a filter.

Afonso leaned on the handle of his mop. “Useless is a strong word, Doctor. You teach so many important things.”

“What good is understanding society’s crises if I can’t solve the one inside my own home?” The confession tumbled from Arnaldo’s lips before he could stop it.

The janitor did not offer cheap advice or a catchphrase. He just looked at the polished floor and then at the professor’s anguished face.

“You know, Doctor,” he said, his voice low and serene. “There’s a lot of good knowledge in books. But sometimes, the knowledge we need most isn’t in our heads. It’s on our knees.”

The line, so simple, struck Arnaldo like heresy. A simplistic aphorism from an uneducated man. He thanked him with a curt nod and quickened his pace toward the parking lot. But Afonso’s words followed him.

“It’s on our knees.”

At home, the silence was an accusation. He walked into Lucas’s room. The untouched bed, the smell of dirty laundry. On the desk sat a picture frame with an old photo: him and a seven-year-old Lucas, smiling, on the day he taught him how to ride a bike. He remembered the joy, the boy’s trust in the hand that held him steady.

Where was that trust now? Where was his hand?

His palace of knowledge crumbled. He did not know what to do. There was no theory, no quotation, no book that could give him the answer. He was a fool. A fool with a Ph.D. who scorned the only instruction that might actually matter.

Sinking beside his son’s bed, Dr. Arnaldo Peixoto, for the first time in his adult life, knelt. There was no eloquence in his prayer. Just one word, repeated like the mantra of a drowning man, “Help.”

There was no bolt of lightning, no audible voice. But on that cold floor, in that act of total surrender, he felt something new. The beginning of something. It was not the solution to his son’s problem. It was the dismantling of his own pride.

It was the beginning of knowledge.

(Made with AI)