Raw Love.

One of the reason I started a blog is to get people thinking, and recently, as hard as it is, I’ve been thinking about love, or more to the point loss of.

When I think about my parents, I know that logically, one day, they’re going to pass away and it’s probably going to IMAG1754be before me. I’ve come to terms with that, although I love them so much, they’re not going to be around forever. But when I look at my Dad, and my heart swells with love for the man that raised me, has taken me to and from school for thirteen years, has held me hand and baptised me, I don’t know what losing him is going to do to me. The same goes for my best friend- we’ve known eachother since we were two, and sometimes I feel like we’re the same person- she’s the brains, I’m the heart. She’s the eyes, I’m the hands. She’s the jam, I’m the peanut butter. But what if she was to die one day before I was ready? Will I ever be ready to let her go?

We all know that feeling, I suppose. It literally feels like there’s too much air in your chest. It feels like you can’t breathe until you’re with them, and you know everything’s okay. You could watch them forever. Sometimes I just sit and watch Enzo sleep- there’s this unspoken rule amongst dog owners that you do not move if your dog is sleeping on you unless it’s imperative. I look at his eye lashes, and his whiskers. I scratch him behind his ears and wonder how many hairs are on his tail. And I wonder what will happen to me when he is no longer around.

It’s a word people avoid, death. We say “passed away”, “moved on”, “met God”. “Left Earth”, “is no longer with us”, “is resting”. I think we can’t say death, even for people we don’t even like we because we know someone loves them. And we know how it feels to love. That crazy, passionate, I would do anything for you love to the love you can feel for someone you’ve never met before. The compassion, the empathy that we all have because we would want that for someone we love. We want everything for someone we love.

So, why do we have this love? I think God put it in us because he wants us to know how much he loves us. That’s the story of Easter- God’s love for us. If we know how it feels, then we know how God feels, and if I can bring myself to tears just thinking about losing my best friend, I can think about how God felt losing his son. And how he feels about me. And I understand. I understand his love. I may not understand why he has it, or the mechanics- how could he love someone as imperfect as me? But I know my Dad loves me, and I know my friend loves me, and in a weird way I know my dog loves me, and so so does God. And I know I love them.

IMAG0209Love. It’s scary, and maybe we’d have easier lives without it. But life wouldn’t be better. It would be empty. With nothing to fill that space in your heart, you’d be empty. It helps us relate to a loving God, and it helps us connect. Love may be scary, but it’s really all you need [to quote that song].

Raw love.



Not Joking

Black-and-white-slaves-24436591640The word “nigger” originated from the French word “negroe” meaning black. As inoffensive as this sounds, at the time it originated, the religious community had it in their mind that to be “black” is to be full of “sin”. Furthermore, at the turn of the century, ideas were beginning to circulate about Darwinism- the separation of races, based on a superior and an inferior. Therefore, to call someone “black” meant they were sinful to the religious and savages to the scientists. So much so, that when the very Catholic Irish received imports of African slaves, they called them “blue”- there is to this day a street at one of their ports commemorating this use of language.


So, when the racists of the 1860’s called their slaves, and the racists of the 1960’s called their servants, they were displaying the worst that the human race could get. Why, therefore, do the African Americans throw it around in casual banter with each other? Is it a way of relating to their fellow “people”, their race? Do they not realise the centuries of pain behind it, or do they think they’re being clever in some way?

Let me give you another example. When India was colonised by the British, their new invaders found something they’d never had before- “curry”. They then started calling the Indians “curry” in an ignorant and definitely unfriendly manner. Relate back to the thing on Darwinism- the British thought they were better, more civilised, and they created a separation between themselves and the Indian [soon to become punjabltgovBangladeshi and Pakistani people] by referring to them in a derogatory manner they themselves could never be referred to in. Nowadays, though, I hear my friends using it to describe each other. “That’s such a curry thing” and although I do not complain to them, as they discuss things that only “their people” do, I think of all the people called “curry” as they were beaten, enslaved, pillaged and raped. Such a dark history to such a small word.

tumblr_nkrvq6Nsrq1s5g50ro1_1280The thing with these words, though, is that I, as a “white” person am not allowed to use them. It saddens me to even call myself a white person, because as journalist Claire Press pointed out in a “Style” interview with Andreja Pejic, a beautiful woman who used to be a boy “I pointed out that categories – be they girl, boy, transgender, transvestite, gay, straight, whatever – are still about labelling, and labelling means putting people in boxes. By definition, that means building walls and pointing out difference.” By calling myself a white person, by my friends calling themselves “curry”, and by African Americans referring to themselves as “niggers” it is just using something that generations before have used to separate, segregate themselves. I can’t use them, you can- separation. I’m not part of that group, you are –separation. I haven’t experienced what you’re talking about right next to me, I’m not part of that conversation and I never can be – separation.

For instance, have you noticed the continuing trend to ask people their ethnicity? Apparently I’m a “halfie” and “halfies are beautiful” but couldn’t you just have said “I’m beautiful”? Why do my parent’s nationalities define me?

Now, in case you think I’m being a hypocrite, and I’ve never experienced being on the inside, I have. As someone with an Indonesian mother and Australian father, for my entire life I’ve had a foot in both camps. Oftentimes that’s hard- wrapping your head around two cultures, and I know a few people who wish it were different, however I enjoy it. I embrace both sides, although they’ve both got their issues. However, coming from a family of Indonesian immigrants, they tend to have their own gatherings. Gatherings where every word spoken is in Indonesian, all the food is Indonesian, with Indonesian ingredients bought from Indonesia. The kids are taught to speak it, and taught to sing those songs, and although there is nothing wrong with celebrating a culture that your ancestors came from, I notice that it means sometimes the kids don’t know how to act around Australians. They go to school and they make Indonesian friends when there is the opportunity not to. They make jokes in Indonesian- heck, in my own Sunday School class, things are sometimes just said around me because I don’t understand the language.

And there’s still that idea of bonding together over the pain of people in “your culture” before you. 9270253_orig
I went to a conference last year, with my youth group, and it was meant to be a Christian conference, but it was Asian. No other way of saying it. The main speaker gets up on stage with a straw hat on, and a black pigtail stuck to it. He’s wearing a beautiful Chinese coat, and puts on a stereotypically Chinese accent and makes everyone but me laugh. Because I’m thinking, he’s got an American accent. I know that. He’s making fun of himself? Of the Chinese who were made fun of by the British? Of the white people in the room? How is this funny? How is this right? How is this loving?
“cornerstoneyouth.com.au” say “Francis Chan is on stage. Dressed in stereotypical Chinese costume. Taekwondo outfit and a rice farmer’s conically shaped hat. You stifle a laugh.” I cried. Literally, back seat of the car. Cried. Because this is how far we’ve gotten.

blue-green-eye-race-experimentBecause, and this is my main point, separation is not loving. It wouldn’t be loving for you to lock one of your children in the bedroom while the other ate with you, it wouldn’t be loving for a teacher to favour half  of the class [Google the blue eye/brown eye experiment- it’s picture above], and it is not loving to continue to segregate society based on jokes that only you can say, words that only you can use and conversations that only you can have. It’s not fair. If you say you are doing it in remembrance of the people who went through it before you, remember this- now there’s someone else on the outside, and you putting them there is just as cruel as what people did before you, and it’s just as pointless. It won’t get us anywhere, evolve us as the one race- the human race. There is just no win.


Once I posted a video that I had watched in History and enjoyed on Facebook. It was on a rather controversial subject, and in hindsight [not my own, my parents, who lectured me for days on the stupidity of it] I probably should have kept it to myself. You know, and the other million people who’d seen it on YouTube. But anyway, it caused a spark that ignited a fire between a school friend of mine and my grandmother. Yep, my Nan. That went on for a few days, and when I implored them both to stop [on the post and individually] the response I got from one of them blew me away.
“No, because to stop fighting would be to admit defeat.”
This wasn’t on a war field, or anything of significance- I don’t think anyone but me and them was following it [and I only kept checking because I kept getting notifications] but it was of such importance to these people, close to me, that they keep fighting so as not to look weaker. What?

I’m going to give you a very simple lessons on how war starts. Someone says something or does something. Someone else takes offense. First person takes defence. Boom.

What if, though, I had a crazy way of war not happening? Someone says something or does something. Someone else does not take offense. First person either keeps trying or backs off. Possibly no boom.

I believe it’s like this in everyday life. The adjective of the sentence is “takes”. If you don’t “take” something, how can it be received? If someone is trying to offend you, no matter how much they try to give offense, and they are the initiator of the fight [i.e. “THEY STARTED IT!!!”] you don’t have to take the offense, and no fight can be started [i.e. “wow, darling, that was very mature of you.”] Why am I using little people euphemisms? Because the principles we learned as three year olds are ones we should be using as thirteen and thirty year olds, but we don’t. The older we are, the bigger the fight. As a child, it’s give offence, take offence, take something they like, probably get in trouble. All is forgotten. As a thirteen year old, it’s give offence, take offence, hit someone, and probably get in trouble. Give it some time, all is forgotten. As a thirty year old it’s give offence, take offence, hit someone? Throw something? Start a war if you’ve got the power, kill a bunch of people, usually don’t get in trouble, boom. Lest we forget.

I’d like to point out here that sometimes people say war is necessary. I don’t believe it is. I don’t believe that as advanced, intelligent human beings with the capacity above every other animal on Earth to think we should still be engaging in wars. We think we’re so much bigger and so much better than our homo sapien ancestors? What’s the difference between a spear, then a sword, then a gun. [Correct answer: we’ve learned to kill more people quicker.] If both sides were willing to engage in negotiation- like, actually willing, not just cowards appeasing or trickers teasing- then we wouldn’t need war. But something primitive inside of us says “I can win this”. Boom.

So, my answer to you is this. No, you don’t have to take offense. That’s a conscious decision. A response. Will it hurt? Probably. That’s an inbuilt decision, a reaction. Two different things. You can’t stop a reaction- knee jerk reaction, chemical reaction, etc. But you can give the right response. One of love, one of calming yourself down, one of being rational. Have I been hurt? Yep. Have I been offended? I try not to be. Because offense leads to pain, be it physical or emotional, be it large or small.

Don’t take offense. It’s heavy, and it’s a burden you don’t need to carry.

The Internship [review]


Two old guys lose their job selling watches [because no one wears watches anymore] [I’m wearing a watch right now] and are forced to go hard or go home. Billy McMahon [played by Vince Vaughn] and Nick Campbell [played by Owen Wilson] find out about an internship program at Google, and so, despite everyone believing they are well past their use-by date, apply and get in.


In a group of 20 something’s who’ve all had some sort of university education, the movie begins with the going getting tough (in accordance with the movie, I’m trying to use as many encouraging sports euphemisms as possible), and Billy and Nick not only not getting picked for a team (the last of which will be guaranteed permanent jobs at Google), but being hated by even the outliers. However, they work together and overcome their age, the group’s issues and the discouragement coming from the other team. Stuart [DYLAN O’BRIEN!!] who won’t stop looking at his phone, Neha [Tiya Sicar] who can’t stop thinking about sex and Yo-yo [Tobit Raphael], who has a freaking scary mother, as well as Lyle [Josh Brener] the team captain, all work together to a acheive.


Overall, I think it was a good idea for a story. Overcoming adversities- the underdogs- who doesn’t love that? But the way they played the story! Unnecessary bad language and dirty jokes- they spend ten minutes in a strip bar for goodness sake. They don’t play to the actor’s strengths often enough, or develop the characters other than Billy and Nick. There were some genuinely good moments in the movie, including a quidditch match and Nick finding love in Dana [played by Rose Byrne], but they needed to work some bits a little better and others just. Cut. Out.

All in all, worth watching? Meh. It’s on tv? Sure. Go borrow it from a DVD store? Nyeh.


The Difference In Essays

dontsweattheessay.comIt occurred to me over far too long a period of time that essays for different subjects are have to be written differently. To save everyone else going through high school making the same mistakes, here are a few handy tips when writing different essays.

BTW: As I actually do History, Advanced English and Drama, I’ve written pointers on these. If there’s something else you’ve got to write an essay for, sorry bud.

English: Follow the structure of P.E.T.A.L.

Point: what are you trying to say? This should relate directly to the question, and use words from the question in it to make your point. Tell them what you want to say. 1-2 Sentences.
Example: Something from your text that backs up what you’re trying to say. However long you want, but try to keep it short or you’re just wasting time [especially in class room conditions].
Technique: How was this special? What did they do that made this particularly stand out? Incorporate this into your paragraph, and it doesn’t need a sentence of its own [unless it’s really important].
Analysis: In English, you don’t just explain what they’re trying to say, or what you’re trying to say, but analyse. Really get in there. Use big words. This is the biggest part of your paragraph.
Link: link it back to the question. Tell the marker how what you just said answered their question. One sentence.


OVERALL POINT: don’t be afraid to repeat yourself or the question! This shows the marker that you’re writing on the question, you understand it.

Drama: Here’s where things change up a bit. For drama, you can follow your average P.E.E.L.

Point: What you’re trying to say. Same as English.
Example: Give one from your text, but also use one from personal experience. This is where things change up a bit. Tell the marker what you did differently or how you felt during a performance in class, or on stage. Use assessments. In a Drama essay, you can use “I” where it’s usually taboo to address yourself in first person [i.e. for other essays use “the audience” or “one”].
Explain: why was this important, how did it help you, what have you realised?
Link: Back to the question.


History: P.E.S.A.L. Little bit different.

Point: same same.
Example and Source: Use both. Give an example of something your person did, or whatever you’re trying to say, but back it up with a source- someone else who said something that backs up what you’re trying to say. Show them you’re not just making stuff up. Also, specify [in the case of Extension and Ancient] whether your source is Ancient or Modern. You can even contrast the two and use that as part of your example.

Side note: incorporate your source into your sentence. Don’t say “Agrippina came from a good family. Perowne states she came from ‘impeccable pedigree’.’” Instead, smoosh them into one. “Agrippina, as stated by Perowne, came from ‘impeccable pedigree’. ”

Analysis or explanation: tell them what your sources mean, what your point means, what’s interesting.
Link: Get that back to your question.


Overall: don’t forget that each subject has different terms. Use them!

Poetry [eg: alliteration, simile, onomatopoeia]
Film [eg: zoom in, pan, panorama]
Literary: [eg: repetition, metaphor, juxtapoisiton]

Staging [eg: lights, costume, sound effects, set design]
Dramatic Elements [eg: timing, rhythym, climax, language]
Styles [eg: Stanislavski, brecht, Absurdist]

Historiography [eg:era, evidence, modern, ancient]
Ancient: each society will have it’s own words [eg: Sparta= akropolis, agoge, chtherion]
nb: keep it time appropriate. Periclean Athens wasn’t misogynistic, but patriarchal. Misogynists didn’t exist. Neither did the feminist movement. 
Modern: if you think it’s helpful, use some words from your study culture [eg: Weimar Republic= voltsgemeinshaft, Fuhrer.]
Don’t forget people’s names! Try to use wider vocabulary! 

Insurgent review


The sequel to the popular “Divergent” movie, and the second in a trilogy of books, the dystopian film Insurgent is out in cinemas at the moment. Despite not being a fan of the books or young adult books in general, I have to admit I really enjoyed it.


We’re dropped into the story as Tris Prior [Shailene Woodley], a divergent (i.e. possessing more than one main personality trait) is on the run with her boyfriend Four [Theo James], brother Caleb [Ansel Elgort] and Peter [Miles Tiller], a sort of friend, from Jeanine [Kate Winslet], a woman who wants to destroy divergents because they do not fit in. Having sought refuge in the Amity (peace) faction, they are found by Jeanine’s goons and so have to run again. Little do they know she has a box containing a message from the founders which is to be opened if there is a divergent crisis- of course, it can only be opened by a true divergent. The fugitives attempt to escape, vowing to overthrow Jeanine due to the damage she’s done, including costing Tris and her brother their parents. They join the Dauntless (fearless) faction with the Factionless (people who don’t fit into any group) and fight for freedom.


It’s a great movie. The acting’s pretty spot on, the graphics are amazing [especially in 3D] and the storyline’s interesting. I found myself on the edge of the seat with a hand over my mouth, barely breathing during the cliffhangers. The chemistry between the actors is great, and I have to also give a shout out to set design and costume. Simple, but beautiful. It’s actually a great film.


All in all, I’d have to say, worth a watch.



The Purpose of Writing A Diary

Since I read “the Princess Diaries” in year 4 or 5, I’ve been writing a diary of my own. Of course, at the time, my entries consisted of “I went to my Uncle’s today. Then I found a butterfly. Then I had dinner. I slept.” Now they’re a little better. But for years I carried my diary around with me in case inspiration struck while I was walking through the halls of school or sitting in the car, and people would ask me why I write a diary. My answer, in my head, was always, why doesn’t everyone?


Diaries serve many purposes, and some are unique to the individual, but I think the main ones are as follow.

1) People in the future will want to know what happened in the past. Why not give your opinion?

How does one know what the Germans were thinking during World War 2?
How does one know what a Greek woman thought of her life during a time when only men wrote history? How does one know how a nurse felt during a war? Or a soldier? Or a general? Or a civilian? Diaries. Diaries can be a great historical record for people in the future- I like to think that my children and their children will one day like to know what their grandmother was like. Maybe there’ll even be a few historians who would like to know what a sixteen year old girl was thinking during 2015, instead of referring to the mass media, or some old guys who wrote a few textbooks. What if the internet gets wiped out? There’ll always be paper and pen. Anne-Frank_Diary_HD_768x432-16x9

2) There is too much going on in my brain. As a blunt, hormonal teenage girl, I say a lot of stuff that I didn’t mean to because I’ve got nowhere to put it. Writing in a diary helps alleviate the pressure inside of me to tell someone they’re being an absolute rat, because they may be having a bad day, or I might be having a bad day. It helps get the thoughts out. On the flip side, there are some personal happy things I want to get out- things I want to remember down the track and I feel I’ll forget, like the sun shining through leaves or something someone did for me. These thoughts just bounce around in my head until they flow onto paper, not to be forgotten, and also not to be dangerous!

3) It’s practical.  I’ve saved a few friends from detention by recounting what we did on what day. One of my friends found out her dog was sick and went outside to calm down- she got marked absent, and avoided trouble because I had it all written down. It’s somewhere to put stickers and ticket stubs, stick photos and such.


4) Reflection. Sometimes I realise things about myself as I write- what I truly think, as I can clearly elaborate my feelings, without worry of offending. Taking the time to write something down can be very revealing. I guess, though, in the future, I want to be able to look back at my life and realise how much I’ve changed. Hopefully for the better. I’ll see the friendships I had and how I felt on a certain day. I’ll be able to relive really important things, like getting married and achieving my dreams. I look forward to that.

So, that’s why I write a diary. I reckon, if everyone gave it a go, everyone’d be a little less mad, so why not get out a journal and sit down for an hour- see what inspiration strikes you?

Doctor Who [Review]

The Doctor is a time travelling alien who looks like a man and usually has a companion. A Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, the Doctor is a name a man once came up with [because his name is very, very important, so nobody knows it]. He travels in a T.A.R.D.I.S. [Time And Relative Dimensions In Space] and his companions change due to different circumstances. Once he dies, he can regenerate, usually with a new face, new personality and new outfits [sometimes the TARDIS will change slightly too]. There’s your basic rundown.


Now for the “review” part.
Doctor Who is great because it takes you to places you wish you’d seen, people you wish you’d met, and gives explanations for things I guess you wonder. For example Pompeii just before Vesuvius [and why did it erupt?], Charles Dickens [blue ghost anyone?], Shakespeare [what happened to Love’s Labour’s Won?], Agatha Christie [why did she disappeared for a while -true story- Perhaps because she lost her memory after being attacked by a giant alien wasp who was also a priest? -Perhaps not so true a story. We’ll never know]. The Doctor reminds us that there is an unlikely hero in most of us, but there’s always going to be someone protecting us from things we didn’t realise we needed protection from. The Doctor’s your average hero- dark backstory, kind heart, hard choices. It’s a wonderful show in that respect. Oh and the graphics *tch* beautiful.


I guess the downside of ‘Doctor Who’ is that you get attached to someone you know won’t be around for very long. Whether David Tennant or Matt Smith was your favourite Doctor, there is a finite amount of time you’ll spend with them, before they’re replaced by the next guy. In my opinion, Peter Capaldi [the most recent Doctor] is not suited to the role at all, however, in trying to keep up with the storyline, and watching it because I’ve got a weird sort of fan loyalty, I stick with it and keep watching. It kind of sucks in that respect.


All in all, Doctor Who is a great show. Romance, adventure, revenge, complicated timey wimey stuff. Good stuff. Worth a go [start from Christopher Eccleston, work your way up to Capaldi and then, if you’re up for it, watch the last 40 years’ worth of Doctor is my advice.]


Knock, knock.
I love Doctor.
I love Doctor Who?
Me too!


Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Matthew 6:25-27

I was walking to class today, wondering how this relates to everyone in today’s society. How can you get by every day without worrying when it’s no longer about the food you eat or the clothes you wear [although scientists have specified how many times you should eat meat, wheat, carbs, fish, vegetables, fruit and basically everything else per week/day/hour. And the fashion changes every season.] In the next three days, I have a speech to give today [8 minutes to keeping my classes attention], an assessment tomorrow [which may have been moved to next Monday, which is great because I haven’t studied for it. There goes my afternoon], and an essay due on Friday. Then my birthday party on Saturday and a Sunday school class to write for Sunday [which I have not started]. I’m only 16 [almost 17] and wondering what life will be like by next month, term, year. By the time I’m 30, how will I not be the run down, grey faced middle aged woman I fear I’ll become? Or the ruthless, business suit wearing witch I see every day inhabiting schools and the city?


Well, I was thinking all of this as I watched a pigeon peck around a flower bed. Most people like to refer to them as “the rats of the sky”, but looking at the bird, I wanted what it had. No worry, freedom, the ability to fly away. If I walked out of school right now, I’d get a demerit [never had one before], I’d lose out information for my text next month, I wouldn’t get to see the teacher I need to see at recess and don’t forget the speech I’ve got this afternoon. This is the pressure I, and every teenager in N.S.W. faces at this moment. I can’t speak for the rest of Australia, but this is what I face every day. On top of that, I’ve got to juggle friends, and trying to do the things I actually like, the things that keep me safe. At this moment, to write my blog post, I’m ignoring my teacher [he’s talking about Mel Gibson being a racist while being drunk. This is somehow relating to WW2, but I’m not going to write it in my essay. Now he’s standing on a chair].

I guess, for me, it’s about trying to get back to Christ. Letting him be my rock, trusting him to get me through everything. He says he’ll never give me what I cannot handle, and although a little part of me wonders whether all of this is what he had in mind when he said that, I’ve got to trust him anyway. I don’t know how people get through high school without God, to be honest. I guess some turn to alcohol [but I need those brain cells for my tests] or drugs [being out of it all the time is practically the same as not being in school at all]. Some turn to friends, but my friends are under the same pressure, and my parents never went through this- the HSC in the 70’s was pretty much the equivalent of a year 7 topic test, it would seem. I wonder, though, when I watch teen flicks, where they got the time to have sleepovers, go to parties, laugh. About five or six people couldn’t come to my party because they’re studying this weekend. What will my kids have to go through? Will I even ever see them, or will they have screens that they literally wear on their faces [like the fitbit, but on their face, like Google Glasses. A Google helmet…]


So- what do you do? How do you not worry? Or do you just give into this deep, dark pit that exists in your chest that gets tighter and tighter until it crushes your heart and you become another beeping, booping, writing, thinking, test robot. Watching “Metropolis” in class [watch it if you’ve got the time] and commenting on their posture, the way they trudge, and seeing yourself. Seeing myself.


What Not To Do To A Grieving Person

So, sometimes you come across a situation and you’re like “hey, you’re grieving” and you don’t know what to do. And then, this little voice in your head says, “this is an opportunity…” and then that voice gets bigger, braver, and stupider and says “…FROM GOD!” then you find yourself saying stuff like:

1) “It’s because you’re a first class moral failure, because there’s no end to your sins-
When people came to you for help, you took the shirts off their backs, exploited their helplessness…
You turned poor widows away from your door; heartless, you crushed orphans. Now you’re the one trapped in terror, paralysed by fear. Suddenly the tables have turned! How do you like living in the dark, sightless, up to your neck in floodwaters?” Job 22:1-11

This is the person who says “this is your fault”. Whether someone’s sad because someone they loved  passed away or left, or their down because they’ve lost their job/puppy/house/phone, this is the person who says “you must have done something to make it happen”. This is not a good thing to do.
The context of this verse is Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar trying to “comfort” their friend Job, a guy who had just lost everything he had and loved in the world. Job yells out to God, “Terrors assault me- my dignity in shreds, salvation up in smoke. And now my life drains out, as suffering seizes and grips me hard. Night gnaw at my bones; the pain never lets up.” [Job 30:15-17] They’re basically saying “well, you musta done something”. The Bible specifies, however that he did nothing wrong [Job 1:1]. The question then is, why did they say it? Why does anyone say words like this? Maybe because it made them look better. “It didn’t happen to me, it happened to you. YOU musta done something wrong.” Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.

God says, in Job 42, “[To Eliphaz] I’ve had it with you and your two friends. I’m fed up! You haven’t been honest either with me or about me – not in the way my friend Job has. So here’s what you must do. Take seven bulls and seven rams, and go to my friend Job. He will ask me not to treat you as you deserve for talking nonsense about me, and for not being honest with me, as he has.” 
Make sure what you’re saying about God actually matches up with what God says about God.

2) The second reaction some Christians have to grief is:
“So, what a blessing when God steps in and corrects you! Mind you, don’t despise the discipline of the Almighty God! True, he wounds, but he also dresses the wound; the same hand that hurts you, heals you.” [Job 5] This is the whole “God can do anything act”, BUT it is used incorrectly.

See, when God says he can do anything [he does, actually, later on, in Job 38], he doesn’t mean that he’s going to punish  you and then laugh a bit and then come back to help you. I have a friend who actually believes that God just made us, set things up so we’d suffer, and then turned his back on us. That, my friend, is not the case. God says himself “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 23:11. He doesn’t want to hurt us, and he didn’t go and hurt Job. He doesn’t go out to hurt the people who have lost and who are grieving, and that’s not what we should be saying when they’re in pain. “Oh, it hurts now, but it’ll get better. It’s part of God’s plaaaan”. Yea, well, everything is part of God’s plan, but when someone’s in pain, you need to let them know they’ll be okay. Sometimes, all we need is someone to let us know we’ll be okay. And God certainly has plans for things to get better, not just to put us in a world of hurt and walk away. In Job 42, God blesses Job “even more than his earlier life”. Unfortunatley, we had to wait 42 chapters for htat to come around. 

3) The last and the absolute worst thing that you should not do to a sad person is leave them alone completely. In Job 19, Job cries out to God,
“My brothers are alienated from me; my acquaintances are estranged; 
my relatives have failed me; and my friends have abandoned me.
 Those who live in my house— and my maidservants, too!— treat me like a stranger; they think I’m a foreigner. I call to my servant, but he doesn’t respond, even though I beg to him earnestly.

My wife says my breath stinks; even my children say I smell bad!
Even little children hate me; when I get up, they mock me. 
My closest friends detest me; even the ones I love have turned against me.”

The very last thing anyone in pain honestly wants is to be ostracised. If they ask you to leave them alone for a while, do so, but do not run from them because helping them is too hard. Go to them, and if you have nothing to say, just listen. Just sit, be quiet, and hear what they need to say.

So, all in all, this is what you shouldn’t do to someone who’s hurt. They don’t need to be chastised or patronised, even if they actually did something wrong, because they’re hurting. God himself doesn’t hit us when we’re down. So love that person, offer them your hand. Then, when the time is right, in love, and LATER let them know where they went wrong. If they did nothing wrong, though, as Job didn’t, then that’s okay too. Just love them, as God loves us.