tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61236276296668312452023-11-16T10:30:44.227-08:00someburningthoughtsoccasional thoughts from one of Jesus' poetsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-59572389356367355372019-11-15T20:00:00.004-08:002019-11-15T20:00:42.457-08:00Roots In Each OtherOur roots run into each other. Even the slightest handshake has tendrils in it. Sometimes with time they grow deep and far into each other. Sometimes they blossom in a moment. And when that being dies and is removed, some of our roots die with it. We will never be whole again until all things are whole.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">"Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be... This is the inter-related </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">structure of reality</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">."<br /><br />Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-71877841969066342162018-02-24T21:34:00.001-08:002019-05-16T06:34:10.294-07:00The Last Gift<p dir="ltr">In our lifetime God gives us so very many gifts. He gives us, for example, <u>lungs</u> to breathe. Blood vessels to carry oxygen and health to every corner of our vast body. Sexual organs that not only create the wonder of new life but accomplish it with intense pleasure and intimacy. He gives us intelligence to dream and plan and the muscles to accomplish many tasks. He gives us sleep at night after the day's labor, and the satisfied memory of what we accomplished.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But after we have barely had time to begin putting these gifts to use, he gives us one final gift: he takes them all away again.</p>
<p dir="ltr">He takes them as we age and our gifts begin to fail. Metabolism slows. Muscles deteriorate and our hands begin to shake. Skin wrinkles, eyesight dims, hearing fades. Diseases multiply. Lungs may harden and hearts may grow weak. The mind begins to lose its <u>sharpness</u>, or strokes may rob us of speech altogether. Our proud frame stoops and our legs shuffle as we step carefully from our sitting chair to our bed, like a gray-haired toddler first learning to walk.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is our final gift. It is given with tears and with great love. It is a gift of death that prepares us for life. After all the pride of our accomplishments, the deceitfulness of riches, and the comforts of this world, we may be too adult to enter heaven. Jesus warned us that unless we become like little children we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And so as we begin shedding all our giftings we become children again, even infants. <u>We</u> grow timid, helpless, and simply nap in his arms, barely aware at times of anything but the sustenance and our need, and the presence of care as our diapers are changed, as tears slip from eyes that try to understand, as we pull ourselves up and struggle to walk and to talk. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Here, tucked in these beds, alone at <u>times</u> and crying for our caregiver, we become ready. And so we are humble when we fall asleep, and humble <u>when</u> we wake up <u>in</u> a <u>bright</u> land in the company of the <u>mighty</u>. And so through the sorrow of our humiliation we become as happy as Jesus in the morning <u>light</u> of our <u>Father's</u> eternity.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-87904307970061539252017-04-25T08:38:00.001-07:002017-10-05T07:16:42.132-07:00Call the Dog by Name<p dir="ltr">Have you ever watched a dog for someone?  We recently did for three weeks. Overall, the dog, Charlie, was a good-natured dog. His weakness was that whenever we left the house, he sprayed pee on various objects and would poop multiple times to show his distress. We did not enjoy returning home to see what he left us. He was becoming a nuisance.</p>
<p dir="ltr">One night, however, I was taking my baby daughter to bed. She speaks four words so far: mama, dada, hi, and doggie.  But as I walked her across the dim upstairs landing to the bedroom, she heard him moving at the foot of the stairs.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Do you hear that?" I said. "That's the doggie. Where is the doggie?"</p>
<p dir="ltr">Suddenly she called to him.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Yarlie!"  </p>
<p dir="ltr">She was staring down into the dark stairwell, and she beckoned with her hand for him to come.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I was in shock.  When I told my wife the next day that our daughter's fifth word was Charlie, she was strangely moved.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"It almost makes me want to keep him around," she said. "I can forgive him a lot of things if she likes him."</p>
<p dir="ltr">I know, personally, that I spray a lot of objects in God's house and leave poop here and there for him to clean up.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But his beloved son, Jesus, takes my name on his lips. He says my name. Not only does he call my name in the darkness, he has carved my name on his hands forever. That has to count for something.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out."</p>
<p dir="ltr">"But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine."</p>
<p dir="ltr">"See, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands."  Isaiah 49:16</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-5058234578346701922017-04-14T12:27:00.001-07:002017-04-14T12:27:25.385-07:00Crawling to Father<div dir="ltr">
The other night I was at a church function for Valentine's Day. I was standing up on the stage with some others, competing in a silly Family Feud-style game. </div>
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There was a rustle in the audience. I looked out and saw, crawling away from the banquet tables, my baby daughter. She was crawling towards me, a determined expression on her face. She would put her head down and crawl across the carpet, then stop and raise her head to see where I was and adjust course. When she finally reached the stage, she started climbing painstakingly, determinedly up the stairs to where I stood at the top. </div>
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Before she could get all the way up, I stepped down and swooped her into my arms. Snug there against me in front of everyone, she looked perfectly contented, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. I held her for the remainder of the on-stage activity.</div>
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I had felt such warmth and affection as I watched her crawling away from everyone else and towards me. She had single-minded focus and would not be content until she was in my arms. I felt proud of her. She had acknowledged me before others, and I was certainly proud to acknowledge her as mine to the entire assembled audience.</div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arimo, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">"I tell you the truth, everyone who acknowledges me publicly here on earth, the Son of Man will also acknowledge in the presence of God's angels. </span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arimo, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">But anyone who denies me here on earth will be denied before God's angels.</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arimo, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">"</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arimo, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arimo, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">Luke 12:8-9</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-70647889346093968782017-02-02T11:12:00.001-08:002017-02-16T09:40:41.685-08:00Comforting the Dead<p dir="ltr">The beggar Lazarus had a difficult life. As he lay outside the gate of the rich man's house, dogs would come up and lick his sores. He had no health care. He had no power. But he had faith.</p>
<p dir="ltr">After death, he lay in the arms of Father Abraham. Why? To be comforted. Abraham himself took this ragged beggar into his arms, to comfort him. Apparently reaching heaven does not instantly erase all past sorrows. It's a process.</p>
<p dir="ltr">We also see people in heaven who are discontent, or impatient. The martyrs call out, "How long until we are avenged?". Sounds a little different than our average Sunday School images of heaven. </p>
<p dir="ltr">But this comforting of Lazarus caught my eye. The other night my 10-month old daughter woke up and began crying. I hurried to her and picked her up, and held her. Her tears didn't stop immediately. It took a little time. I had to gently murmur to her, rocking her, holding her close.</p>
<p dir="ltr">After the trauma of this life, apparently at least some of us get the same treatment. We don't forget. There is nowhere in the BIble that says we do.  But we are comforted. We are pulled from the coffin and held in much older arms, gently murmured to, understood, loved.  I wonder how long it takes to calm down and find healing?  If the Lord's presence is there, the healing process goes quickly, I'm sure, but some wounds take time.</p>
<p dir="ltr">And then one day, all this current order of things will pass away. Tears and sorrow and loss will be from a previous age, for all things will be made new. And in the ages to come he will continue to surprise us with his mercy and grace.</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-12853285546292897472015-07-20T13:47:00.000-07:002015-07-20T13:47:44.847-07:00Three Principles for Getting Along with Other ChristiansLet's be honest. Christians disagree a lot. If there was an Olympics for disagreement many of the gold medalists would be Christians. Of course we have a good reason. We believe in absolute truth--that there is a right answer to every question. The problem is we are far too fast at jumping to the conclusion we hold the true perspective. <br /><br />
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Jackie values thought over emotions, so she's likely to view weeping and shouting in worship at a local pentecostal assembly as "disorderly." Melinda, who values relational warmth and empathy, may be too quick to judge the theologically precise sermon she heard at a local Presbyterian church as "dead and dry."<br />
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Assuming we agree on the basics of Christian faith (for example, the Apostle's Creed, which almost all Bible-believing Christian denominations generally uphold), how can we live with our differences? There are many ways, but here are three principles I've found useful.<br />
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<b>1) Always Remember We Have the Same Father</b><br />
Whether we agree with each other or not, we have a basis for relationship. This was very helpful for me when I graduated from a conservative college and joined a missions team of Mennonites, Pentecostals, Southern Baptists, and others.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="text Eph-4-3" id="en-NIV-29276">Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.</span> <span class="text Eph-4-4" id="en-NIV-29277">There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called;</span> <span class="text Eph-4-5" id="en-NIV-29278">one Lord, one faith, one baptism;</span> <span class="text Eph-4-6" id="en-NIV-29279"><b>one God and Father of all, who is over all </b>and through all and in all.</span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span class="text Eph-4-6" id="en-NIV-29279"> -From Ephesians 4</span></blockquote>
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<b>2) Each Person Answers to Their Master Individually </b><br />
So we should remember they will be judged and rewarded by their Master who knows their struggles and faith much better than we do. <br /><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Who are you </b>to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand.<br /><span class="text Eph-4-6" id="en-NIV-29279"> </span>-Romans 14:4</blockquote>
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<b>3) Look First For the Good In Others</b><br />
Human tendency is to look first for areas of disagreement and wrong, but among brothers and sisters it should not be our first impulse. The verse below has wider application, yes, but it is in the context of disagreements between sisters in the church, and reminds us not to get stuck on what peeves us but look at the bigger and better picture.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="text Phil-4-2" id="en-NIV-29445"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord.</span> <span class="text Phil-4-3" id="en-NIV-29446">Yes, and I ask you, my true companion, help these women...</span><span class="text Phil-4-8" id="en-NIV-29451">Finally,
brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is
right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if
anything is excellent or praiseworthy—<b>think about such things.</b></span><br /><span class="text Phil-4-8" id="en-NIV-29451"><span class="text Eph-4-6" id="en-NIV-29279"> </span>-From Philippians 4</span><span class="text Phil-4-8" id="en-NIV-29451"></span></blockquote>
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I hope these three principles are useful as you relate to your brothers and sisters in Christ. What other principles have you discovered for dealing with other Christians who rub you the wrong way?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-3369807211686671912015-07-08T13:40:00.000-07:002015-07-08T13:40:56.322-07:00Climbing Into Bed<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Rocking gently in the waves<br />
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To find whatever rocks it will<br />
Be with my soul O Lord of dreams<br />
Whatever caves I come to<br />
Whatever face I see--<br />
Still whisper in my ear<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #444444; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">©</span><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #444444; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"> someburningthoughts.com, 2015</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-53425952341289076592015-06-13T14:39:00.000-07:002015-06-13T14:39:36.004-07:00Angel Wings<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Oh that some angel would lift me on mighty wings<br />
To rise above the troubles of these streets<br />
To fly with beating heart in clouds and breeze<br />
Up in the holy silence above God's world.<br />
And perhaps indeed some angel will carry me<br />
When my days down here are done<br />
Will bear me up on eagle's wings,<br />
And set me down beyond the sun.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-28133682781240320932015-06-10T19:03:00.001-07:002015-06-10T19:03:21.470-07:00RainstormThe holy hush of a rainy day<br />
Suddenly the house becomes a cave<br />
And from the front porch shelter those who may<br />Watch lightning and the thunder play<br />
Hear branches creak and tree tops sway<br />
Feel rain drops fly in a misty spray<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And raise a hand to God in praise.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #444444; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">©</span><span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #444444; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"> someburningthoughts.com, 2015</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-42250627888329200832015-05-29T11:47:00.000-07:002015-05-29T11:47:57.441-07:00Thought -- The Old Flesh Within This New Creature<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZyTGq6SovRGkVGciE0YmB63HDratCMhPSGpmBqvsPj9IgEXCPTgwqxMiQeTievkAZbr84LxnF0fNGIGNuTTZ44Y5bGJtl6MIeggtDFUhkOV0qrxtF0b-MbcomMcxLaY7TtNKaNcO9c0/s1600/2191785_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZyTGq6SovRGkVGciE0YmB63HDratCMhPSGpmBqvsPj9IgEXCPTgwqxMiQeTievkAZbr84LxnF0fNGIGNuTTZ44Y5bGJtl6MIeggtDFUhkOV0qrxtF0b-MbcomMcxLaY7TtNKaNcO9c0/s400/2191785_orig.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>
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Maybe I can extend claws six inches long<br />From under my fingernails<br />Maybe I do have teeth like knives<br />Sharpened on hot iron files<br />I thought I did not<br />But turns out I do...<br />Behind my smile and helping hand<br />Lurks a beast who can cruelly bite<br />And every morning I must thrust a silver stake into his heart again<br />And every evening I must kneel and beg for absolution<br />But one day--one day when I fly away<br />I'll leave his carcass far behind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-2472534952912019332015-05-09T13:54:00.001-07:002015-05-09T13:54:13.436-07:00Poem: A Testimony<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBVtcOwceIah2ikxm89P7V2xSxfiQY_I1iB4LfEbQa0YCRDNt2atxDHEnaajDENGbN24dG20om3RyeXHT9_rvz0t9xbvb6Z5YYbDUCXbNnRQs_GjzOGWKJOASMld8ebxOwwWUvoHD32M/s1600/grey-landscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBVtcOwceIah2ikxm89P7V2xSxfiQY_I1iB4LfEbQa0YCRDNt2atxDHEnaajDENGbN24dG20om3RyeXHT9_rvz0t9xbvb6Z5YYbDUCXbNnRQs_GjzOGWKJOASMld8ebxOwwWUvoHD32M/s1600/grey-landscape.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Selfish like a vampire I sucked blood from the world<br />
Until it lay around me like a corpse--<br />
Trees lost their color, sky went grey<br />
People wandered past me like meat in skin<br />
And even the wildest activities felt lifeless then.<br />
<br />
Until my Jesus came and stretched his brown arms out<br />
And His blood pumped like sap into the trees<br />
And far into the sky, and all through me<br />
Bright blue and vivid green filled everything--<br />
People wander past me, all loved somehow<br />
And even the smallest acts have so much meaning now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1mD5RwY6kj4zBcqmJFW5IRBLa3aJM4RPfacX89qMckAmhV1-spK6cGUHy5Acn_zvlOG7Jy8yCNUQIrp_8w9nqzTAtjDd0zYxH2IvrK1ipBq-wrYwQZfmtes6bb_wlN47Dn7GBqNhAUL0/s1600/4435_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1mD5RwY6kj4zBcqmJFW5IRBLa3aJM4RPfacX89qMckAmhV1-spK6cGUHy5Acn_zvlOG7Jy8yCNUQIrp_8w9nqzTAtjDd0zYxH2IvrK1ipBq-wrYwQZfmtes6bb_wlN47Dn7GBqNhAUL0/s1600/4435_2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-30248644457849566502015-04-14T14:16:00.002-07:002015-04-14T14:16:16.144-07:00Poem: Fireflies<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdV5y1A88OIrEtY6mY8_wk5iA9VkeNYDsitMzj3X1WUWMe9Z12SB3e-fvFdwmwXxpnuUDs2-saNZ-6KvVP5yluEn2x8XlfHCIT_j60e4GvFuq6VlAhXVdg4s5CBJ4vjW3NgMVtIIDPpTI/s1600/08-all-that-glitters.jpg__1072x0_q85_upscale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdV5y1A88OIrEtY6mY8_wk5iA9VkeNYDsitMzj3X1WUWMe9Z12SB3e-fvFdwmwXxpnuUDs2-saNZ-6KvVP5yluEn2x8XlfHCIT_j60e4GvFuq6VlAhXVdg4s5CBJ4vjW3NgMVtIIDPpTI/s1600/08-all-that-glitters.jpg__1072x0_q85_upscale.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; text-align: start;">Photograph by </span><a href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/beautiful-flight-paths-fireflies-180949432/?no-ist" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; text-align: start;" target="_blank">Tsuneaki Hiramatsu</a><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; text-align: start;"> through repeated eight minute exposures at night</span></td></tr>
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Some moments the Spirit glows<br />
And I light up like Christ<br />
My face flashing with his presence<br />
And children gather in wonder<br />
<br />
Some moments I go dark<br />
Listening to too many lies<br />
I sink under sadness for my sins<br />
In the night I forget his forgiveness<br />
<br />
Such short hours we flit above the grass<br />
There is only this night to shine<br />
So let us be the brightest of your fireflies<br />
Until morning when the sun will rise.<br />
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</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-71940497834039300852015-03-31T08:58:00.002-07:002015-03-31T08:58:33.147-07:00BreathingIt's a funny thing, breathing. <br />
<br />
<br />
The other night I was sitting on the sofa, and I could hear Amber breathing as she sat beside me, reading a book. I realized I was breathing, too. Our dog was laying beside us, and she was breathing heavily too because she was deep in sleep. We were all sitting there, inhaling the invisible air around us, and exhaling it back out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYfBkDqbFAXZOm7L1n_LM6gIT0tusZtjLGRuKCHsqp8SWAqbgsuyYexnoq8uklmtKCC85VFuul-fOSk1ge9p9rZQhX9ew-JSPFKzK93LHQl7vKcFCgmkRo-JcLcBsyj5sW8mkP9_v-lQ/s1600/breathing-o.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYfBkDqbFAXZOm7L1n_LM6gIT0tusZtjLGRuKCHsqp8SWAqbgsuyYexnoq8uklmtKCC85VFuul-fOSk1ge9p9rZQhX9ew-JSPFKzK93LHQl7vKcFCgmkRo-JcLcBsyj5sW8mkP9_v-lQ/s1600/breathing-o.gif" /></a></div>
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It's one of those thousand and one things we stop noticing. Our focus narrows onto the smallest tasks in front of us: paying a bill, answering a text message, watching a TV show. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile we're sitting on a giant twirling ball, rotating silently through space, <span style="font-size: large;">with just a thin garment of air covering the surface of our planet.</span> And we breathe that gas in, and out, that perfect balance of oxygen and nitrogen. Decade after decade our lungs open and close like bellows, delicately collecting the invisible gas around us that we depend on moment by moment to stay conscious, to keep our eyes open, to move our bodies.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
'For in him we live and move and have our being.' As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.'<br /><span class="p"> -Paul of Tarsus, Acts 17:28</span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDyDxk1-KH40jeyKhgYLKZe-ZDy_SjvjlEnjXUNFPSlofhW-JhHCRJpou76RWJotU-kYpIkURzcsCuAXU8kqMUV6jJAqiQCEHfW5ju6noSmkQM-jQvPKvqycmxV7_ZRDsG2SBwJYciE4/s1600/1_-fall-asleep-in-under-1-minute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDyDxk1-KH40jeyKhgYLKZe-ZDy_SjvjlEnjXUNFPSlofhW-JhHCRJpou76RWJotU-kYpIkURzcsCuAXU8kqMUV6jJAqiQCEHfW5ju6noSmkQM-jQvPKvqycmxV7_ZRDsG2SBwJYciE4/s1600/1_-fall-asleep-in-under-1-minute.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="p"><br /></span></blockquote>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-39519149260337333362015-03-24T06:30:00.000-07:002015-03-24T06:30:44.970-07:00No Mind Has Imagined"There never was any world but mine," said the Witch.<br />
<br />
... Puddleglum was fighting hard...."We'll never see it again, I shouldn't wonder. You may have blotted it out and turned it dark like this, for all I know. Nothing more likely. But I know I was there once. <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I've seen the sky full of stars. I've seen the sun coming up</span></b> out of the sea of a morning and sinking behind the mountains at night. And I've seen him up in the midday sk<span style="font-size: small;">y when I couldn't look at him for brightness."</span><br />
-The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcGdWzMk4GChzbhJwR4Cpws2XckKWOdC042ghcltyf2DDlDm-W2DJN7wR8-6o_1rJXTbJ33lNeJMRqoIdUZkMxpo10cvmB6xYmA0-xIII0h2onh6qZ6lqvK5WaTmgrUjaf_GJyIUjxOM/s1600/Cave+at+night+painted+with+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcGdWzMk4GChzbhJwR4Cpws2XckKWOdC042ghcltyf2DDlDm-W2DJN7wR8-6o_1rJXTbJ33lNeJMRqoIdUZkMxpo10cvmB6xYmA0-xIII0h2onh6qZ6lqvK5WaTmgrUjaf_GJyIUjxOM/s1600/Cave+at+night+painted+with+light.jpg" /></a></div>
Christians have had those moments when we knew the warmth and incredible glory of the Son of God shining on us. But for now we still live in Plato's Cave, a world full of shadows.<br />
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In a cold, dank, cave it is sometimes easy to <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">wonder if we've dreamed up </span></b>this whole belief we have in the resurrection of the dead, in God, in all things made right and Zion, the size of Brazil, coming down one day like a bride to earth where God will make his home with humans in brightness and joy. <br /><br />But on a morning like this morning, <span style="font-size: large;">with the tender chill of spring</span><b>, </b>and the squawking and chirping of birds, and new flowers everywhere, it is a just a little easier.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: left;">
That is what the Scriptures mean when they say, "No eye has seen, no ear
has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who
love him." -1 Corinthians 2:9<span class="p"><br /></span></div>
</blockquote>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-13803831668674642262015-01-06T13:45:00.004-08:002015-01-06T13:45:37.733-08:00We just got a dog. She's about three years old, and she has separation anxiety issues. She's already attached herself to us very affectionately. But it's really difficult for her when we are out of sight. It's understandable. She's been jounced from house to the house for the past weeks, and her original owners had to give her up. <br />
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I had to leave her today for a few hours. Only three hours. But I felt terrible. It's hard for a dog to understand how someone she's just put her trust in completely can leave--and will they ever come back or are they saying goodbye forever?<br />
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I put a T-shirt of Amber's and some gym pants of mine next to her cage and put her in her cage. Later I'll leave her free when I go out, but in this first week I want her restricted for her sake and ours. I wanted to tell her: I'll be back! Don't be too distraught! Here, I've left some toys for you and these clothes next to your cage so you can still smell us!<br />
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And then I remembered Jesus. He was about to leave his disciples, and he said "I will not leave you as orphans." He promised to send his Holy Spirit to give them comfort in his absence. And he promised to return. <br /><br />When I got home, she had somehow pulled Amber's and my clothes through the narrow bars of the cage to be closer to her while she waited.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-35581907217602950252014-11-26T08:23:00.001-08:002014-11-26T08:23:13.989-08:00Portrait<span style="font-size: large;">Like a bird he was, like a long-limbed bony bird. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He sat on the edge of his sagging recliner, peering into the TV. A constant flash of images flickered across the screen, and from his rapt concentration you would guess he was beholding the Burning Bush. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Light glowed and played across his face. It dipped across wrinkles that had sunk silently into the boy's cheeks over long years, after hot summers and frigid winters and long decades that passed like episodes in a ceaseless marathon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">His hand dipped into a Bojangles box and pulled out a piece of fried chicken, his fingers like claws from age. A gold ring still hung around his thin left ring finger, placed there in some previous century by a girl who since had wrinkled and faded from sight altogether. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">His teeth bit into the chicken, nose still sniffing at the faint smells it found, eyes never leaving the screen except once, when they glanced minutely at the chicken leg as he turned it in his hand, and bit again. A bit of grease was somehow on his shirt, and his cheek. He wiped a napkin across his cheek, but didn't notice the stain on his shirt as he leaned back at last, breathed a deep breath, and closed his eyes to sleep.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-16117417909418636392014-11-14T11:19:00.000-08:002014-11-14T11:19:15.096-08:00Another Glorious One"As for the saints who are in the land--they are the glorious ones, in whom is all my delight." <br />
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-- David, Psalm 16:3<br />
<br />
She had her most fashionable outfit on. She stood up from her desk and walked to the front of my classroom. It was her turn to give a persuasive speech, and she was visibly nervous. Before she even opened her mouth, tears of nervousness and emotion welled in her eyes.<br />
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She played a 30-second Youtube video. The speaker on it said, "He's the centerpiece of civilization. ...He is the loftiest idea in literature. He's the highest personality in philosophy...He's the only one qualified to be an all-sufficient savior..."<br />
<br />
And then she began her speech, her voice often breaking, to persuade us that a personal relationship with Jesus was something worth having.<br />
<br />
It was one of the bravest speeches I have ever seen, and she showed the courage to face her nervousness like a lion. Despite her emotions, she shared her heart with other students, and in such a way that they knew she cared about them, loved them--that she wasn't just doing some religious obligation. She judged no one--she just poured out herself in her desire to tell others about God's love for them. <br />
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I didn't give her a great grade for the speech. She received high marks for passion, for her introduction and conclusion. She lacked some of the depth of outside research I demanded for the activity, and her nervousness didn't win her points for her vocal performance.<br />
<br />
But I felt privileged to be in the same classroom with such a beautiful and brave person. Actually, I felt privileged to be walking on the same earth.<br />
<br />
"As for the saints that are in the earth, They are the excellent in whom is all my delight." <br /> -Psalm 16:3 ASV<br /><br />"I say of the holy people who are in the land, "They are the noble ones in whom is all my delight.""<br /><span class="p"> -Psalm 16:3 NIV</span><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-28056000774083072082014-11-09T07:35:00.002-08:002014-11-09T07:35:35.276-08:00Old Testament God of WrathIt's been popular for the past hundred years or so to say "The Old Testament God is a God of Wrath." Even the best of Christians seems to wriggle uncomfortably and feel unable to deny it. After all, there were all those genocidal purges when Israel went in and wiped out the Canaanites (men, women, and children) at God's command. Or when the Israelites began worshiping local idols or having sex parties, and God wiped them out with plagues or whatnot.<br />
<br />
And then we have Jesus, prancing about in his white toga and gentle blue eyes (?), kissing the little children and petting donkeys. It's a conundrum.<br />
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Unless of course, you pay attention to two things.<br />
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First of all is historical context. As Americans we enjoy believing that all people everywhere are exactly the same, completely equal in all ways. But the truth of it is that what works on prissy American might not be as effective on say, a bloody viking warrior. If God was going to deal with whole nations and cultures in different eras of history, it's very likely that he would have to roll up his sleeves with thunder in his footsteps and lightning in his fists. The people in early Israel were an uneducated, recently enslaved collectivist group, who lived in a primitive world completely soaked in idolatry and bloodshed. It's probably beyond our ability now to make judgements on how God should have dealt with people in that brutal era of history. But we can judge the fruit. Did he successfully set apart a people for himself, the Jews? Do they survive to this day? Did they record his words and begin the process of revealing God to the world?<br />
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Secondly, we need to take a second look at the Old Testament. The real theme of the Old Testament is not wrath, but "'hesed" which is the Hebrew word for unfailing faithful love. The pages of the Hebrew scriptures from Genesis to Malachi are soaked with this word and concept--that God was faithful to his people to covenant with them, to bless them, to never abandon them no matter how much they deserve it. The deeper you dig into the Old Testament, the greater the wonder of God's goodness becomes. Job (and Habakkuk) are God's word to us that doubt and questioning are natural in the life of faith. Habakkuk the prophet cries out "How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?" As Global University's Old Testament Survey points out, Habakkuk's honesty teaches us that "believers do experience doubt. Doubt is not a sign of a lack of faith" (p.184). Hosea marries a prostitute and remains faithful to her even when she continues sleeping around on him. Even take a grim book like Judges. It shows how willful and rebellious the people were, and even though God would allow them to be conquered by oppressive nations when they turned from him, he was faithful to raise up Heroes of faith to deliver them when they repented. The more one studies the Old Testament, the greater will be the deep impression of God's amazing patience and 'hesed towards the people of Israel, and through them, to the pagan world at large. (Ever read the book of Jonah?)<br />
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On a final note, the Jesus of the New Testament is exactly the same God represented in the Old. Jesus compared his second return to a master and warned of being an unfaithful servant: "<span class="text Matt-24-50" id="en-NIV-24008"><span class="woj">The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of.</span></span> <span class="text Matt-24-51" id="en-NIV-24009"><span class="woj">He will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." As you study the life of Jesus a certain fear of his perfect veracity and righteousness will come on you. And don't forget the New Testament's portrait of Jesus in Revelation, with a sword coming out of his mouth, riding the white horse in Judgement on the whole earth.</span></span><br />
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<span class="text Matt-24-51" id="en-NIV-24009"><span class="woj">The God of the Old and New Testaments is one and the same. At times he gave different strokes to different folks, as their time and place needed. But he himself is terrible in purity, perfect in holiness, and faithful in love. Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. </span></span> <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-148844512147537842014-09-07T16:45:00.001-07:002014-09-07T16:45:16.642-07:00Perhaps it is hard for us to believer demons are real, not only because we don't see them in the world around us, but also because they are generally held back from harming us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bZ4v6MgJeGE7-YNwzsfIcDXwhM8ynVXUQ16px56MSmukh1MflkcRU1h4dqzQYfarEeW8jt-kBBCuHzTSuge3fY0aHoDIQkax2uR1R76BOQFTu5zYHUxdnwQVC6Qus03Sn9WaJjs3IiE/s1600/2012-JAN-Demons-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bZ4v6MgJeGE7-YNwzsfIcDXwhM8ynVXUQ16px56MSmukh1MflkcRU1h4dqzQYfarEeW8jt-kBBCuHzTSuge3fY0aHoDIQkax2uR1R76BOQFTu5zYHUxdnwQVC6Qus03Sn9WaJjs3IiE/s1600/2012-JAN-Demons-03.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>Whether you take it poetically or literally, a fellow I know well awoke one morning at 4:00am from dreams of devils chasing a crowd of helpless people across wet fields at night, delighting in torturing, maiming, and killing the children and old people who couldn't keep up. He sat up in bed, sweating. Then he got out of bed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. It was about 4:00am in the morning. He calmed down as he drank the milk and after a few minutes felt fine, but as soon as he walked back into his bedroom a sickening wall of horror overwhelmed him again, and he "saw" (he has difficulty explaining it) a demon at the foot of his bed. It was just like a man, but something about its head was reminiscent of a lion, and a sphere glowed around him. It didn't seem to be quite in touch with the physical floor of the apartment--it was mostly in the room, he says, but partly overlapping into the apartment below. Evil and hatred radiated from the being like a furnace, but he seemed to be in a cage or in chains. <br />
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My friend knew that he would be torn to shreds in a moment if the being, radiating hatred and power, were free to do so. A great fear continued to wash over my friend, but no physical harm came, though the being pulled his chains taut and stared with furious hatred at my friend, who was the very next morning planning to send a letter re-committing to another term on the mission field. My friend knelt beside the bed and prayed Psalms, while a small presence like a candle in his heart glowed and held back the worst of the terror. At last the awareness faded or the being left, and my friend simply fell into fitful sleep again. In the morning he went to the office, where a co-worker, who lived in the apartment and in the bedroom directly below him, asked why he looked so haggard. "Bad dreams," was all he said. "You looked tired also." "I had bad dreams, too!" she exclaimed. "Really horrible dreams." "What time did you have them?" he asked. "About 4:00 in the morning," she replied. He said nothing else at the time. How do you casually explain an event like that in the cheerful light of morning?<br />
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In the book of Job, Job had lived a happy and prosperous life until Satan at last obtained permission to "touch" all he owned. Satan proceeded in a single day to destroy thousands of cattle, sheep, camels, and brought a windstorm to knock down the house with all Job's children in it. After obtaining permission to "touch" Job himself (but not obtaining permission to kill him), Satan covered Job from head to toe with painful boils.<br />
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It would appear that were Satan free to do everything he liked, he could literally tear us to shreds in minutes. Again with Simon Peter, Jesus said, "Satan has requested to sift you like grain. But when you have returned, strengthen your brothers." Apparently Satan's request was granted, for Peter's fervent faith in God turned to three denials and deep depression. But neither Job nor Peter were left in the hands of the evil. It is instructive to realize how great a power leans toward us on its chains, longing to destroy us. It is comforting to realize how thoroughly God has bound the enemy in regard to us. Yet He has let the enemy have his voice, it seems. Satan cannot thresh the nations with his own power into a bloody pulp. But he can deceive them into doing it to each other. And God seems to allow him the chance to test our obedience and trust in God, just as he tested Adam and Eve long ago. Though held back by chains from torturing us slowly to death in delight, Satan can speak lies to us. We have the choice to believe God's truth or the devil's lies. Even such an enemy with his hands tied behind his back can wreak horrors and havoc on those all too willing to listen to his deceit. "You can't be forgiven for those sins....you'll never be free of that habit...you have every right to think about yourself before others...just a little dabbling in that won't hurt very much...you have destroyed every chance of happiness in your life and your only choice is to wallow in your guilt...no one cares or understands...God must not really love you...your prayers must not really be working..." The list goes on.<br /><br />Our enemy is chained and double-chained from harming us, except for rare occasions when God lets him off his chain, with restrictions, to test and refine us. (Remember, Jesus was tempted forty days in the desert--and Jesus bore our shame on the cross.) Afterwards, like Job and Peter, we are stronger. Brothers and sisters, let us not doubt the reality of the enemy of our souls. And let us not doubt God's great kindness in powerfully holding them back from us. Let us not listen to their furious and crafty whisperings as they resent being so held. And if we have, let us simply run back to our heavenly Father, and ask him to forgive us and lead us in the way everlasting.<br />
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"You are good, and what you do is good. Teach me Your commands." Psalm 119Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-73034040543839293822014-07-20T10:25:00.000-07:002014-07-20T10:25:58.132-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How amazing are the deeds of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>! All who delight in him should <b style="box-sizing: border-box;">ponder</b> them. </div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;">I <b>reflect </b>at night on who you are, O LORD; therefore, I obey your instruction.</span></div>
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<a class="bible-item-title" href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+111:2&version=NLT" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-transition: all 0.2s; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.2s;"></a>I <b style="box-sizing: border-box;">ponder</b>ed the direction of my life, and I turned to follow your laws.</div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;">I remember the days of old. I <b style="box-sizing: border-box;">ponder</b> all your great works and think about what you have done.</span></div>
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<i> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Psalms 111:2, 119:55, 119:59, 143:5)</span></i></div>
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What's the use of a significant event in our life if we don't reflect on it? </div>
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As Americans we seem to be always rushing forward and stressing when we meet new challenges. But if we send our roots down into the events of God in the past, won't we be strong to face the present and future? In the rush of modern life, we need to consciously set aside time (even "at night"), to ponder and reflect on what God has done. </div>
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What he has done in creating this huge sphere spinning through space. What he has done in giving us these amazing bodies and our nation and family. What he has done in sending his dear son Jesus to take on human form and suffer for us, and die to wash us clean and save us from this present evil generation. How he raised him from the dead! And what he has done in the short history of our own lives. I'm very poor at remembering all the answers to prayer God has granted me in the past. When I get the job or money or someone comes to salvation I tend to think: "Phew! Problem solved. Now what's next?" <br /><br />But I wonder if God wishes I would allocate more time to simply chewing on what he has already done for me than worrying about what's coming next.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-15903743976747244852014-07-06T19:01:00.001-07:002014-07-06T19:01:59.061-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://tulipsandtea.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/magical-sky.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://tulipsandtea.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/magical-sky.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From TulipsandTea.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<br />Lift Up Your Hearts</h3>
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Lonely tempest-tossed children of God<br />
Lift up your heads and your hearts<br />
How great the affection heaven has for you<br />
Tears fall from the cheek of the Almighty at the thought of you<br />
Jesus is moved as He rises from His throne<br />
His pierced feet are shuffling, his eyes closed<br />
As he begins to sing<br />
And the angels fall silent<br />
The planets whirl as he dances<br />
The oceans of stars burning with joy<br />
For his great plans for you are beginning<br />
Here in your suffering and in your sin<br />
This is the infancy of your eternal days<br />
Every cell of his Bride he loves<br />
And he will kiss her until she awakens<br />From her dreams<br />
To see his face.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-53388399497076083042014-03-18T20:43:00.000-07:002014-03-18T20:43:53.388-07:00<img 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" /><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">I said 60, and tomorrow I turn 61.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">All year I have whispered to myself--next week,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">"Next week I will end my life."</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">My resolution began at twenty-five</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">When I watched my grandfather disentegrate</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Wiping drool from his mouth he struggled to stand</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">The smell of soiled pants rising in the air</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Inching his way uncertainly across the kitchen</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Palsied hands grasping the counter like a child</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">And I swore in my heart</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Swore deep in my heart</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">That I would never suffer myself to this.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">"At sixty," I said. "At sixty I will leave before this comes."</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">But now sixty is almost over.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Yes, my back aches and my joints are stiffer than before</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">At night I struggle to stay asleep</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">And at breakfast I eat mostly pills</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">But there is still life in these bones.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">The will to live is strong</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">And my balding head is not yet ready to lay down</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Or lie in a box beneath the earth,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">And the moments of joy were unexpected</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">The sear of love when I see my grandson toddle toward me</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Words blurring on his lips,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">And somehow this increased fragility of age</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Has only seasoned the world</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Made cold mornings more fresh</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Each breath of steam a gift</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Each scent of burning leaves a blessing.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">The old grasshopper dragging himself along the branch</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Is more blessed than I imagined.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Poem © 2014 Daniel Routh</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-24850252136041966842014-03-15T19:53:00.001-07:002014-03-15T19:53:15.865-07:00Giant pillars of smoke billowed up from the rails and buildings, and a smell like sulfur was in the air. Explosions rumbled up as the B-17's began to bank and turn back towards Britain.<br />
<br />
"Yeehaw!" shouted Shorty from the tail. Rudy wasn't sure whether to cheer or weep. He craned his neck left as the plane turned her outspread wings towards home. <br />
<br />
Some hours later, Catch radioed back.<br />
<br />
"We're over England. You ready to come out of your bread basket, Rudy?"<br />
<br />
"Well, I sure don't want to land in this thing," Rudy radioed back.<br />
<br />
"Grimy, would you do the honors?" Catch said.<br />
<br />
"Roger," Grimy said.<br />
<br />
Rudy swung his turret to face rearward, and then aimed his guns straight down, putting all his body weight on his foot stirrups. The metal seat behind him was now the hatch back up into the plane. There was a creaking turn of a handle, and it swung open. Grimy's huge smile grinned down at him. Grease stains covered his face and jump suit, as usual. He held out a hand.<br />
<br />
"Welcome back," he said.<br />
<br />
Rudy snorted, and took his hand, and climbed back up into the plane's tail. Then he slammed the hatch back down and turned to find his seat.<br />
<br />
"Don't forget to crank the guns up," Grimy said.<br />
<br />
"Thanks," Rudy said fervently.<br />
<br />
He had almost forgotten, and then the plane would have landed with its belly guns pointing straight down. He'd heard about one ball turret gunner in the 860th who'd forgotten to crank the guns up after he climbed out. It had torn the guns off and messed up the whole ball turret assembly. The plane had been grounded for a week and the gunner had almost been demoted to infantry. Instead he'd sat out his crew's missions for a month while a temporary gunner filled his spot.<br />
<br />
Might not sound like punishment, but just try sitting in your barracks while the guys you care about most are out risking their lives. And when they get back with stories, you have to sit quiet while they roar with laughter or cry. No gunners since had forgotten to crank the ball turret guns to tuck up just beneath the tail assembly. And Rudy didn't want to be the next gunner to forget.<br />
<br />
He sat on a jump seat and stared out the open slot in the side of the plane. Grimy's gun poked out through the slot, aiming out into the blue sky. Grimy scanned the skies through the long narrow slot with a casual eye. They were over England now, but occasionally a German straggler fighter might want to take some potshots before it fled back to England. <br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Poem © 2014 Daniel Routh</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-53492464907492556242014-03-11T19:09:00.002-07:002014-03-11T19:09:18.498-07:00<span style="font-size: large;">Standing Up</span><br />
<br />
The pleasure of standing up<br />
After growing restless with repose<br />
(Lying like a bag of potatoes scattered across the sheets)<br />
The joy of stretching muscles knotted to bones<br />
Unfolding legs and toes<br />
To press against the earth<br />
And filling lungs upright with air<br />
As we stand to our feet<br />
Awake.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">Poem © 2014 Daniel Routh</span><br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.thestyleproject.com.au/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/slide04-jumping-on-bed.jpg" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6123627629666831245.post-46931686376562799122014-03-10T20:24:00.000-07:002014-03-10T20:24:48.397-07:00<span style="font-size: large;">Laying Down</span><br />
<br />
The pleasure of laying down<br />
After fighting gravity all day<br />
(The skyscraper of our vertebra holding us towering into the air)<br />
The bliss of sleeping on the soft belly of the planet<br />
Which spins quietly under us<br />
As we sink down<br />
And gentle mattress hands push up<br />
To hold us motionless<br />
At rest.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">© 2014 Daniel Routh</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;"><br /></span>
<img height="266" src="http://assets.nydailynews.com/polopoly_fs/1.1079006!/img/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/landscape_635/mattress16n-1-web.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1