Saturday, August 12, 2017





"Please Help Me - My weakness is lack of faith in God. I agree this is my weakness. I need help finding the love in such darkness. I feel like my mind and soul have been shrouded in a dark dense fog. I’m trying hard to find the love of God but I've experienced such darkness in my life, it has been very difficult. Why is this so hard for me? What should I do differently? Is there any hope for me? When will the darkness end?" --- 
This is a prayer request from the jail, please join me in praying for them.

Thursday, August 10, 2017



The following is by Robert Louis Stevenson, and it is a random thought about the pursuits of life illustrated by an old fable. I love Stevenson's writings, they never fail to interest me.

 "There is one fable that touches very near the quick of life: the fable of the monk who passed into the woods, heard a bird break into song, hearkened for a trill or two, and found himself on his return a stranger at his convent gates; for he had been absent fifty years, and of all his comrades there survived but one to recognize him. It is not only in the woods that this enchanter carols, though perhaps he is native there. He sings in the most doleful places. The miser hears him and chuckles, and the days are moments. With no more apparatus than an ill-smelling lantern I have evoked him on the naked links. All life that is not merely mechanical is spun out of two strands: seeking for that bird and hearing him. And it is just this that makes life so hard to value, and the delight of each so incommunicable. And just a knowledge of this, and a remembrance of those fortunate hours in which the bird has sung to us, that fills us with such wonder when we turn the pages of the realist. There, to be sure, we find a picture of life in so far as it consists of mud and of old iron, cheap desires and cheap fears, that which we are ashamed to remember and that which we are careless whether we forget; but of the note of that time-devouring nightingale we hear no news."



Tuesday, August 08, 2017


In a story by Robert Louis Stevenson he relates sitting on a pile of rocks resting after a rigorous walk, when a beggar woman approached him and they began a warm conversation. Then came along a young Englishman who was an evangelist. Here he tells what happened next.


  "I had been noticing the approach of a tall man, with a high white hat and darkish clothes. He came up the hill at a rapid pace, and joined our little group with a sort of half-salutation. Turning at once to the woman, he asked her in a business-like way whether she had anything to do, whether she were a Catholic or a Protestant, whether she could read, and so forth; and then, after a few kind words and some sweeties to the child, he dispatched the mother with some tracts about Biddy and the Priest, and the Orangeman’s Bible. I was a little amused at his abrupt manner, for he was still a young man, and had somewhat the air of a navy officer; but he tackled me with great solemnity. I could make fun of what he said, for I do not think it was very wise; but the subject does not appear to me just now in a jesting light, so I shall only say that he related to me his own conversion, which had been effected (as is very often the case) through the agency of a gig accident, and that, after having examined me and diagnosed my case, he selected some suitable tracts from his repertory, gave them to me, and, bidding me God-speed, went on his way."

  This struck me as the way much evangelism is done today, with little thought for the welfare of people, but with a steadfast determination to "share the gospel."