Sunday, September 30, 2018



  "I listened to an excellent young woman make her confession. She had sinned grievously. She was in tears; and tears of sympathy and pity ran down my cheeks also. But in her tears was for me a profound experience, which I shall never forget. I saw and felt the inner meaning and the true value in the Confessional, and more than ever I realized the sacredness of the human soul. When I left my study, I felt that I had passed through Gethsemane and, immediately afterward, ascended the Mount of Transfiguration. The anguish, remorse, contrition, the bitter tears and the relief and peace after the confession- all this led me into the depths of human experience.

Only the presence of the Infinite can account for what took place in my study on that morning years ago. The spot became holy ground. The fruits of the experience were the reconstruction of a human soul and a consequent blessing to the lives of others. On that morning I felt the mercy and forgiveness of God flowing through my human soul, and I could see its effect in the soul of the penitent; and the Confessional has meant something very sacred to me ever since." William S. Morgan.



  "Years ago I was in charge of the Cleveland's largest mission for the "down-and-outs." We had been holding an open-air meeting near the mission one Sunday evening, with a large crowd in attendance. In the midst of my appeal I discovered that something was distracting the attention of the people. The object of their interest was soon discovered, as the wreck of a once beautiful woman came staggering up the alley. Many of the audience knew her, for she was a notorious character. She had just been kicked out of a low alley saloon, so drunk that she could not stand; and she was breathing out curses upon the saloonkeeper who had dared to treat her so.
Praying that this might be the night when God would give us a signal victory, we promptly closed the meeting and invited all who desired to turn away from their sins to come inside the chapel, where Christian workers would help them. On entering the chapel we sang a hymn as the people continued to come in. I then called for testimonies from those who had already accepted Christ. Suddenly the door was flung open, and in staggered this very woman. Screaming at the top of her voice, and waving her long, gaunt arms above her head, she shouted, "There’s no salvation for the likes of me; and you needn't say there is!"
  I immediately started a hymn, and leaving the platform, went to where the wretched creature had thrown herself into a seat. I called one of our loyal Christian women, and she on one side and I on the other, we knelt there by the outcast and poured out our hearts to God. The woman was so overcome that she offered no resistance. As we prayed, it seemed that the very house was filled with the power of God; and from that moment we felt assured that God had given us the victory.
  I had given instructions that the poor creature be taken upstairs, that her filthy rags be removed, and that she have a hot bath and be put to bed. The next morning, when she awoke and found herself in a clean, comfortable bed, the first she had been in for many months, she looked up into the face of the woman attending her and said, "God did save me after all!"
  Week by week I saw the outcast grow into a wonderful Christian character. She was a woman of fine intellect and high breeding; and much of her former beauty and stateliness of carriage returned. It was not long before she was going into the haunts of sin, telling of God's power to save.

When, at the end of a most remarkable summers work, I bade farewell to the workers and some of the converts, no face was more radiant with joy than that of the woman who, on that Sunday night, had cried out in her drunken frenzy, "There is no salvation for the likes of me; and you needn't say there is!"  Donald Grant. Is. 1:18.

Wednesday, September 26, 2018



  Remember when Peter saw the vision that was like a big sheet lowered from heaven in Acts 11:6? And on it were four-footed animals of the earth, and wild beasts and crawling creatures and the birds of the air. As I thought about this vision in the context of the passage, I wondered if it would be too much of a stretch to interpret the creatures, which symbolized the non-Jewish nations, and break it down to include those represented as 'four-footed creatures of the earth,' as the people that are trained to be subservient to others who have carnal purposes, 'earthy.' Or possibly it may represent addictions and other controlling influences that make us like a beast of burden? Now to me, the 'wild beasts' represents those whose lives are either out of control or predatory, without moral restraint or those pushing and shoving their way through life leaving behind wounded and bleeding souls who were 'attacked' by them. Then I thought the crawling creatures may well represent the manipulative: the souls that lie in wait to deceive and capture others and infect them with their lies and evil contrivances. And lastly the birds of the air, those who are led by pride, who see others as beneath them or those who abuse power and position? Either way, we know our duty, to bring them the words that lead to repentance and restoration.



  Can things eternal be preached without passion? Can salvation be preached without urgency? Can charity be preached without tears? Can holiness be preached without fear and trembling?

Can Worship be offered without pathos?  Will the world outcry our lecterns? Can the rate of suicide rise, addictions ravage, abuse oppress and our pulpits not sound a fervent alarm?

Sunday, September 23, 2018



  Addiction, like all coping behaviors, primarily do one thing - they push unwanted thoughts, feelings, and memories temporarily out of our conscious awareness. The coping behavior addiction, is only the symptom of the problem. We view coping behaviors as more than symptoms; they are, "a road to the wound."
The Genesis Process - book of recovery. 

Friday, September 21, 2018

Holy Spirit


  In my devotions this morning I felt the comfort of the Spirit and I began to try and describe what I was feeling, so I decided to try and write it down, this is what I came up with. 

The Holy Spirit vitalizes my inner senses,
He enlivens my sympathies:
He rouses my desires to do good to others.
He sweeps through my heart with feelings of loving-kindness for those I know and the strangers I do not.   
He kindles my soul with mercy and inflames my zeal for justice.
And dampens my desire for the carnal.

He gladdens my heart, broadens my interests and expands my horizons.
He inspires my creativity and reveals hidden beauty in all things, from the lisping’s of a child, the lines in the face and the blush of the rose.

He turns my mourning into dancing and deepens my devotion to the Savior.
He illuminates the Holy text and ceaselessly draws me forward.
He gives my patience endurance and my mercies depth.
He stills my mind and calms my fears.
He minimizes my longings and brings content in simplicity.
He stirs my heart with noble themes and muffles the call of the wicked.
He pilots me towards peace and His ways lead to purity.
He protects innocence, advances virtue and brings great joy.

And I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever!

Monday, September 17, 2018



 When you have someone's back, this is how they visualize you. 

Sunday, September 16, 2018


  Jesus was a man of sorrows acquainted with grief it says in Is. 53:3 and it dawned on me that I have always understood that to mean that He experienced much grief, but now I see that it may also mean that because of His love for mankind and His great compassion, he is acquainted not only with His own grief but the grief of all. We too, if following closely to Christ, will also grieve for the suffering of our brothers and sisters. This thought was inspired by James Martineau's quote --   

"For am I not thy brother, stricken in thy stripes, and healed in thy rest?"