"I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve.

This is no time for ceremony or political correctness.

The question before us is one of extreme importance for every Christian.

For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery.

It is natural for a person struggling with addiction to indulge in the illusions of hope.

We are apt to shut our eyes against painful truth,

and listen to the song of temptation—the promise that this one more drink, one more pill, one more indulgence will bring pleasure or relief—until it transforms us into slaves.

Is this the part of wise men and women, engaged in a great and rigorous struggle for freedom and eternal salvation?

Are we supposed to be among those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern our temporal and eternal salvation?

As for me, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost,

I am willing to know the whole truth;

to know the worst, and to provide for it through the precious blood of Christ.

Don’t allow yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss.

This is the lie of Satan: promising pleasure, comfort, or escape, but delivering chains.

Evil is crouching at the door and waiting for us! It may be in these very streets, in our homes, on our phones, in our medicine cabinets, or hidden in the secret places of the heart.

The enemy wants to bind and rivet upon us those chains which he has been so long forging.

There is no longer any room for false hope. If we wish to be free—

we must fight! I repeat it: we must fight the good fight of faith!

An appeal to the full armor of God and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us that we are weak, unable to cope with so formidable an adversary.

But when shall we be stronger?

Will it be next week, or next year?

Shall we gather strength through uncertainty and inaction?

Shall we prepare ourselves by lying lazily on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope—telling ourselves that we can quit whenever we please— until our enemy has bound us hand and foot?

Brethren, we are not weak if we make proper use of those means which God has placed in our power.

We must pray, watch, confess, seek help, remove temptation, and call upon those who can stand beside us.

We shall not fight our battles alone.

There is a just God who presides over our destinies and who raises up friends, family, brethren, counselors, and fellow soldiers to fight beside us.

The battle is not to the strong alone;

it is to the vigilant, the active, and the brave.

It is now too late to retreat from the contest.

There is no retreat into addiction but submission and slavery!

Our chains are forged!

Their clanking may be heard outside these doors and throughout our city!

The war is inevitable—and let it come!

I repeat it: let it come.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

People may cry, “Peace, peace,” telling themselves there is no danger, that they are still in control—but there is no peace.

The war has already begun!

What is it that we wish?

What would we have?

Is life so dear, or temporary pleasure so sweet,

as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? 

Forbid it, Almighty God!

I know not what course others may take;

but as for me, give me liberty—or give me death!"

 

"Indeed, every person, in every condition, is great.

It is only OUR diseased sight that makes him seem little.

A person is great simply as a human being,

whatever or wherever he may be.

The grandeur of his nature renders outward distinctions (color, race, sex) insignificant.

His abilities to think, follow his conscience, love, know God,

appreciate beauty, govern himself, influence the world around him,

and affect the lives of others—

these are glorious gifts given by God.

The common lights of reason, conscience, and love are of greater worth and dignity than the rare endowments that bring fame to a few.

He who possesses these divine powers of the soul is a great being, whatever his station.

You may clothe him in rags, confine him in a dungeon,

or chain him to slavish tasks.

But he is still great.

You may shut him out of your houses,

but God opens to him heavenly mansions.

He may make no show in the streets of a splendid city,

but a clear thought, a pure affection,

and a resolute act of virtuous will

possess a dignity far higher than all the accumulations of brick, granite, plaster, and stucco, however skillfully fashioned

or how far they stretch beyond sight." William Ellery Channing. 

 

"Because the Holy Spirit lives within you,

His leading may sometimes feel surprisingly natural.

A Scripture comes back to you,

something you were comfortable with suddenly troubles you,

you see a situation differently,

or a quiet conviction keeps coming back to your mind.

And because it can feel so natural, your first reaction is often,

“Was that Him, or was that just me?”

So how do you know?

Think about a stranger talking to you in a coffee shop.

You may hear them for five minutes

and forget their voice by tomorrow,

but if your spouse, parent, or best friend says one word from another room, you know exactly who it is.

Why?

Familiarity, not volume.

We assume God needs to speak louder.

In reality, we need to become more familiar with Him.

Now, this doesn’t mean every random thought in your head is the Holy Spirit.

Anxiety talks.

Fear talks.

Ego talks a lot.

Old wounds can also speak so convincingly that we sometimes

mistake our deepest insecurities for spiritual discernment.

So the real goal is not to look for a special feeling.

It is learning the character of the Holy Spirit well enough

that you begin to recognize

His sound,

His tone,

and His texture.

Think about getting a message from someone you have known for years. Even if their name appears at the top of the screen, you can read three sentences and think,

“No, that doesn’t sound like her.”

You know because you know the person.

You know how they speak.

You know what they would never say.

You know the kind of response that fits their character

and the kind that immediately feels foreign.

Jesus gave us that kind of pattern for the Holy Spirit.

He said the Spirit would guide into truth, remind us of what He said,

teach us, and glorify Him.

So we are not guessing in the dark when we try to discern His leading.

This is where Scripture is very important.

It’s not about reading chapters so God will be impressed.

Scripture gives you repeated exposure to His character until you begin recognizing the way He speaks, corrects, comforts, confronts, and leads.

That is why Jesus could say,

“My sheep hear my voice.”

A shepherd does not need to shout louder than everything else in the field. The sheep recognize him because they have stayed around him long enough to learn his sound." 

Ellis Enobun.

 

"To return to the character of our Savior:

His great work in the world was to teach.

Yet He did not present His instruction as a systematic code or abstract philosophy, nor in vague or ornamental language.

He spoke directly, practically, and precisely where truth was most needed.

As the great reformer of His age, His strongest words were aimed at the abuses and corruptions around Him.

He confronted prevailing sins,

fashionable worldly attitudes,

distortions of Scripture,

and attempts to evade known duties.

His teaching arose from the occasions before Him and therefore spoke directly to the lives and consciences of His hearers.

Had He merely delivered orderly lectures on morality and religion,

the Scribes and Pharisees might not have opposed Him.

But He did more: He exposed corruption.

Therefore, we should not expect the scattered discourses and conversations preserved in the Gospels to form a complete legal or systematic code.

Jesus generally referred to laws already known, seeking instead to restore their true spirit and elevate the motives for obedience." Alexander McLaren. 

"So often an encounter with another person leaves you shaking your head. Different personalities, learning styles, thought processes… and then there's that healing thing.

Many people have never even considered healing.

Others carry their wound like an old friend,

one that invades every circumstance.

Some are so attached to their wounding that if they sense you might take it from them, you'll get the message fast.

If you hold onto pain without ever doing the work to heal it,

expect turbulent relationships.

You'll filter everything through that pain —

misreading people,

overreacting,

getting triggered by the smallest things.

You won't always know why.

We don't relate well to others when this is where we live.

Refuse to heal, and you'll keep reliving the wound, over and over.

That's how addiction cycles persist.

With God's healing so available to us, it's sad watching people let pain reign over their lives instead.

It's costly — so many blessings missed, so much joy lost.

Relationships are hard enough on their own. Now try communicating through a wound that's never healed —it's like trying to see the world through a patch over one eye.

You're missing part of the picture, and it's costing you.

Why would anyone choose that?

Because they've been deceived into believing life will always look the way it always has.

They can't see that change is possible — and precious.

But here's the truth: healing is a gift.

It opens doors to deeper growth and joy.

Yes, it's hard — often brutal, soul-level work. But when you consider what it can do for your marriage, your children, your work, your friendships, it's worth every bit of it.

I've seen it firsthand — people who doggedly pursued healing, and now their spouses, children, friends, even employers say how grateful they are. You would be too.

So if the challenges feel overwhelming and the excuses are exhausting, choose healing instead. See the world through a new filter.

It's time. Your life may depend on it." Ann Stewart Porter. 

  

I ran across a new word, or term — "liminal space." I read up on it and learned it means the space between beginning and ending; a threshold between who you were and who you're becoming.

That intrigued me because I often feel like I'm in a spiritual liminal space. What I love most about walking with Christ is how He brings me to places I've never been. He never allows me to take up residence in complacency; I'm always on the threshold — between who I was and who I'm becoming, what I know and what I don't, who I think I am and who I really am.

A spiritual liminal space is the sacred threshold where one life has ended, another has not yet begun, and the soul must learn to stand in the uncertainty between them. It's often an uncomfortable place because we naturally want clarity and resolution. Yet it can also be a place where old illusions fall away, faith deepens, and a person learns to trust God without yet knowing where the path will lead.

“Thou shalt not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling-block before the blind, but shalt fear thy God.” Leviticus 19:14

"This command reveals something profound about the character of God and the way He expects us to treat those who are vulnerable.

The deaf person cannot hear the insult;

the blind person cannot see the obstacle placed in his path.

In other words, God forbids us from taking advantage of another person's limitations simply because they cannot defend themselves or even know what has been done to them.

The command reaches beyond the deaf and blind to establish a broader principle:

God expects His people to protect those who are vulnerable,

not exploit their vulnerabilities.

A person's disability, weakness, confusion, or inability to protect himself must never become an opportunity for cruelty, deception, humiliation, or NEGLECT.

Notice also the reason God gives: “but shalt fear thy God.”

The person who cannot see what we have done may not know;

the person who cannot hear our words may never hear them.

But God sees and God hears.

Our treatment of the vulnerable is therefore ultimately an act of worship—or an act of rebellion—before God.

The principle is especially important for those who live with or care for people with intellectual or developmental disabilities.

Such individuals may depend upon others

to advocate for them,

protect them,

guide them,

and sometimes even speak for them.

Scripture places a solemn responsibility upon those with greater strength and understanding:

never use another person's weakness as a reason to diminish his dignity. Instead, use your strength to protect his dignity.

Leviticus 19:14 therefore gives us more than a prohibition against cruelty.

It gives us a picture of biblical justice:

where another person is vulnerable, we are to become more careful,

more compassionate, and more protective—not less."

The Gospel of the Wounded Church

The wild Messiah

is not done walking.

But now

he limps in the Body.

Here is the Church—

the Body of Christ,

broken.

She is the Bride—

covenanted,

called,

blessed to be a blessing,

light of the world,

a city on a hill.

But this Bride

has scars.

Some wounds are holy—

from washing feet,

bearing burdens,

serving the unseen,

kneeling where no king kneels.

But not all wounds are holy.

Some are self-inflicted—

scars from crusades,

stains from scandals,

the sword grasped

when the cross was forgotten.

And sometimes—

these seasons of 

faithfulness and failure

happen at the same time.

She breathes in mercy

and inhales empire.

She touches the untouchable

and yet turns away.

A complicated Bride.

A Bride in need of healing.

Yet even now,

this broken Body

is still His Body.

Christ is not ashamed

to wear her wounds.

Even the scandalous scars

are gathered into grace.

For this is the wounded Church

sent into a wounded world—

a world unravelled by greed,

choked by climate breakdown,

teetering on the edge of collapse.

She is cross-cultural,

multi-lingual,

a global mosaic of mercy.

Here is a village chapel—

wooden benches,

a fragile choir

singing with hearts on fire.

Here is a grand cathedral—

stone arches,

candles lit,

ancient prayers

echoing in stained glass light.

Here is a corrugated iron hut—

the Spirit moves

as hands are laid

on the sick and the suffering.

Here is a city storefront—

where addicts and artists

gather to sing psalms

that break in unexpected hallelujahs.

Here is a protest march—

banners raised,

tears in the streets,

as songs of justice

rise into the tear-gas air.

Here is a quiet home—

an elder’s hands

cradling scripture,

as grandchildren

learn the stories

that shape the soul.

One Body,

many wounds.

One Gospel,

many accents.

The Church’s fractures

may yet become

the cracks

through which light gets in.

At her best,

she weeps with those who weep,

names the silenced,

stands interruptible in the crowd,

interrupting the machinery of death.

At her worst,

she forgets the Wild Messiah,

and the blessing becomes a blight.

But still—

the Spirit broods over the waters.

Still—

mercy rises from the margins.

Still—

the Lamb who was slain

leads her home.

Let the Church be like this—

honest about her fractures,

humble in her witness,

wild in her mercy.

Not a museum of saints,

but a field hospital of grace.

Not a fortress of certainty,

but a covenant people,

wounded yet sent.

The Gospel was never clean.

It still smells of sweat and sorrow,

rupture and resurrection.

It will not be televised.

It will be whispered

at the edges.

It will be sung

by the ones who stayed.

Let the Church be like this—

wounded,

wild,

and faithful.

Amen.

And amen again.

- Rev’d Jon Swales

 

About 65% of the Bible is directed to both sexes. It is, for the most part, "Gender Neutral." There are verses that specify sex regarding marriage, widows, child rearing and other gender specific verses like - Prohibition against a woman wearing men’s clothing or a man wearing women’s garments (described as an abomination). Deuteronomy 22:5 

As well as instructions on modest apparel and avoidance of certain external adornment directed particularly to women. That's the subject I ran across today in Isaiah 3. 

In Isaiah 3:16 the Lord begins his warning because some of the women of Israel were haughty, proud and had some serious attitude, and "dressed to the nines." The Lord strongly chastised them for their ostentatious dress and attitude. He mentions things like -  Proud attitude, woman walking with mincing steps, head held high and very seductive eyes,

And tinkling bangles on her feet, beauty of their anklets, headbands, crescent ornaments, dangling earrings, nose rings, bracelets, headdresses, ankle chains, sashes, perfume boxes, amulets, elaborate finger rings, nose rings, festal robes, outer tunics, bright and flashy clothing colors. 

Now this seems gender specific, but the principle applies to both sexes, although, no doubt, women have a far wider assortment of beautifying products than men. 

I asked A.I. to create an imaged based on the passage. 

In the jail service, as we made our way to verse 6,

“Don't cast your pearls before swine.”

The Holy Spirit startled and struck a 27-year-old woman with a barbed arrow that pierced her to the core.

She has spent ten years in a marriage where she poured herself into her husband but he took all she had to give, but never gave an inch.

Now he is in addiction, her 4 children have been placed in a family members care, and she has a restraining order against her.

Of course, these stories are huge and we just get a peek into them,

but this verse hit her hard.

She began to try and explain but was absolutely overcome with anguish and sobbed and cried as she helplessly asked,

"How can they tear your own children from your arms? How can they do that?"

And her inner pain was violently expressing itself in her body as she writhed under the grief.

I felt her pain to my core and the six women there did as well.

You know, I guess I always think the women tell their stories to one another, but not so, no one there knew her story but the sympathy poured out from every heart and mouth there.

I was in CHURCH!

Every person there had experienced, to some degree, this anguish and loss.

To watch this group of women that came in distant strangers, turn into the caring and consoling arm of the church left me in awe.

Each woman took a turn to do their best to encourage her, while all the time Stardust, with uplifted hands, was repeating

“HOLY SPIRIT, HOLY SPIRIT” as she prayed continually.

The tears flowed so much, by so many, a few of them had to leave just to compose themselves, and then they'd return again.

We emptied a box of Kleenex!

As I left, I was in that kind of melancholy surreal state where my soul feasted on what God had done all the way home.

 

I read these interesting thoughts on whether we should go to church or withdraw and worship privately.

Apparently, this was a discussion during the seventeen hundreds

as it is for some today.

"Human nature makes us seek the approval or sympathy of others in every significant act or event.

Religion is personal—

like marriage,

the birth of a child,

or the death of someone we love—

yet we still mark these publicly.

We neither laugh nor weep alone;

why then should we pray alone?

Religious feelings are among the most contagious we have.

If devotion really exists in the heart of each individual,

it is morally impossible it should exist there apart and single.

If genuine devotion exists in individual hearts,

it almost inevitably spreads and merges into a shared flame.

Public and private worship each have clear strengths,

so both are valuable.

Public worship is livelier and more energetic;

private worship feels more intimate and tailored to our personal circumstances.

Most criticisms of one apply equally to the other:

superstition, wandering thoughts, dullness, and selfish requests

can appear in either setting.

Public worship has distinct advantages.

It teaches people how to pray

who would otherwise struggle,

and it trains us to pray as members of a community

rather than for purely private gain.

Public worship has another advantage over private worship:

it helps guard against both spiritual coldness

and unhealthy enthusiasm.

Without the encouragement of shared worship,

many people struggle to maintain devotion

in silence and solitude.

Yet if a person's sense of spiritual realities is especially strong,

prolonged isolation can also lead the imagination

into mystical extremes

and the overheated mysticism

that can arise from unchecked solitary brooding. (I found that interesting.)

Public worship helps preserve a healthy balance,

avoiding both indifference and excess.

For worldly minds, solitary devotion is too weak;

for weak minds, it is unhelpful;

for passionate minds, it is unsafe." Anna Lititia Barbauld.

 

I love Jeremy Taylors sermons! Bold, shocking and colorful illustrations of sin and its deception and allurements.

Taylor is considered the "Shakespeare of the divines," this is one example.

I put the original at the bottom.

"Learn to despise the world;

or, better yet, learn to truly understand it.

It is a deception all the way through.

Its head is a rainbow,

its face is flattery;

its words are charms, and all its stories are false.

Its body is a shadow,

and its hands knit spiders' webs.

It is an image and a noise,

with a hyena's lip and a serpent's tail with a scorpion’s sting.

It was given to serve the needs of our nature,

but instead it craves strange appetites

and nourishes thirsts and fevers.

It brings care and worry,

corrupts our nature,

and rewards all our labors with shame and death.

Our nature is a disease,

and the world nourishes it;

but if you refuse to feed on such unwholesome fare,

your nature returns to its original purity

and becomes receptive to the grace of God."

Here is the original unabridged --

"Learn to despise the world; or, which is better compendium in the duty, learn but truly to understand it; for it is a cousenage all the way;

the head of it is a rainbow, and the face of it is flattery;

it words are charms, and all its stories are false;

its body is a shadow, and its hands do knit spiders webs;

it is an image and a noise,

with a Hyena’s lip and a Serpents tail with the sting of a scorpion;

it was given to serve the needs of our nature, and instead of doing it,

it craves strange appetites, and nourishes thirsts and fevers;

it brings care and debauches our nature,

and brings shame and death as the reward for all our cares.

Our nature is a disease, and the world does nourish it;

but if you decline to feed upon such unwholesome diet,

your nature reverts to its first purities,

and to the entertainment of the grace of God."

“The Christian walk requires more than 

skill, 

use, 

experience, 

and reason—

though these help, they are not enough. 

It must be wrought by a new principle: 

the Spirit of grace. 

Human nature and reason alone cannot do it; the proper cure comes by 

inviting, 

cherishing, 

getting, 

and yielding to God’s Spirit. 

When we have pursued these means, we may count ourselves sufficiently instructed for repairing our breaches and reforming our evil nature.” Jeremy Taylor, 1600s

 

The response I get most often from non-Christians is how they've picked and pieced together from all the different religions what they like and consider to be truth. I applaud all who seek, I always have faith they will find. This quote by Alexander McLaren addressed that --

There are people like the merchant in the parable

who went all over the world seeking goodly pearls,

who, with eager longing to possess light, truth, goodness, or rest,

search up and down and find it nowhere

because they are looking for it in a hundred different places.

They expect to find a little here and a little there,

and to piece it all together to make one all-sufficing restfulness.

Then, when they are most eager in their search—or when, perhaps,

it has all died down into despair and apathy—

the veil seems to be withdrawn, and they see Christ,

whom they have been seeking all the time,

and knew not that He was there beside them.

All, and more than all, what they sought in the many pearls

is stored for them in the one "Pearl of great price."

The ancient covenant stands firm today as ever:

“Seek and you will find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.”

When speaking of the supernatural workings of God, they are often better experienced than explained.

For most people, the work of the Holy Spirit comes unexpectedly—not something we can manufacture, predict, or even seek on our own timetable.

God gives His gifts to edify, encourage, and comfort others, both inside and outside the church. If we are neglecting or avoiding opportunities to serve those around us, it is unlikely we will experience much of the Spirit's moving power.

The wind of the Spirit often blows in the direction of love put into action.

Consider this example.

A woman struggles with her prayer life.

It feels dry and difficult,

and she wonders why she seems so distant from God.

One day she meets a poor, young single mother who is overwhelmed by the relentless, twenty-four-hour demands of caring for a baby.

With little experience in raising a child, the young mother feels alone, inadequate, exhausted, and discouraged.

The older woman quietly steps in.

She helps with household chores, shares practical wisdom she has learned over the years about calming a crying baby, prepares a few meals,

and even volunteers to watch the baby one evening each week so the young mother can simply rest, breathe, or enjoy a few hours of freedom.

Something begins to change.

When the older woman enters her prayer closet,

her heart is suddenly alive.

Words begin to pour out as she prays for this young mother.

The Lord meets her there, giving her insight she had never considered before, and filling her with a deep, overflowing love for someone who had recently been a complete stranger.

The wind of the Spirit has begun to blow.

Her compassion deepens,

her imagination fills with new ways to help,

and her affection extends even to the baby.

Her thoughts become occupied with love and with finding practical ways to express it.

She is now living under the gentle power and influence of the Holy Spirit in a way she has never known before.

She did not expect it.

She did not pursue it for its own sake.

She simply found herself resting in the joy of God's love flowing through her into another person's life.

All the prayer, Bible study, and worship in the world can become mere exercises if they never overflow into loving service.

Yet one simple act of self-forgetting love can open the heart to experience the living work of the Holy Spirit in ways that years of private devotion alone may never accomplish.

For me, more than through any other avenue, this is how the Holy Spirit revealed His gifts in my own life.

 
The Jail service was extra rich last night. As always, a wide range of ages, races and appearances. One man I'd estimate mid or late fifties, was British and had never been to church, but one of the brothers in his dorm had been talking to him about the Bible so he agreed to come. I bumped into the brother before the service so I knew the situation and my mind started thinking if I should do something a little different? Because I'm vividly aware of the stakes, and in many cases I have but one opportunity to reach them, I pledge to God I will treat that pulpit, and that time, with absolute sacredness as well as urgency. It's not lost on me that in the group of men, there are perpetrators of vicious crimes, domestic violence, sexual assault, bloodshed, and ever manner of evil, so trust me when I say, before I leave home to go there, I cry out to God to penetrate the room with the anointing of the Holy Spirit, to fall on every mind and move hearts and lives by His word and unction! Suffice to say, He ALWAYS answers that prayer! and I always leave shaking my head at how His presence permeated the room. That being said, I always come well prepared, but there are these spontaneous combustions where the Holy Spirit comes like fire! and moves me emotionally and I've learned not to hold it back or quench it. 

That was the case last night, my soul caught fire a number of times. I'll share one example because this was spontaneous; I was taking about the demon possessed man who lived in the tombs and was exceedingly violent because he had a "legion" of unclean spirits within. But when Jesus left Him "he was sitting, clothed, and in his right mind." Mk. 5:15 I paused and asked, 'what does it mean to be in your right mind?'  

I'll tell you what it means! -  you're at a family gathering and your four year old son or grandson calls out while rushing to you: smiling, filled with excitement and glee, holding a jar with a bug he captured saying, look, look what I have!  I paused, stepped away from the pulpit, sat down in a chair and said: you then, open your arms and say "Oh! bring it hear so I can see! And he has your full attention! for as long as he wants! That's one example of what it means to be in your right mind! I stood back up and got behind the pulpit and made a quick survey of the men and noticed one man, sixties, thin, missing a tooth, faced lined with sorrow, slumping in his chair sobbing. I didn't stare, and this man has come a number of times and always sat stoically, but tonight he broke down. I suspect this man is no first time offender, and I also think he's missed out on more experiences than we can number. 

Another 30 year old man, clean cut, tall, handsome and one would expect him to say he was a college professor or some dignified position. But he too, lost his son because of his violent drunken assaults that have led to prison time more than once. He stayed after the service and we talked at length as he poured out his losses, but also shared how his faith has grown, how he has cried out to God and repented and is brimming with hope. 

After the service all the men wanted to shake my hand and thank me, so I didn't have but a few seconds to talk to the British fella, I really was curious what he thought, but all he said was, "I'll come back."  

"It is a sad reality that prayer, 

though surely the sweetest and easiest of all duties, 

is often the one we avoid most. 

It requires no exhausting labor, 

no weariness of body, 

no strain on the eyes, 

no conflict with our natural desires, and brings no sickness—

only comfort and even greater hope. 

Yet we are strangely reluctant to pray, 

impatient with its length, 

and quick to find excuses to neglect it. 

There is no clear reason for this reluctance; 

nothing in the nature of prayer itself, or in the duty it requires, 

that explains why we resist it.

We are so bound to the desires of this world 

that we lose our taste for the things of the Spirit. 

The glories of heaven can only be appreciated by those 

who have learned to turn from the world's empty appetites 

and delight instead in the richer feast of God.”  Jeremy Taylor.

"Another form of ridicule we should avoid is mocking people when they show genuine emotion. 

The finer feelings—love, awe, pity, or poetic inspiration—are delicate and easily discouraged. They flourish best in private or among sympathetic people, and quickly withdraw when observed with indifference or contempt.

Picture an open-hearted young person watching a powerful tragedy. If everyone around is moved, the tears flow freely. But if one person shoots them a look of sneering indifference, the emotion dies instantly. They blush for having felt deeply and shut down. 

Ridicule is a dangerous weapon. Even a mild sneer can instantly kill anything noble or tender. Those who habitually mock others cut themselves off from the highest pleasures of both art and morality. 

This is especially damaging to young people. It stifles their natural openness and generosity, replaces it with unhealthy self-consciousness, and robs them of the ability to fully enjoy heroic ideals or generous actions." Anna Lititia Barbauld. 

 

In counseling men and women at the jail and in missions,

Hands down, the most frequent cause of getting sidetracked is

Infatuation.

The following quote is about infatuation

and it is a letter

written to a mother to inform her that her daughter, Flora,

Has been bitten by the infatuation bug and certainly

Must be in grave danger!

Never have I read anything so captivating and expressive

explaining how an infatuated person sees their lover.

This was written in the 1700s and we would certainly

Describe it in different terms today,

but never so well.

“Dear Madam, I think it my duty,

as well from the high esteem I bear yourself,

as from the tender and solicitous affection I feel for your lovely daughter,

to inform you of an affair between her and one who

has lately been fluttering about her;

and for whom,

young as she is,

she seems to have conceived an extraordinary fondness.

Of this you will be convinced, madam,

when I assure you,

she often walks in the fields purposely to meet him;

and on her return, I have seen her lips and cheeks

improved in their color by his kisses.

It is but within these few weeks that this lover of hers

has frequented the environs of Hampstead,

for he spent the winter between Lisbon and the Canary Islands;

and since his return,

which by her has been passionately longed for,

her fondness for walking has been much more apparent.

Her excursions to the Heath,

and her parties to West-end,

particularly when she gave me the slip the other day,

have been all planned with the hope of meeting him.

Nor can I wonder, indeed,

that she admires so pretty a fellow;

for he is a light airy being like herself,

as playful and as frolicsome.

He dresses in a light garment of the thinnest blue silk,

fluttering in a thousand different folds.

His breath is made up of sighs,

and perfumed with violets;

and his whispers, especially at this season of the year,

have a certain prevailing languishment and softness in them,

that few can resist.

He is fond of caressing the opening roses;

and no birth night beau is more powerfully scented

than he is with every blossom of the spring.

I am sorry to say, madam, your daughter absolutely courts this fickle

and faithless lover,

and she allows him liberties which a prudent mother like yourself

must tremble at.

He delights to play with her fair hair;

sometimes he throws it over her forehead,

and almost covers her face with it.

Sometimes he takes a single lock, and plays it about her temples;

And then he spreads her tresses all over her graceful shoulders;

and then lifts them up, or gently parts them,

to discover the elegant turn and whiteness of her neck,

giving them all the while a thousand kisses.”

 

Religion in Three Views

"A thoughtful and elegant writer once observed that religion can be considered in three different ways.

As a system of opinions, its only goal is truth. Reason is the faculty involved here, exercised through the freest and most impartial inquiry.

As a principle regulating conduct, religion is a habit. Like all habits, it grows slowly and gains strength only through repeated practice.

But religion can also be seen as a taste—an affair of sentiment and feeling. In this sense, it is properly called devotion. It resides in the imagination and the passions. Its source is that natural relish for the sublime, the vast, and the beautiful—the same sensibility that lets us enjoy poetry and other works that speak to our finer emotions. This feeling is heightened by a sense of gratitude for personal blessings.

 Devotion is to a large degree constitutional; it is not found in exact proportion to a person’s moral virtue.

It is this third view of religion—the devotional, affectionate side—that the following observations address. 

While almost everyone acknowledges religion’s value as a rule of life and its teachings have been defended with plenty of zeal, its emotional side is languishing. The spirit of devotion is at a very low ebb among us. 

Surprisingly, it has fallen into a kind of contempt and is treated with indifference by many people who pride themselves on the purity of their beliefs and the sweetness of their morals.

Religious affections rise and fall with our moods and are strongly influenced by anything that affects the imagination. They can therefore run into strange excesses. When shaped by a melancholy or overly enthusiastic faith, they can overwhelm a weak mind or delicate constitution. For this reason, many genuinely pious people have almost banished strong emotion from religious worship. Our age tends to allow little room for sentiment. All warm and generous emotions are dismissed as romantic by the supercilious gaze of a cold-hearted philosophy. 

The man of science, with an air of superiority, leaves such matters to florid preachers who stir up the passions of the lower classes—where devotion is so mixed with noise and nonsense that it naturally disgusts more refined and better-informed minds.

Yet there exists a noble devotion—generous, liberal, and humane—that springs from higher feelings than narrow minds can grasp. It raises human beings toward higher natures and lifts them “above this visible diurnal sphere.” Its pleasures are of the highest kind. 

When cultivated early, they remain vivid even in later life, when some passions have cooled, imagination has faded, and the heart begins to contract. Those who lack this taste are missing a genuine sense—a part of their nature—and should not presume to judge feelings they can never experience. 

No one claims to be a judge of poetry or the fine arts without both a natural and a cultivated appreciation for them. Why, then, should the narrow-minded children of earth, absorbed in low pursuits, dare to dismiss as visionary those things they have never taken the trouble to understand? Silence on such subjects would suit them better.

The present purpose is not to defend the pleasures of devotion to those who have neither taste nor knowledge of them. Instead, it is worth asking: what causes have weakened religious impressions among people who hold steady principles and are well disposed toward virtue?

The Damage Done by Constant Disputation

Nothing is more harmful to the feelings of a devout heart than the habit of arguing about religious subjects. Free inquiry is certainly necessary to establish a rational belief. But a disputatious spirit and fondness for controversy give the mind a skeptical turn, making it quick to question even the most established truths. It is impossible to maintain the deep reverence we ought to feel toward the Deity when all His attributes—even His very existence—are tossed about in familiar debate. Candor requires that we grant an opponent complete freedom of speech, yet in the heat of discussion it is hard to avoid careless or irreverent expressions. As a result, people who think about religion less often, often treat it with more respect than those whose profession keeps it constantly before them. A plain, serious person would likely be shocked to hear religious questions handled with the casual ease common among practiced theologians or lively young academics fresh from logic and metaphysics classes.

Just as the ear loses its delicacy when constantly exposed only to coarse language, so our veneration for religion wears away when we hear it treated lightly—even when we ourselves are defending it. This explains why many who have strengthened their intellectual belief in religion have never recovered the strong, affectionate sense of it they once possessed. They are surprised to find their devotion weaker precisely when their faith is better grounded.

Strong reasoning powers and quick, deep feelings rarely coexist in the same person. Those of a scientific turn seldom open their hearts fully to impression. Preoccupied with their own systems, they may attend religious services, but they remain on guard, constantly checking whether every sentiment aligns with their particular tenets.

The spirit of inquiry is easily distinguished from the spirit of disputation. A state of doubt is painful, anxious, and distressing. It naturally produces humility and modesty. Anyone who has not yet settled their opinions on important matters, if they are seeking truth honestly, will proceed with deep humility, genuine earnestness, and serious attention to every argument. Such a person will prefer to ponder ideas privately rather than use them as ammunition for debate.

Even with these good dispositions, it is fortunate when a person does not need to make sweeping changes to the religious system they have embraced. A total revolution in belief usually shocks the religious feelings so severely that they seldom regain their original strength and tone."

Anna Letitia Barbaund.

 

This allegory, loosely taken from Greek mythology, 

explains the origin and purpose of pity.

"In humanity's innocent "Golden Age," 

Love and Joy were meant to be united forever.

 But after people fell into sin and corruption, 

heaven withdrew from the earth. 

Love remained, but instead of marrying Joy, 

he was commanded to marry Sorrow. 

Their daughter was Pity, 

who inherited her father's tenderness and her mother's sadness.

Pity is gentle, compassionate, and deeply moved by suffering. 

She teaches people to weep, not because sorrow is good in itself, 

but because tears soften the heart and awaken compassion. 

Her mission is to follow Sorrow wherever she goes, 

healing the wounds that suffering leaves behind 

and comforting the brokenhearted.

The story ends with the promise that Pity and Sorrow are only temporary. 

Because Sorrow is mortal, she and Pity will one day pass away, 

and Love will finally be reunited with Joy, as was always intended.

Central meaning: Human suffering has disrupted the original harmony of creation, 

but it has also given birth to pity—

the compassionate love that comforts those who suffer. 

Pity exists only because sorrow exists, and when sorrow finally ends, 

pity will no longer be needed. 

Love and Joy will once again reign together."

Anna Lititia Barbauld. 

 

"A king once offered a reward for anyone who could invent a new pleasure. The author suggests that the person who invented a truly new form of torture or horror would actually deserve more praise from writers of entertainment.

The goal of this essay is to explore why some kinds of suffering feel satisfying or moving when shown in stories, while others simply repel us. Plain, unfiltered misery is never enjoyable to watch. We do feel strong sympathy for suffering, but that sympathy is just raw pain—similar to what we’d feel ourselves, only milder. It doesn’t produce the warm, melting sorrow we call pity. These are two different emotions with very different physical signs: Raw sympathetic pain makes us tense up, shudder, and grimace.

True pity relaxes the face, softens the features, and brings tears.

When we step on a disgusting bug, we may flinch in shared discomfort, but it’s nothing like the tender sadness we feel for Odysseus’s old dog, who recognized his master after twenty years, wagged his tail, and died. 

Extreme physical agony, by itself, doesn’t make good tragedy. Watching someone scream from a toothache or undergo surgery would not be moving—it would just be horrible. 

For suffering to become pleasing or produce real pity, it needs something else mixed in: love, admiration, or beauty of character. We need to care about the person and respect them.        Their pain and danger then make their virtues more touching. Tears come more from tenderness than from sorrow alone. Tenderness can make us cry even in moments of joy.        In fact, any distress that brings tears almost always contains some hidden pleasure. 

Pure suffering without any redeeming quality simply hurts."

Anna Latitia Barbauld.

 Jail joys

One of life's greatest pleasures is sharing the joy of discovery. And when you have a group of men in front of you where the only shred of self-esteem left in them is if they are perceived as tough, macho and worldly wise. I've long since learned they don't need to be told they are sinners, the heart of every inmate is vividly aware of their sins.

 The guilt and toxic shame is hidden behind walls of pride and bravado and they need not be reminded. Oh! but what they haven't heard is that Christ seeks the boy in them, the child that desperately needs to be told they have value, they matter, they actually have a Father, unlike theirs that came home with whiskey breath, seeking to find fault, any fault. When the truck parks that brought Dad home from work, it was something that sent fear and alarm and they rushed to their room or out the back door. When you hear your mother futilely try to pacify his ill nature and hot temper before it breaks into violence, as the shrieks and sounds of things breaking resulting in your own mother huddled in a flood of tears. And you sit utterly helpless, feeling a weight of guilt no child should ever shoulder. 

Soothing a sin sick soul, offering hope to the hopeless, lifting up the downcast, these are the joys of sharing the gospels life affirming message that sends rays of light and hope into hardened and parched souls. To have the joy and privilege of waving the blood stained banner over the least, last and lost;  watching a beam of light come into their eyes, hope in hopelessness, man! give me Jesus! let me share the "old, old story how a Savior came from glory, how He gave His life on Calvary to save a wretch like me."

                          

The following quote by Jeremy Taylor

asks us to consider the folly of intemperance.

The meaning of intemperance is commonly used to describe

excessive indulgence of bodily appetites—

such as overeating, or more specifically,

the habitual or excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages.

The term can also apply to unrestrained behavior.

It only takes nature’s leftovers.

Once the belly is full and the body wants no more,

any pleasure that follows turns quickly to disgust and loathing.

“Certain it is, intemperance feeds only on nature's leftovers.

When the belly is full, any pleasure that follows is close to disgust.

It is like the taste of rich food at the end of a third course,

or the sweetness of honey to one who has eaten until he can bear no more.

The difference between the intemperate man

and one who dies from another cause is like

the ancient story of the Phalangia:

some serpents were said to make men die laughing,

and others to die weeping.

So the intemperate man and the one wasting away from disease both die certainly;

but one dies laughing, the other weeping.

All his excessive pleasure is nothing but the sting of a serpent

honey mixed with poison.

It wounds the heart, and he dies like one bitten by a tarantula, dancing and singing until he bows his head and kisses his breast with the fatal nodding of death.”

[According to an old European belief, the bite of a tarantula caused people to dance frantically until they collapsed or died.]