"You cannot, Madam, form a right judgment of yourself except you make due allowance for those things which are not peculiar to yourself, but common to all who have spiritual perceptions, and they are indeed the inseparable appendages of this mortal state. If it were not so, why should the most spiritual and gracious people be so ready to confess themselves vile and worthless? One eminent branch of our holiness is a sense of shame and humiliation for those evils which are only known to ourselves and to Him who searches the hearts, joined with acquiescence in Jesus who is appointed of God -- wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. I will venture to assure you that though you will possess a more stable peace, in proportion as the Lord enables you to live more simply upon the blood, righteousness, and grace of the Mediator, you will never grow into a better opinion of yourself than you have at present. The nearer you are brought to Him, the quicker sense you will have of your continual need of Him, and thereby your admiration of His power, love, and compassion will increase from year to year."

I ran across this piece by John Newton the other morning and I think it contains truth that Christians need to consider. We follow a holy God and He wants us to be holy too, but in that pursuit, when we have the ideals, morals and ethics of perfection as our goal, we can become disheartened sensing our many failings.

This piece puts perspective to it, in this candid letter to a lady he is mentoring.

I chose this picture because to me it symbolizes falling into the arms of Christ in complete helplessness.

Photo from the Internet

I spent the last week in Spokane, Washington with my son and his family. We arrived on the Fourth of July and enjoyed the huge firework display by the river. The next day, Sunday, we went to church and I got the treat of hearing my son preach what I think was one of Christendoms finest sermons. I realize I may be somewhat bias, but he is no novice behind the pulpit and the scriptures came alive, the anointing was there and I was captivated. During the sermon the true need of Christ and His church was apparent; a police car pulled up in front of the church, then another and finally there were five police cars directly in front of the church. There was a domestic disturbance in the apartment above the church and the police had to break down one door to remove a man and take him off to jail. Eric's wife, LeeElla, offered her assistance and helped the police find out what was actually going on because the woman spoke Spanish and the man spoke Russian, so the language barrier escalated a simple incident into an arrest. But two nights later, there was a far more serious situation; one block from the church, an argument escalated and one man drew a knife and killed the other. Jesus has grown this little store-front church right in the midst of great need; it is no cozy little church in the suburbs, but rather a refuge on the front lines of battle.
And the battles waged right in front of our eyes.

Later that week, one of the members of the church offered Eric the use of his cabin in the mountains, and we enthusiastically drove to the mountain paradise. I'm not sure who snapped this picture of me fishing off the dock, but it captures the moment far better than words can describe.

Here I am with my oldest son Eric preparing to catch dinner; hmmm, good thing we had hamburger along because we didn't exactly empty the lake :) But I did spend a spellbinding afternoon talking and drinking up the beauty with my son. I wish I could spend many more hours like this with all my children and grandchildren; we had such a great time.

Last, but not least, Mel and I got to meet face to face. My oldest granddaughter and I met on her lunch hour and it was so much fun to finally meet after blogging for so long. I have enjoyed Mel and her comments on my blog but I have to say after meeting her I have an even greater appreciation for her. Mel, you were so full of life, far prettier than photos can capture, and a joy to be with. It was a special part of my trip to walk and talk together, go to places you have written about and just soak up the sunshine that beamed from within you.

While we stood before this beautiful Catholic church, we couldn't help but think of Joseph; so, we had my granddaughter take this picture as we waved to you Joseph, we wished you and all our blogging friends could be with us.

I read a poem this morning about the drudgery of the poor. This poem speaks of a woman who works making clothing and her thoughts as she continues sewing in fatigue and boredom. I won’t quote the entire poem for it is lengthy, but I think you will be moved by the stanzas I include.




The Song of the Shirt
Thomas Hood


“Work – work – work!
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream.

“O men, with sisters dear!
O men with mothers and wives,
It is not linen you’re wearing out!
But human creature’s lives!
Stitch – stitch – stitch!
In poverty, hunger and dirt;
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A shroud as well as a shirt.

“But why do I talk of Death?
That phantom of grisly bone;
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own.
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;
O God! That bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

“Work – work – work!
My labor never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread and rags.
That shattered roof – and this naked floor,
A table – a broken chair;
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

“Oh, but to breathe the breath
of the cowslip and primrose sweet –
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet;
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want,
And the walk that costs a meal!”

Photo by Stephen Buhagiar

So, if you didn't watch America's Got Talent last night and missed Thia Megia's performance, I would strongly recommend you go to their web-site under video performances and watch her sing. Unreal, truly unreal!

I hate computers!!!!!!!! I love computers!!!!!!!!!!!! ........They depress me.
But, I finally got mine out of the hospital and I can post once more, yippee! I can't access my email, which is what the picture is referencing; when will Mr. Gates figure out how to make a truly user friendly computer that helps poor computer illiterate souls like me? In my lifetime I hope.

A lot has happened since my last post, I found another job after 26 years working for the same place. I got a lead on a job with Teen Challenge, which is a drug and alcohol rehabilitation program started by David Wilkerson and the Assembly of God church. Students, (people who volunteer for the 9 month program), after de-tox, are put right to work; one of those places is in a Thrift Store where they receive goods, help sort merchandise, price, deliver and pickup, and all the tasks necessary for the business. The Thrift Store provides nearly half the funds for the program and Teen Challenge needed someone to oversee and manage the men and the business. The men need to learn business ethics, successful life skills and of course need Godly counsel and encouragement to succeed in their commitment to overcome their addiction. I interviewed for the job and as God would have it, I was hired. Praise His name! I am so enthused and can't wait to begin - start date July 16th. So please pray that I would walk in the wisdom of God as I work with the men and work to grow the business so others will have the opportunity to join the program. There is no cost to the men, and women, in the program. So funding is a very important part of success.

Now I will spend the balance of the evening trying to get the other functions of my computer up to speed.

Picture from the Internet

I was reading a piece by Max Beerbohm on laughter just for fun, and I was intrigued by his style and I thought the two following parts were entertaining,
hope you enjoy.

“As to what is most precious among the accessories to the world we live in, different men hold different opinions. There are people whom the sea depresses, whom mountains exhilarate. Personally, I want the sea always – some not populous edge of it for choice; and with it sunshine, and wine, and a little music. My friend on the mountain yonder is of tougher fiber and sterner outlook, disapproves of the sea’s laxity and instability, has no ear for music and no palate for the grape, and regards the sun as a rather enervating institution, like central heating in a house. What he likes is a grey day and the wind in his face; crags at a great altitude; and a flask of whisky. Yet I think that even he, if we were trying to determine from what inner sources mankind derives the greatest pleasure in life, would agree with me that only the emotion of love takes higher rank than the emotion of laughter. Both these emotions are partly mental, partly physical. It is said that the mental symptoms of love are wholly physical in origin. They are not the less ethereal for that. The physical sensations of laughter, on the other hand, are reached by a process whose starting-point is in the mind. They are not the less “gloriously of our clay.” There is laughter that goes so far as to lose all touch with its motive, and to exist only, grossly, in itself. This is laughter at its best.”

“……I utter a course peal of ----laughter.
At least I say I do so. In point of fact, I have merely smiled. Twenty years ago, ten years ago, I should have laughed, and have professed to you that I had merely smiled. A very young man is not content to be very young, nor even a young man to be young: he wants to share the dignity of his elders. There is no dignity in laughter; there is much of it in smiles. Laughter is but a joyous surrender, smiles give token of mature criticism. It may be that in the early ages of this world there were far more laughter than is to be heard now, and that aeons hence laughter will be obsolete, and smiles universal – every one, always, mildly slightly, smiling. But it is less useful to speculate as to mankind’s past and future than to observe men. And you will have observed with me in the club-rooms that young men at most times look solemn, whereas old men or men of middle age mostly smile; and also that those young men do often laugh out loud and long among themselves, while we others – the gayest and best of us in the most favorable circumstances—seldom achieve more than our habitual act of smiling. Does the sound of that laughter jar on us? Do we liken it to the crackling of thorns under a pot? Let us do so. There is no cheerier sound. But let us not assume it to be laughter of fools because we sit quiet. It is absurd to disapprove of what one envies, or to wish a good thing were no more because it has passed out of our possession.”

This second piece will have little appeal if you are young, but if you are an old-timer like me, I think you will, sadly, relate.

Top Photo by Om Mishra, bottom photo by Miguel Ramos

I was reading more of John Owen, about how God rescues His people, and he made a list of 6 ways God commonly comes to the aid of his people and as I read over it a few times, I was struck by the first method and how many times have I seen this come to pass. Times when I was at my wits end, circumstances seemed entirely impossible to over come, and low and behold, a change took place that defied all reason, and I was left praising God for another miracle of deliverance. All of the six methods of God below are the things that give me hope when I am down.

David’s plea in Ps. 25:20; “Guard my soul and deliver me;
Do not let me be ashamed, for I take refuge in Thee.” captures the essence of Owens quote.


“And rest upon this, that God has innumerable ways that thou knowest not of to give thee deliverance; such as –

1st. He can, by some providence, alter that whole state of things from whence thy temptation doth arise, so taking fuel from the fire, causing it to go out of itself; as it was with David in the day of battle: or,

2dly. He can tread down Satan under thy feet, that he shall not dare to suggest any thing any more to thy disadvantage (the God of peace shall do it), that thou shalt hear of him no more; or,

3dly. He can send an affliction that shall mortify thy heart unto the matter of the temptation, whatever it be, that that which was before a sweet morsel under the tongue shall neither have taste or relish in it unto thee,-- thy desire to it shall be killed; as was the case with the same David: or

4thly. He can give thee such supply of grace as that thou mayst be freed, though not from the temptation itself, yet from the tendency and danger of it; as was the case with Paul; or,

5thly He can give thee such a comfortable persuasion of good success in the issue as that thou shalt have refreshment in thy trials, and be kept from the trouble of the temptation; as was the case with the same Paul; or,

6thly He can utterly remove it, and make thee a complete conqueror. And innumerable other ways he hath of keeping thee from entering into temptation, so as to be foiled by it.”

What a mighty God we serve!

Painting from the Internet

In John Owens classic book titled “Temptation and Sin”, he discusses, in chapter 15, some of the causes of our souls decay. In this particular quote he is talking about Sloth and Negligence and its effects on our soul. I remember reading this about 10 years ago and I loved his application from the Song of Songs –

“So was it with the spouse in the Song of Songs, chapter 5:2; Christ calls unto her, verse 1, with a marvelous loving and gracious invitation unto communion with himself. She, who had formerly been ravished at the first hearing of that joyful sound, being now under the power of sloth and carnal ease, returns a sorry excusing answer to his call, which ended in her own signal loss and sorrow. Indwelling sin, I say, prevailing by spiritual sloth upon the souls of men unto an inadvertency of the motions of God’s Spirit in their former apprehensions of divine love, and a negligence of stirring up continual thoughts of faith about it, a decay grows insensibly upon the whole soul. Thus God oft complains that his people had “forgotten him;” that is, grew unmindful of his love and grace, - which was the beginning of their apostasy.”

If you read this in Song of Songs it certainly brings the text to life.

Picture by Lee

Having posted a half a dozen of Beecher's practical quotes, I thought I would jot down something more theological; so this quote summarizes his thoughts on "What is the Christian religion?"--

The Christian religion is not a system of laws. It is a state of the heart. The Christian religion is not a philosophy of truth as it relates to man's nature and duty. It is a soul-life. It is not an inventory of truths as they existed before man came into the world, and will exist after he passes away. The Christian religion, in respect to each particular man who believes in it, is a state of facts in his own consciousness. Christ in a man - that is the Christian religion. It is Christ dwelling by love in his heart, or dwelling in his heart by faith. Out of this will grow many doctrines, and many inferences; but it is the seminal form, the germinate element, in Christianity. It is the personal relationship of the individual heart to the Lord Jesus Christ as its supreme head and lover. That not only makes a man a Christian, but brings him into the central point of the Christian system. Everywhere in the New Testament this one element stands forth - the personal identification of the human heart with the Lord Jesus Christ."

Well said Henry, in my estimation.

I was reading a sermon by Henry Ward Beecher, one of America's finest preachers of the 19th century, and the following six posts are excerpts from this sermon directed to young men and women, but applies to me as well. I will be sharing these with my grandchildren, piece by piece over the next few months.

“One of the things I would say to the young, both men and women, is in the homely form of a proverb – “Every one should be willing to creep before he walks.” This does not seem to be a very important thing; and yet, it is of exceeding importance. There is hardly a young man that goes from his father’s house who does not want money before he earns it. He does want to walk before he can creep. There is hardly a young man that goes out into life who does not want the reputation of being smart before he is smart. There is a hardly a single circle in which you see half a dozen young men, that do not see them aping something; making believe; “putting on airs,” as the saying is. They wish to have the appearance of a bravery, a position, or something else, which they have not attained. They are not willing to creep before they walk. The very beginning of life develops a tendency in men to false appearances; to insincerity; to an estimation which is radically unmanly; to a desire to have what does not belong to them – what they have no right to claim by reason of anything that they are, or that they have been. To be without pretense; to desire to have only that which you can legitimately lay claim to, of praise, of sympathy, of reputation, of means – to have a manly pride, by which you shall be the factor of that which is in your won possession – that is thoroughly salutary. An honest manhood scorns pretense and appearances. These are the signs of unripeness, not only, but they are vicious, bad signs in a child.”

Photo from the Internet

“Next, you must secure, as you go, your own education. One man cannot educate another man. Every man must educate himself. The school gives him a chance; books give him a chance; teachers facilitate and help; but, after all, the man is the schoolmaster as well as scholar. He is both pupil and teacher.
Many men are said to be self-taught. No man was ever taught in any other way. Do you suppose a man is a bucket to be hung on the well of knowledge and pumped full? Man is a creature that learns by the exertion of his own faculties. There are aids to learning, of various kinds; but no matter how many of these aids a man may be surrounded by, after all, the learning is that which he himself acquires. And whether he is in college or out of college, in school or out of school, every man must educate himself. And in our times and our community every man has the means of doing it."

This is such a pertinent issue as I have grandchildren just entering High School. I may be somewhat partial, but I think all my Grandchildren are very bright, but without the above application, it will be no advantage.

H.W. Beecher - Photo from the Internet

“Here is a very great fault, my young friends, with you. I do not blame you that you are jovial. You ought to be jovial. I do not blame you that you love pleasure. Pleasure is right if it be rational. It may be a moral excellence. I do not blame you that you are chatty and gay, and that you spend your time with great delight in youth. Youth is a time for enjoyment.
I sympathize with all these things. But I do blame you that you live for these. I blame you that they are all you think about. If they were for the intervals; if they were, so to speak, the cushions that you put between the hard bones of duty; if they were relaxations, no one more than I, would praise you. But I am ashamed to see young men and maidens who spend their whole life in foolish, idle, endless chatter or in endless running after mere pleasure, or in courses that have not one single particle of upbuilding in them.”

H.W. Beecher - photo by Pavel Kaplun

"To begin at the lowest, many of you will be workers – not brain-workers, but hand-workers. You will be called to earn a livelihood by manual labor. You need not be ashamed of it; but, after all, a man ought not to work with his hands alone. He may begin in that way; but every man’s hand ought to be taught to think; and every year he ought to work more with his head, and less with his hand. I do not blame any man for being a day-laborer, or a menial laborer; but I do blame a man when he is content to labor with his hand, and never aspires to anything beyond that – never makes that hand fuller, more industrious, more capable. Every man who begins to work with his hand should put brains in the palm of that hand, and educate it, so that it shall become more and more potential…….. Every year one should read more, and every year one should learn and do more.”

I like this quote because in the foolishness and trubulence of my youth, having quit High School in my last year, I began working with my hands, and back! It didn't take to many shovel fulls, factory work and tedium before I figure I had better put some "brains in the palm of my hand" or I would be an old man at 40.

H.W. Beecher - Photo by Marino Cano

“A busy man has a right to amusement, and nobody else has. A very earnest, intense, sober man has a right to wit and mirth. That is his privilege. But a man that twitters and laughs all the time is a fool. A man that is bent on the acquisition of fact, and of principle, and of knowledge, has a right to unbend, and to read sporting papers; and certainly funny papers are not to be disallowed. There is much in them that may do a man good, as a relaxation – as an alternative. But it is painful and sickening to see a young man who makes the Sunday morning journal his classics; who studies all the things he knows out of a fifth-class trashy newspaper; who knows something about the horses that run, something about gambling saloons, and a good deal about drinking saloons, and a good deal about scandal; who reads papers that minister to his morbid appetites, to his lower passions, to the meanest parts of his nature, feculent, dripping, reeking with things that are low and unmanly. Is it not shameful for a man to give his time to reading and glozing over such contemptible stuff? Ought not a man to be ashamed to let all the great and noble themes of true secular knowledge go past him unheeded and unexplored, and spend his leisure in these miserable communings of miserable men with the most miserable parts of themselves.”

Please forgive me for the Twitter reference, I know nothing about it and I didn't mean to meddle, but the application is easy.

H.W.Beecher - picture from Internet

“When I go to the libraries and ask what are the books that are most drawn out, the information which I receive is not, I am sorry to say, creditable to the character of the young. They do not read histories. They do not read biographies. They do not read travels. They do not read scientific works. There are fifty novels taken out, where there is one solid and substantial work drawn. I have not a word to say against novels. I believe in them. I think that if they are good they are useful. I believe that they are no more to be disallowed than any other part of literature. They can be made to serve the very best kinds of economy, of virtue and morality, to say nothing of religion; but a man who feeds on nothing but these – how miserable and wretched he is! These are the whips and syllabubs of life (cream and froth). They are not the bread nor the meat. They are the confections of life. But ought a man to sit down and eat sugar-plums for his dinner, and nothing but sugar-plums?”

This is such a relevant issue in our home where the stream of Sci-fi books that have been popular lately, can become the total intake, excluding everything else. Eragon and Twilight come to mind.

H.W.Beecher - photo from Internet

The following piece is by William Penn from "Some fruits of Solitude".

I like his short, to the point remarks that reduce Christianity down to the essentials. This is a good example of that ---


"For serving God concerns the frame of our Spirits, in the whole course of our lives; in every occasion we have, in which we may shew our love to his law.

For as men in battle are continually in the way of shot, so we, in this world, are ever within the reach of temptation. And herein do we serve God, if we avoid what we are forbid, as well as do what he commands.
God is better served in resisting a temptation to evil, than in many formal prayers.
This is but twice or thrice a day; but that every hour and moment of the day. So much more is our continual watch, than our morning and evening devotion.

Wouldst thou then serve God? Do not that alone which thou wouldst not that another should see thee do."

Photo from the Internet

"A painter once wanted a picture of innocence, and drew from life the likeness of a child at prayer. The little suppliant was kneeling by his mother. The palms of his hands were reverently pressed together, and his mild blue eyes were upturned with the expression of devotion and peace. The portrait was much prized by the painter, who hung it up on his wall, and called it "Innocence."
Years passed away, and the artist became an old man. Still the picture hung there. He had often thought of painting a counterpart, - the picture of guilt, - but had not found the opportunity. At last he effected his purpose by paying a visit to a neighboring jail. On the damp floor of his cell lay a wretched culprit heavily ironed. Wasted was his body, and hollow his eyes; vice was visible in his face. The painter succeeded admirably; and the portraits were hung side by side for "Innocence" and "Guilt."
The two originals of the pictures were discovered to be one and the same person, - first, in the innocence of childhood! second, in the degradation of guilt and sin and evil habits."


This little story from "Pushing to the Front" by Orison Swett Marden comes from his chapter on "Habit". It's a strong reminder for us to build good habits in our children, because, after all, we are creatures of habit.

Picture by Jacqueling Roberts

One of the first poets I ever read was Walt Mason; he was a popular American poet in the 19th century. Here is what George Ade said about him – “Mason is the high priest of horse sense.” He is the sweet singer of our American Israel. Because he says a thing in his own way, he says it the way the average American would say it, if he could only say it that way. Any one of us may have the thought but to him is given the gift of expression. He whangs a home-made harp and because it is home-made,-- because it voices the true homely, plain, honest-to-God sentiments of the real people in a homely fashion, because it rings with a sweetness, a sanity and a wit that belongs to that old low-combed, red-necked Kansas rooster, in a greater degree than to any other being known to me as a resident upon this planet at the present moment – we love the Harpist and we love the Tune.”

Here is a couple of samples of his poems --


When I have slipped my tether, and left this vale of tears, to see what sort of weather they have in other spheres, I want no costly casket with silver trappings bound; just put me in a basket and chuck me underground. Death would be far more jolly and pleasant every way, but for the idle folly of making big display. It takes a roll unending to make a graveyard spread, and all the fuss and spending don't help the man who's dead. 'Twere best to keep the stivers safe hidden in a tub, to comfort the survivors and buy them duds and grub. I know that it would grind me when on the other shore, if those I left behind me had wolves before the door; if I looked down and found them, immersed in tears and woe, with creditors around them all howling for the dough. So when I up and trundle down to the sunless sea, let no one blow a bundle to pay for planting me. I'll slumber just as sweetly in some old basswood box, as though trussed up completely with silver screws and locks."


Saturday Night, and the week’s work done, and the Old Man home with a bunch of mon!
You see him sit on the cottage porch, and he puffs away at a five-cent torch, while the good wife sings at her evening chores, and the children gambol around outdoors. The Old Man sits on his work-day hat, and he doesn’t envy the plutocrat; his debts are paid and he owns his place, and he’ll look a king in the blooming face; his hands are hard with the brick and loam, but his heart is soft with the love of home! Saturday night, and it’s time for bed! And the kids come in with a buoyant tread; and they hush their noise at the mother’s look, as she slowly opens a heavy book, and reads the tale of the stormy sea, and the voice that quieted Galilee. Then away to bed and the calm repose that only honesty ever knows. Saturday night, and the world is still, and it’s only the erring who finds things ill; there is sweet content and a sweeter rest, where a good heart beats in a brave man’s breast.”

"Consider, that true, sound, solid marks, signs, and evidences, are the best way to prevent delusions. There is no such deceit in sound and solid evidences, as there is in flashy joys, and in high and strange raptures, by which many glistering professors have been sadly deceived and deluded. Young Samuel, being not acquainted with any extraordinary manifestations of the presence and power of God, took the voice of God from heaven to be the voice of old Eli.

Ah! how many have there been in our days, that have taken the irregular motions of their own hearts, and the violent workings of their own distempered fancies, and imaginations, and Satanical delusions, to be the visions of God, celestial raptures, divine breathings, and the powerful impulses of the Spirit of God; and so have been stirred up to speak, write, and act such things that have been, not only contrary to the holy word of God, but also contrary to the very laws of nature, and nations."

Now this piece was written about 1650 by Thomas Brooks. Seems like there have been televangelists since the inception of Christianity. I have seen many winds and ways come and go in the last 40 years. This piece of advice written centuries ago, is as good today as it was then. "Be wise as a serpent...."

Photo from the Internet

I ran across the following piece by Thomas Brooks and it made my heart well up in consideration of the love and patience of God. He makes such a good point for those that are discouraged and get downtrodden over their failures.

“Fifthly, Get this principle riveted in your hearts, That the lack of such preparations or qualifications that many men lay a great stress upon, shall be no impediment to hinder your soul’s interest in Christ, if you will but open to Christ, and close with Jesus Christ.
Rev. 3:20, ‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice, and open to me, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.’ Pray tell me, at whose door was this that Christ stood and knocked? Was it not at the Laodicean’s door? Was it not at their door that thought their penny as good silver as any? That said they were rich, and had need of nothing, when Christ tells them to their very faces, ‘that they were poor, and miserable, and blind, and naked.’ None more unprepared, unqualified, and unfitted for union and communion with Christ than these lukewarm Laodiceans; and yet the Lord Jesus is very ready and willing that such should have intimate communion and fellowship with him.
I pray, what qualifications and preparations had they in Ezek. 16, when God saw them in their blood, and yet that was a time of love, and God even then spread his skirt over them, and made a covenant with them, and they became his.
What qualifications or preparations had Paul, Mary Magdalene, Zaccheus, and Lydia, etc? And yet these believed in Christ, these had a blessed and glorious interest in Christ.”

This gracious persistence of Christ to even those in desperate spiritual conditions never ceases to amaze me. This quote also reminded me of a piece Donna, a friend of mine wrote, from the same chapter. Very insightful if you haven't read it --


Revelation 3:15-16
It's interesting how a person can be get indoctrinated and not even know it. For years, I believed that being cold was a bad thing (a sign of lack of love for God and a good sign that I was going to hell) and that God preferred us hot (a sign of passion for Him and opposite of cold) but I want to share with you (for those who were taught as I) a new look at a very fire and brimstone verse.I believe that God was not speaking about the temperature of a soul and it's dedication to God. I believe that God was speaking about how we are supposed to minister to those He brings into our path and how we are to approach preaching the Gospel of the Good News.I find myself hurt by Christians that believe that if someone's eye lusts, that they are the tool to poke out the eye of their neighbor. God was speaking about our own eyes...not the eyes of our neighbors. But this is what comes from the teaching of religion that says we must be hot for God without teaching the balance of the cool liquid .Instead of the Word becoming an instrument of healing, it becomes a drink of condemnation. God drank both the hot and the cold. he only spit out the tepid water/liquid because the properties to cool or warm up the body had been lost. Similar to eating salt that has lost it's saltiness.To the soul that has been chilled by the coldness of this world...a hot liquid that burns and warms his throat will drive the numbness out of his body. To the soul who has lost his way in the desert...his bones turning to dust...the gentleness of a cold liquid brings cooling to his burning insides and brings the temperature down to where he can think again.There must always be a balance in whatever we do in the Name of God and a true Love for more than just "saving the soul" of the person God has put in our path. Our goal is to drive out Satan and his kingdom and cause him pain...not the person we are bringing out of bondage.

Picture from the Internet

A Fortune in Good Manners

"When Ezekiel Whitman, a prominent lawyer, and graduate of Harvard, was elected to the Massachusetts legislature, he came to Boston from his farm in countryman’s dress, and went to a hotel in Boston. He entered the parlor and sat down, when he overheard the remark between some ladies and gentlemen:
“Ah, here comes a real homespun countryman. Here’s fun.” They asked him all sorts of queer questions, tending to throw ridicule upon him, when he arose and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to wish you health and happiness, and may you grow better and wiser in advancing years, bearing in mind that outward appearances are deceitful. You mistook me, from my dress, for a country booby; while I, from the same superficial cause, thought you were ladies and gentlemen.
The mistake has been mutual.” Just then Governor Caleb Strong entered and called to Mr. Whitman, who, turning to the dumbfounded company, said: “I wish you a very good evening.”

I like little random stories like this, hope you do as well.

It caused me to linger over the picture I chose and try and see more than what first struck me.

Orison Swett Marden - Photo by Manuel Libres Librodo Jr.

Foes to success

"Over-sensitiveness, whether in man or women, is really an exaggerated form of self-consciousness. It is far removed from conceit or self-esteem, yet it causes one’s personality to overshadow everything else. A sensitive person feels that, whatever he does, wherever he goes, or whatever he says, he is the center of observation. He imagines that people are criticizing his movements, making fun at his expense, or analyzing his character, when they are probably not thinking of him at all. He does not realize that other people are too busy and too much interested in themselves and other things to devote to him any of their time beyond what is absolutely necessary. When he thinks they are aiming remarks at him, putting slights upon him, or trying to hold him up to the ridicule of others, they may not be even conscious of his presence."

This piece by Orison Swett Marden is just a snippet from his chapter on Foes to Success, things that hold us back. When I was young I was very bashful, to the point I would cry bloody murder if someone just wanted to take my picture. When I was older and got into business I was forced to talk with strangers and eventually I overcame shyness. But I still find a degree of discomfort when I enter a room full of strangers. I have learned how crippling self-conciousness can be to some; but I find his assessment above is generally true. Most people are far to self absorbed to spend time considering others.

Photo by Sergio Passolano

"The world is full of theoretical, one-sided, impractical men, who have turned all the energies of their lives into one faculty until they have developed, not a full-orbed, symmetrical man, but a monstrosity, while all their other faculties have atrophied and died. We often call these one sided men geniuses, and the world excuses their impractical and almost idiotic conduct in most matters, because they can perform one kind of work, that no one else can do as well."

When I read this it reminded me of some Christians I have known who have but one subject, the Bible, which they quote over and over again, "verseoblenders" to quote Matt.

They would call themselves evangelists; now the world may excuse one sided geniuses, but most often the world just ignores the "evangelist" the way they would a persistent Amyway salesman. I doubt our company is enjoyed if we see nothing but through an evangelistic lens. If people are only souls to be saved from hell-fire not people to be listened to and learned from, cared about, enjoyed and appreciated I think we paint a one dimensional portrait of Christ. The photo I chose above shows a one dimensional family, it causes repulsion and has no likeness to reality. I think some people see Christians that way.................. not good.

Picture by Nina Levy

“When Dickens entered a room,” said one who knew him well, “it was like the sudden kindling of a big fire, by which every one was warmed.”

I read that quote from Orison Marden’s book “Pushing to the Front”; it was in a chapter about manners and I immediately visualized a scene of a London hearth with a warming fire and what a wonderful thing to be said on someone. As Christians we are to show ourselves friendly and to carry the fragrance of Christ, but all too often it is not the case. I read on in the chapter and ran across this –

“A guest for two weeks at the house of Arthur M. Cavanaugh, M.P., who was without arms or legs, was very desirous of knowing how he fed himself; but the conversation and manner of the host were so charming that the visitor was scarcely conscious of his deformity.”

It’s a rare thing to be so engaged and drawn in by a gracious person; but it is a trait that we all admire and would aspire to, although we,(certainly myself), rarely captivate people. I generally spend most of my time trying not to offend them; sometimes I remind my self of what an acquaintance of Carlyle said of him when he saw him for the first time -- “His presence, in some unaccountable manner, rasped the nerves. I expected to meet a rare being, and I left him feeling as if I had drunk sour wine, or had had an attack of seasickness.” But when grace is running freely connections happen that are truly spiritual. I think whether Christian or not, we should aspire to rear our children to be gracious and well mannered.
This chapter has many little stories for example of the best and worst of manners; here’s the good –

“The late King Edward, when Prince of Wales, the first gentleman in Europe, invited an eminent man to dine with him. When coffee was served, the guest, to the consternation of the others, drank from his saucer. An open titter of amusement went round the table. The Prince, quickly noting the cause of the untimely amusement, gravely emptied his cup into his saucer and drank after the manner of his guest. Silent and abashed, the other members of the princely household took the rebuke and did the same.”

Now here’s an illustration of the bad –

“Here is a man who is cross, crabbed, moody, sullen, silent, sulky, stingy, and mean with his family and servants. He refuses his wife a little money to buy a needed dress, and accuses her of extravagance that would ruin a millionaire.
Suddenly the door bell rings. Some neighbors call: what a change! The bear of a moment ago is as docile as a lamb. As by magic he becomes talkative, polite, generous. After the callers have gone, his little girl begs her father to keep on his “company manners” for a little while, but the sullen mood returns and his courtesy vanishes as quickly as it came. He is the same disagreeable, contemptible, crabbed bear as before the arrival of his guests.”

I wish I couldn’t relate to that last story but sad to say it happens too often. But that is why I read things like this to check me, remind me and encourage me to be more Christ like.

Top photo by Stephane Le Gal, bottom photo by Mike Malloy

"I once killed birds in my wantonness - God forgive me! - merely to test my skill with the rifle. But I received a bitter lesson.

While once passing through the woods I carlelessly fired at a bird, caring only to discharge my gun, so as to make my next fire sure. I wounded a bird which sat upon the fence. I felt guilt stricken at once, and tried to catch it. Failing in that, I thought it would be humanity to shoot it. Before I could load my rifle, it fluttered across the field, where I followed it, and found the panting sufferer at its nest, and the blood dripping upon its young. My cruelty flashed upon me in all its nakedness, and I cringed under my reflections like a guilty butcher as I was." Animal World.

When I was a boy, something like this happened to me and it was not long before I lost interest in hunting. Now I don't condone the animal worship that oozes here in the West. We spend far more on our pets than we do on the orphans or widows; but suffice to say; cruelty in any form is evil in its fullness.

While looking for a picture to go with this post I found the following piece on the Four Stages of Cruelty. I think it pretty much covers the issue --

Hogarth's Modern Moral Series: The Four Stages of Cruelty.
Hogarth tells us that the images ‘were done in the hopes of preventing in some degree that cruel treatment of poor Animals which makes the streets of London more disagreeable to the human mind, than any thing what ever, the very describing of which gives pain’.

First Stage of Cruelty

This street scene shows a group of youths, almost all of whom are participating in or encouraging the abuse of animals and birds. Boys are seen tying a bone to a dog’s tail, cauterising the eyes of a bird, stringing up kittens from a signpost or cockfighting.
The worst abuse is being inflicted by Nero, who pushes an arrow into the anus of a terrified dog being restrained by two other boys. Another youth is distressed by what Nero is doing and attempts to stop him by offering a tart. To the left of Nero, a boy draws a hanged man on the wall and points at him, underlining the inevitable: that Nero’s behaviour will deteriorate further and cost him his life.


Second Stage of Cruelty

This scene suggests that the abuse of animals is widespread in the streets of London. On the left Nero (now grown-up) beats his horse, the poor creature having collapsed under the strain of the cart. This is overladen with four lawyers, who are too penny-pinching to hire two carts and insensitive to the suffering they are causing.
On the left a poster displayed near the door of ‘Thavies Inn Coffee House’ advertises ‘Broughton’s Amphitheatre’, a well-known venue for boxing. ‘James Field’ and ‘George Taylor’, named below, were celebrated pugilists.
Importantly, Field was hanged for highway robbery eleven days before Hogarth’s print was published, thus establishing an interrelationship between violent sports, entertainments and criminality.


Cruelty in Perfection - Third stage of cruelty

Nero has embarked on a life of highway robbery. He is seen here being apprehended after committing a murder in the dead of night.
As with Tom Idle in Industry and Idleness, Hogarth underlines that the reality of being a highwayman is far from the glamorous, romantic existence presented by popular heroes such as Captain Macheath in The Beggar’s Opera.
Indeed, Nero’s grotesque appearance conveys the inherent viciousness of his character and brutalising way of life. His victim, Ann Gill, his lover and partner-in-crime, lies prostrate on the floor, her throat slit. Her swollen stomach makes it clear that she was pregnant.

The Reward of Cruelty - Fourth stage of cruelty.

As a piece of propaganda, this macabre image was calculated to deromanticise criminality and its consequences. It takes place in the Cutlerian theatre near Newgate prison.
Nero has been hanged at Tyburn and, as was the case with other executed criminals, his body is being dissected for the purpose of studying anatomy. The chief surgeon sits in the centre on a high-backed chair with the royal coat of arms hanging above, thus resembling a high court judge. This neatly represents the official process of judgement and punishment, which in the case of hanged criminals could extend beyond death itself.
The skeletons of dissected criminals were usually refused a Christian burial and subsequently displayed as specimens, as can be seen in the niches to the left and right.

We have been blessed with an unusually warm spring this year and I think it must be my favorite time of year. Everything is bursting into a riot of color. Everywhere I look there is a sprout, bud or bloom. The many shades of green just energize the days. I ran across the following piece on Resurrection as it relates to Spring and I can't think of a better way to begin a day than with such a delightful read; hope you enjoy it.

Resurrection

"It is the Resurrection season, and the glad word itself shall be our theme today. We will simply say it over and over, and listen to the echoes which it raises among our thoughts. It is the word in which the twins Death and Life declare themselves to be not two, but one; and the echoes, although vague, must needs be strong and musical, and they will bring us hints from afar. Not all from afar, however: the echo which reaches us first, from the hills and fields, sounds near. Very beautiful, was it not? That picture of the opening springtime which I gathered from our Bible, catching here a glimpse and there a glimpse as it lies reflected in the song of psalmist and prophet, and of Jesus, who had so often watched it as a boy on the hills of Galilee. Doubtless He used to go out to gather early lilies and note the green garments of the fresh young grass. Ten million, million tiny strugglers on our hills and in our fields today are trying to show us that ours, too, is Holy Land. The flowers have begun to greet us in our walks, - dumb angels, with faces all ashine with the glad tidings that the Savior-season hath arisen.

And how nearly universal the Resurrection is! The green tide comes pouring up from the South, pressing over the hills and running through the river-valleys, and presently not one inch that can wear green but is bathed in the living glory. The trees, swelling with buds, set their brown nets in its path, and soon the meshes are full of crinkled leafage into their rooty arms, and the vines creep up their bodies. No secret place is left unvisited by Spring. The lone plant in a desert, the seed buried under a dead leaf in the wood or prisoned in the crevice of a city pavement feel the touch and turn to life again. Within the room of a sick girl, in a foul city garret, stands a solitary rose in an earthen pitcher, cut off, like a caged bird, from the companionship of kin. The Spring flying over, knows the spot, stops, and bids the plant and the sick one turn again to life and beauty. She works for no eyes. She works for all eyes. The green deep of the forests, the deep of your little parlor fernery, turning to a tropical jungle, - both are alike to her; and all her work is finished with equal exquisiteness."
W.C. Gannett

“A description of Mr. Opie Read, the American humorist, reveals heart-sorrow where the reader has seen nothing but mirth. “Sometimes”, says the writer, “his work is marked by the deepest pathos. He had lost two of his children, to whom he was devotedly attached, and these melancholy events made very marked impressions on the man and his work. ‘When one of my babies died,’ said he, in talking of the matter to me, ‘I was working for a magazine, and I was required to do just so much work every day. I was compelled to do it – it was my only means of support. During that awful time I would frequently rock the cradle of my dying babe for hours at the time. With one hand I rocked that cradle of death, and with the other I was writing stuff to make people laugh. I sobbed and wept, and watched that angel and wrote that stuff, and I felt every minute as if my heart would burst. And yet some people think this funny business is all sunshine. Sometimes even now I see articles floating around that I wrote while under that shadow of death, and occasionally some editor will preface these very things with some such remark as, “The genial and sunny-souled Opie Read says so and so,”
Yes, about these same things that I penned when my babe was dying and my heart was bursting.’”

When I read this story (author unknown) Psalms 14:10 came to my mind – “The heart knows its own bitterness and a stranger does not share its joy”. One never knows what another is going through even though they may seem perfectly content. Each has his own burden to bear and we will never know the great weight some are under, because they carry it without apparent strain. Psalms 14: 13 goes along with this theme as well – “Even in laughter the heart may be in pain, and the end of joy may be grief”.

Painting by Lord Frederick Leighton

I’m the proud owner of my first Peter Rollin’s book. This is his new book of parables. I have to share the second parable in his book; it is so relevant to Western culture.

“Jesus withdrew privately by boat to a solitary place, but the crowds continued to follow him. Evening was now approaching and the people, many of whom had traveled a great distance, were growing hungry.
Seeing this, Jesus sent his disciples out to gather food, but all they could find were five loaves of bread and two fishes. Then Jesus asked that they go out again and gather up the provisions that the crowds had brought to sustain them in their travels. Once this was accomplished, a vast mountain of fish and bread stood before Jesus. Upon seeing this he directed the people to sit down on the grass.
Standing before the food and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks to God and broke the bread. Then he passed the food among his twelve disciples. Jesus and his friends ate like kings in full view of the starving people. But what was truly amazing, what was miraculous about this meal, was that when they had finished the massive banquet there were not even enough crumbs left to fill a starving person’s hand.

The initial shock of this story relates to the way that it inscribes selfish and inhumane actions onto Christ himself by twisting the story we all know of Jesus feeding the multitude. While it would seem perfectly acceptable to attack governments, corporations, and individuals for failing to distribute goods appropriately and turning away from the poorest among us who suffer as a direct result of our greed, it would seem inappropriate to read such inhumanity into the actions of Christ himself. If anything, Christ was one who demonstrated a life of joyful simplicity, radical healing, and unimaginable love. Christ challenges us to look outward, and thus he should not be the one whom we condemn.
Yet in the Bible we read that those who follow Christ are nothing less than the manifestations of his body in the world today. The presence of Christ in the world is said to be directly encountered in the presence of those who gather together in his name. In very concrete terms, people learn of Christ through those who claim to live out the way of Christ. However, if Christ is proclaimed in the life of his followers, if the body of believers is thought to manifest the body of Christ in the world, then we must stop, draw breath, and ask ourselves whether the above tale reflects how Christ is presented to the world today, at least in the minds of those who witness the lifestyle of Christians in the West.”

The Orthodox Heretic, Peter Rollins - Photo from the Internet

"You know, I hate Christian people," said a poor English girl dying in Paris, "because all that they give is good advice. They do not know how to take a girl by the hand and save her. They build fine institutions for us when we are lost; but who will build one to prevent us being so? Do they know that many a girl sins to live?"
Words can never express the dying energy with which these words were spoken, or the bitterness with which they sank into the heart of the only one, save God, who heard them. To the lady who visited this dying girl, in connection with Miss Leigh's Homes and whose kindness gave this girl new thoughts about some Christians, the dying girl said: "Let me die on something of yours -- the pillow on which your own head rests." The request was readily granted, and there was good hope that the poor, tired soul was led to rest on the bosom of Him, whose messenger had brought her the first clear evidence of Christian love."

This little story really struck me. Some nameless Christian woman came to the aid of this dying, wayward girl, and made such an impact on her that the girl asked that she may die on something of her new Christian friend. Somehow that just penetrates me and makes me admire the kind of tenderness and lovingkindness that would impact a person to make such a sweet request.
"Let me die on something of yours"; that so gets to me. Will I ever impact someone to feel that way about me? I doubt it will ever be so, but I wish it were.
This is someone with a true gift of mercy and a heart filled with the holiness of God. To be able to endear someone like in a lifetime is one thing, but in a short time? that is so inspiring to me.

I chose this smiling face of a volunteer in Burma as an example of someone on their way learning of this grace.

“From the time that the mother binds the child’s head till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without mutual aid.
All, therefore, that need aid have a right to ask it from their fellow-mortals. None who have the power of granting aid can refuse it without guilt.”


I like this thought; it made me stop and ponder its truth. I was raised to be self-reliant, and I think it is a good thing if not taken too far. This quote made me consider that there may be times we don’t think we need others, we can make it on our own, or we won’t accept charity, but the times are coming in life, when if not for others, we would doubtless suffer greatly. There are occasions in the nursing home when a new resident is admitted and they resent being dependent, and are very difficult and belligerent, but in the last years of one’s life, we will become increasingly dependent whether we like it or not. When these prideful people come and refuse to cooperate with the staff, they are simply put on medications that make them more compliant. It is sad to see but if one needs help and refuses it to their hurt, what choice is there? In the end when we are in the throws of dying, we will cry out for someone to help us, and in our culture there will be someone there to “damp the brow” and help ease us into death. Thank God for caring nurses, family and volunteers. On the flip side, bringing a child into the world leaves us equally dependent; and once again we have need of care givers.
All through life we need some degree of assistance, as nurse, teacher, doctor, or just the social needs we are designed with. So his point of being eager to help others struck me in a deeper and fuller way. When rearing children and one of them suffered a serious accident, I will always remember the gratitude I felt when my child was finally in the care of a doctor.

Samuel Smiles - photo by Richard Baillie

"But it is needful we should know that we have no sufficiency in ourselves, and, in order to know it, we must feel it; and, therefore, the Lord sometimes withdraws His sensible influence, and then the buzzing of a fly will be an overmatch for our patience; as other times, He will show us what He can do in us and for us: then we can adopt the apostle's words and say, " I can do and suffer all things through Christ strengthening me."

I always enjoy the lessons on humility that John Newton has; I can spend a day where God has graced me with his presence so bountifully that I think I am quite the man of God; then to remind me of where the power comes from, and to whom it belongs, He withdraws and I am left, like Newton's illustration, cursing a house fly. We are a strange lot indeed.

Picture from the Internet

I have this picture in a collection of Cemetery art that I have captured off the Internet, and when I read this piece by Samuel Rutherford I thought it the perfect match. Of all the counsel I have ever heard to a grieving parent who has lost a child, I think this is about the only thing that may bring some comfort.

  "But what! do you think her lost, when she is but sleeping in the bosom of the Almighty? Think her not absent who is in such a friend's house. Is she lost to you who is found to Christ? If she were with a dear friend, although you should never see her again, your care for her would be but small. Oh now, is she not with a dear friend, and gone higher, upon a certain hope that you shall in the resurrection see her again, when (be you sure) she shall neither be hectic nor consumed in body!...... Now your daughter was a part of yourself; and therefore nature in you, being, as it were, cut and halved, will indeed be grieved; but you have to rejoice, that when a part of you is on earth, a great part of you is glorified in heaven." A letter to a friend April 23, 1628

Well, I've finally succeeded in bringing my entire body to fatigue; every muscle is screaming and in pain to the very marrow of my bones. My typing is hindered by two blisters between my fingers but I have survived a sunny weekend in Oregon! You see it is a rare event when a weekend in May provides sunshine, and any gardener knows one must make hay while the sun shines. So I took Friday off and worked non-stop from Friday morning until about an hour ago.
My blood has stopped pulsing with fatigue, the tremors have subsided in my fingers so I can type, and I have enough energy to sit upright; So, now to catch up on my blog. I included a picture of the side of my house which is bursting with new life and blooms are popping and others on the verge. I love to walk in my garden and anticipate blooms to come and enjoy the early birds. But it is work, more work than I remember in my younger days.

Replay

"The true way to feel rich is not so much by amassing a tremendous fortune as by putting a curb upon our own desires. It is of self-restraint that the feeling of prosperity is begotten. When Diogenes went to a country fair, and observed the ribbons, and the mirrors, and the fiddles, and the hobby-horses, and the various other nick-nacks that are always to be found at such places, he exclaimed, "Lord, how many things there are in the world, of which Diogenes hath no need!" He felt rich, though his personal possessions were but few.

It was the same individual who, when requested by Alexander the Great to demand a favor, asked the conqueror of the world to stand from between him and the sun, whose light and warmth he was at the time enjoying." -- Beaten Paths

I was looking back for a quote on my blog and ran across this old post. It is about five years old and so I decided to replay it because most of us don't go back to earlier posts on peoples blogs. Either way, it's worth repeating and I think I will do that from time to time and call it "Replay".

I love this picture and it seems to capture the spirit of the quote; sun on her face, simply tea and conversation.

Photo by Jose A. Gallego

Please forgive me as I gloat a little on one of my grandsons. This is Nic, who is not yet six years old, out with his father Matt catching a wave in Thailand.
Pretty impressive if you ask his grandpa.

The Passing Crowd

“The passing crowd” is a phrase coined in the spirit of indifference. Yet, to a man of what Plato calls “universal sympathies,” and even to the plain ordinary denizens of this world, what can be more interesting than “the passing crowd?”
Does not this tide of human beings, which we daily see passing along the ways of this world, consist of persons animated by the same spark of the divine essence, and partaking of the same high destinies with ourselves? Let us stand still but for a moment in the midst of this busy, and seemingly careless scene, and consider what they are or may be whom we see around us. In the hurry of the passing show, and of our own sensations, we see but a series of unknown faces; but this is no reason why we should regard them with indifference. Many of these persons, if we knew their histories, would rivet our admiration, by the ability, worth, benevolence, or piety, which they have displayed in their various paths through life. Many would excite our warmest interest by their sufferings – sufferings perhaps, borne meekly and well, and more for the sake of others than themselves. How many tales of human weal and woe, of glory and of humiliation, could be told by those beings, whom, in passing, we regard not!......

These, I humbly think, are reasons why we should not look with coldness upon any masses of men with whom it may be our lot to mingle."

When I read this piece it has certainly rung true in my experience. Regardless of the appearance, position, status, people all have a story, and all matter to God and so should matter to me. Shame on me for rushing through life negligent of these thoughts. The times when I have struck up conversations with strangers have nearly always been productive in some way, whether it be spiritual, humorous, or fascinating. Everyone has a story to tell.

Robert Chambers - Photo from the Internet

My seventeen year old granddaughter Carissa was invited to visit a church with a friend she grew up with. I went along with her out of curiosity having learned there was a new Pastor there. We found our seats and I began surveying the congregation, facility and all the things we humans do. About two rows up to my right sat a thirty something white couple holding two 18 month old girls. The girls were dark black skinned, almost ebony. To find words to describe how cute they were is far beyond my vocabulary but I immediately felt like there must be something of God going on here when orphans are included.

The friend of Carissa is a seventeen year old boy, Josh, who’s father just ran off with another woman and left the state. Josh decided on his own that this was where he wanted to worship and he normally comes alone. The worship music began and there was a sweet spell cast over me and apparently over Josh and Carissa as well, if one can judge by flowing tears. While we worshiped it seemed as though the lyrics of every song applied to the wounded and I could imagine Josh hiding in the cleft of God’s refuge. Here all was good; here pain was eased, comfort applied, hope restored.
As the service concluded I was hard at figuring a way I could tactfully get a squeeze on one of the little orphan girls. I found the mother alone with one of the girls on her back nearly asleep; I introduced myself and conversation came easy as we each shared bits of our faith and circumstance. I asked if I could give her daughter a little hug and after she agreed I moved in close to this angelic gift which had now lapsed into slumber. I gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek and she didn’t even stir, but my heart filled up with the miracle of it all. I think I have bathed in the after glow of that sweet, soft little cheek all day.

Later in the afternoon we went to the nursing home and I noticed a woman sitting in the hallway right outside of the open room we worship in. She had tears in her eyes and I approached her to see if I could comfort her in some way. She had dementia and had just recently been admitted. She was at a loss as to where her husband was. She kept asking me if I had seen him and she just couldn’t understand why he had left her waiting there. The more she talked the more she wept and as I hugged her I found no words that could relieve her. It was a sobering and sorrowful way to begin the service but as I left her there, with no resolution, I was prepared to speak in a more fervent way. The need for a Savior was so clearly etched in my mind by this time that I frequently fought back tears; tears of joy that we have a place, an answer to it all; and I felt privileged to proclaim it.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon in my garden with the memories of lingering kisses, hugs and worship interchanging in my mind as the springtime works its miracle of new life. It is good to be a Christian.

Photo by Federica Fortunati