tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2685889888343421732024-03-05T16:43:59.220-08:00A Cup of JoWhen you come to the point where you have more questions than answers, sit down with God and....Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-26932321659123718752013-07-13T14:19:00.004-07:002013-07-13T14:19:51.139-07:00Turning OutI have been tucked in for awhile. I think it is part of my chemical make-up, but I tend to just want to retreat from life. Not in a particularly bad way, it is just not my usual way. I used to be out-going, the word that comes to mind is gregarious. Weird word but it sums me up. Loud and laughing most of the time. But lots of tough life kind of rolled over me in the past 10 years or so, and I changed. I try to chalk it up to becoming all those good words like reflective and more spiritual, and I guess in way it could be that, but most of all, I have really been down. A lot of reasons and no reasons for it. Ever been there?<br />
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So today, I pretty much stopped making excuses for it and spoke to God about it. I had been unofficially discussing it with Him in my mind, but I officially spoke to Him out loud today. I pretty much told Him, I could not do this on my own. In fact, I pretty much gave it to Him and told Him He would have to do it. I could not. Kind of like that song we learned in Sunday School - I am weak but You are strong. I needed that to be it in the worse way. I was on the way to pick up my daughter and grand-daughter to see the new movie Despicable Me 2 and I was excited about it. I needed to laugh and in closing, I asked God to let me enjoy my granddaughter and the joy she would bring today. That would be the first step, I was sure.<br />
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I pulled up to a corner on my way to pick them up and I saw a man in a wheelchair. He had only one leg and he was holding a sign in both hands. With his good leg, he was wheeling himself up and down the hot, dusty esplanade. It reminded me of that man in Bethsaida sitting by the pool. He wanted to be healed but had no way to get in the water. This man wanted money but no way to reach up into a car to get it, if someone offered it. I never give money like that. Feel the person will just use it for booze or cigarettes. Not my call, but I do it anyway. But this great urge came over and me and I jumped out of the car, ran up to him, and gave him six bucks. Not a lot, but a lot for me to give. It surprised the heck out of him. Me too. I hung up traffic but no one honked at me. I looked back to see if anyone followed my lead, but they didn't. Too bad.<br />
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Picked up my family, got to the show and I went to get some popcorn with my granddaughter. There was a young lady there that looked as if someone had taken about a foot off her legs. She was fully developed in her torso, but her legs were miniature and very thin. She walked through the crowds with her eyes down. I am sure avoiding eye contact and the looks she might attract. She walked over to a "cash only" concession. No one was working it, so I told her. She was not sure whether to believe me but finally did. I started talking to her and offered a place in line. She had an very large scar on her upper lip and from her speech, I knew she must have been born without a soft palate. She was very hard to understand but I was able to. She was excited about the show and about bringing her niece. She was very animated and just excited to have someone to talk to that understood her. So sweet and she was a fount of information about the animated films coming up. We finished up our conversation and bid each other good-bye.<br />
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I was happy before I even entered the show and it was a great movie - full of laughs. My granddaughter and I danced to the music as the ending credits rolled. On the way home, after dropping them off, I just told God how great the day was. I thanked Him for answering my prayer so soon. As I talked, I realized that He answered it by bringing people into my life that needed me. I realized that tucking in is really just focusing on me and that in order to tuck "out", I would have to do something. And that some thing was focusing on others. I prayed and He answered my prayer by opening my eyes. He is an expert in doing that, because He knows exactly what folks need. He knew I needed to be needed. Others needed to be loved or served. He met our needs through putting us in a place to meet.<br />
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It will be a daily struggle for me, but I will keep praying and hopefully He will help me keep "looking"Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-38851906688245606672013-06-09T20:46:00.001-07:002013-06-09T20:47:48.071-07:00Blind But I Can See<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Blind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I cannot see</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Blind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> No longer me</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Blind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I meant to be</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Blind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> All for Thee</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Blind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I did not see</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Blind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> You only wanted </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Me....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For three days you cannot see. Everything in your life is gone. Your sight, your passion, your zeal. In a handful of words, all you know to be true is nothing more than the darkness that surrounds you. You do not know if you will ever see again. You have no desire for food, water, any form of sustenance. For what? What life do you have to live? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, the guilt! For a few short minutes you escaped the overwhelming, all consuming guilt. The heretics, the defilers of the faith that you hunted like dogs. The crazy Christian lunatics that calmly allowed themselves to be taken into custody, spouting forgiveness and praying God to have mercy on your soul. You had them neatly tucked away, not concerned with their lot. What was done with them once you did your job. Your God-given job!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it wasn't, was it? It wasn't God ordained. In fact, you were persecuting the Son of the very Person you claimed to love and serve. How could it go so wrong? No......how could you be so wrong. And at what cost?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Human cost. Theirs and yours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What was left for this shell of a man you had become? How could you ever make amends? What sacrifice could possible blot out the stain of your sin? What indeed, but the blood of One who not only forgave you for persecuting Him and His, but seeks You - to make you His own? Maybe you were not so wrong about the crazy part. This Christ must be crazy to think there is anything redeemable about you.....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crazy, to still love you......</span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-40882716151792475232013-04-15T19:34:00.001-07:002013-04-15T19:43:46.664-07:00Too Little, Too Late<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That day.......I remember it well....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had just bought my first mini-van. It was candy apple red and I was amazed at the room, the captain's chairs, the power of driving, riding head and shoulders above the rest of humanity. Of course, this was all before I realized the repercussions this purchase would entail. Before I discovered the crowd of kids I would be forced to transport to volleyball games, movies, and junior high parties because I owned the van! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On this particular day, I was running a quick errand to the local pharmacy and had parked a far distance from the entrance, not wanting to get the first "ding" on my van. Approaching the pharmacy door, I noticed HER. The bag lady. Now living in the suburbs, we did not have many of these. In fact, for all I knew, at this time, we only had one. She was a woman in her mid fifties, streaked gray hair, and wearing the same dirty dress. She pushed a grocery cart with an odd assortment of trash and items she must have picked up from curbside discards. She was always going somewhere. Her point of origin and destinations were always a puzzle. Of course, I had heard the rumors. She was an heiress, mildly deranged, that chose the streets over the mansion she owned. She had a large bank account in an area bank, only drawing small amounts to subsist on. No one could sift fact from fiction, but one thing I did know. She never talked to anyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On this day, she was smack dab in my path as I approached drugstore entrance, and I was a bit nervous. I did not feel threatened by her. I guess she was an icon of sorts. She did not look my way as I entered, much to my relief, and by the time I was through shopping, I had forgotten she was there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leaving the store with bags in tow, I was startled to here a voice. Even more so, when I discovered it came from our resident homeless person. I turned and she quietly asked me if I would take her to a street about 5 miles away. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was shocked and for a minute could not speak. But I could think. And what I thought about, in that split second, was loading that malodorous women and her garbage in my brand, new, candy apple red van....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In my reading this week, I happened to come across the Bible character, Nicodemus, . He is one of those people you have mixed feelings about. You are impressed, that being a member of the religious right of the day, he approached Jesus. A little less impressed when you remember it was under the cover of darkness. He does rise a bit above the ranks when, with Joseph of Arimathea, he helps to obtain the body of Christ for burial. But then he sinks a little when you remember that during the trial and persecution, this member of the governing sect was mute. At a time when Jesus could have used a friend, Nicodemus was silent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For some odd reason, this week, I saw him in a new light. In my prior studies, I knew that Nicodemus had contributed costly spices to anoint the body. For that same odd reason, this week I chose to dig a little deeper. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the grand scheme of Rome, Jesus was not a major player. He had, however, brought a lot of attention to himself. Enough so, that he was deemed a threat and special care was being taken after his death. His body was to be buried and specially guarded. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The amount of spices Nicodemus brought for preparation was estimated to be from 75 to 100 pounds. That is a lot of spice but the weight signified was more than just physical. It spoke volumes about the personage being prepared for burial. The more important the individual, the more spices used for burial. Josephus records the funeral preparation of the famous Rabbi Gamaliel used a mere 40 pounds of spices. My prior estimation of Nicodemus' final act had always been "too little, too late". But was it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If Nicodemus thought it was a threat to approach Jesus when he was alive, what was he thinking now? He was really putting himself on the line. The extravagance of the gift was a confession, a very public declaration of the importance he assigned to the life and ministry of Christ. A man who had been executed for His actions. This was a bold and dangerous move on Nicodemus part.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, I would like to tell you that I, like Nicodemus, made a bold, public declaration. That I answered the homeless lady with a resounding, "Yes" and carted her and her stuff to the destination she had in mind. But I did not. I mumbled an excuse and quickly departed. On the way home, I mentally listed the reasons I had declined. She was insane, I could be in danger. Maybe I had misunderstood her, she really had not asked me for a favor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But by the time I got home, I could not even fool myself. I told my husband where I was going and who I was transporting - our city homeless lady. Amidst his heated protests, I got in my car and returned to the pharmacy. Though my intent was honest, my timing was off. She had moved on. I drove down the street, half-heartedly, looking for her, but she was not to be found. I was sad and relieved at the same time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Regret is a very sad and empty feeling. But if it spurs someone to future action, maybe it is not in vain. I hope so, for both of us.....</span></div>
Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-25886904665820099282013-04-06T20:43:00.002-07:002013-04-08T03:27:46.537-07:00Body of Evidence<br />
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In
Copenhagen, there is a statue of Thomas, the Twin, the disciple of Christ. It is said to picture a</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> thoughtful, meditative man that holds a rule in his hand. I think that interesting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Thomas the Doubter? Perhaps a finger beside his brow or a quizzical look upon his face. After all isn't he the disciple who lacked faith, that did not believe Christ had risen. No, he is not. Thomas does not deserve this moniker. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I am so
against the one-dimensional way of looking at people. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">We have so
little time in our society today to really come to know a person. For one, w</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">e don’t
have the time to invest in them. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">We don’t
have the minutes to spend with them, to get to know someone. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So we base our assessment on a few, brief bits of data. We first take in the superficial look of a person. Then we add a</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> handful of
comments they have made or more likely have been made about them. Top it off with an </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">action
or two. And voila, we have it! We have summed up a man or a woman and that is that!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think <b>that</b> is how
it is with Thomas. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">His whole
life is summed up in three words. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Thomas the
Doubter, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I think this
unfair, always have</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All that we
know of Thomas is found in the gospel of John. Our body of evidence in this case is limited. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">There are
three different passages that shed light on the person of Thomas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first is found in John 11. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus has
heard of the illness of His friend Lazarus. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">He tells His
disciples He is going to Judea, to Bethany, the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The disciples immediately remind
Him that the people in Judea tried to stone Him just recently and they beg</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> Him
not to return. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">But Jesus is
adamant that He is going. Thomas speaks, following Jesus' declaration.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><sup><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;">16 </span></sup></b><span style="background-color: white;">Then T</span><span style="background-color: white;">homas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, Let us go too, that we may die along with H</span><span style="background-color: white;">im.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thomas had been with Jesus in Judea when the opposition tried to stone Him. He had felt the fear the other disciples had felt. But He was the only one to voice his willingness to follow Jesus, even to, what may well have been, their death. Thomas the Brave. Thomas the Outspoken. Thomas the dare to be Martyr. Why had not one of those labels been attached to Thomas? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second
time we get a glimpse of Thomas is at the Last Supper<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jesus is
speaking to them of His leaving<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span class="text"><b><sup>3 </sup></b></span><span class="text">And
when I go and make ready a place for you, I will come back again and will
take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span class="text"><b><sup>4 </sup></b></span><span class="text">And where I am going, you know the way.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span class="text"><b><sup>5 </sup></b></span><span class="text">Thomas
said to Him, Lord, we do not know where You are going, so how can we know the
way?</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span class="text"><b><sup>6 </sup></b></span><span class="text">Jesus
said to him, I am the Way and the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the
Father except by Me.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span class="text"><b><sup>7 </sup></b></span><span class="text">If you
had known Me, you would also have known My
Father. From now on, you know Him and have seen Him.</span></i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember that ruler? Thomas could have been the person in the group that planned the journeys. He may have picked the paths, the roads, made sure everyone got where they needed to be. When Jesus said you know the way. Thomas said, "Wait a minute - did I miss something. Let me get out my GPS, give me those coordinates again. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">Where is this hostel you are preparing for our accomodations?" There would be no way to follow if they weren't given proper directions. Thomas the Dedicated, Thomas the Bold, Thomas the Follower? No, those names did not stick either</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last
occurrence is what we study this Sunday. I have often wondered why Thomas was not with the other disciples. </span></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Mary
came from the tomb and told them she had seen Jesus, only two cared to even check out her story. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> If they had believed the women's stories, why would they have remained behind those closed doors when Jesus came to them in that room? </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">They would have been out seeking Him. Thomas was not with them. Maybe he was doing just that? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When Jesus
appeared to those hiding there, t</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">he first
thing He did was to show them His hands and his side. He did not wait for them to ask, He knew what they needed. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Then and
only then did joy take the place of their fears. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">They also received
the Holy Spirit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I don't know if you have been in a revival or spiritual retreat where a group of folks accept Christ as their Savior and receive the Holy Spirit. They can be downright giddy and a little overbearing. I can imagine when Thomas did get together with the eleven, they all appeared a little drunk, much like those at Pentecost might have appeared. Plain spoken, concrete Thomas needed proof. He had believed with all his heart in Jesus, his beloved Savior, and before he laid that broken heart on the line again, he needed proof. When Jesus walked in the room, once more, He knew just what Thomas needed, not unlike those He had greeted earlier. He offered physical proof. But Thomas did not need to touch His hands or side. He not only acknowledged his Lord Jesus, but He acknowledged His deity, His divinity, His Kingship over his life </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">The body of evidence was enough to convince Thomas. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">The body of evidence?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">What is His body of evidence? I guess now it is you and me. We are the Body, we are the evidence. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">How are we doing with that? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">Does the world see nail prints in His Hands. Do they see how we have suffered and yet believe. Do they see our broken, bleeding side? </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">How we have sacrificed ourselves for each and every one of them? Do they feel His love? Do they see His love? Do they know we <b><u>are</u></b> the love?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;">I wonder?</span></span></div>
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Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-1293371041393190402012-08-18T04:47:00.001-07:002012-08-18T04:51:22.906-07:00DaddyDaddy,<br />
<br />
<br />
I had such a good day at school <br />
<br />
I did my work and tried not to talk<br />
<br />
When my teacher was speaking<br />
<br />
It was so very hard Daddy, <br />
<br />
But I just thought of you <br />
<br />
And it helped me to be good<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dad,<br />
<br />
College is really rough<br />
<br />
The courses are so hard<br />
<br />
The temptations are too great<br />
<br />
I know how very much you<br />
<br />
Have invested in me <br />
<br />
So I will try to keep <br />
<br />
On the straight and narrow<br />
<br />
Remember me in your prayers<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Father<br />
<br />
Remember when I told you<br />
<br />
I could not wait to grow up<br />
<br />
I was wrong, I could have waited<br />
<br />
A family, a mortgage, a job<br />
<br />
It seems too much to bear<br />
<br />
But I have always been careful<br />
<br />
To listen to your advice<br />
<br />
So that is really what I am<br />
<br />
Depending on right now, <br />
<br />
That and our conversations. <br />
<br />
Thanks for being the kind of father <br />
<br />
I could always look up to<br />
<br />
And never afraid to talk to<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Daddy,<br />
<br />
It is just you and me now<br />
<br />
I won’t be bringing anyone<br />
<br />
Else along on this trip<br />
<br />
It has been a rough road<br />
<br />
At times, but a good one<br />
<br />
I have not always made the<br />
<br />
Best choices, but you have<br />
<br />
Stuck by me and loved me<br />
<br />
No matter what I did<br />
<br />
I am anxious to see you <br />
<br />
It’s been a long time<br />
<br />
God, I am ready when you are.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
JoJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-84828331585942191242012-07-15T18:37:00.001-07:002012-07-16T21:42:54.614-07:00A SnapshotA snapshot<br />
<br />
<br />
A snapshot of a man. You do not see what was before or what will come. A man who would be king meets the men who would be his subjects. He places himself before them. All that he is, that he has done, and the promise of what he will be. They accept him based on three things they know.<br />
<br />
The book is 2 Samuel 5:5. The man is David, the subjects are the tribes of Israel. They accept him because he is kin, a son of the tribe of Judah. Second, they know he is what they need. He is a military man, with a score of successes to his credit. But most of all God has said he will be their shepherd, their ruler. Divine appointment.<br />
<br />
What brought the man to this point? What made the man a king? Was it being a shepherd as a small boy? Was it killing a giant as a youth? Was it being selected by Samuel to be the next king? Was it playing a harp for the moody King Saul? His friendship with Jonathan? The hiding and fighting for his very life? All of the above?<br />
<br />
What would take him from here? What would contribute to his rise as King? What would make him the husband or father he would become? What would make him the adulterer, the liar, the murderer he would be? If they had known what the future held, would they have entered the covenant agreement with him? We will never know because they would not have known.<br />
<br />
What makes up a man? This week there has been a lot of information about men in the football world that took the accolades they had been given by the public and used them in the direct or indirect abuse of young children. The same thing that brought the attention to their achievements brought the platform that gave them license for the destruction of innocence.<br />
<br />
What makes the difference? Is a man his actions or is it his heart? David was a man of good actions and bad actions. Which do we remember him for? His adultery with Bathsheba was sensational but so what his killing of Goliath. <br />
<br />
For me it is his psalms. For me they show the heart of the man. Not only his heart for God, but the heart he showed God. As trite as it sounds, he bared his soul. And we have the evidence in print. In blood, in tears, in anger, in passion, in truth. <br />
<br />
That is the man I choose to remember…the snapshot I choose to keep….<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-25903946583671701302012-06-26T08:51:00.000-07:002012-06-26T08:52:09.273-07:00A Little Love In Your Heart?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a confession to make. I do not like Paul. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me re-phrase that. I did not like Paul, but he is growing on me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the lectionary, we have been studying the 5th and 6th chapters of Paul’s letters to the church in Corinth. And I have to admit, Paul has convinced me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of what, you may ask? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of the fact that he is not the boastful, arrogant, self aggrandizing man I thought he was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now Paul is pretty black and white, where I am not.. But I can give him that, living in the time and climate of the day. The Body of Christ consisted of a fledgling band of believers, following a crucified messiah and whose leaders consisted of former fishermen, a zealot, a tax collector, and other less than stellar folks. And Paul was not working within that mainstream. He was in the outskirts, preaching and teaching to the learned and not so learned Gentiles. People who had never embraced the Jewish faith from which Christianity had drawn its roots. They were pagans, atheists, magicians, harlots, merchants, and everyday folk that were being asked to join a group that was more times than not being persecuted for its beliefs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give the guy a break, you say?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week, I did just that. I got a peek at the man behind the boast. And believe it or not, I liked what I saw. In Corinthians 6, Paul is talking to the concern he has that the church there no longer carries the affection they once had for him. He starts out telling them of what he and “his” have done in the name of Christ. Imprisonment, beatings, floggings, near drowning. He then goes on to tell them how they persevered and endured much with integrity and purity, for the sake of bringing the gospel to the Corinthian church. But not on their own – he does not take the credit. God was with them, helping them to speak, to work, and giving them the right and left hand weapons to do it. And in spite of this, there were still many that would call them imposters, ingenuous, and trifling. Between you and me, I think he was speaking to his audience...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the grand finale! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In light of all that, can’t you find room in your heart for me. Paul is not asking for the whole heart, just a small corner. It was as if he was asking me the same question. Can you not find a little affection for me? The scriptures you found in my teachings as a young wife and mother. The ones you memorized by heart, speaking and praying them in times of trouble. Can you not find kindness for me in light of the encouragement I gave you when you were being so hard on yourself. For making wrong choices or failing to live up to what God would have you to be. When you realized how I must have agonized after the Damascus road experience, laying there for 3 days. Blindness a meager blight compared to the pain I felt in my heart for those I had wrongly accused and brought to their deaths. How impressed you were that I did not bemoan my failings, though great, but turned my prior passion against Christ to passion for Him and those He loves. Thanking me for the realization that if I could pick myself up after so great a transgression, surely you could forgive yourself and start anew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you know what? I do have room for old Paul! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a place for this man who loved God with his whole heart. And I promise, to dig deeper. To read the writings and stories of him and others in the Bible with a grain of salt. To not allow scripture passages that are hard or difficult to scare me away, but to draw close and allow God to remove those scales from the eyes of my heart. To realize there is much in life that I must grow to understand and love. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Praise God for discomfort!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-77573225115360405542012-05-30T08:09:00.002-07:002012-05-30T08:09:42.660-07:00Aroma for Christ<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawpsThkAfnFMmRwwBXVJl9ojdIByb68zYh14Yf_nJYcVsiPKDdK-_QGhm-l6JOmFf_iy4UwC72SJDBocE3cTYnIv0kPEp0bOMUvvnsyL4Sbp2lR8ORQdPhtsCA3rbRI7dOAsUCvfimK0/s1600/aroma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawpsThkAfnFMmRwwBXVJl9ojdIByb68zYh14Yf_nJYcVsiPKDdK-_QGhm-l6JOmFf_iy4UwC72SJDBocE3cTYnIv0kPEp0bOMUvvnsyL4Sbp2lR8ORQdPhtsCA3rbRI7dOAsUCvfimK0/s200/aroma.jpg" width="132px" /></a>The Bible is ageless. I don’t mean it has been around for 1000’s of years, though it has. I mean it appeals to all ages. When I was a child, I loved to hear the stories of children. Young David and his bravery in going up against the giant, Goliath. Samuel, in hearing the voice of God and being chosen to be his prophet. As a young woman, I read about the boldness of Ruth, the industry of Martha, and the mindless devotion of her sister, Mary. As a more mature woman, I am drawn to the Hannah’s and Sarah’s. To think of such faith and hope in the light of such insurmountable obstacles. Funny how my perspective has changed.</div>
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The story of Ruth and Naomi is a good example. I have always loved the love story of not only Ruth and Boaz, but the story of the love of Ruth for Naomi. Whither thou goest, I will go. How many times did I hear that verse at weddings as a young girl. But as I read the first chapter of Ruth this past week, I saw the words in a different light. I could not help but wonder, what was there about Naomi that caused Ruth to leave home and family to follow someone who physically had less than nothing to offer? Widows in that day and age were very vulnerable. Widows with no sons were especially vulnerable. Widows with daughters had their problems multiplied. So why did Ruth not only beg to accompany Naomi into a difficult and hopeless situation, but even swore an oath of death if she could not? I think Ruth saw something in Naomi that went beyond reason. <br />
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Even as Naomi tries to dissuade Ruth, bemoaning her estate, even using an Old Testament version of tough love, Ruth is not put off. What was there about Naomi? I have not been in Naomi’s situation, but I have been through difficult times. Times when I felt I had barely enough to keep my head above water, much less minister or provide for others. I had no time, no advice, no resources to offer others, as I was accustomed to doing. I could see no reason anyone would want to come around, I was of little or no use! I even drew apart physically and emotionally. But like Ruth, others were not deterred. Though I had nothing to offer, others drew near to me. Even more, they ministered to me. <br />
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What was there about Naomi that drew Ruth by her side and to her aid. What urged her to follow Naomi to a new and foreign land. Full of fear and little hope. It says in 2 Corinthians that <br />
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“we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing”. <br />
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Perhaps that was the answer. No matter what Naomi had or did not have, she had the aroma that comes from being a follower of the living God. There was something there that pervaded even Naomi’s own demeanor and actions. I think many times we see ourselves as “useful” only when we are doing something for God. If we are able to give, to do, to minister, then we are Christ-like. But when adversity hits or we experience tough times, we feel we are out of commission. We even tend to pull back from our church community, embarrassed or ashamed that we can no longer be what we once were.<br />
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This will be a hard lesson for me to learn. Just as I am struggling with the effects and changes going on inside my body as I age, I must realize my use in God’s kingdom may change, bringing with it different opportunities. And knowing me, I am afraid “I will not go gently into that good night”. My humanity will see it as my inability not the ability God has saved just for this time in my life. <br />
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It’s going to be a bumpy road for sure! LOL!<br />
<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-15933986380852857472012-05-26T03:56:00.001-07:002012-05-30T07:22:58.965-07:00On a Teeter Totter with ChristWhy is it the closer we draw to God, the further we want to draw away from the world. I think this is why we have those folks that cloister themselves into a life of spiritual purity and ascetism. Denying all the world has to offer – good and bad. <br />
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Others choose a life of piety. But in doing so, they cannot resist viewing the world from this new perch. With growing disdain and condemnation, they are free with their advice and condemnation.<br />
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But, unlike Christ, we are not fully human and fully divine. We have this 50/50 arrangement. As a Christian, I have Christ dwelling within. I think, in my own mind, I have seen it as a struggle. As if I had to beat the human part of me into submission to Him. Or maybe, I pictured myself as living in a house with Him. <br />
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I want to see myself as moving out of the master bedroom, taking the smaller bedroom. My dream one day to move to the broom closet, giving Christ full reign of my life. But now, I see, that is not what He desires.<br />
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As much as I would love to wrap myself in scripture, meditation and immerse myself in Him, He knows that my address is still terra firma. He moved in to live with me, the human me. He wants to share my life. He wants to have lively discussions of His Word. He wants to view the sunsets and sunrises. He wants to struggle with the stress and strain. He wants to revel in the world He and His Father so carefully fashioned as my residence. He wants to be my roommate. Lord of my life, yes, but also the Love of my life. Maybe until I can love the “me” in me as much as He does, can I truly know how to live in and love in this co-ed arrangement. <br />
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It is a balance I am looking for. Child that I am, I want to teeter totter with Christ. He does not want to sit alone, nor I. There is no fun in that. It is only when we both get on, taking turns, that we can soar. And that is where the joy comes. <br />
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For until I love me, can I love you. Until I see me through His eyes, can I see you through mine. <br />
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Wow!<br />
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<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-58174475414616090492012-05-06T23:40:00.001-07:002012-05-06T23:45:13.977-07:00The Finger of GodMy husband was very ill for about a year and required home nursing, three times a week. One of the nurses we had was a wonderful lady who had converted from the Episcopal faith to Buddhism. I am ever thankful for that year of getting to know her and what I learned not only about her faith but the beautiful spiritual discipline of meditation. One day as I sat beside her working, I am not sure even now how it happened, our conversation drifted to why she had converted. She said that she just came to a point where she could no longer believe in a God that would crucify His Son so that He might be reconciled with His creation. I will never forget that explanation and the questions it raised for me. <br />
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In the scripture reading for this Sunday in 1 John 4:7-21, that question is again broached and answered, in what I feel, is the only way it can be. God is love, not hate. He did not murder His Son, He sacrificed His Son for us. As I read those words, I thought of Micheangelo’s Creation of Adam, the beautiful painting found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and the isolated portion of the painting so often reproduced. The arms and hands of God and Adam reaching out to touch. In this case, though, I saw my arm, my finger poised toward God’s. As I struggled toward God, I suddenly felt a hand on my wrist. Looking up I saw it was Christ helping me to reach Him. Just before He guided my finger to His Father’s, Christ placed my finger into the nail rent of His other hand. I was shocked and I wanted to pull back, but He continued to guide me to God and the Father and I touched through that gruesome wound. Isn’t that just awful? But isn’t it so terribly powerful! <br />
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In the beginning, God initiatated the sacrificial system with Abraham, even to the point that He instructed Abraham to sacrifice his only living son on an altar in an act of worship. Of course, God stopped him before that happened, but the foreshadowing was powerful. This system of worship was common to the peoples of that time, even child sacrifice, and He continued to use that as the venue for Abraham’s worship of Him, using various animals. Throughout the history of the Jewish people, this type of worship was instituted and followed. Then when Jesus came to the point where He would make the supreme sacrifice, God’s only Son went as a lamb to the slaughter. His demeanor before Pilate was the best picture He could possibly give us of that sacrificial lamb. Then to be executed by the current Roman means of punishing criminals for their sins, was like putting one of those strobe lighted arrows to the glaring fact that He died for OUR SINS!!! Wow! <br />
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But back to my visual. As I sat there dumbstruck of the very means Christ used to join me to God, I looked up at His face. But it was no longer Jesus I saw, but the face of Michangelo’s God. And in that face of God I saw the most unbelievable mixture of love and pain. Tears coursing down His face as He looked into my eyes. And a tinge of hope, hope that I would understand just how very much He loves me. <br />
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I hope I never forget that feeling. I hope I never forget that face. I hope that in my heart of hearts, I spend the rest of my life <strong><u>not</u></strong> trying be worthy of it or earn it– that would be the greatest waste of my time - but to feel it, and glory in it, and live through it. To reach out to my brothers and sisters in my own feeble way.<br />
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I wish I could see that nurse again. In light of the gift she gave our family, I would thank her again, from my heart, for the wonderful care she gave my husband. In light of the gift she gave me in that explanation, I would thank her for that question. Then I would try, somehow, with the very limits of my language to express that God did not crucify His Son. Love did! Love did and hopefully it is doing the same each and every day in my life and the lives of those I call my family in Christ.Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-20616820182299985922012-05-04T12:51:00.002-07:002012-05-04T12:54:32.323-07:00Not Everyone Is a Rocket Scientist!<br />
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Not everyone is a rocket scientist! <br />
One of my favorite shows is the Big Bang Theory. I love it because it laughs at itself and enjoys doing it. I think we go through life seeing everyone one dimensionally. I think therefore I am. Well, it is more like I think therefore I think you think the same way I do. Well, folks, not everyone is a rocket scientist. Not everyone is a moron. And believe it or not, not everyone is you.<br />
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We know by basic scientific knowledge, that there are levels of human intelligence. Likewise, there are levels of human physical and mental capabilities. Add heredity and nurture and then throw in our cultural and ethnic differences and we might as well be all walking aliens. <br />
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What I am getting at, is why do we get frustrated with folks when they cannot comprehend or behave as I do. Why do I view them in light of what I know, what I have experienced, or what I perceive. How silly of me and what a terrible waste of my emotions to vent about persons or situations beyond their scope or area of credence.<br />
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Now, what about our faith. Why is it we find ourselves clucking our tongues and shaking our heads over a world that is gone to the dogs. As a spirit filled, Christ centered, child of God I see the world in one way. But a person who does not have the center, that has never experienced the overwhelming, grace endowing, burst at the seams love of a God who values them above His only Son, how can they possible think, act, and react like I do. They cannot! And my grousing and complaining and blaming is a total waste of the time God has allotted me on this earth. If I ever want to make my world a better place, I better get in the habit of spreading His love around. Of sharing heavenly glimpses of hope and joy and grace to a world needing it like a parched ground. <br />
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Shut up and show off – that is my new motto!<br />
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<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-73903978750988951872012-05-03T11:34:00.002-07:002012-05-03T11:34:27.175-07:00Days - Old but Good?<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Equality – the American way. Except in high school! </div>
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Don’t know about you, but when I graduated high school 40 years ago this month, there was a caste system. It was not delineated as peasants and nobility, but it was there just the same. The jocks, the drill team, the choir, the band, the academics (nerds). </div>
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Each had its pecking order. I had my foot in a little of several so I was able to migrate between the groups. More identifiable with some than others. </div>
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This past weekend, I had my 40th high school reunion. It was very interesting. We have several folks that have diligently kept the class together and had a good turn out. I have not kept up with everyone, so I was more or less on the fringe. But I did not mind, because I am a people watcher and I had the best seat in the house. Of course, everyone was really old. HaHa! It is funny how we are old as we look, not think. I am a 16 year old trapped in an old body! I looked better than some, worse than others. It was funny seeing folks and how they moved through the room.<br />
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One guy caught my eye. I didn’t know him well, but he did not run in the popular groups. In fact he was more or less a loner. But I saw him in the midst of a great group of friends and he seemed to be having the time of my life. I thought my eyes might be deceiving me, but when I got close, it was the same guy. I asked my husband about him and found out in high school this guy had more or less been a tag along. People were nice to him. <br />
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But this was not the same. He was smack dab in the middle of the fun and inside, I was a bit jealous. I realized that time had taken a toll on more than our bodies. Our caste system had mellowed to the point that it was not even visible. It was a level playing field. Those above had bent down and those below had reached up. The lowly not worried about being snubbed or ridiculed. The elevated not worried about their reputation or impression. We had all decided to play fair and share. Something we were taught in kindergarten and somehow lost along the way. <br />
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But you know what? This goes a lot farther than high school, or work, or even play. It goes to the heart of being a Christian. We see the least, the last, the lost as unfortunate souls that are below us. That we must reach down and offer ourselves to. But what of those above us. I realized that those that rely on wealth or fame or beauty can very well be in the same category. There will come a time when either age or trials or illness will strike and when they do, unless there is a unperishable foundation built, they can be as least and lost as it gets. <br />
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So when we spread our reach, let’s remember to reach up and down.<br />
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</div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-13389301960751064932012-04-27T05:08:00.001-07:002012-04-27T08:16:46.288-07:00Love Is Not Smart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<em><span class="text 1Cor-13-4"><sup class="versenum"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">4 </span></strong></sup>Love is patient, <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28670I" title="See cross-reference I">I</a>)"></sup>love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28670J" title="See cross-reference J">J</a>)"></sup></span><span class="text 1Cor-13-5" id="en-NIV-28671"><sup class="versenum"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">5 </span></strong></sup>It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28671K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)"></sup>it is not easily angered, <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28671L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)"></sup>it keeps no record of wrongs. <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28671M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)"></sup></span><span class="text 1Cor-13-6" id="en-NIV-28672"><sup class="versenum"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">6 </span></strong></sup>Love does not delight in evil <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28672N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)"></sup>but rejoices with the truth. <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28672O" title="See cross-reference O">O</a>)"></sup></span><span class="text 1Cor-13-7" id="en-NIV-28673"><sup class="versenum"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">7 </span></strong></sup>It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, </span></em><br />
<em><span class="text 1Cor-13-7">always perseveres.</span></em><br />
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<span class="text 1Cor-13-7">Reading this is like taking a trip down a path. It is sunny, but the trees shade your path. The birds are singing, you are smiling, all is right with the world. La-de-da-de-da! Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast. On and on, good words, honorable words, true words. But you get to verse 7 and it is like you are hitting some rocking road. Love ALWAYS protects, ALWAYS trusts, ALWAYS hopes, ALWAYS perseveres???? Wait a minute!! What if the object is not worth my protection? What if the person is not trustworthy? What if the situation is hopeless? What if every ounce of my being is screaming for resolution, but none is found??? The birds have stopped singing, the clouds are forming, and the world is suddenly not right at all.</span><br />
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Love is not very smart if it puts itself out there to be abused. It is not very savvy if it puts all its eggs in one basket just to see them dropped and broken. It is surely not wise if it hopes in someone who is a hopeless cause. Surely it cannot go on when there is nothing and no one to go on with. <br />
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But you see, God is just that. If there was a picture next to love it would by God or the physical incarnation of him, Christ our Lord. God always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Okay, I am feeling better now. He has the shoulders to bear under that. He is able to do all those superhuman things.<br />
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But my teeter totter has not finished rocking. If my prayer is to grow into His likeness, and it is, then this is me too. Not the perfect form of Love, but shouldn’t I have the ever increasing desire to be all this? How do I do that? I am in a pickle. There are folks in my life that I cannot trust, they have hurt me. There are folks so vulnerable, I do not have enough energy or resources within me to protect them. There are things going on in my life that are trying to snuff out the candle of hope burning in me. And, God knows (literally) that my perseverance tank is running mighty low. So how do I do it?<br />
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Is it that in every human being there is a spark of the divine? No matter if they have acknowledged it, no matter if they have denied it. And the love of me, as it grows reaches out, seeks them out and somehow connects in a way that I might not even be aware of. As I grow in Him, do I just do that? Grow In Him! I hope so, I really do….<br />
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<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-55175511210978000962012-04-14T07:52:00.001-07:002012-04-14T07:52:26.947-07:00Bars and Chains<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Because the LORD has anointed me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">To bring good news to the afflicted; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">To proclaim liberty to captives </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">And freedom to prisoners</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Isaiah 61:1</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Early, this past Sunday morning, as I sat in my empty sanctuary, I could almost picture the people that would fill the pews. As I did, these words of scripture came to mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Later as I looked over the congregation from the choir loft, I saw the reality in the faces looking back at me. Had I not been prepared, I would have been picking out the “two-fers”. Those who darken the door of a church only on Easter and Christmas. Before that scripture, I would have hoped they received something from the worship experience. Something that would bring them back or, even better, walk them down the aisle to profess their faith. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But now as I saw their faces, I saw something else. I saw captives and prisoners. Not just in those unknown faces, but also in the familiar faces of my family of faith. It dawned on me that so many of us in that room were being held captive and we did not even realize it. The bars were ones that so many of us shared, they were almost invisible. Cells of addiction to work or play. Prisoners to ill health and financial woes. Bindings of greed, anger, lust, and guilt were so entwined, freedom was barely a distant memory. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Hope was the message preached this past Sunday and it is the message the world of today is dying to hear. Hope in a freedom that seems so elusive. A freedom that must be desired before it can be realized. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">As it was proclaimed in our worship, I realized the actual “setting free”was not in a number on our rolls, a trip down the aisle, or even tears on a cheek. It was the ability of His Word to do a work in a heart. Unseen and often unnoticed. But inch by inch, link by link, chains could be removed and there was no knowing if this Easter Sunday was the day when the final link would be shattered or the prison door flung open.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Because, He does nothing without our permission or our agreement. And to make that decision, we must see the prison bars and have hope that it is possible to be set free. That is our mission and our call to preach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-18731947815528841262012-04-05T22:01:00.001-07:002012-04-05T22:01:49.341-07:00Undeserved LoveUndeserved Love......<br />
<br />
That is what the Easter message truly is. God reaching down to a hurting, messed up, needy, sinful creation. And in doing so,saying "You are my beloved". And the proof was on the cross.<br />
<br />
In thinking about this, I thought about who we love undeservedly. We love our families but that is out of blood connection and somewhat duty. We care for co-workers and friends. But here again, in our busy lives we do not go too deep. There is only so much time and energy left after our day or work and play that can be expended. We seek to invest in those friends that are low maintenance. Much as we choose the shrubs in our landscaping. Friends that require little of our time and energy. That we can pick up from time to time to enjoy. That give as much as take. That reciprocate our care and concern. Needy, high maintenace folks are shunned or at least avoided.<br />
<br />
But you see, that is not how Jesus worked. He not only acknowledged the needy and lost, he invested in them. He loved them and healed them. I never thought about it, but I am sure many of those healed and fed were in the group of followers that followed Him from city to city. Still needing to be near Him. To see Him and touch Him. Much like the woman with the issue of blood, I am sure these least of mankind drained power from His very essence.<br />
<br />
So as I approach Good Friday and prepare to be confronted with His final act of benevolence, what am I to do with this over the top grace? How do I begin to emulate that in my life and my living? Where do I find the time to "love" as He did? Who do I choose to invest in? What must I give up to do this? <br />
<br />
Lord, where do I even begin....Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-29944848695374198422012-04-04T04:30:00.001-07:002012-04-04T04:30:06.713-07:00A Glimpse of Heaven<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I enter this Holy Week with a great sadness. A young couple I know has lost their 2 year-old little girl. She had a congenital heart defect and was on the list to receive a new heart. It just was not to be.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This great tragedy is compounded by the fact that her four year old brother died one year ago this month from the same ailment. It was not even known at the time he had the condition until he collapsed at a sporting event and died subsequently. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">In praying for the young couple, I was at a loss for words. What solace could there possibly be for the loss of 2 precious children? How could someone ever get over something like that. Even silence, tears, and moans could do no justice to so great a tragedy. But what came to me, in that expression to God, was a plea for heaven. If the young couple could just see a glimpse of the place their children now lived. If they could see the face of Jesus and the love He has for their babies. The heavenly host who have so wrapped their love and their support around these two darlings - perhaps that would be of some comfort.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As the week has progressed, I thought of another parent. How did God perceive this Holy Week we are traveling through? </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">How does a parent watch and wait for what He knows will unfold? How can He know that He will literally sit on His hands and that His will is for His Son to do the same? What pain and agony! A torturous death that could in all actuality be avoided. And for what? A world that would scorn, scoff and curse His name not only in that moment but for thousands of years to come? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Was that glimpse of heaven what sustained them? Did God realize in a few short days, His Son would be released from the earthly bonds He had submitted Him to thirty three years prior. Was He picturing Jesus once again joining Him, sitting at His right hand, ruling with Him over heaven and earth?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And was the fact that this one act of sacrifice on the parts of them both, would open heaven's gates in a way that nothing else had, would, or could. That the division between perfection and imperfection, sinner and saint, good and evil - all would be bridged by the very act of their mutual suffering and pain. The same glimpse of heaven would become a reality for us all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am sitting here loved, saved, and sanctified because They did!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Alleluia!!</span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-82784632820533663932012-03-24T19:54:00.003-07:002012-03-24T19:54:50.263-07:00Do You Feel It?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEvOGMNBlMLpj5Ow_X3w7qU3g5aJZ5PymkoMtCShUgXEHu5h0VPL_LVxItwyOxD3NEbUdiew2CbNU5DVgSMb3qfpMMvm18o3WpoC1dPoXwCZQj9lcfJIxef8a9ku8OzLoXdYkAJv3dgI/s1600/laying+on+of+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEvOGMNBlMLpj5Ow_X3w7qU3g5aJZ5PymkoMtCShUgXEHu5h0VPL_LVxItwyOxD3NEbUdiew2CbNU5DVgSMb3qfpMMvm18o3WpoC1dPoXwCZQj9lcfJIxef8a9ku8OzLoXdYkAJv3dgI/s200/laying+on+of+hands.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; text-align: center;">Have you
ever been prayed over? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I mean
“laying on of hands” prayed over?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I have on
a few occasions, but the time I never will forget was when I was in the 7<sup>th</sup>
grade. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We had a
lay witness team come to our church. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It was a revival movement of the Methodist Church during the 70’s. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">A team of
youth and adults would come to a church for a weekend. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">They
stayed with families within the church and just witnessed through a series of
meetings. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">For the
youth, it culminated in a prayer circle on Saturday night. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">A chair
was placed in the center of the circle of youth and anyone desiring prayer came
forward. Other kids</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> from
the circle were invited to come forward and touch their friend and pray for
them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">In the
volatile emotional world of teens, there was a lot of crying and soul searching. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The beauty
of the chair and the circle was that there were no divisions. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Star jock
had his hand on the biggest nerd of the group. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Cute
cheerleader held the hand of the shy wallflower. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We cried
and prayed and our youth group was never the same again. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">At the
altar call on Sunday morning </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I went
forward and gave my life to Christ. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">As an
adult, I think it was an acknowledgement of something that had been transpiring
since I was a child, but it was a turning point none the less.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">In the
scripture for this Sunday, I think back to that time. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Jesus is
praying for his disciples. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Put
yourselves in their place. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He has
washed your feet. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He has
shared bread and wine with you. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Saying it
was His body and His blood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Now He has
told you that He truly is going away and some type of Holy ghost is going to
take His place. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And now He
is praying for you. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You can
almost feel His hands on your head. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Feel that
as you read these words take from John 17:</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Father, the hour has come. Glorify your
Son, that your Son may glorify you. <sup>2</sup> For you granted him authority
over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given
him. <sup>3</sup> Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God,
and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. <sup>4</sup> I have brought you glory on
earth by finishing the work you gave me to do. <sup>5</sup> And now, Father,
glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world
began. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><sup><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">10</span></sup></i><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> All I
have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them.
<sup>11</sup> I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the
world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your
name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The word that kept coming back to me
in reading this was “glory”. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Looked it up in the Greek and it
means to cause the dignity and worth of some person or thing to become manifest
and acknowledged. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Jesus was to about to be
glorified.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You might say, he had been. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But you see, what Jesus had revealed
of Himself was not a piece of lint in comparison to the majesty of His glory. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And in being revealed, it would in
turn glorify God. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Not in the earthly sense, Jesus was
approaching the most degrading, humiliating part of His life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But don’t you see, we are to enter a
Holy Week that traces the trip to that point. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">All of Christendom was born on the
cross that Jesus died. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Talk about glory!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He tells God that glory has come to
him through the disciples. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Take a look around the table. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You have fishermen, zealots,
collectors – a rag tag bunch of men. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But men who have given up
livelihood, homes, and family to follow an intinerant preacher. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">They have glorified Jesus by their
very presence at His side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But Jesus does not stop there, He
includes us…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<sup>20</sup> “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will
believe in me through their <sup>22</sup> I have given them the glory that you
gave me, that they may be one as we are one— <sup>23</sup> I in them and you in
me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that
you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He has given us His glory. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He has deemed us worthy by His death
and resurrection. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We are to be included. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Though we may never have seen His
face, nor heard His words. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We are worthy of His blood and His
gift.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Wow!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <sup>24</sup> “Father, I want those you
have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have
given me because you loved me before the creation of the world. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>Lord, I am humbled by this gift<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>Because right now, I see all those
that have stood in Your presence between me and this time<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>I see Christians that gave up their
lives for your Word to be proclaimed. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>That were persecuted for a printing a page from your Word<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>That came to these shores to seek
religious freedom<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>I feel the hands of my grandfather
and grandmother that took me to their little country church to worship<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>My parents that insisted I attend
church every week and learn more about you<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>And the legacy that has burned in my
bones and I have passed on to my children and grandchildren<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>May the flame never die!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>Amen</i></span></div>
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<br /></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-56576680610688555102012-03-20T19:35:00.005-07:002012-03-20T19:35:54.933-07:00Easter Truth<span style="font-size: large;">When I was a young mother, I was torn between two camps. My fundamentalist friends were determined that their pre-schoolers know the whole truth and nothing but the Easter truth. The exact events of the crucifixion and resurrection. All the gory details. Their children had to know, right along with their colors and ABC's, that Jesus Christ died for their sins. How else will they know what a sacrifice He made for them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My friends that swung a little further the other way, felt that Easter should be a time of little seeds planted in moist cotton balls, deep inside Dixie cups. Watching and waiting for the new life that would emerge from the seed. Or a chrysalis, ready to open, a new butterfly, symbol of metamorphosis - life from death. Not a word about B-L-O-O-D or the C-R-O-S-S. I was torn between the two, wanting to be the good Christian mommy I knew I should be. But somehow, I found my own stand. I came to the realization that if my daughter did not know and love Jesus, His death would be just another sad story. Love first, sacrifice later.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Twenty plus years later, I am again working with children and Easter is again knocking at my door. But I am older and wiser and I see things a bit different. I still feel the children should know and love Him, but they must also know how much He loves them. For that was the gift of Easter. Love came down for us at Christmas. But Love died and rose for us at Easter. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is a poem I wrote about my earlier dilemma. A little dark and edgy, I warn you....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Easter
Truth<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Should little ones learn<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In Sunday School rooms<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">That their dear Jesus
died<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">A horrible death<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">To save
their sweet souls<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">So with each sweet breath<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">They can
raise their voices<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">To sing
Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Symbols of
that death<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">As common
to them<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">As their dolls
and toy trains<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Their
burden to tote<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Until each
of them speaks<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">The gory tale by rote<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Sweet
voices singing<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">‘Bout
rivers of blood<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Why would you let them<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Play with nails from His cross?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Metal and heavy<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">With sharp pointed ends<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Could put out their eye <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Or might pierce their
hands<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">So how could you let
them <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Play with nails from His cross?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Or let a little one<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Wear a thorny crown<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Could you bear to see <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Their perfect skin
marred<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">It’s sure to leave them<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Wounded, perhaps scarred<br />
So on those dear heads<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Please no crown of
thorns <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Or dress one so young <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In a blood stained robe<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Perhaps torn in shreds<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">They’d surely ask why<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">And when they were told<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">It would make them cry <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">So let’s not dress them<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In His bloody robe<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In the eyes of a child<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Crosses are made of gold<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Worn about the neck<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">And robes made of satin<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Or nautical suits<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">And heels of white
patent<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">The only thing marred<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">On a small child of five<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">For He begged the children<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">To gather round his knee<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">His joy to watch them<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Play with fuzzy chicks<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Or hunt egg’s colored shell<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Laugh at pollen touched
noses<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">From the lilies they smell<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 21px;"><i>His hugs to enfold the</i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Sweet children He died
to save</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-33379399176637291832012-03-14T03:33:00.000-07:002012-03-14T03:34:25.484-07:00The Maze<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am sure glad apps were not around when I was young. I had enough issues just keeping my nose out of a book! </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just love to play games. Sudoku, Crosswords, Hearts, Spades, Jeopardy, I could go on and on!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But one I am presently fascinated with is a maze. I just started playing this app, so for now it is pretty simple. I hold my tablet more or less flat and tilt the sides up and down so that this little silver ball moves around corners and down alleys.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now it is not a maze in the truest sense, because I am looking down and I can trace the ball to the end before I even start. To experience a true labyrinthian maze, you would need to be following one incorporated in a landscape. You can find a few here, but there are quite a number of intricate ones in Europe, particularly in England and France. Hedges are maintained at a height higher than the average person. Twists and turns take you from what seems dead-end to dead-end. People have actually gotten lost in them and have had to wait for folks to find them. Seems funny, but I bet it could be a bit fearful for the person who was lost.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Life is a lot like a maze. We have all been at those points where we don’t know which way to turn. Many times one direction or opportunity seems the same as the other. We pray, asking for God to give us a sign, some answer, but often it seems He is silent. We start off on one path to find ourselves at a dead end. Or go through one of those episodes in life where we know we are traveling the wrong path, and we just don't care. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I belong to a small group of maze buddies. It just happens to be my Sunday School class at church. I have had the privilege of being in that group for the past 20 years. Some of the faces have changed over time, but we are all on this maze called life and I guess their mere presence there tells me that we all want to choose the right path. It's funny, but looking back I don’t know what I would have done without them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Times when I was just so tired of the twists and turns, they were there to encourage me. When I would get to a dead end for what seemed the "umpteenth" time, I would feel like just sitting down and crying. Sometimes, I literally did. There they would be, putting an arm around me. Many times crying along with me. Times when I was heading down a particularly thorny path, I would find them walking beside me. Letting me know they had been down a tough road themselves and if they could make it, so could I. Their sight extended no further down the journey than mine, but they were there to share their stories, their tears, and their laughter with me. I could not imagine this trip of life without them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And that has made all the difference. In my maze, or I guess you can say…my life</span><br />
<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-10945061045505635952012-03-10T19:40:00.001-08:002012-03-10T19:44:09.924-08:00Garden of the Mind<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"We spend an enormous amount of energy making up our minds about other people. Not a day goes by without somebody doing or saying something that evokes in us the need to form an opinion about him or her. We hear a lot, see a lot, and know a lot. The feeling that we have to sort it all out in our minds and make judgments about it can be quite oppressive.<br /><br />The desert fathers said that judging others is a heavy burden, while being judged by others is a light one. Once we can let go of our need to judge others, we will experience an immense inner freedom. Once we are free from judging, we will be also free for mercy. Let's remember Jesus' words: "Do not judge, and you will not be judged" (Matthew 7:1)."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Henri Nouwen</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I had to pick the one sin I struggle with the most, it would be this one. Not that I think I am better than anyone else. I think it stems from being so self-critical as a child and youth, that I have become a professional. Over the years, I have become better, thanks to God – literally! – but I still do it. I still slip and say a few things, but the real battlefield is in my mind. Then, after I make my mental slice and dice</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> on some poor unsuspecting soul</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, I beat myself </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">up </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">for being such a poor child of God and the cycle continues. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So when I read Henri’s words, they hit home. What if when I started mentally sizing someone up, or thinking critically about a situation, I just said “STOP IT”. I think it is great to seek out the source of why we do things. Rough childhood, low self-esteem,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> mental/physical abuse</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> etc. But once we find the root of the problem</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> just uproot it. If I had a weed in my yard (at this time of the year, don’t we all), I would</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> not ponder why it was there. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I would not l</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ook up the variety</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> or </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">seek the source or wind velocity that brought this predator to my lawn. I just take ahold of that sucker and pull. Then it is over!!! I</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> certainly</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> don’t </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">turn around and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">beat myself about why it was there or how I let it creep in, I just keep a look out for th</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">at</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> next </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">w</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ascally</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> weed. Then</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> when that </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">demon</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> dandelion </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">raises it white fluffy head, I grab it </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">by</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> the root and pull. I guess </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">since I have you thinking along the springtime theme</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, you could put prayer, Bible study, and Christian fellowship in the same category as fertilizer or weed-killer. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> They are pretty much the only weapons I know that are any help in this waging battle I am fighting in my brain-o-sphere. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wow! I feel like a real garden gal!</span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-24102564058216342002012-03-08T21:35:00.004-08:002012-03-14T04:08:43.793-07:00More About Keep the Change<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Can't stop thinking about being the limited child of a limitless God....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few Christmas' ago, my husband and I found ourselves hungry following the Christmas Eve Candlelight service at church. Now not many restaurants are open that time of night, especially on a holiday, but we didn't have a whole lot to eat at home. After a bit of searching, we found a kind of greasy spoon diner that was open. We had never eaten there before and when we went through the door, we knew why. We have non-smoking restaurants now. But back in the day, this was what you called a "smoking" restaurant. You could tell by the nicotine smell that pervaded the carpets and the faint yellow tinge of the white walls. As we sat, my husband looked over the menu, I looked over the crowd.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Really wasn't much of a crowd. A couple or two, but mostly single older men. Probably ate a lot of their meals there. It made me kind of sad to see those folks. Heck, it made me sad to be sitting there. Kind of like being a lot of pitiful folks with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. We, personally, had a houseful of folks coming over Christmas Day, so for us this was the quiet before the storm. But it looked like for these folks, this was their big holiday dinner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few booths over, there was a rough looking man who I noticed to be dressed up, in a rugged way. On his table was a small, hand wrapped present. We shared the same waitress, and from eavesdropping on their conversations (you know you do it), I could tell this man was one of her regulars. They talked about their grown kids and what they would be doing on Christmas Day. It seemed neither had family visiting that Christmas. Both had suffered some hardships and ill health earlier in the year. Toward the end of our meal, I saw him shyly offer the gift to the woman and her hard face light up like a little child. She wanted to take it home to put under her small tree, to save for Christmas Day, but he asked her to open it up. She did and it was a bottle of inexpensive cologne. Evidently that was her "signature" fragrance and she thanked him, giving him a peck on the cheek. He just beamed and in my heart of hearts, I knew that was the most important, if not the only, gift he would give that year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I suddenly felt like an intruder at an intimate family gathering. As I looked back at this group of mismatched folks, I realized they were a family and we were the strangers. I felt ashamed of my critical spirit and my blatant dismissal of these folks earlier in the evening. I had judged them and assessed them a little "below" my husband and I when we first walked through the door. Now I felt like I was sitting at their feet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I looked at the fifty dollar bill my husband had pulled out to pay the tab for a couple of sandwiches. Our waitress was back in the kitchen, so I asked him to leave it all. He looked at me like I had lost my head. Not because of the small extravagance of the act; he has always been more generous than I. But perplexed by the fact that I had suggested it. It was so out of my character. I embarrassed him for years, bringing along my calculator so I could figure a 12% tip. Scotch-Irish to the bone! We slipped out before she returned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Later that night, laying in bed, we couldn't sleep. We thought about what our waitress may have thought when she got the larger than expected tip. We did not feel proud of ourselves. We felt humble and a little ashamed that we had so much and rare were the occasions that we thought to share a little extra like that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't write this to brag, but to give an example of a "keep the change" mentality. Offering time and help to someone that could never in a million years reciprocate. Calling that elderly relative that can complain "til the cows come home", just because of the joy you give in listening to medical ailments for 2 hours! LOL! Knowing you don't need them, you are about to pass up the table of little girls selling their Girl Scout cookies. But stopping, buying several boxes, and then handing them back to the little Brownie, telling her to enjoy. The joy in seeing her eyes grow big as saucers, jumping up and down, excited to tell her fellow scout friends. Those are the kind of "grace-full" acts you will remember and the recipient will never forget. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leave the change and change lives.....yours included!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-89342018533571428252012-03-06T21:02:00.002-08:002012-03-14T04:09:10.602-07:00Exact Change<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was pissed off! I had been in line at a local fast food place for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably five minutes. I had paid for my order and was having to wait for my change. What was the hold up! I was late to work and had a pile of stuff to do on my desk. I hit the steering wheel in a show of disgust. It must of dislodged something in my brain, because I finally thought beyond my frustration.. My change, that amount I was waiting impatiently for, was a whole 7 cents! I was sitting here, food getting cold, wasting all this anger on a measly 7 cents! What an idiot!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I shook my head and gunned my car out of line and into my lane. Waiting on change! I had never really thought about it before. How much of my life had I spent waiting on change. The more I thought about this, I realized it was not always change in the monetary sense, but change none the less. Doing a job over and above what was expected, and then waiting to get my due, the praise I deserved. Then when it was not forthcoming, getting angry, even though I was being paid more than enough for what I did. Giving a gift to someone with that ever so slight thought, in the back of my mind, what they might give me in return? Doing something special at church, trying not to look for the pat on the back, but enjoying it just the same when it came.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why can't we live life in a "keep the change" mentality? Instead of thinking what is due us, we think of what we can give and give it generously - no strings attached. This may seem a bit trite, in light of Easter, but what if Jesus had thought the way we do. What if He gave His life, then calculated how much that gift was worth? Put a price on it. And then expecting some return on that life giving sacrifice. What if He sat there with His hand out, expecting you and I to live up to that kind of gift. But no! On the cross, He said "I have paid your bill and you can keep the change". Kind of a silly way of putting it, but you get what I mean..</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And in light of his great sacrifice, why doesn't that translate to extravagant giving on my part. The recipient of that over the top grace. Right this minute, I feel a lot like the man in the parable who was forgiven an enormous debt and then hunted down someone who owed him a couple of dollars. To throw him in jail. What a jerk!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't know about you, but I feel a bit bummed right now....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-78021034808188637802012-03-02T06:05:00.000-08:002012-04-07T05:58:32.820-07:00Walking ContradictionYeah there a lot of folks out there just like me<br />
We are what we are and we are what you see<br />
We go to the church we go to bars<br />
We read the Word we read the stars<br />
Dixie waves in our front yards<br />
But the stars and stripes are in our hearts<br />
Yeah you might see grey but we’re black and white<br />
Not afraid to love not afraid to fight<br />
We love our Momma’s hell raising Christian<br />
A midnight running<br />
Walking Contradiction<br />
<br />
“Walking Contradiction” by James Wesley<br />
<br />
<br />
Had discussions the last two days with friends, along the same lines, same questions…. <br />
<br />
“If Jesus came here and now, would I recognize Him”<br />
<br />
I would want to say “Of Course”, but I sure have a lot of years of religion under my belt. Now that is not the same as a lot of years as being a Christian. I am an evolved child of God and I am glad for that. But I got a lot of stuff in me that might make it more difficult for me to be as accepting as I would like. I hope my ears, eyes, and heart would be open to the physical incarnation of God, were He/Her to pass my way today, but I am not sure. <br />
<br />
I just read Peter’s speech before Caiaphas and the Sandhedrin in Acts. I can only imagine the sun-leathered face, the tousled hair, less than manicured beard. A man who probably dressed the same as when he was hauling his catch out of the Sea of Galilee. Speaking “educated” words, words that astonished and perplexed his hearers. Like someone else occupied his body – and that was exactly it - another One did. Then I think of Paul, a devout Jew. A learned man of Greek citizenry, spouting testimony about a blinding incident on the road to Damascus. About spending 3 days in a room with scales over his eyes, waiting for someone to come rescue him. Then another 9 years spent in and around his hometown of Tarsus, being taught by the spirit of Christ. Sent on a mission to the Gentiles?? <br />
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Wow! Talk about fanatics! Talk about unbelievable, improbable, to the point of ridiculous men, professing to be apostles of the Messiah! You would have to be a fool to believe them, their stories, or their Savior. Fools for Christ. I think I have heard that before. Walking contradictions for God.<br />
<br />
You see, that is what God specializes in. Choosing the least, the last, the lost. I am afraid my eyes may be open but just might not be able to see past the scruffy clothes or long ponytail. Or maybe I will not be able to hear beyond the poor grammar or theology that does not run alongside mine. I am afraid my heart will be so in tune with my expectations, much like the Pharisees and Saducees that watched Christ during those last days on earth. So that it slowly closes shut, missing the opportunity of a lifetime.<br />
<br />
God lives and breathes and walks amongst us in contradictions. People that don’t look like us, talk like us, and, God love them, think like us. My prayer today, I hope everyday, is that, as the Body of Christ, we start being on the lookout for walking contradictions.<br />
<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-41372662576064385892012-03-01T14:21:00.003-08:002012-03-01T14:21:59.237-08:00Yeah there a lot of folks out there just like me<br />
<br />
We are what we are and we are what you see<br />
We go to the church we go to bars<br />We read the Word we read the stars<br />
Dixie waves in our front yards<br />
But the stars and stripes are in our hearts<br />
Yeah you might see grey but we’re black and white<br />
Not afraid to love not afraid to fight<br />
We love our Momma’s hell raising Christian<br />
A midnight running<br />
Walking Contradiction<br />
<br />
“Walking Contradiction” by James Wesley<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Had discussions the last two days with friends, along the same lines, same questions…. <br />
<br />
“If Jesus came here and now, would I recognize Him”<br />
<br />
I would want to say “Of Course”, but I sure have a lot of years of religion under my belt. Now that is not the same as a lot of years as being a Christian. I am an evolved child of God and I am glad for that. But I got a lot of stuff in me that might make it more difficult for me to be as accepting as I would like. I hope my ears, eyes, and heart would be open to the physical incarnation of God, were He/Her to pass my way today, but I am not sure. <br />
<br />
I just read Peter’s speech before Caiaphas and the Sandhedrin in Acts. I can only imagine the sun-leathered face, the tousled hair, less than manicured beard. A man who probably dressed the same as when he was hauling his catch out of the Sea of Galilee. Speaking “educated” words, words that astonished and perplexed his hearers. Like someone else occupied his body – and that was exactly it - another One did. Then I think of Paul, a devout Jew. A learned man of Greek citizenry, spouting testimony about a blinding incident on the road to Damascus. About spending 3 days in a room with scales over his eyes, waiting for someone to come rescue him. Then another 9 years spent in and around his hometown of Tarsus, being taught by the spirit of Christ. Sent on a mission to the Gentiles?? <br />
<br />
Wow! Talk about fanatics! Talk about unbelievable, improbable, to the point of ridiculous men, professing to be apostles of the Messiah! You would have to be a fool to believe them, their stories, or their Savior. Fools for Christ. I think I have heard that before. Walking contradictions for God.<br />
<br />
You see, that is what God specializes in. Choosing the least, the last, the lost. I am afraid my eyes may be open but just might not be able to see past the scruffy clothes or long ponytail. Or maybe I will not be able to hear beyond the poor grammar or theology that does not run alongside mine. I am afraid my heart will be so in tune with my expectations, much like the Pharisees and Saducees that watched Christ during those last days on earth. So that it slowly closes shut, missing the opportunity of a lifetime.<br />
<br />
God lives and breathes and walks amongst us in contradictions. People that don’t look like us, talk like us, and, God love them, think like us. My prayer today, I hope everyday, is that, as the Body of Christ, we start being on the lookout for walking contradictions.<br />
<br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268588988834342173.post-79160946659971717052012-02-26T21:15:00.003-08:002012-02-26T21:15:49.537-08:00Law & Order: Very Special Victim<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all watch them. The CSI's, the Law and Orders. I don't know what the appeal is. Right over wrong. Does it satisfy the bad boy/girl in each of us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the book of John, chapter 11, we read about a meeting of the church leaders:</span><br />
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<i>Then the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the Sanhedrin.
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<i> “What are we accomplishing?” they asked. “Here is this man performing many
signs. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-26572">48</sup> If we let him go on like
this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away
both our temple and our nation.”
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<i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-26573">49</sup> Then one of them, named
Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, spoke up, “You know nothing at all!
<sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-26574">50</sup> You do not realize that it is
better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation
perish.” </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Funny, have been to some tough committee meetings, but not one quite this subversive. This is written immediately following the raising of Lazarus and Jesus had become a person of interest, to say the least. Until I read this, I did not realize how complicated and pre-planned the death of Jesus was. They probably had spies observing friends and family. They knew that Judas was the one to approach for the betrayal. He was the weak link, the one greedy enough to take the bait. They not only had a populace to incite to riot, but a government to manipulate. They had no jurisdiction so the very entity they were worried about upsetting was the very one they would have to upset to their advantage. Took a lot of fore-planning and work behind the scenes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was a pre-meditated murder,in the literal sense. How ironic! One man to die to save the whole nation. No truer words were spoken by no falser lips. Because it was not only a pre-meditated murder, it was a pre-meditated salvation. One man would die and the world as they knew it would be give the greatest gift it would ever receive. Not only the present but future generations would benefit from their underhanded, wicked, destruction. An innocent slain for the guilty. God had planned for this evil from the beginning of time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These words are in the Bible because there were men, such as Nicodemus, who would realize the truth. They would add these words as another testimony, another prophesy coming true. Another bit of encouragement to a group of fearful, guilty, and troubled disciples, wondering if the person they followed, the man they gave their lives to, was in fact the Christ.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the resounding answer is YES! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hope is not in our circumstances, but in the One that knows before our next breath what will happen in our lives and the lives of the ones we love. Is He worthy of my faith - yes! Is He worthy of my love - yes! Is He worthy of my hope! There is none other!</span><br />Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13265908367915608881noreply@blogger.com0