All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see. So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.
You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. The reward for trusting him will be the salvation of your souls.
1 Peter 1:3-9
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
None of Self and All of Thee
Oh, the bitter pain and sorrow
That a time could ever be,
When I proudly said to Jesus,
“All of self, and none of Thee.”
All of self, and none of Thee,
All of self, and none of Thee,
When I proudly said to Jesus,
“All of self, and none of Thee.”
Yet He found me; I beheld Him
Bleeding on th’ accursed tree,
And my wistful heart said faintly,
“Some of self, and some of Thee.”
Some of self, and some of Thee,
Some of self, and some of Thee,
And my wistful heart said faintly,
“Some of self, and some of Thee.”
Day by day His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Brought me lower while I whispered,
“Less of self, and more of Thee.”
Less of self, and more of Thee,
Less of self, and more or Thee,
Brought me lower while I whispered,
“Less of self, and more of Thee.”
Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered:
“None of self, and all of Thee.”
None of self, and all of Thee,
None of self, and all of Thee,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered:
“None of self, and all of Thee.”
-Theodore Monod
That a time could ever be,
When I proudly said to Jesus,
“All of self, and none of Thee.”
All of self, and none of Thee,
All of self, and none of Thee,
When I proudly said to Jesus,
“All of self, and none of Thee.”
Yet He found me; I beheld Him
Bleeding on th’ accursed tree,
And my wistful heart said faintly,
“Some of self, and some of Thee.”
Some of self, and some of Thee,
Some of self, and some of Thee,
And my wistful heart said faintly,
“Some of self, and some of Thee.”
Day by day His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Brought me lower while I whispered,
“Less of self, and more of Thee.”
Less of self, and more of Thee,
Less of self, and more or Thee,
Brought me lower while I whispered,
“Less of self, and more of Thee.”
Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered:
“None of self, and all of Thee.”
None of self, and all of Thee,
None of self, and all of Thee,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered:
“None of self, and all of Thee.”
-Theodore Monod
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Ouch, baby
Swiftly we're turning life's daily pages;
Swiftly the hours are turning to years.
How are we using God's golden moments?
Shall we reap glory? Shall we reap tears?
Millions are groping without the gospel;
Quickly they'll reach eternity's night.
Shall we sit idly as they rush onward?
Haste, let us hold up Christ the true light.
Souls that are precious, souls that are dying,
While we rejoice our sins are forgiven--
Did He not also die for these lost ones?
Then let us point the way unto heaven.
Into our hands the gospel is given;
Into our hands is given the light.
Haste, let us carry God's precious message,
Guiding the erring back to the right.
This is a song that I do not enjoy reading. I hate it because when I think of it, it reminds me of something that I desperately want to do, but almost completely fail to do. I think there is great truth in it.
If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it. - Mark 8:35
I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. - Romans 7:15
Swiftly the hours are turning to years.
How are we using God's golden moments?
Shall we reap glory? Shall we reap tears?
Millions are groping without the gospel;
Quickly they'll reach eternity's night.
Shall we sit idly as they rush onward?
Haste, let us hold up Christ the true light.
Souls that are precious, souls that are dying,
While we rejoice our sins are forgiven--
Did He not also die for these lost ones?
Then let us point the way unto heaven.
Into our hands the gospel is given;
Into our hands is given the light.
Haste, let us carry God's precious message,
Guiding the erring back to the right.
This is a song that I do not enjoy reading. I hate it because when I think of it, it reminds me of something that I desperately want to do, but almost completely fail to do. I think there is great truth in it.
If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it. - Mark 8:35
I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. - Romans 7:15
Monday, May 24, 2010
SO I STAY NEAR THE DOOR
I stay near the door.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world–
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There’s no use my going way inside, and staying there,
When so many are still outside, and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it - - -So I stay near the door.
The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door–the door to God.
The most important thing any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
And put it on the latch–the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man’s own touch.
Men die outside that door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter–
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live, on the other side of it–because they have found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him - - -
So I stay near the door.
Go in, great saints, go all the way in–
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics–
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, or sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms,
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
Sometimes venture a little farther;
But my place seems closer to the opening - - -
So I stay near the door.
There is another reason why I stay there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great, and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia.
And want to get out. Let me out! they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled
For the old life, they have seen too much;
Once taste God, and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving–preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
But would like to run away. So for them too,I stay near the door.
I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door,
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply, and stay too long,
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there, too.Where?
Outside the door–Thousands of them, millions of them.
But–more important for me–One of them, two of them, ten of them,
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
For those I shall stay by the door and wait
For those who seek it.I had rather be a door-keeper . . .
So I stay near the door
-Samuel Moor Shoemaker, Jr.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world–
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There’s no use my going way inside, and staying there,
When so many are still outside, and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it - - -So I stay near the door.
The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door–the door to God.
The most important thing any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
And put it on the latch–the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man’s own touch.
Men die outside that door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter–
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live, on the other side of it–because they have found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him - - -
So I stay near the door.
Go in, great saints, go all the way in–
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics–
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, or sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms,
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
Sometimes venture a little farther;
But my place seems closer to the opening - - -
So I stay near the door.
There is another reason why I stay there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great, and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia.
And want to get out. Let me out! they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled
For the old life, they have seen too much;
Once taste God, and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving–preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
But would like to run away. So for them too,I stay near the door.
I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door,
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply, and stay too long,
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there, too.Where?
Outside the door–Thousands of them, millions of them.
But–more important for me–One of them, two of them, ten of them,
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
For those I shall stay by the door and wait
For those who seek it.I had rather be a door-keeper . . .
So I stay near the door
-Samuel Moor Shoemaker, Jr.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Rock of Ages
2nd verse, NOT the same as the first:
Not the labors of my hands
can fulfill thy law's demands;
could my zeal no respite know,
could my tears forever flow,
all for sin could not atone;
thou must save, and thou alone.
-Augustus M. Toplady, 1776 (she's a man, baby!)
Not the labors of my hands
can fulfill thy law's demands;
could my zeal no respite know,
could my tears forever flow,
all for sin could not atone;
thou must save, and thou alone.
-Augustus M. Toplady, 1776 (she's a man, baby!)
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Parable of the Pharisee and Tax Collector
Then Jesus told this story to some who had great confidence in their own righteousness and scorned everyone else: “Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, and the other was a despised tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed this prayer: ‘I thank you, God, that I am not a sinner like everyone else. For I don’t cheat, I don’t sin, and I don’t commit adultery. I’m certainly not like that tax collector! I fast twice a week, and I give you a tenth of my income.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed. Instead, he beat his chest in sorrow, saying, ‘O God, be merciful to me, for I am a sinner.’ I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home justified before God. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Luke 18:9-14
“But the tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed. Instead, he beat his chest in sorrow, saying, ‘O God, be merciful to me, for I am a sinner.’ I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home justified before God. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Luke 18:9-14
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
The Human Nature Series - Part 1: Famine
Hunger
The Great Famine (or the Great Hunger) was a period of mass starvation, disease and emigration in Ireland between 1845 and 1852. Around a million people died, and a million more fled to other countries. Did you know that during this time, food was being exported from Ireland? Hard to believe but true. Nothing paints quite such a picture in my mind of human nature than stories like this.
Food exports to England
Records show Irish lands exported food even during the worst years of the Famine. When Ireland had experienced a famine in 1782–83, ports were closed to keep Irish-grown food in Ireland to feed the Irish. Local food prices promptly dropped. Merchants lobbied against the export ban, but government in the 1780s overrode their protests. No such export ban happened in the 1840s.
Cecil Woodham-Smith, an authority on the Irish Famine, wrote in The Great Hunger; Ireland 1845–1849 that no issue has provoked so much anger and embittered relations between England and Ireland as "the indisputable fact that huge quantities of food were exported from Ireland to England throughout the period when the people of Ireland were dying of starvation." Ireland remained a net exporter of food throughout most of the five-year famine.
Christine Kinealy, a University of Liverpool fellow and author of two texts on the famine, Irish Famine: This Great Calamity and A Death-Dealing Famine, writes that Irish exports of calves, livestock (except pigs), bacon and ham actually increased during the famine. The food was shipped under guard from the most famine-stricken parts of Ireland. However, the poor had no money to buy food and the government then did not ban exports.
The following poem written by Miss Jane Francesca Elgee, a well known and popular author, was carried in the The Nation:
"Weary men, what reap ye? Golden corn for the stranger.
What sow ye? Human corpses that wait for the Avenger.
Fainting forms, Hunger—stricken, what see you in the offing
Stately ships to bear our food away, amid the stranger's scoffing.
There's a proud array of soldiers—what do they round your door?
They guard our master's granaries from the thin hands of the poor.
Pale mothers, wherefore weeping? 'Would to God that we were dead—
Our children swoon before us, and we cannot give them bread."
The Great Famine (or the Great Hunger) was a period of mass starvation, disease and emigration in Ireland between 1845 and 1852. Around a million people died, and a million more fled to other countries. Did you know that during this time, food was being exported from Ireland? Hard to believe but true. Nothing paints quite such a picture in my mind of human nature than stories like this.
Food exports to England
Records show Irish lands exported food even during the worst years of the Famine. When Ireland had experienced a famine in 1782–83, ports were closed to keep Irish-grown food in Ireland to feed the Irish. Local food prices promptly dropped. Merchants lobbied against the export ban, but government in the 1780s overrode their protests. No such export ban happened in the 1840s.
Cecil Woodham-Smith, an authority on the Irish Famine, wrote in The Great Hunger; Ireland 1845–1849 that no issue has provoked so much anger and embittered relations between England and Ireland as "the indisputable fact that huge quantities of food were exported from Ireland to England throughout the period when the people of Ireland were dying of starvation." Ireland remained a net exporter of food throughout most of the five-year famine.
Christine Kinealy, a University of Liverpool fellow and author of two texts on the famine, Irish Famine: This Great Calamity and A Death-Dealing Famine, writes that Irish exports of calves, livestock (except pigs), bacon and ham actually increased during the famine. The food was shipped under guard from the most famine-stricken parts of Ireland. However, the poor had no money to buy food and the government then did not ban exports.
The following poem written by Miss Jane Francesca Elgee, a well known and popular author, was carried in the The Nation:
"Weary men, what reap ye? Golden corn for the stranger.
What sow ye? Human corpses that wait for the Avenger.
Fainting forms, Hunger—stricken, what see you in the offing
Stately ships to bear our food away, amid the stranger's scoffing.
There's a proud array of soldiers—what do they round your door?
They guard our master's granaries from the thin hands of the poor.
Pale mothers, wherefore weeping? 'Would to God that we were dead—
Our children swoon before us, and we cannot give them bread."
Thursday, May 13, 2010
She's a good-hearted woman...
“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.”- Proverbs 31:30
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
My neighbor
My neighbor is moving. I didn't know him. I think I spoke to him about 2 times. One of which was "hi", and the other time was telling him that I was going to put in a fence. He wasn't too excited about that. He was very concerned that it was going to be put in the right place, and he warned me about 6 times about putting it on the easement. Then a couple of days later he brought over a diagram showing the easement and the lot layout. Not outright rude, but not anywhere close enough to friendly to be identifiable.
Here's the moral of the story. The guy is a Christian. I'm a Christian. Did either one of us do even a passable job of "loving our neighbor as ourselves"? I would have to say no. That is really a shame. I'm not a great neighbor, but I have had some really nice neighbors. My old neighbor Tim was as friendly a guy as you could hope to meet, and more than willing to help with anything I needed. It is to my shame that my neighbors can't say that about me, I only know two of them, and out of those, I only know the name of one. Granted, we've only lived there for a couple of years, but I have to say that getting to know my neighbors hasn't really been a priority for me.
I just hate to think that when and if we ever move, one of my neighbors will say, "well, I didn't really know the guy, but he was kind of a selfish jerk. And I know he was a Christian."
Lord, please help me with my shortcomings, help me to truly love others, so they can see your love living in me. And so that I may not bring shame upon the blessed name of Jesus Christ.
Here's the moral of the story. The guy is a Christian. I'm a Christian. Did either one of us do even a passable job of "loving our neighbor as ourselves"? I would have to say no. That is really a shame. I'm not a great neighbor, but I have had some really nice neighbors. My old neighbor Tim was as friendly a guy as you could hope to meet, and more than willing to help with anything I needed. It is to my shame that my neighbors can't say that about me, I only know two of them, and out of those, I only know the name of one. Granted, we've only lived there for a couple of years, but I have to say that getting to know my neighbors hasn't really been a priority for me.
I just hate to think that when and if we ever move, one of my neighbors will say, "well, I didn't really know the guy, but he was kind of a selfish jerk. And I know he was a Christian."
Lord, please help me with my shortcomings, help me to truly love others, so they can see your love living in me. And so that I may not bring shame upon the blessed name of Jesus Christ.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
All of creation
Separated until the veil was torn
The moment that hope was born
and guilt was pardoned once and for all
Captivated but no longer bound by chains
left at an empty grave
the sinner and the sacred resolved
and all of creation sing with me now
lift up your voice and lay your burden down
and all of creation sing with me now
fill up the heavens let his glory resound
Time has faded and we see him face to face
every doubt erased forever we will worhip the king
the reason we breathe is to sing of his glory
and for all he has done praise the father
praise the son and the spirit in one
and every knee will bow and every tongue praise the father
praise the son and the spirit in one
-MercyMe
The moment that hope was born
and guilt was pardoned once and for all
Captivated but no longer bound by chains
left at an empty grave
the sinner and the sacred resolved
and all of creation sing with me now
lift up your voice and lay your burden down
and all of creation sing with me now
fill up the heavens let his glory resound
Time has faded and we see him face to face
every doubt erased forever we will worhip the king
the reason we breathe is to sing of his glory
and for all he has done praise the father
praise the son and the spirit in one
and every knee will bow and every tongue praise the father
praise the son and the spirit in one
-MercyMe
Friday, May 7, 2010
The end of trials
Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see. So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while.
1 Peter 1:3-6
1 Peter 1:3-6
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Psalm 31:14-16
But I am trusting you, O Lord, saying, “You are my God!” My future is in your hands. Rescue me from those who hunt me down relentlessly. Let your favor shine on your servant. In your unfailing love, rescue me.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Righteousness apart from works
“Oh, what joy for those whose disobedience is forgiven, whose sins are put out of sight. Yes, what joy for those whose record the Lord has cleared of sin."
Romans 4:7-8
Romans 4:7-8
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
And remember, this is for posterity, so please, be honest.
James 5:16
"Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. "
It can be uncomfortable and certainly humbling to admit your faults and struggles to others. It is most unfortunate that among Christians of all people, there can be an atmosphere of not wanting to appear "weak" or, perish the thought, "sinful". Pride makes us want to have others think we are great.
I'm not opposed to someone having it all together, but I see a great danger in refusing to confess our sins to each other so that we might pray for each other. I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but as for myself, I just happen to know that I am indeed a sinner. And I don't just mean that I was a sinner before I came to know Jesus; but that I am a sinner now, as a believer. I have some Christian friends who scold me for saying that. But I think it is wonderful to know that I can be honest with God about the fact that I am not capable of living up to His perfect standard, because Jesus Christ lived up to it for me. Not only that, but my penalty for failing to meet it was paid by His blood, shed on the cross. And my hope for eternal life is founded in His resurrection from the dead.
Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! - 2 Corinthians 9:15
Oliver Cromwell was once sitting for his portrait. He was not a handsome man, and to make matters worse, his face was disfigured by a number of ugly looking warts. The painter thinking to improve the looks of his patron was leaving off the warts. When Cromwell noticed what he was doing, he broke forth in great indignation as follows: "Damn you, sir; paint me as I am-warts and all-or not at all."
Six Months at the White House with Abraham Lincoln: The Story of a Picture
(The words of the painter recalling his meeting with the president.)
Retaining my hand, he looked at me inquiringly for an instant, and said, "Oh yes, I know; this is the painter." Then straightening himself to his full height, with a twinkle of the eye he added playfully, "Do you think, Mr. Carpenter, that you can make a handsome picture of me?"
"Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. "
It can be uncomfortable and certainly humbling to admit your faults and struggles to others. It is most unfortunate that among Christians of all people, there can be an atmosphere of not wanting to appear "weak" or, perish the thought, "sinful". Pride makes us want to have others think we are great.
I'm not opposed to someone having it all together, but I see a great danger in refusing to confess our sins to each other so that we might pray for each other. I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but as for myself, I just happen to know that I am indeed a sinner. And I don't just mean that I was a sinner before I came to know Jesus; but that I am a sinner now, as a believer. I have some Christian friends who scold me for saying that. But I think it is wonderful to know that I can be honest with God about the fact that I am not capable of living up to His perfect standard, because Jesus Christ lived up to it for me. Not only that, but my penalty for failing to meet it was paid by His blood, shed on the cross. And my hope for eternal life is founded in His resurrection from the dead.
Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! - 2 Corinthians 9:15
Oliver Cromwell was once sitting for his portrait. He was not a handsome man, and to make matters worse, his face was disfigured by a number of ugly looking warts. The painter thinking to improve the looks of his patron was leaving off the warts. When Cromwell noticed what he was doing, he broke forth in great indignation as follows: "Damn you, sir; paint me as I am-warts and all-or not at all."
Six Months at the White House with Abraham Lincoln: The Story of a Picture
(The words of the painter recalling his meeting with the president.)
Retaining my hand, he looked at me inquiringly for an instant, and said, "Oh yes, I know; this is the painter." Then straightening himself to his full height, with a twinkle of the eye he added playfully, "Do you think, Mr. Carpenter, that you can make a handsome picture of me?"
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