PEACE ~ PAX ~ PAIX ~ PAZ ~ PACE

Dan Trabue over at Payne Hollow Visit allowed me to share this post from his blog.Thanks Dan!!!

Have a Blessed Peace Sunday

The following was written by Gary Kohls. I'm sharing it here because this Sunday is Peace Sunday, the time we stop to recall the devastation of the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and to rededicate ourselves to the work of peace.

Gary is a Christian peacemaker whose writing I've read as a result of my connections to Every Church a Peace Church (www.ecapc.org). It's a timely history lesson.

Nagasaki is famous in the history of Japanese Christianity. Not only was it the site of the largest Christian church in the Orient, St. Mary’s Cathedral, but it also had the largest concentration of baptized Christians in all of Japan.

It was the city where the legendary Jesuit missionary, Francis Xavier, established a mission church in 1549, a Christian community which survived and prospered for several generations. However, soon after Xavier’s planting of Christianity in Japan, Portuguese and Spanish commercial interests began to be accurately perceived by the Japanese rulers as exploitive, and therefore the religion of the Europeans (Christianity) and their new Japanese converts became the target of brutal persecutions.

Within 60 years of the start of Xavier’s mission church, it was a capital crime to be a Christian. The Japanese Christians who refused to recant of their beliefs suffered ostracism, torture and even crucifixions similar to the Roman persecutions in the first three centuries of Christianity. After the reign of terror was over, it appeared to all observers that Japanese Christianity had been stamped out.

However, 250 years later, in the 1850s, after the coercive gunboat diplomacy of Commodore Perry forced open an offshore island for American trade purposes, it was discovered that there were thousands of baptized Christians in Nagasaki, living their faith in a catacomb existence, completely unknown to the government - which immediately started another purge. But because of international pressure, the persecutions were soon stopped, and Nagasaki Christianity came up from the underground.

And by 1917, with no help from the government, the Japanese Christian community built the massive St. Mary’s Cathedral, in the Urakami River district of Nagasaki. Now it turned out, in the mystery of good and evil, that St. Mary’s Cathedral was one of the landmarks that the Bock’s Car bombardier had been briefed on, and looking through his bomb site over Nagasaki that day, he identified the cathedral and ordered the drop.

At 11:02 am, Nagasaki Christianity was boiled, evaporated and carbonized in a scorching, radioactive fireball. The persecuted, vibrant, faithful, surviving center of Japanese Christianity had become ground zero.

And what the Japanese Imperial government could not do in over 200 years of persecution, American Christians did in 9 seconds. The entire worshipping community of Nagasaki was wiped out.

Bless God

In many churches you can hear people say quite often during worship, " We bless you Lord!" or "Bless your name God." or something similar. After years of hearing this, I've got to thinking about it quite a bit lately, and I'm asking myself if blessing God is really something we can do with words. Think about it. How do you know when you have been blessed? Isn't it because of some type of manifest evidence? We know that we are blessed by God every morning that we wake up and in countless ways throughout the course of the day. In fact the blessings that we receive from the hand of God throughout the course of any given day are innumerable and impossible to even begin to tally. But how many of us bless God in ways other than what we offer during worship on Sunday? In pondering this question, I have begun to ask God about even the most mundane aspects of my life. I want to know that apart from my, "Bless you God!" on Sunday that God is truly blessed by what manifest in my life Monday through Saturday. I want to know that He is blessed by the way I respond to someone who might be a wee bit cranky. I want to know that he is blessed by the way I respond to the young person I witness making the wrong choice. I want to know that He is blessed by the way I speak to the bus driver and the blue collar employee. I want to know that not just my words during worship bless Him, but that my actions after worship bless Him as well. I guess I'm just feeling that words with out actions to back them up are just little more than lip service - which really blesses no one at all.

s'allumer

I have been studying French for a year now. Recently I learned that "to light" is "s'allumer" in French. We're assuming it is derived from the same word as illuminate which is from the Latin - illuminare, which means "to light up". I found this interesting and very appropriate to what God has been doing in my life. You're probably familiar with this scenario - something unexpected happens to you and you find you respond in a way that shocks and surprises even you. I believe such incidents are not accidental, but are instead choreographed into our lives by a loving God who is ever perfecting us as we are transformed into the image and likeness of His son.
But it can be discouraging at times. We feel we have made so much progress and then something hits us that makes us question how much, or even if, we have grown at all spiritually. While praying about this recently God spoke to me and what he said encouraged me. He told me that our inner spiritual journey is like a walk from darkened room to darkened room and in each room we enter we turn on the light - if we have the courage.

We all have things in us that need to change - some we are aware of, and some hang like unnoticed cobwebs in a darkened room we rarely venture into. God never forces us into those areas, but always presents us with a choice. We can turn and close the door and walk away, or we can choose to venture in and turn on the light. And it really is all about choice. We have to choose to honestly look at those things within us that are yet to be transformed. We have to look at that bitterness, that lust, that selfishness, that self-righteous attitude, that self-pity, that inability to give or receive love, that unwillingness to forgive, that lack of trust - its ultimately our choice.
No one will force us - not even God.

Do you have the courage to s'allumer?

Shiprock

A couple of years ago a wonderful friend took me on a trip to the southwest. While driving we saw far off in the distance Shiprock. Like so much of the southwest, even from a distance its massiveness was a spectacle to behold. Before returning home I bought a beautiful little plaque that stated, "Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking." When I returned home I had a dream. I was wandering in the desert at night. I had been trying to find shiprock. It was so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. After wandering for a while like this, certain I was lost, I decided to lay down for the night and wait for morning. When I awakened at dawns first light I opened my eyes to see shiprock looming high above me. I had unknowingly stopped my wanderings right at its base the night before. I began to climb its towering heights and as I did the Spirit of God fell heavy on me. The higher I climbed, the heavier it became and I began to weep with joy as I was consumed by the presence of God. I keep a picture of Shipwrock close at hand and when I am going through things other than the presence of God that are trying to consume me I look at it and meditate on it and remember the meaning of the dream. Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.

The Yin and the Yang

Have you ever noticed that there is no neutral ground in the Kingdom of God? Jesus said that he who does not gather with Him scatters. You're either a gatherer or a scatterer. You're either building the Kingdom of God, or tearing it down by default. There are no disinterested spectators in the Kingdom of God - only builders or destroyers.

Lately I am coming to a much greater understanding of the frustration God exhibits toward the lukewarm Christian. In Revelation he tells us he will spew the lukewarm out of His mouth. Have you ever met anyone who just didn't want to do anything? People like that really scare me. Hangers on. They don't want to lift a brick to help build the walls, but they still want to claim association with the group. They don't have the decency to sit down with the "cold" people and get the heck out of the way of those who are building. Perhaps they would recoil at the idea of being labeled destroyers because to their own minds they aren't actually tearing bricks off of the wall. But they are destroyers by default because their lackadaisical attitude impedes the progress of those who would build, either by distraction, disruption, or a refusal to add needed resources and energy to the building.

I think each of us have played both roles at one time or another. Oh, I do believe that there are those who are predominantly one or the other. But I also think its worth while for each of us to examine our daily actions and ask ourselves if we are building or destroying in different areas of our life - with our relationships, finances, and other resources. Let's not be fooled into thinking that our selfishness or disinterest affects no one but ourselves, because every choice we make is either an act of gathering or scattering.

And yet, I love her still . . .

Van Gogh

My Empire of Dirt

Have you heard or seen the video for "Hurt" by Johnny Cash?
Its pretty amazing. I like the lines of the song where he sings, " And you can have it all - my empire of dirt." Whenever I hear it I can't help but think about Paul's admonition to the early church. I have grown to like this song by Johnny Cash, I guess because more than anything I feel like I share his frustration, and sense of disillusionment. It seems to express his hollowness that he now feels is attached to so much of his life and the pursuits that drove him. For me it expresses well how I feel about the modern church.

When did this become so complicated?
When did speculation become discernment?
When did gossip become a prayer request?
When did denial become a fruit of the Holy Spirit?
When did disorder become freedom and structure become legalism?



Maybe I'm just tired. I'm tired of Christians who behave as if the church is their personal platform for superstardom. I'm tired of pastors who fleece their flocks. I'm tired of slander passing for a prophetic word. I'm tired of people being so deep they have gone off the deep end. I'm tired of people being demonized because they had the nerve to speak the truth we didn't want to hear.

If we are going to lose our minds - could we at least take on the mind of Christ?
You know, the one this is supposedly all about in the first place . . .


"But each one should be careful how he builds. ¹¹For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. ¹²If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, ¹³his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work. ¹⁴If what he has built survives, he will receive his reward. ¹⁵If it is burned up, he will suffer loss; he himself will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames." I Corinthians 3: 10-15

Hopefully you will be able to click on the linkbelow and access the video.

http://www.losthighwayrecords.com/e/cash11403.html

April in Paris

Weeeee'll . . . I haven't written much lately. There are several reasons for that. First and foremost being the realization of my lifelong dream of visiting Paris. It was life changing for me, and I think I am going through reverse culture shock . . .
The trip far and away exceeded even my highest expectations. I was overwhelmed, to say the least.
There were so many things that happened to me on the trip. In order to help me remember and record them I wrote a daily group email and sent it to my friends. I will post it here for those of you who care to read it. The photo at the top was taken at the top of the spire at Sacre Coeur - my favorite spot in Paris. I thought the Celtic influence was interesting.
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Apr 18

The people at the B&B where I am staying in London are kind enough to let me use the computer at the desk. I'm not sure if I will be that luck in Paris, so I will take advantage of the opportunity while I can.

The flight would have been wonderful if it had not been for a very loud spoiled toddler who screamed for three hours and then started all over again when he woke up in the morning. Good thing it wasn't reality tv - I know how I would have voted mid Atlantic. But I was one of the very few non- Indians on the flight. I was adopted in the terminal by the patriarch of a Sikh family. As it turned out we ended up in the same row on the flight. He was born in Kenya, lived there the first thirty years and then moved to London. They were all very nice. The food on the flight was Indian and amazingly good.

I am completely overwhelmed by London in the best sense of the word. I have been reading and dreaming about coming here for most of my life, and yet nothing prepares you for the real experience. I think more than anything it is the atmosphere. I wonder if that is what heaven is like? Everyone is very kind and helpful here. So far the only snag has been that here they use a smart card with a micro-chip, rather than a magnetic strip. All of the businesses still accept my old card, but I have not been able to withdraw cash. So far I haven't needed to. London has exceeded every expectation. It is all it is supposed to be and more. Red double deckers, red mail boxes, red phone booths! Red, red red - these are my kind of people - Ha! The choir at Westminster is on holiday - rats. Shopped at Harrods. Incredible. It lives up to its reputation. It actually does have stuff in every price range. Ate at a Lebanese restaurant for dinner, when I finally slowed down enough to remember that I actually need to eat . . .

Hope I can find access to a computer in Paris.
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April 19

please excuse errors as the keyboards here are different.

Arrived in Paris safely yesterday. Card works in the ATM! Saw Eiffel Tower and Champs Elysee. Thought London shopping was better.

But something unbelievable . . .

I asked the folks at the hotel to direct me to the nearest Metro Stop. They told me to walk north and take the second left. A half block from my turn I saw an Indian running a corner market. I then saw that the next shop actually sold Indian groceries and that the one next to it was an Indian restaurant. I turned the corner and found myself on an entire street of Indian and Sri Lankan businesses!!! I stopped to talk to someone and they informed me that I was in the Indian and Sri Lankan community in Paris!!!!! It smells and looks just like Devon Ave. Two blocks from my hotel! This is really too much! I'm using one of several of thier internet cafes to type this. Im not sure how much access I will have as they were closed when I returned last night, so if you don't hear from me don't worry. I seem to have a knack for navigating metros. The pickpockets came at me when I got off the train. I gave them a look that sent them flying.

I had my first meal in Paris last night! Wow! I ordered salmon, always my first choice when on the menu. It melted in my mouth like butter. Have encountered the infamous French attitude, but found that if I at least try to speak the little French I know the frosty exterior melts and is replaced by the warmest of smiles. I'm going off the beaten path today as I found that the touriste spots are mainly packed with Americans - we sure do know how to make ourselves obvious.

My love to everyone.
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Apr 20

I am convinced at this point that God is my tour guide. I am seeing everything I want to see and then some, including a side of Black Paris that isnt in the tour books. The neighborhoods are the way to go. The people are extremely kind, helpful and welcoming. The high tourist areas are overwhelming to me in the worst sense of the word.

Yesterday I got off the train at a busy market I had noticed next to a Tati. I found myself in the middle of the African and Arab neighborhood. A lot of people from Senegal. FABULOUS shopping! Especially in comparison to tourist areas. I walked for miles and hours all over Montmarte, turned a corner and looked up just in time to read a little sign telling me I was standing in front of the former home of Vincent Van Gogh and his brother Theo. Met the owner of a little shop who sells blown glass from Lebanon. Could not believe the prices! He told me no one from Paris shops on the Champs Elysee. The shopping is good in the hood.

Saw Notre Dame this morning. Honestly I preferred the Sacre Coeur in Montmarte. But the exterior of Notre Dame was exquisite. Again too many tourist. I had a hard time praying there for all the noise. Sacre Coeur did not allow pictures. I found out at Notre Dame that is a good thing.

Right in the middle of the Indian neighborhood there is a Hell's Angels France Biker Club. Nice to know they're branching out.
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Apr 21

Hey all! Is it really Friday already? Today I am slowing way down. After walking for four days straight I have to give my poor feet a break. Saw Musee d'Orsay yesterday. Incredible!!!! I started at the Louvre but it was sooooooooo hot and crowded I had to bail out. When a place makes you miserable it aint worth it. But I did get to see the mother of all chandeliers in Napolean's apartments. I am going to plan a trip back just to do the Louvre after Christmas. Hope Abe and Jonathan can come with me this time.

My only definite aim for the next two days is Versailles. I am not even sure I am going to hit the flea market. I found Prentemps and Galleries Du Lafayette yesterday and I'm really shopped out at this point. I might still try to go to Giverny tomorrow insted.

Only bad incident so far - I allowed a very pushy woman to get me flustered at Orsay and dropped the camera. It is fine, but I lost all my pictures .... Another good reason to come back.

The Metro here is incredible! It runs so quickly. I rarely walk into a station and have to wait for a train. There is usually one right there. And when it pulls out another is right there behind it within a minute or two. In fact it runs so well that there have been times I have hopped the Metro and come back to my hotel just to use the bathroom or drop off packages! It really does run that well!

I haven't had the same experience with food that Corey and Stacy had. Everywhere I go I get huge portions and feel guilty about leaving all that food behind as I have no where to keep it. The Kabobs at the Turkish stands are wonderful.

Gotta go.

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Apr 22

There should never be a last day of vacations. They are too bitter sweet. You should just be able to skip from next to last day to home. Just when you get to know the people in the hood and remember all of the French you forgot you have to come back home. Ces't la vie . . .

Got lost yesterday. It was fabulous! Ended up in St. Germaine en Laye. Right by the train station there is a gorgeous chateau that is now a museum. Going to try to go back today. Also has beautiful gardens and a great view of the city. Ended up taking a joy ride through the suburbs on the bus. I didn't worry because I knew that as long as there was a train station at the end of the route I could get back in the city. Passed some of those ruins of arches I had wanted to see. Passed a suburban mall that was Massive!!!!! The suburbs have a much different feel than the city, just like in the states.

Had a great breakfast this morning.

Determined not to leave Paris without eating a crepe, I ordered a Grand Marnier Crepe thinking it would come with a nice orange sauce laced with a little Grand Marnier. Little did I know that they pour a bucket of alcohol on it AFTER it cooks . . . Oh well, Bon Appetit!

The saddest thing about Europe is that her churches are full of people but no one comes to worship.

Well, I guess this is it. I start towards home first thing tomorrow.

God Bless.

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Apr 25 For those of you I haven't already seen, I want to let you know that I made it back home safe and sound.

Also, I wanted to share a couple of things about my trip. Ruth had asked me what God was showing me on my trip. During the course of my journey it was very clear to me that God was with me every step of the way. For example, I like to do needle work and on my way into Paris I was wondering if French women do needlework and if so where they buy their supplies. In search of a teddy bear, I wandered right into the needlework dept in Printemps in Paris. This happened to me over and over again on the trip. Time and time again I would have a desire to know or see something and it would just happen without my trying to make it happen - God was giving me the desires of my heart and showing me that He is with me. And even though I went on the trip alone, I have never felt less alone in my life.

Also, just when you think God is finished . . .
The flight home was incredible. We flew on a 747 and I had a window seat as well as being alone in my row, so I was able to lift the arms and stretch out. But that was far from being the biggest blessing of the flight. On the way home we flew over the tip of Greenland. The sun, of course, was out for the whole way for the return journey. As we neared the tip of Greenland I looked out the windows and began to see patches of ice floating in the water. I then began to see scattered streams of ice flows. This then turned into an ocean entirely filled with ice flows. We then crossed the tip of Greenland. the barren landscape consisted of soaring jet black mountains peeking through the snow. It was one of the most stunning things I have ever seen in my life. Isn't that just like God? Just when you think He is done blessing you, you turn around and He is pouring more on.
Run to win.

Are You Stuck?

One of the things I have had to learn is that if I'm going to continue to move forward, I have to be able to ignore and avoid stuck people.

You know the ones -
Stuck people give you 900 reasons why your dream will never happen.

Stuck people are the ones who see you moving toward your future and start reminding you of your past, what you did yesterday, last week, and six months ago.

Stuck people try to suck you into their wars over non-issues like choir uniforms, what color we should paint the bathroom, and if the ushers should wear black sox or navy.

Stuck people have no greater dream than to be the biggest fish in the small pond that they are currently swimming in - as if being the president of the PTA is actually a legitimate life goal.

Stuck people are the ones who look you up and down, see that you've lost weight and act as if they would rather have their tongue ripped from their head than compliment you.

Stuck people brag that they have been doing the same dang thing the same way for the last twenty years - as if that is a testimony.

Stuck people want to keep you focused on where you are at now and what you were then, rather than allowing you to focus on where you are going and what you can be.

If you are going to fulfill your dream, you had better learn to block out and ignore the stuck people.
Stuck people want company. Then they won't feel lonely. If everyone else around them is living a life just as hum-drum and mediocre as they are, they'll spend less time in the dark corners of their minds asking themselves the question, "Could I have had more, done more, been more?"

Stuck people want you to be stuck, just like them.
Maybe some day they will wake up and realize that the fly paper of their lives isn't as great as they thought it was. But I don't have time to stick around and find out.

Well Hell's Bells

Just want to say goodbye to a friend.
This is for you.
Hope you C it.
Keep your hands up.

The Boxer

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told.
I have squandered my resistance,
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises.
All lies and jest.
Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.

When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy,
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of a railway station, runnin' scared.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters,
Where the ragged people go.
Lookin' for the places, only they would know.

Lie-la-lie ...

Asking only workman's wages I come lookin' for a job,
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome,
I took some comfort there.
Oooh la, la, la ...

Li la li...

Now the years are rollin' by me, they are rockin' evenly
And I'm older than I once was, younger than I'll be, that's not unusual
Though it isn't strange, after changes upon changes
We are more or less the same, after changes we are more or less the same

Li la li ...

And I’m laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin’ home
Where the new york city winters aren’t bleedin’ me, leadin’ me to goin' home

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade,
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down,
Or cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains.

Lie-la-lie ...

by Paul Simon

Safe and Sound

Eugene Burnand
Les disciples Pierre et Jean courant au sepulcre le matin de la Resurrection

Well, I made it back from Paris safe and sound. The trip was INCREDIBLE! But right now I am suffering from too much jet lag to blog much, so I will leave you with this post of my favorite painting that I saw while on my trip. The small scale does not enable one to see the emotion the artist captured in the eyes of Peter and John.

Salut - A tout a l'heure

Well, the Angevoix is off to Paris for a week. I have wanted to go to Paris since I was old enough to understand what Paris is. If I do this post correctly, you should be able to go to the link and scroll around a breathtaking view of Paris at night!

http://www.arnaudfrichphoto.com/paris-panoramique-360-110.htm

Carl Larsson

Carl Larsson is one of my favorite artist. He was a Swedish artist who lived in the late 19th and early 20th century. His father was alcoholic and as a result his upbringing was harsh and impoverished. It was his goal as an adult to create the warmth of the happy home that he had longed for as a child. If his art work is any example of the reality of the homelife he created for himself and his family, he certainly succeeded. The subject of most of his beautiful water colors is domestic tranquility at its joyful best.

What he got right.

"Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"
Matthew 14:29-30

How far do you have to sink?

Let me explain. I have been in church forever . . . well at least it seems that way sometimes. And I have heard many many preachers expound on the story of Peter stepping out of the boat to walk on the water towards Jesus. I have heard it used as an allegory on keeping our eyes focused on Christ in the midst of a trial rather than looking at our circumstances. I have heard it used to talk about faith, having it and the lack thereof. I have heard preachers use it to talk about fear versus faith. But there is one thing that Peter got very right that I have never heard anyone talk about. When Peter began to sink, he cried out to Jesus. He didn't cry out to the other people in the boat. He didn't try to swim back to the boat. He didn't try to save himself, work it out on his own, think it out, cry it out, or sulk it out . He didn't wait until salt water stung his eyes and water filled his nose and mouth. Peter saw Jesus as a first response rather than a last resort.

So let me ask you the question again. How far do you have to sink?

Dr. Maya Angelou

Dr.Maya Angelou came to our church and spoke last night. Yes, I am bragging.
She was incredible.


You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Perfect Storm

Have you met your perfect storm?

Have you ever faced a trial that seemed made to order just to take you out. One that pushed all the right buttons in all the right places of your life. One that seemed to play on your every last weakness? Did you feel capsized? Did you wonder if you were going to drown? Did you ever face a trial that took you to the point that you realized that there just wasn't any use in playing anymore, trying to hide your pain behind a false smile or faith that you just weren't feeling at the moment? Were people disappointed that you didn't handle it with the strength they thought you should have? Did you feel judged?

Jesus faced his perfect storm. He faced it on his knees in the Garden of Gethsemane. I think that it is very interesting that he takes Peter, John and James with him to pray. The Word tells us He was deeply distressed and troubled, that He was in anguish, and that His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. He told His disciples that His soul was overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. When He finds the three disciples He chose to accompany Him asleep, it is Peter He addresses. Why just Peter? Peter the bold one, the brash one, the quick tempered and boastful, the one who swore never to disown Him? Is it because Christ knew Peter, of all the disciples, needed to see him at his lowest point of sorrow? Did Peter, more than any of the others need to see the 100% human of the 100% divine Christ?

No one likes to go through a storm. But I have learned that storms can leave behind some priceless gifts. The storms of my life gave me a whole new appreciation for grace. Now when I hear the word "grace" it flames up like a fire within my heart. When I sing about God being my strength, its as if every cell of my being is echoing the sentiment. We like to put people on pedestals and when they fail to live up to all we think they should be, we love to judge. Part of us feels betrayed, let down, and sometimes disillusioned. We ask ourselves, " How could they!?!"
Peter demanded a lot of himself, and many times people who demand a lot of themselves can be harsh judges of those around them. Perhaps that is why it was so important for Jesus to have Peter witness His agony in the Garden. Perhaps like Peter, we need to be a little less quick to judge those around us who fail to respond to life's trials with the outward appearance of strength that we think they should have . . . at least until we are sure we have already faced our own perfect storm.

More Potholes than Pavement

There are times in my walk with God that I have to go old school. There are times in my life when I have to go back and sing the old hymns the way I grew up hearing them as a child. There are times in my life when my prayers are not very pretty. There are times in my faith walk when the road is so dark, and there seems to be more potholes than pavement. These are times when I have to go way back and when my Grandma Clara hangs very heavy in my mind.
Grandma Clara was called "China doll" by all who knew her. They say she was the prettiest woman for miles around and had a voice like an angel. When she met my grandfather, Paris, they were working in an elastic factory in Kentucky. They began singing gospel together and would travel around to churches singing with another couple. They got married and began to have children. My grandfather began to make what was good money at that time. Unfortunately as his money increased, his faith decreased as well as his concern for his family. He began to drink. Heavily.
As alcohol increased its destructive grip on their home the money dwindled away. My grandfather became a very bitter man, hostile toward religion and abusive to his family. He would disappear and abandoned my grandmother with her 9 small children. They lived in abject poverty. They slept on pallets on the floor. Sometimes they would wake up to find snow on the bed covers. My father said that sometimes the first child up got the clothes. He didn't have a matching pair of shoes until he joined the army.
The neighbors say that when the children were small my grandmother would scrub whatever they had, put it on them and march them to church. I can't imagine what life was like for Grandma Clara. Not back in those days. I would like to tell you that she stood firm and was a shining testimony of grace, strength, and faith, but as her circumstances grew worse she turned to alcohol as well, and it eventually took her life. I do not judge her. After her death her small children were scattered hither and yon, some of them never to be reunited again this side of glory.
Oddly enough, when things get really rough in my life, when I feel abandoned by everything and everyone I am used to leaning on, when I feel betrayed by my own circumstances, its my grandmother I think about. When I feel that I don't have the strength to take one more step forward, and that I have been knocked down for the final time, I think of Grandma Clara. I think about her and I get a sense way down deep inside of me that I have to keep going, that I am not in this alone, and that I'm not just standing firm for myself, but I am standing firm for her too. At these times I think about the way satan took my grandmother out and I know I have to make it, not just for myself, but for her.

My Daddy was a Preacher

Recently I learned something new about one of my favorite artist, Vincent Van Gogh. Van Gogh's father was a Methodist minister. As it turns out, before Vincent became an artist he felt a very passionate calling to ministry and desired to "Preach the Gospel everywhere." He did become a preacher in the coal mining district of La Borinage, Belgium. Conditions there were bitterly harsh. Wishing to live as the people he served he gave all he had to the poor and slept on a bed of straw as they did. He was dismissed from his post for "undermining the dignity of the priesthood." He was later to write in his personal letters to his brother Theo, " Oh I am no friend of present day Christianity, although its founder was sublime. I have seen through present day Christianity all too well."

A Time to Love

A Time To Love

~ Stevie Wonder

We have time for racism
We have time for criticism
Held bondage by our -ism's
When will there be a time to love

We make time to debate religion
Passing bills and building prisons
For building fortunes and passing judgements
When will there be a time to love

At this point in history we have a choice to make
To either walk a path of love
Or be crippled by our hate

We have time to cause pollution
We have time to cause confusion
All wrapped up in our own illusions
When will there be a time to love

We make time to conquer nations
Time for oil exploration
Hatred, violence and terrorism
When will there be a time to love

At this moment in time
We have a choice to make
Father God is watching
While we cause mother earth so much pain
It's such a shame

Not enough money for
The young, the old and the poor
But for war there is always more
When will there be a time to love

We make time for paying taxes
Or paying bills and buying status
But we will pay the consequences
If we don't make the time to love

Now's the time to pay attention
Yes now is the time - to love
A time love - love
A time to love
Please please won't you tell me
When will there be a time to love

Forgiveness completely

It seems like lately I am learning my best spiritual lessons from either the unchurched or from children. I was thinking this morning about a former boss of mine, Jim. I worked for him when I was twenty years old. He owned a chain of restaurants and was very successful. He tried college but said he realized it wasn't for him. He would say that he knew he would never be as smart as everyone else, but he could out work anybody. Jim was as cute as a button and always on ten. Despite his success he was very down to earth and treated everyone with the same respect. It wasn't above him to come into the restaurant on a busy night and grab a broom or bus tables. I worked for him with my best friends and roommates, Ginny and Shirley.
One day Shirley's boyfriend came to me very upset. He said that Jim had slept with my roommates while on a business trip out of town and then threatened them if they ever spoke up about it. I probably wouldn't have believed it, but since the trip, Ginny and Shirley were constantly laughing and giggling about a private joke. I didn't know what it was about but I got the feeling it was about something illicit. Also I was very gullible and just couldn't imagine my friends making up such a wild tale.
Well, to make a long story short, I confronted Jim. I even threatened him. It was the only time I have ever seen him angry. He denied it and stormed out. A while later my friends arrived and Shirley confessed that it was all a big lie she had made up to manipulate her boyfriend.
I apologized to Jim and he accepted my apology graciously. Thank God he didn't want or need his pound of flesh in that small town where jobs were scarce. In fact his forgiveness was so complete that he even tried to fix me up with his best friend. And a while later, when a manager who resented my faith accused me of stealing, he intervened for me. He knew I wasn't a thief.
Jim didn't go to church. Maybe that's why he didn't know anything about church forgiveness. You know the kind where we mouth the words but still want to hold it over a person's head until we feel they have suffered sufficiently under our resentment. He didn't know about church forgiveness where we say we have forgiven, yet every time a person's name is mentioned we say more with our facial expressions than our words ever could. He didn't know about church forgiveness, where we spread our resentment under the guise of a prayer request because we are "just so concerned" about the situation. Jim didn't know anything about any of that. When he forgave you he forgave you completely and he never mentioned it again.

Broken Dreams

Ever had a dream?
Ever had a dream that you nurtured and prepared for? Did you cradle it in you imagination? Did you hold it close to you like a baby? Did you feed it and coddle it, sing it to sleep at night?
You were careful who you let hold your dream. It was precious and you knew you just couldn't trust anybody. And you waited for the day that your dream would mature and walk and play and sing back to you. You waited and waited and waited, sometimes thinking you couldn't wait another minute.

Ever thought your dream was gone? Did it make you angry? Did it trouble your sleep? Did you carry your hurt around like an unprotected wound that is easily re-injured? Did you mourn your dream like the mother of a murdered baby who couldn't get justice?


Look again.
If your dream is something planted in your spirit by God,
you're baby may not be dead.
Like the daughter of Jarius, it may only be sleeping.
Just waiting for the Master's touch to wake it up again.

My Two Cents

I have been very sick with bronchitis for a while. But while I was sick God really did a tremendous work in me. He dealt with me on issues of pride, humility and love, mainly love. One thing I have noticed is that when you start talking about love, people are kind of "Yeah, whatever" because we throw the word around so much we think we have gotten it already. Then we have the other church folks who are so "deep" that they try to spiritualize it to the point that love starts to look like hate and according to their "theology", justifiably so.

But I'm at a point in my life where I take very seriously the words of Christ where He said that all of the law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments. I like that because it makes me feel like, " Okay, so if I just focus on walking in love, the big picture, everything else will fall into place." I also find myself spending a lot of time thinking about what Paul said in I Corinthians 13 about how we can understand all mysteries, speak with the tongues of men and angels, die as martyrs and give all we have to the poor, yet if we have not love we have gained nothing.

It is so simple, and yet we make it so hard. What is so difficult about stopping and asking ourselves,"How would I want to be approached in this situation? How would I want to be talked to? How would I want to be talked about? How would I want to be treated?" But we don't do it then we make all kinds of excuses about why our mean, moody and insecure behavior is okay.

Love demands a maturity of us that aint no joke. It forces us to approach a brother or sister in love, rather than talk about them to everyone else behind their back. It ask us to believe the best of others, when appearances seem otherwise, I causes us to step forward in defence of the weak, and to put the needs of others ahead of ourselves. It gives us the humility to offer praise when it is due, to listen and consider the ideas of others and to be gracious to those who can't do a thing for us. It makes us forgive rather than engaging in spiteful petty behaviors.

It makes us stop measuring our love walk by how we treat those whom we like or have use for.

“Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have the exact measure of the injustice and wrong which will be imposed on them.”

Frederick Douglass

"I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

What's Wrong with this Picture?

February 06, 2006

Harry Belafonte event sceduled for February 7 is postponed

Belafonte, a civil rights pioneer, has been asked to speak at Coretta Scott King's funeral

Did you hear Harry Belafonte speak at the recent funeral of Coretta Scott King?
No?
Nor did I. But not because he wasn't invited. Harry Belafonte was a very close personal friend of Coretta Scott King. He helped pay for the funeral arrangements of her assassinated husband and was by her side when he flew her and her children to the actual service.

So, being the close personal friend of Mrs. King that he was, and having received an invitation to speak, why didn't Mr. Belafonte speak?

As it turns out when the Prez decided he wanted to attend the funeral and speak the White House had to approve the program and the speakers on it. The invitation to Harry Belafonte, an outspoken critic of Bush, was then rescinded.

My Pastor, Fr. Michael Louis Pfleger has had similar experiences. In 2003 he was asked by Coretta Scott King to speak at Ebenezer Baptist Church on the annual King Day celebration. A very high honor shared with presidents and other dignitaries. The Prez was there. Before my pastor spoke the president's cronies cornered him and tried to bully him about what he should and shouldn't say. He went and asked Mrs. King about it. She told him to say whatever he felt God would want him to say, and he did. Within weeks of the engagement Mrs. King received a phone call telling her my Pastor was not to speak there again. Fr. Mike is also invited to Howard University every year to speak. This year they received a similar call from the White House.

My question is this. Do we get it? Do we really understand the real state of the union that we live in? Do we really understand that we live under a government that spies on us and dictates who can speak where and when? John Lake, an Evangelist and Faith Healer well known around the turn of the 20th century made the statement that governments throughout history have discovered that you can do anything you want to a people until they don't have bread. Its only when the primal hunger urge hits them that they are moved to resistance and revolution.
What is it going to take for us to wake up? If lies about weapons of mass destruction and the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina won't do it, what will?

There has been much criticism of those who actually got to speak at the funeral about the propriety of their remarks. But those who are familiar with the civil rights movement know that it is a long standing tradition within the civil rights movement to use funerals as a platform to speak out on the issues at hand. Dr. King did it many times, specifically at the funeral of the four little girls who died in the Birmingham Church bombing in 1963. To some living in our current times the need might not seem as imperative nor the danger as impending. Those who are in touch with the faces of Katrina victims know better. The times are indeed as perilous as ever and the need for a prophetic voice to address the issues at hand is as immediate as ever. Katrina should have taught us this. Weapons of Mass Destruction should have taught us this. A government spying on its citizens should have taught us this. A government that endlessly seeks to control and inhibit the media and restrict free speech should have taught us this.

Despite the uproar over remarks at the funeral, neither Bush nor the Republican party were addressed directly, but rather the issues that Mr. and Mrs. King lived and died fighting for were spoken of. Any direct inference to anyone present was left to be drawn by the hearer. And as they say, "If the shoe fits . . .

Bonhoeffer

"If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Coretta Scott King

"Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated."

Together . . . at last . . . forever.

Super Hero repost.

I don't know about anyone else, but today my life is a job for a super hero ~ thank God I have one.

I have a super hero. You shouldn't be surprised, you have one too. The other night I had a dream. I dreamt I was kneeling on a chair and I needed to get somewhere. But before I could even think about getting up or how I was going to get there an invisible man hoisted me into the air, chair and all, and placed me on his shoulders. He began to carry me where I needed to go. We went through potholes, mud, crowds and all kinds of confusion. At first I was a little worried , because he was invisible and I couldn't see how on earth he was going to manage to get me where I needed to go. But he began to talk to me along the journey and after a bit I could tell he was made for the job. In fact he seemed more than able to handle anything I might need. He was very friendly. He got me where I needed to go and he put me down, but he didn't leave me. I have a super hero. Can you guess who my super hero is? If not I'll give you a hint, the Holy Spirit is a "He", not an it.

John 14:16 And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Counselor to be with you forever--

The Reservoir

Viktor Borisov-Musatov (1902)

Max II

I am adding to this - a previous post.

Of the many cats I have had in the past, Max was one of my favorites. I loved Max. I had no choice. One can resist only so much irrepressible, selfless love and affection. Max was born on my back porch in a litter of stray kittens. When I saw how badly they all had fleas I took pity and gave them flea baths. All of Max's siblings scrambled away, legs splayed and yowling upon release. But Max was instantly tamed. When I would put food out on the back porch, all of the other kittens would run for the dish. Max would run for me. When ever the kitchen light would go on there was Max up on the window ledge, rubbing back and forth against the glass, purring. Yes, Max tied a string around my heart... I would like to be a lot more like Max in the love dept. A lot more selfless, more willing to overlook an offense, more extroverted and relentless in my affection. Of course even Jesus couldn't win every one's love and affection, but He died trying.

There are people in my life that I can't dislike - they won't let me. They are always there with a warm smile, and big hug and a word of encouragement. Its hard to misinterpret that. Many times throughout my life I have found to my own surprise that a person dislikes me for no reason I can consciously account for. I start racking my brain to try to pin point what it was I did or said that offended. My usual response is, "Why? I didn't do anything to them." Now I find myself asking if perhaps that wasn't the problem in and of itself. Many times as a teacher's assistant I will correct a child and hear, "But I didn't do anything!" to which I respond, "That's the problem! You didn't turn around, you didn't follow directions, you didn't close your mouth." Its hard to misinterpret a warm greeting, a kind word, and a hearty embrace. Maybe not doing those things is a bigger problem than we think. I'm not saying that we have to run around with a fake smile on our face and a Pollyanna pose. But perhaps we all could stand to take a look around our lives and make more of an effort to embrace and reach out to those whom we might have overlooked for whatever reason in the past. Perhaps we all need to make more of an effort to make our love more unmistakable.

"Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

What I Learned in School.

This is a true story but I have changed the names of the students involved.

I learned something in school today.
I work with first and second graders as a teacher's assistant and aftercare teacher, and we have had a problem lately with snack being stolen. Theft is usually the cause of much angst with teachers. You fear approaching the wrong child with an accusation will scar him or her for life, not to mention invite an angry "How dare you!" phone call from the parent. Then you have the parents of the child with the missing item calling to demand justice, restitution and what have you. You're stuck in the middle and and its not a nice "middle" to be in. The children have all told me that the thief is Eric, but Eric's mother is not the kind of parent you approach about her child with out cold hard evidence, even though he is in trouble with everyone all of the time. So we decided that the best solution would be to simply collect the snacks at the start of the day and place them out of six year old reach. James was one of the student's who's snack was stolen. Two days in a row he came to me with tears in his eyes telling me that his snack was gone. He went home and told his mother Eric had taken it.
Today James came to school with his snack packed as usual and another in a brown paper bag. He and his mother had packed it just especially for Eric. They sat down and ate their snack together like best friends. It was the most powerful sermon I have ever witnessed.
I am 41 years old and I have been saved and in church for most of my life, but today at snack time I learned how to be a Christian.

Wings

I had a friend who used to drive a milk truck. He told me this story 20 years ago and I have never forgotten it. He worked in the country and would often stop his truck somewhere along the dusty dirt roads of Alabama to take his lunch. One sunny day while he was eating he looked up and saw a hawk flying around in the sky. It was being tailed by two very small birds. It was obvious that the hawk had something the little birds wanted pretty badly because they kept swooping and pecking at the hawk. This continued for a while, the much larger hawk circling and circling with the smaller birds doing everything they could to torment it. As he watched this, my friend thought to himself, " Pretty soon that hawk is going to get sick and tired of those little birds picking at him like that and he will turn and let them have it." but it was at that moment that something unexpected happened. Rather than turning to fight with the birds the hawk began to stretch its wings. It began to take broad deep strokes and began to pick up speed and altitude until it got so high that the little birds could no longer follow.
Sometimes its hard to be the bigger bird. Sometimes its hard to be the bigger person. Especially when you know you could defend yourself. Sometimes its hard to walk away from the scene of the accident in silence, refusing to offer your litany of evidence that would exonerate you. Sometimes its hard to let go and trust God. Let's be honest sometimes you want to turn and let them have it. Sometimes letting it go is the last thing you want to do. But you have to make a choice. You can't soar into the high places of the tomorrow God has for you while circling in flight with those who want to keep you down on their low level.

Great T- Shirt Quote

Who's the director of your show?

More Eric Liddell

Run to Win

But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things.

Philippians 3:14-15




Eric Liddell

Eric Liddell was a student of pure science at Edinburgh University (born 1902 - died 1945). He was a keen sportsman and athlete. He played on the wing for Scotland at Rugby as well as representing the UK in the Paris Olympics. He was known for his strong Christian beliefs and morals and refused to run in the heats of the 100m, as they were to be held on a Sunday. He had a very distinctive running style and was immortalised in the film, Chariots of Fire, as the Flying Scotsman. He won a gold medal in the 400 metres at the Paris Olympics. He became a missionary in China where he died at the age of 43.

Flaming June - in January

Flaming June
Lord Leighton of Stretton

This is one of my all time favorite works of art. I just love it and couldn't tell you why.

"Where is My Cross?" II

April 4, 1968

Dr. King is assassinated in Memphis, Tenn.

More than a Dreamer

As King Day approaches I am working on projects with my students to celebrate the man behind the movement that made one of the most profound changes ever in the lives and history of Americans. In doing so I ran across some photos that we don't normally see of the man. This time of year it seems like every time I turn around I hear the ghostly echo of "I have a dream, I have a dream, I have a dream . . ." and it was most certainly a beautiful sentiment and speech, but it was so much more than that, and Dr. King was so much more than a dreamer. He put actions behind those words. Those words were bathed in blood, sweat, sacrifice and even uncertainty. That is the amazing thing about it. It is easy to look back now and hear "I have a dream" in a romantic light and forget "I may not get there with you . . ."

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Verdure Al Forno

or
How to Handle a Zucchini Explosion

I have never posted a recipe on my blog before, but I was so impressed with this one I just had to for several reasons. First of all, as a girl, I remember zucchini as being one of the easiest vegetables to grow in the garden. There was not only an abundance, there was an over abundance to the point that dispensing of it could become quite the challenge. Now that I am a city girl (only by circumstance, mind you!) I still buy zucchini, but I have been wishing I knew some different ways to prepare it. As providence would have it, I received "Everyday Italian" by Giada De Laurentiis as a gift, and it just so happened that the first recipe to catch my eye was Verdue Al Forno. I prepared it tonight for my sons, and let me tell you it did not disappoint!

I know this post is a wee bit late for you gardeners out there, but spring is just around the corner!

2 t. extra-virgin olive oil
5 medium zucchini (about 1 1/2 lbs. total) cut crosswise in 1 inch thick slices
1/2 t. salt, plus more to taste
1/2 t. black pepper, plus more to taste
1 c. heavy cream
1 c. grated mozzarella cheese
1 c. grated fontina cheese
6 T. grated romano cheese
1. c. plain dried bread crumbs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with foil. Coat the bottom of an 8 inch square baking dish with the oil. Arrange a single layer of the zucchini slices to cover the bottom of the baking dish. Sprinkle with one third of the salt and pepper. Pour over 1/3 cup of the heavy cream and sprinkle with one third cup each of the mozzarella and fontina. Sprinkle with
2T. of the romano then with 1/3 c. of the bread crumbs. Repeat layering two more times in this way. Place the baking dish on the baking sheet and bake uncovered for about 40 minutes or until golden brown. Serve immediately.

Just some personal notes - my corner produce market didn't have anything as fancy as "fontina" cheese, but it still tasted great with a mixture of mozzarrella and *wince* cheddar. Also on most of my layers I used a vegetable peeler to stripe the zucchini before I sliced it. I forgot on a little bit of the final layer and found that the "striped" slices were much easier to deal with as far as eating.

"Where is My Cross?"

February 5,1997 marked the 400th anniversary of the first Christian martyrs in Japan. The Japanese martyrs became Christians as a result of the witness of Roman Catholic missionaries who first arrived in Japan with the Portugese in 1543. The Jesuit priest Francis Xavier, whose mission work between 1549-1551 from Kyushu to Kyoto, laid the foundation for the future Christian church in Japan. In 1563, Omura Sumitada became the first daimyo baptized by a Jesuit priest. The first church was built in Kyoto in 1576. According to Martin Repp of the NCC Center for the Study of Japanese Religions, "between 1579 and 1582 the early missionary work was revised under Father Alessandro Valignano, one of the few who understood that Christianity had to loose its European flavor in order to become acceptable to the Japanese" (Martin Repp, "Introduction" Japanese Religions, Vol. 19 No. 1&2, Jan. 1994, p.1).
Because of unrest among his subjects attributed to Christians, Shogun Hideyoshi issued in 1587 the first decree banishing the propoagation of the Christian faith. After a century of civil war, he feared unrest that might lead to peasant revolts. He stated that the religions of Shinto and Buddhism were the only religions of Japan. Nevertheless, for ten years Christian missionaries enjoyed toleration in a restricted way. After the arrival of Spanish priests of the Franciscan and Dominican orders in the beginning of the 1590's, rivalry and quarrel arose among the Christian missionaries. The conflict was also between different European nationals. In 1596 the "San Filipe" incident dealt a serious blow to the Christian mission. The Spanish ship "San Filipe" ran aground and its cargo containing a lot of ammunition was confiscated. The ship's pilot was said to have told during interrogation that Spanish colonial expansion was normally proceeded by missionaries preparing the way for military conquest. This argument was taken up very quickly by the Japanese rulers.
In 1597 Jesuits and Franciscans were taken prisoner in the capital (the Jesuits were released soon due to their connection with the court) and twenty-six Christians, Japanese and foreigners, were executed in Nagasaki, becoming the first martyrs in Japan. The Rev. Sigfrid Schneider describes an incident from the martyrdom on February 5, 1597," On the way up the hill a nobleman tempted the youngest boy, Louis Ibaragi, who was only twelve years old to renounce his faith, He would not yield but eagerly asked: 'Where is my cross?' When they pointed out the smallest one to him he immediately embraced it and held on to it as a child clings to his toy." (Sigfried Schneider, Ofm, The 26 Martyrs of Japan, Chuo Press, 1980, p. 16)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

The Sound of Silence

I am excited. I have the prospect of a relatively silent and quiet day ahead of me. The house is empty and will remain so until tomorrow. I love the quiet. This might surprise the people who know me well, because I also love music and movies. But the older I get the more I am learning to appreciate the all too precious and rare commodity of silence.

True silence is hard to come by in this day and age. Our world is so noisy. Some of us awake to the sound of a clock radio, amble into the kitchen for that morning cup of coffee in front of the t.v. and then switch on the radio the minute we hop in the car for the trip to work. We can't even go shopping without some form of music being piped into our ears. And if it isn't noise distracting us 24-7, we have advertisers doing their level best to use every available surface to attract and cajole us. Can we say "overstimulated"? It seems like someone is always trying to tell us what we should think, what we should like, how we should look and what we should buy. When do we have time for our own thoughts & meditations? When do we have time to compose the music of our own souls? Are we really so afraid of our own thoughts? Are we afraid that if we examined the contents of our own souls we would come up empty?

I often have the opportunity to spend time in our very large church sanctuary praying and meditating. For the most part I am alone and I treasure the silence of that space. I could sit for hours if my life didn't necessitate otherwise. Many times I pray and or sing, but many times I also just sit - listening. When I enter the silence I feel as though I am taking a shower internally. Things just drop. The external noise of the world dissipates. I am at peace. For me there is a beauty to the silence that is a music God alone can compose. From time to time I am not alone and someone comes in to clean or do some other task. On this day the young woman came up to me and asked me how long I was going to be there. She wanted to play the radio and was gracious enough to be willing to wait until I was finished. "This silence is so oppressive!" she said. I could only smile.

More Great Quotes

"We must go through many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God"

Apostle Paul & Barnabas
Acts 14:22

Doesn't sound much like prosperity theology to me . . . or maybe I'm just missing something.

Merry CHRIST - Mass

Ando Hiroshige (Japanese, 1797-1858). Night Snow at Kambara (No. 16), Color woodcut

Sticks and Stones

A while ago I lived over a crack addict who was also a prostitute. Her name was Loretta and she made my life hell. She hated me and made no bones about it. One day, while on one of her rants she began to talk about how much she hated me. She said, and I quote, " I don't like her style. I don't like the way she carries herself. I don't like the way she talks, I don't like the way she sings." Although Loretta did her best to drive me as crazy as she was, I have to admit, I couldn't help but appreciate her honesty. . . she didn't lie to herself or anyone else about why she had an issue with me. That's more than I can say for most people I've been in conflict with over the years. . .

I remember being told as a child, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." But as an adult I have to say I've found those words to ring insanely hollow. Over the last 41 years of my life I have witnessed the destruction words, and more precisely gossip, can render. I have seen them bring political campaigns to a screetching halt. I have seen them split churches and destroy ministries, I have seen them divide families and break up couples. I have witnessed job loss and alienation, mental illness and suicide attempts, all due to the destructive power of words.

Words.
Harmless?
I think not.

I believe they can be one of the most harmful forces on earth. They wound us, yet leave us alive to bear the acute pain left in their wake. They can bring about a hemorrhage within our emotions that can bleed indefinitely.

No THIS is Christmas . . .

Okay . . . so my Christmas spirit has officially been rejuvenated.

I went to work today, our last day before break only to walk in and find a very unexpected pile of gifts from my students on my desk. . . and as if that weren't bad enough, I had come just in time to partake in an assembly of children in wild celebration over the birthday of Christ . . . they sang, they danced, and they cheered the incarnation of our Lord. . .

What can I say . . . they were contagious and I became infected.

In the afternoon we did our After-care Christmas program. My firstgraders were a small herd of naughty sheep who became transformed by the arrival of the good Shepard. They played their roles all too well . . .

Did I mention a friend is bringing me a homemade liquor infused fruitcake from his mother in Dominique? And another has promised a piece of her father's Jamaican Rum cake...

Just let those sleigh bells ring a ling, jing jing jing a ling tooooooo!

Merry Christmas!!!

Eggnog anyone?