tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87399874420561859162024-03-12T22:21:31.741-04:00Brad, Crystal, and FamilyBradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-23789190084383577992013-10-28T21:19:00.001-04:002013-10-28T21:20:49.029-04:00We've Moved Our Stuff!Dear subscriber,<br />
<br />
We're kinda embarrassed that you've not gotten the message yet. This blog has been decommissioned at this address, and moved <a href="http://www.bradcrystalandfamily.com/">over here</a>. You should go there to check out the new post we just put up. You can subscribe to the blog at that new address with an RSS reader or via email.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-28330766837115788352013-02-15T21:59:00.002-05:002013-02-15T22:13:56.514-05:00Free Will: Only Somewhat Free<div style="text-align: left;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQI2bcsHsLUassuPSHvou9QnhoaY5nx7S77prjsUT37soQjpouAriEPgXG4pSSJpfk4Me8s6Ba0Apbax2RLsuuleHZMiu_dUSB8GRynExCYCjyf-IwIXZ17aypsQDYljaQpH5GuNRQk8/s1600/Choice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQI2bcsHsLUassuPSHvou9QnhoaY5nx7S77prjsUT37soQjpouAriEPgXG4pSSJpfk4Me8s6Ba0Apbax2RLsuuleHZMiu_dUSB8GRynExCYCjyf-IwIXZ17aypsQDYljaQpH5GuNRQk8/s1600/Choice.jpg" border="0" class="decoded" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQI2bcsHsLUassuPSHvou9QnhoaY5nx7S77prjsUT37soQjpouAriEPgXG4pSSJpfk4Me8s6Ba0Apbax2RLsuuleHZMiu_dUSB8GRynExCYCjyf-IwIXZ17aypsQDYljaQpH5GuNRQk8/s200/Choice.jpg" width="200" /></a></blockquote>
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The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? (Jer 17:9) <br /><br />The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. (1Co 2:14)<br />
<br />
I believe in <i>will</i>, and I probably believe in <i>free will</i>, but I'm a little uneasy saying so. It isn't that I want to strip man of his power to choose, but I don't like the way we use free will as a lever against scripture.<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">I see that there are two facets of <i>freedom </i>in free will. The first is the actual faculty for discernment, preference, and choice. This could be demonstrated by facing an intersection in a car, as opposed to being in a train. In the car, there is a steering wheel and the driver has the ability to choose his road. In the train, there's nothing the engineer can do, besides appeal the dispatcher. This first facet of free will answers, "Can we function as choosers?" The Bible very thoroughly answers this questions affirmative.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">The second facet of freedom is autonomy. This is where will is <i>free</i> as a country is <i>free</i>. It means unrestrained, unfettered, and autonomous. The definition of free will (at least in the philosophical community) includes this angle. This second facet answers, "Do we have the capacity to select any possible preference in a decision?" It is the misuse of this second interpretation of free will that I take issue with. </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">
I cannot be comfortable with claiming that men have a supreme power to
choose and God can only respond to our foolishness. It doesn't line up
with the scripture's teaching about God's sovereign authority. </span></span></span>There is the argument that God's story of salvation isn't as appealing if human will is not completely free and uninfluenced, but that is a very subjective argument. I happen to think it's very appealing. So, if I say that even our choices are part of God's master plan, the big representative question is waiting in the wings: Did God make Eve take the fruit? I don't know how to answer that conclusively, but this I do know:</span></span></span><br />
<ol>
<li><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">Adam & Eve took the fruit by choice. That fact that God held them personally responsible gives support to that notion.</span></span></span></li>
<li><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">Adam & Eve's choice was not independent of God's master plan. (Can you imagine? "O, crud. You guys blew it! I had this universe going perfectly, and you had to go wreck the whole thing. Now what am I going to do, huh?" Meh, I don't think so)</span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"> </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"> </span></span></span></li>
</ol>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">Many more questions are raised, and I am not the answer man. I have many questions, too. But</span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"> I
would conclude that our will is not completely free, not because God
has denied us the liberty to choose, but because we are unable to do it
without some kind of influence. </span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">Is not God's work of salvation to loose the heart from the slavery of sin and convert it to the bondage of righteousness? (Romans 6:17-18) Hallelujah! We are bound by the Holy Spirit to God's righteousness! (Ephesians 1:13-14) It is not as though we are saved by the merit of our good choosing, so it is not that we are preserved by it either. Our good choosing is the fruit of God's long-suffering. At no point in that transaction does the will become free; it only escapes one bondage, dark and filthy, to be bound to a beautiful, free, and heavenly one.</span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">I gave my heart to the Lord Jesus on December 23 at 15 years old. It was the culmination of a battle of about a year and a half of sleepless nights. I was fighting God tooth and nail, but I did not resist God on some reasonable basis. I resisted God because I was a slave to sin. And after a year and half, I did not turn to God because I had weighed the options and made the best choice. I <i>surrendered </i>to God because I was backed into the most miserable, devilish corner of my own heart and I had no strength fight. Can I say I made a choice that night? Absolutely! It was a function of the human willpower that I said, "Ok God. I give up." I chose God because he chose me. He pursued me down all the wicked corridors of my heart until I was left panting in the last room, heaped into a pile on the floor, holding up my hands to be swept away by Grace. He did not force himself on me, but he showed me it was either surrender or death. A choice had to be made, but that's not a very hard choice.</span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"><br /></span></span></span>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">So who gets to make the choice, me or God? The great love story started centuries ago, when God made the choice that set the whole tale into action. "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." He made so He could redeem, knowing full well the cost to be paid. </span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]"><br /></span></span></span>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]"><span class="UFICommentBody" id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0"><span id=".reactRoot[45].[1][2][1]{comment434597636611826_3702698}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2].0.[2]">I hope someone smarter than me will improve my understanding.</span></span></span>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-32811197140954552502013-01-22T22:54:00.001-05:002013-01-22T22:58:25.506-05:00Herb Kenwood: A Model Man<div>
This is another shot at fiction writing. I write this primarily because I enjoy it and it relaxes my mind in a way I feel is productive. If you like it, great. If not, I'm sorry I've wasted your time.</div>
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<div>
Herb Kenwood is the only man I've ever known that has a doll
collection. His wife died in '94, and he has changed the dolls' dresses every
season since, just like she used to. Herb really misses his wife, Mary
Mae. They were sweethearts, and got married right out of high school.
They tried to get married right in high school, but I guess Mary Mae's parents caught wind of it and managed to get the whole thing shut down
before it started. By summer, things were settled down enough to tie
the knot. </div>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div>
<span data-mce-style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);"> That's
one thing I like about ole Herb. If he doesn't have a good story up his
sleeve, he's either sleeping or dead. I don't know how he gets them
all, but I know at least some of them are true. I used to ride my
bicycle to Herb's house any time I could to hear his stories. I did it
so many times I could ride it in the dark without even thinking about
it. One time, though, stands out in my memory. It was right when we got
home from our big vacation in the Ozarks. </span>Grandma called and told
us that Mary Mae was in bad shape. They lived on the same street, and
Grandma had been taking groceries down to them since Mary Mae had been a
little sickly most of the summer. When my grandma told us she was
really doing bad, I jumped on my bicycle and tore down the lane. I was
in a little bit of a panic. I never knew anyone that died, and I didn't
know for sure what would happen if I did. I figured I'd go ask Herb what
to do when someone's about to die, but halfway there I realized that
probably wasn't a good idea. I just kept peddling, because I didn't know
where else to go. I rounded the corner and cut straight into Herb's
yard. I didn't bother with a kickstand or the flowers or anything. I
threw my bike at the foot of the steps and lept up them in one bound,
straight into Herb's belly. "Slow d<span data-mce-style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">own, Champ!" he warned.</span></div>
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</div>
<div>
<span data-mce-style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);"> Herb
has always called me Champ. He used to thunk me in the chest with his
middle knuckle when he said it. I guess he did that instead of shaking
my hand, until I graduated high school. Now he shakes my hand. We shake
hands like men, even though he'll always think I'm young and call me
Champ. I practically grew up at Herb and Mary Mae's. I knew where they
hid the key under the porch, and could tell Mary Mae everything she had
in her junk drawer. I used to work with Herb in his workshop, making
sweet briar pipes. Herb liked to use sweet briar because he said "it
really makes the tobacco taste pop." We would sit on stools for hours,
carving sweet briar, he telling stories and me mostly listening. He can
tell the most fascinating stories. His deep, rumbly voice sounds like he
talks out of a metal can. He would sit with a smoking pipe in his
mouth, and a half-finished one in his hand, telling me war stories or
"me'n'MaryMae" stories or just flat-out made up stories. Sometimes we
would laugh so hard that he would have to lay down his chisel so he
didn't cut himself. Then he would thunk my chest and say, "Let's go
inside and see if Mary Mae can't work us up something to drink."</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span data-mce-style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);"> The
day I flew into his lap off my bicycle, he didn't say anything. He just
stood up and walked to the door as if to invite me in. We walked inside
and I saw the scariest thing I'd ever seen. The lights were low and the
furniture had been rearranged. Mary Mae lay on a cot in the living room
with blankets piled on top of her. Her oxygen tank stood as a sentry at
the foot of her bed. Her eyes were closed, and her warm smile had been
chased away by pale, straight lips. She breathed in short, labored
puffs. Herb's big brown chair with the stuffing peeking out the right
armrest had been moved to her bedside, no doubt so he could hold her
hand.</span></div>
<div>
<span data-mce-style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);">Herb
nudged me from behind so he could close the front door. "Why don't you
sit down there, Champ," he suggested as he trudged toward the kitchen.
As I sat timidly on the edge of the brown chair, I couldn't believe my
eyes.They were seeing something I could never believe was true. It had
to be wrong! Mary Mae wasn't a sick old person! She was happy and full
of smiles, all the time. I think she smiled more than any of the
porcelin dolls that decorated the shelves in the dining room. They
smiled all the time, because they had to. Mary Mae smiled because she
wanted to. She would smile as she took them down off the shelves one by
one to put their spring dresses on for Easter. She would hum happy tunes
while she worked, smiling even if the drain was plugged and the beans
were burning and Herb was late coming home.</span></div>
<br />
<span data-mce-style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.0078125);"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>[disclosure: this will hopefully be a continuing story.] </i></span></span>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-77821731363936727052012-11-17T11:05:00.003-05:002012-11-17T11:06:44.231-05:00Sin's Boundary<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind and said: "...Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb, when I made clouds its garment and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors, and said, 'Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed'?" <span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Job 38:1,8-11, <span style="font-size: xx-small;">ESV all</span>)</span></blockquote>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bT3iCGutufr4xaizb-b2CFSuyoI8WgxnXUy6LoJCxBGEMebyECGLB7a7IPCYWpyCMmsofuIsGPthWBctiJw9YNYKuqAM1jY0muTRsA1ciy_AkcTDXMfg789ug7-PCE3UPuX4pqglFY4/s1600/DSC03253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bT3iCGutufr4xaizb-b2CFSuyoI8WgxnXUy6LoJCxBGEMebyECGLB7a7IPCYWpyCMmsofuIsGPthWBctiJw9YNYKuqAM1jY0muTRsA1ciy_AkcTDXMfg789ug7-PCE3UPuX4pqglFY4/s320/DSC03253.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bound - C. Hoblit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;">This is one of God's declarati<span style="font-size: small;">ons <span style="font-size: small;">of his auth<span style="font-size: small;">ori<span style="font-size: small;">ty<span style="font-size: small;">. <span style="font-size: small;">It i<span style="font-size: small;">s easy for us to <span style="font-size: small;">understand the power of t<span style="font-size: small;">he s<span style="font-size: small;">ea. Just recently, <span style="font-size: small;">hurr<span style="font-size: small;">icane Sandy </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> poured out her force against the Northeast, and we have all seen the evidence of <span style="font-size: small;">her</span> destruction. Yet, God shows us that he draws the line in sand, and says to the ocean, "don't cross this line." And the ocean listens to him.<br />
<br />
Jesus told his disciples, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me."<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Mat 28:18)</span>. The Father has given him the power to draw the line in the sand. Let's see how important this is.<br />
<br />
A passage from Romans:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, <i>as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. </i><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Rom 5:20-21)</span></blockquote>
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Romans 5 is a chapter of contrast, and I believe Paul is pointing out an important contrast in these verses. Sin is bound, but grace is not. We know that death is final, and this verse shows us that sin is bound by death just as we are. To draw from Job, we can say that death is the beach by which the mighty ocean of sin is defined. Christ has drawn the line and said, "Come no further" and we rejoice in death. It is the boundary of sin, not just experientially but absolutely. Death is sin's final reach, a portal through which it cannot follow us. It is the base in a grown-up game of freeze-tag, from which we taunt "O death, where is your sting?" <span style="font-size: x-small;">(I Cor 15:155).<span style="font-size: small;"> Death is final, absolute, and guar<span style="font-size: small;">anteed.<span style="font-size: small;"> Hallelu<span style="font-size: small;">jah.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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"Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." <span style="font-size: x-small;">-John Donne</span>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-86264578818468750702012-11-05T23:08:00.000-05:002012-11-05T23:11:11.947-05:00The Legend of Danny Foula<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I used to not care much for fiction. Somehow, though, I've taken a strange liking to it. I haven't written much of it, and I'm not sure how much I like it when I have. But, here's a go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Danny was the kind of man that drew attention, one way or
another. He was handsome and strong, and charming to boot. He had more than
enough money to care for himself, and he was not afraid to show the evidence.
He never drove the same car longer than six or eight months, and it was always
an fancy <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sports car with some kind of
custom trim or paint job. He usually had a woman or two in trail, and
wherever he showed up there were always rich or famous people. Folks fell over
themselves to be seen around him. The funny thing about Danny was that he was a
rascal and everyone knew it. While he was charming at first, anyone who had dealt
with Danny Foula very long knew to play their cards close, or Danny would take
them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I knew Danny because my uncle was his groundskeeper for
several years, until the infamous swimming pool incident. Uncle Gage never
would talk much about the swimming pool incident, but I knew it was the end of
his groundskeeping career at the Foula mansion. In fact, it was the end of
Uncle Gage in a lot of ways. It seems like his old age began to catch up with
him after that, and it drug him down so much that he’s just been nothing but
old ever since. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What I didn’t understand about Danny was how he managed to
keep a straight face when he told the whole town over the TV about his deep
care for the citizens and how he was investing millions of dollars into our
town and how deeply he was indebted to us for his success. Or why he kept doing
it, year after year. We knew he was lying through his teeth, and he knew we
knew. He hadn’t earned one dime of his money. Danny and his mother had moved to
our town in the Brinks truck right after his dear daddy died in New York. I don’t
know why they came here, but I guess that is just one of the things we’ll never
know about Danny Foula. And we’ll probably never know why he<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>answered the door the way he did that day Reverend
Combes went calling. That’s really what this story is about. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lots of times, I have wished I could go over to the Rev.
Combes’ house and sit on his front porch like we used to, and he would bring me
a cold bottle of sarsaparilla like he always did and I would ask him questions
like I always did. I would like to ask him about the day he visited Danny
Foula. But Reverend Combes isn’t around to answer that kind of questioning. If
he was, he would surely have to lock himself in his house, because the whole
town would be trying to sit on his porch and ask him my questions. And I know
he wouldn’t have enough sarsaparilla for all of them, because he always gave me
the last one he had.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Danny knows, but he won’t tell. And so, I guess we’ll have
to do a little speculation.</span></span></div>
Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-8774959938923707982012-10-22T22:50:00.000-04:002012-10-22T22:50:24.422-04:00Concerning Christian CommunionWhat does the scripture say regarding the service of communion? Here are a few excerpted thoughts.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the
blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in
the body of Christ? (1Co 10:16 <span style="font-size: x-small;">ESV, all</span>)</blockquote>
<br />
This is not an instruction given directly at the practice of the Lord's communion, but an example given in the context of an admonition to abstain from idolatry. The emphasis in this verse is "of Christ". Paul points out that our taking of the cup and bread is a willful participation, or communion, with Christ himself. Likewise, he reasons, participation in services of idolatry is willful, deliberate and personal. These two cannot be friends, and a Christian must choose one or the other. While this verse does not instruct us in communion, it offers insight to Christ's purpose and desire for its institution.<br />
<br />
In the next chapter, we find a passage that does instruct us. Paul rebukes the Corinthian church for their ill-treating of the sacredness of Christ's bread and cup by gobbling it for bodily sustenance. He then offers the correct view, of which this verse is part:<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
...Also he took the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me." For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes. (1Co 11:25-26)</blockquote>
Sometimes, symbology can be hard to appreciate. The Corinthians seem to have forgotten the real refreshing that communion represents. We might be reminded and inspired by the offering of Bible commentator Matthew Henry, who writes of the above verse (emphasis mine):<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
(When we commune, we) declare his death to be our life, <i>the spring of all our comforts and hopes</i>. And we glory in such a declaration; we show forth his death, and spread it before God, as our accepted sacrifice and ransom. We set it in view of our own faith, for our own comfort and quickening; and we own before the world, by this very service, that we are the disciples of Christ, who trust in him alone for salvation and acceptance with God.</blockquote>
And what a spring it is! His blood is not merely party to our restoration, or an ingredient in God's redemption stew. It is the anvil on which freedom is forged. It is the imparting power of holiness. Taking the bread and the cup is not merely lending myself to a dated tradition. It is sealing again the engagement of my soul to Christ, and renewing my vow of love to Him alone.<br />
<br />
Let not a day slip by without bringing to mind your dependence on the blood of Christ. "His blood can make the foulest clean. His blood availed for me." AmenBradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-33073763359839273282012-09-14T17:41:00.002-04:002012-09-14T17:41:54.926-04:00My Poem<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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This is a poem</div>
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Because I said so.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“It can’t be,” you say, “with no poetic foot!”</div>
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That doesn’t stop the snail from going places, does it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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“And no rhythm?” you query, with confident scowl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, have you ever sat and listened to the wind howling</div>
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In the trees? “It’s a dumb poem anyhow</div>
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Because it doesn’t rhyme.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yes it does,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Some of the time.</div>
Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-29511671029925224662012-08-06T20:24:00.002-04:002012-08-06T20:25:07.105-04:00What Is The Noblest Cause?How high is the price on everything you have? Every right earned, every privilege inherited, every pleasure known? (Not just your material possessions. Your family; every friendship you have known; your good reputation; your craft; your ear for the music you love; your eyesight. Everything. The things that make you. The things you hope for. All of it.) What would be the cost of throwing it away?<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I can think of a few noble-sounding causes. Maybe if every person in the world could hear the sound of the Gospel, I would give it all. Maybe for you, it is your children; if that's what it took for them to know Jesus, you'd give it all up.<br />
<br />
Well, friend, you had better stop imagining. The thing you are looking for is right under your nose. Paul and Timothy wrote, in their letter to the Philippians: "Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." What strikes me about this verse is the immediacy of it. This is not a contingency; it is a reality. Paul speaks as if he has already lost everything he has. What he still has, he does not claim. He has already accounted it gone, the "accounts payable" of gaining a relationship with his master. How precious is knowing Jesus to you? Do you truly value Him above everything? Jesus says, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." He also says, "No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." Have you already lost every thing that you have, or are you still looking for a nobler cause?Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-56874823333915820272012-06-28T22:40:00.000-04:002012-06-28T22:41:50.941-04:00Worship is not about self-expression.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>[I want to make clear that this is strictly an opinion post,
and one that I don’t hold near and dear to my heart. Just some thoughts I had
this evening that I thought I would flesh out.]</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not: “Self-expression is impertinent to worship.”<br />
Not: “Worship should be stoic.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just: Worship is not (primarily) about self-expression. That’s
all. </div>
<a name='more'></a>The condition of my heart is not central to worship (I mean true worship
of Jehovah, the God of Jesus Christ). The center of worship is the truth about
God. I don’t say that God doesn’t care what’s in my heart right now, or that we
should not tell God about it. And if worship is in my heart, then worship will
come out. Still, though, the question for worship is not: “What is my heart
feeling right now?” The real questions are: 1)”What is true about God?” and 2)”Does
He deserve praise for that truth?” (the second answer will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>be “yes”). I look at Job, and see a man who praised God for
who He was, even while he was groaning near to death. I don’t really think that
Job was bubbling with happiness for the joy of life. But he knew who God was,
and he believed it with all his heart. He praised God even when he didn’t feel
like it. Some might say that, in spite of his circumstances, Job <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>feel like offering up a heartfelt
song of praise. I don’t think so. Job was at a time in his life when everything
stunk, but it didn’t change the truth about God. That was why he could say
(paraphrased) “even if he kills me, I will still praise Him.” We may face times
like that too, but our God is as unchangeable now as he was then (think about that
one). <br />
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So before you write a nasty comeback, let me hedge a bit. I
do think the nature of our worship will be affected by our heart’s mood, but it
is imperative that we realize the preeminence of God in our worship. The
condition of the heart will follow the truth we believe. When we sing praise to
God, it sets our heart in the tune of His grace. Sometimes we try to make the
tail wag the dog.</div>
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Am I right?</div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-71291658468982068282012-05-14T22:40:00.000-04:002012-05-14T22:46:30.735-04:00Follow By ForgingI want to be in pursuit of God's will. I do not want to sit idle, until I'm slapped on the side of the head with it. I think we make a crutch out of, "I don't want to get ahead of God's lead," finding therein a cowardly excuse to avoid strange things. I ask (somewhat tongue-in-cheek) "Who cares?" Is it so terrible to get a step or two ahead of God? Oh, sure, it could be, but by what order of magnitude is it worse than stubbornly refusing to forge ahead in faith?! So we spend all our life 15 steps behind God, entrenched in stubborn disobedience, because we are afraid we might get a couple steps too far ahead in fleshly exuberance. How much better off are we that way? Is our fleshly exuberance too big a problem for God to solve? Is He not able to rein us back if we get carried away? Can we not trust Him for that? I hear your caution, and agree: there are serous dangers of going ahead without God's guidance. But I'm not suggesting forging a new path without praying to the Lord for guidance. I'm talking about going ahead and whacking a few bushes on the path to see if that's the direction I should go. But, I guess we've decided it's better to sit in a lawn chair in the middle of the path until God paints a yellow line through the forest, so we can be sure we don't cut down too many bushes. I'm learning that God doesn't show His will with a yellow line. He shows it one bush at a time. You've got to cut it down, brother. God is able to steer you, even if you take a few swings in the wrong direction. O Lord, forgive the crude simplicity of my understanding. I really do want to stay in step with you. I need to be guided constantly. But too often I balk, being a citizen of the kingdom of faith but paying loyalty to fear. Help me to be courageous in seeking you, even if I don't know exactly where I'm going.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-8118829533748728852012-04-09T12:53:00.003-04:002012-04-10T16:43:36.288-04:00In The AftermathThe battlefield smolders with the wreckage of a kingdom bygone. The dead lay like flags of the victor's blows, marking a path to the lair of their fallen prince, castigated and conquered. A little band of men and women whose king has won this brawl are hiding in a secret room, weeping when they should be rejoicing. All they see is destruction, and they assume their captain has been lost. How wrong they are! How thoroughly he has banished the powers that he fought! They need only hear his words, "in three days, I will rise again."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5e/Capture_of_Carency_aftermath_1915_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5e/Capture_of_Carency_aftermath_1915_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In the aftermath of the battle, the disciples mourn their seeming defeat. What is Jesus doing? See here, he is comforting Mary in her tears<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">1</span></i>, while she weeps in the garden. Over there he is healing two disciples' broken-hearted doubts<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">2</span></i>, teaching them the scripture as they walk to Emmaus. And there he confirms the testimony<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">3</span></i> of the ones who claim, "We have seen the Lord! He is risen!" Then, he is breathing out blessing on them, promising the coming of the comforter<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">4</span></i>. Now, we see him on the crest of the hill, issuing the command<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">5</span></i> to his re-vitalized troops, "Go into all the world, teaching preaching and baptizing in my name." Now he is ascending to his intercessory post, where he labors continually<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">6</span></i>.<br />
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And we, generations later, are much the same. The destruction of sin around us tempts us often to give up hope. We wonder what the victory is, and where the victor. And here is Jesus, drying out tears, teaching our hearts, comforting and commissioning us. The carnage of battle around us is no sign of his retreat, but a reminder that the victory of his kingdom is immutable. Our Lord reigns forever, on the strength of his resurrection. He has utterly banished death and hell, and we stand in his glorious victory, shamelessly and boldly declaring the testimony of his reconciliation<i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">7</span></i>. O bless his holy name, you people. Praise him that he has called you, who were unworthy and his enemies, to be children, then soldiers, then heirs of his kingdom and life. March on, brother and sister, in the strength of his mighty resurrection. His grace is sufficient for you, and his strength is perfect.<br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: x-small;">References:</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: x-small;">1) John 20:16; 2) Luke 24:13-31; 3) Luke 24:35-36; 4) Luke 24:49; 5) Matthew 28:19; 6) Hebrews 7:25; 7) II Corinthians 5:20-21 </span>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-52898560214013359852012-03-17T23:10:00.000-04:002012-03-17T23:10:03.926-04:00Do not consume one anotherThere was a certain boy who was rescued from brutal slavery in South America and brought to a boys' home in a safe part of the country. In that place, there were several homes filled with young men and women who had been rescued and brought there to be cared for. The operation was funded by a wealthy, generous Brazilian businessman. He had given his wealth and success to rescue boys and girls from sex trade and other slavery markets. Our character, after living in the house for a few months, began to revere the house to which he had been brought. He gave it a name, and began to worship it. He attempted to burn down the other houses, claiming that they were imposters ran by the slave traders. The generous business man sent word that the boy must stop this destructive behavior, but he continued on. Finally, in desperation, the business man came, knowing that he who saved the boy must surely command respect. But, in fact, the boy only threw rocks at him and chased him off the land, claiming he was an enemy spy. In the end, the furious business man took the boy by force and put him in a prison for his destruction and disrespect.<br />
<br />
This hastily written parable does not give the perfect sense, but there are "Christians" who live this attitude towards their church, and their souls stand in great jeopardy. My heart aches tonight for these people who do not know the true salvation offered in Jesus.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-39317414976275072202012-01-19T22:10:00.001-05:002012-01-19T22:12:00.941-05:00Our Wedding Prayer (Hearts To You)<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I had forgotten about this poem, but my lovely bride reminded me of it. I was surprised that I still liked it after 2+ years, since I don't remember being that thrilled about it before. I like it mostly for the way it expresses a timeless desire of our marriage, and I hope it resounds with your heart as well. It was written shortly before we were married.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Our Wedding Prayer (Hearts To You)</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">O come, lord Jesus, honored guest</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unite our hearts in one.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We want to give our very best</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">To make our heart your home.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Be this the purpose of our life:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your mission to fulfill.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And hereto may we die and strive</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">With body, heart, and will.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Take all our comforts, joys, and goals,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our money and our fame</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And pour them out to hell-bound souls</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who’ve never heard your name.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">When trials come for your name’s sake</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And burdens never cease,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then use our crosses, Lord, to make</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our love for you increase.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And when our love is weak and frail,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">As often it will be,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Show us then, Lord, you never fail</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And make us pure as thee.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">When we, at last, are called above</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Out of this waiting place,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We’ll gladly mount to our best love: </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your beauty and your grace.</span></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-73210751642813331592011-12-16T17:17:00.000-05:002011-12-16T17:17:34.787-05:00Beautiful Home Somewhere<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/312793_2026514149472_1442592996_31625570_1605073383_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/312793_2026514149472_1442592996_31625570_1605073383_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Angie S.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">Some weeks ago, a dear and respected brother in Christ was called "beyond this land of toiling, sowing and reaping...." His parting was widely grieved, and I was stirred more than at any other death before. A few nights after his accident, unable to sleep, I rose up to turn my grieving into something productive. I wanted to let "what had happened to us really serve to advance the gospel" (Php 1:12, ESV, adapted). This poem, a work still in progress, is a result of that sleepless night. Gloria in excelsis Deo.</div><br />
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<div class="WordSection1"> <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Beautiful Home Somewhere</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In memory of Jerry E. Bowman</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">There’s a beautiful home that is waiting for me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">My Jesus, whose soul-cleansing fountain I see,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Has already made preparation for me,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">His blood my admission secures.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">The sorrows of striving, the sweat on my brow</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Will forever be gone when I cast my gold crown </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">At the feet of the savior who beckons me now,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">To that beautiful home somewhere.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Though oft’ I have longed for its splendor and grace,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">I only have seen it in hope and by faith,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Still yearning to see the most beautiful face</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Of Jesus who asked me to come.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">My friends and companions I know I will see.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Their absence is heartbreaking, but I believe</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">They are resting in Jesus, and soon we will be</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Together at home somewhere.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">I could not have purchased a home in that place</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">The price was too high, except for the grace</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Of the Lord, who triumphantly ran the long race,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">And purchased a seat at his side.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">One day at the cross, when I knelt and confessed</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">I gave Him my least, he imputed his best!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">O, glory that raptures my soul! And the rest</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">I will see in His beautiful home.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Oh, beautiful home, how I’m longing to be</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Inside of your gates, safe and happy and free</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Please come, Holy Spirit, and sanctify me,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">One day to be there, in your beautiful home.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> </div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-51786031428658960922011-10-05T14:10:00.001-04:002011-10-05T14:15:14.989-04:0010w-40 ForgivenessA minister whom I respect recently said at his son's baptismal service:<br />
<blockquote>Forgiveness is the oil that lubricates the gears of the church.</blockquote><br />
I like that analogy. I think it is fitting for several reasons:<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QVUh3lm2AVQ/TYf5GtIvy1I/AAAAAAAAAj8/rT5Vlz42CHY/s800/LrjfMyjQjfJz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QVUh3lm2AVQ/TYf5GtIvy1I/AAAAAAAAAj8/rT5Vlz42CHY/s320/LrjfMyjQjfJz.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This engine must have oil to keep us safely in the air.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><ul><li>Oil is crucial to the continued operation of a motor. It will run dry for a time, but not for long.</li>
<li>The destruction of a dry motor, while catastrophic, is not sudden. From the moment the oil runs dry, the damage begins, and it progressively loses power as parts wear and overheat until it cannot overcome its own burden and succumbs to exhaustion.</li>
<li>The destruction comes entirely from within. A dry motor destroys itself. No outside force or energy is required. The dry motor's designed performance is the bane that wrecks it.</li>
<li>All the parts of an engine are necessary for full power production, and even seemingly insignificant parts can start the trend of destruction.</li>
<li>The damage is comprehensive and permanent. Every bearing part, no matter how small, is capable of causing and sustaining damage, either from direct abrasion or the heat of two nearby conflicting parts. If that damaged part is removed for use in another engine, it will carry the damage with it. A damaged part will test even the ability of the oil to maintain smooth operation. Only a completely rebuilt part is suitable for functional use. </li>
</ul>So is the church, in every point. Without a passionate commitment to forgive one another, the progress of destruction and overheating is inevitable. It might seem like smooth sailing for awhile, but soon enough the heat will come, smoke will roll, and the noises that come from a church dry of grace will cause passers-by to remark: "That's the end of that one."<br />
<br />
Lord, teach us to relentlessly forgive.<br />
<div style="color: #666666;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #666666; font-size: x-small;"><i>Note: While I like to use </i>synthetic <i>oil in my engines, I don't recommend it's use in the church. :-)</i></span>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-37096232950393284472011-09-15T12:35:00.002-04:002011-09-15T12:39:55.948-04:00Watch and Pray<blockquote>"Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."(Matthew 26:41)</blockquote>These were Jesus' words to his disciples, having found them sleeping in the hour of need. He was concerned for the fortitude of their souls. He told them to pray, and so he has given us the warning: "...pray, that you may not enter into temptation."<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Pray, o man of God, that your soul would not be snared.<br />
Pray, that your salvation's holy covenant you keep.<br />
Turn, and do not thirst for wicked pleasures of the world.<br />
For they will only snuff you while you sleep. </blockquote><br />
But the disciples were tired, and again they fell asleep. Jesus' second warning was not to pray, but to arise, for "the betrayer is at hand." The men who had slept on their prayer watch were now found running for their lives, forsaking the master they had once stood by. O brother, if you do not pray now, while you have opportunity, you too may be found running for your life. "Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed." (James 5:16)Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-18638052788520585412011-07-22T13:11:00.004-04:002011-07-22T13:57:35.039-04:00Accepted by God<div style="text-align: center;">Who can understand <i>his</i> errors?<br />
Cleanse me from secret <i>faults.</i><br />
Keep back Your servant also from presumptuous <i>sins;</i><br />
Let them not have dominion over me. <br />
Then I shall be blameless, <br />
And I shall be innocent of great transgression. <br />
<br />
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart<br />
Be acceptable in Your sight, <br />
O LORD, my strength and my Redeemer.</div><div style="color: #999999; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>-Psalm 19:12-14 (NKJV)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">The heart that understands the disparity between his soul and God must be staggered by his need for acceptance by God. Deep within, he knows that his spirit cannot function without it. Our living is vain, after all, if we cannot satisfy the one who has the power to freely accept or reject us at His own will. What will we bring to Him to be found justified? Something must be offered to enable us to "ascend the hill of the Lord." <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #999999;">(Psalm 24:3)</span></i></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">David recognized this need when he wrote Psalm 19. What he expresses in this passage is fundamental. He pleads for God's grace to:</div><ul><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AcURFRG2dxM/TS-s7m5UYWI/AAAAAAAAAv8/o3DWhV0I0a8/s1600/IMG_2666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AcURFRG2dxM/TS-s7m5UYWI/AAAAAAAAAv8/o3DWhV0I0a8/s400/IMG_2666.JPG" width="266" /></a>
<li>Cleanse him from secret faults,</li>
<li>Preserve him from presumptuous sins, and</li>
<li>Make his words and meditations pleasing to God.</li>
</ul><div style="text-align: left;">It is the blood of Jesus Christ that answers this soul's plea for justification, in every way. The blood absolves our secret fault and protects us from presumptuous (intentional) sin. The blood alone, by unleashing the Holy Spirit within us, sanctifies our words and meditations. The Holy One's blood sacrifice covers the soul's sin blight for all times, absolutely meeting His own perfect standard. We are accepted in Jesus (Eph1:6), and presented to God holy, blameless, and above reproach (Col 1:21). We cannot be condemned by anyone but God, and He refuses to do it (Rom 8:32). The blood of Christ's sacrifice cries out, in reply to the soul's yearning plea, with complete cleansing and acceptance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Justification is not borne of desire, but of genuine faith in one true Justifier, Jesus Christ. His righteousness is applied to my heart one way: when I truly believe that I have no means to justify myself before God, but that He has the perfect means to justify me before Himself. And when I believe, there is nothing that can separate me from Him (Rom 8:38-39). I find acceptance that can never be revoked. By believing, I have life through His name (John 20:31).<br />
<br />
Lord, let me never forget. </div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-92168853402111003962011-02-02T10:29:00.001-05:002011-02-02T12:41:57.400-05:00It Makes Me Sew Happy!<div style="text-align: center;">The conversation went like this:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Husband (considering that his evening plans were cancelled), to Wife:</div><div style="text-align: center;">"What should I do tonight, Wife? I'm bored."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wife:</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I don't know."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Husband (eying Wife's sewing project)</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Maybe you could teach me how to sew!"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Wife:</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I think I have a pattern for a potholder."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">All (with hands raised in the air):</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Hooray! Potholders are fun!"</div></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8h4ejWl5_9xwBMAD5TxbU5bpCiEpRbhEMKW79MgEvkg6iu3W9LL0Ibcx5Qdb1lJFV_qYZ9TRYGJB3wQPAReFpNEVJuDddN52Fx_x7mCoCsb1IHg1Bv4G7TdAFxfkJvKmjRLAEo47_OE/s1600/IMG_3912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8h4ejWl5_9xwBMAD5TxbU5bpCiEpRbhEMKW79MgEvkg6iu3W9LL0Ibcx5Qdb1lJFV_qYZ9TRYGJB3wQPAReFpNEVJuDddN52Fx_x7mCoCsb1IHg1Bv4G7TdAFxfkJvKmjRLAEo47_OE/s320/IMG_3912.JPG" width="320" /></a>Maybe the drama was less intense. Maybe nobody raised hands into the air, but Husband did sew a potholder that night. A good one, too. It was his first sewing project, aside from the bean bag Aunt helped him make when he was still Boy. But this one he did all by himself. He cut, pinned, stitched, and even hand-stitched (which he learned is called slip-stitching). He learned how to run the machine out of thread, and how to sew a rogue crease right into the seam. All told, he decided that if he ever had a mid-life crisis, he would go be a tailor. That is, if tailors get to spend their time turning dials on the machine just to see what they do.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-37550091683371611722010-12-08T13:35:00.000-05:002010-12-08T13:35:20.469-05:00"Music" by F.E. Wright<div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Music has moments of rapturous sound</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">And Intervals of rest.</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">It thrills the heart</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">with its majesty</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">And soothes it when suppressed</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Life, too, has ringing,</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">throbbing tones</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">And muted, silent keys,</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Yet both are merged</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">at the Master's touch</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">Into living symphonies</div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">-Florence Emeline Wright</span></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-30912301633155477762010-11-02T08:28:00.001-04:002010-11-02T08:30:27.902-04:00Election DayLiving in the United States is a blessing and an honor. While my heart is sometimes overwhelmed with sorrow at the increasing wickedness and humanism that seems to grip this country, there is no place in the world I'd rather live. It is a tremendous privilege to live in such a free state, but with that privilege comes responsibility.<br />
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Today is election day, one of the opportunities for Americans to exercise their responsibility to this great nation. Every American, regardless of creed, owes this day's homage to the great democracy that has granted us freedom. But many of us will pay this tribute by <i>not </i>going to the polls to support our favorite candidate. Our absence from the voting roster is not a matter of apathy, but of deliberate avoidance. We will stay home today and pray. To vote is power, but to pray is to launch the Divine imperative. God's word says, "the nations are as a drop of a bucket," (Isaiah 40:15), but "The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working" (James 5:16). To those who will not vote for Biblical reasons, your responsibility on this important day is immense. Pray, my friends. Pray hard for those whom the Lord will put in power. Being absent from the polls does not make election day a vacation for you. As you have pledged allegiance to the Lamb of God, exercise the principal American freedom: the freedom to pray for your country.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-75633265117551543472010-10-18T22:39:00.002-04:002010-10-18T22:54:42.106-04:00Our Honeymoon-Part I<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__p0pwpbfv9qq_kkhh9md2CLpE7vRGoSuPVLByCadrpkWjRau9egVHpWZ88LZxVuTtHqhzLUNEwLob77wZw8PzGuMwOLO8ZAGk8INDXfQOEWNKAeOFZjWM_JU3MBP3ECp2xR1vabI12U/s400/IMG_8946.JPG" width="400" /></div><br />
Well, we made it. My sweet wife and I have now been married for a year. It seems hard to believe, and yet we have no less than a year's worth of memories and growth to account for. It has been one amazing year.<br />
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Someone just asked us, "How would you describe your first year?" <i>Good question</i>, I thought. <br />
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During our engagement, many well-wishers predicted we'd be disclaiming at this point. "We haven't gotten the rose without the thorns," or "It's had its ups and downs, but has been great, overall." But, if I were to say those things, I would be overlooking the facts. The ones that say that it's been nothing<i> </i>but a rose. And the ones that say it been up, up, up all the way. Sweet, sweet love of husband and wife. Sure, we've learned a lot about life, love, and family, but neither of us have <i>ever</i> thought, "This is kinda tough. I'm not sure I was prepared." Never once have we looked back to wipe our brow and see if we've made any progress. It has been like a dream that never ends, and we've had an easy life to boot.<br />
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I've heard the cynical analogy that marriage is like bath water: "once you get used to it, it's not so hot." <i>Phooey</i>. Under examination, that motif seems less like the voice of experience, and more like the voice of a certain arch-enemy. I simply don't believe it. The New Testament makes a strong case that marriage is designed to mirror God's love for his bride, the church. As God unreasonably loves his bride, so I love my own, and ask nothing in return but her love. Real marriage is not give and take. It's more like give and trust. Jesus' road to Calvary was the hardest ever walked, but it didn't snuff out his love. It didn't make him say, "Man, this "redeemer" bit is more than I signed up for," or "Playing the Savior role seemed great, but it's like bath-water...." Get the picture? <b>Hebrews 5:8-9 says that even Jesus was <i>perfected </i>through suffering so that He was able to author our salvation. </b>My love for Crystal has been easy-coming so far, but I'm convinced that the hardships of life, when they come, ought to strengthen a marriage, not undermine it.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPya0XT9NRwBD_0Y4BSByMNrAtiVVoV4jSGc8Y5uOCghpGoQ6MYLxh8J9El5sVaht6JGS5eIsuVKH6ey6vy8kdm7KK9P2oEk05hDDlCWRnJFNR1xhpoK7zybneuNcX-W81lHaKJu0ieVM/s320/IMG_2095.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers I bought for Crystal.</td></tr>
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Go ahead. Roll your eyes. "Still on his honeymoon," you say. Well, you're absolutely right. We <i>are </i>still on our honeymoon, and we have no plans to come back. This is just Part I, and we're having the time of our lives. God is sustaining and multiplying our love, daily. His promises are true, and without his grace it would be impossible.<br />
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God bless you. And thanks, Julie, for the question. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*Ephesians 2, ESV, excerpt</i></span>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-35567188957440313512010-09-15T21:42:00.007-04:002010-10-18T22:51:55.480-04:00A Dream Come True<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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It is official. I am now <i>a <b>very </b></i>proud (part)-owner of the beautiful 1946 Cessna 140 pictured below*. The ink is still wet on the paperwork. I am proud as a peacock, needless to say. And why not? Isn't she a beaut? And she sounds it, too. You should hear that little motor's chattering, huffing, popping rhythm. It's the perfect medley of nostalgia and modern genius. Even as I type, I cannot constrain the goofy, childish, gleaming grin that is within my heart. It is leaking out everywhere. I rub my hands in delight. Perhaps I will sleep tonight, perhaps I will not.<br />
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The next step is to spend a great deal of time driving her around with an instructor at my side. The primary reason is that she drags her <i>tail </i>on the ground, rather than her <i>nose</i>, which makes ground handling (including takeoff and landing operations) a little more to difficult to master. Some instruction time will take care of that. The experience will be much like that awkward, unspeakably exciting first few weeks of a daring new romance. Then, when we're comfortable spending time together, we'll go darting off over the countryside, punching holes in the sky to get who-knows-where, falling more in love with each other while making memories that will last a lifetime. I can't wait to get started.<br />
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Of course, that is all contingent on my sweet wife being able to accompany me, because without her it'll be one lonely ride. And all of it, of course, is if the Lord wills it so.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*for the technical minds: the owner is actually the corporation we formed expressly for that purpose. To be practical, we own the airplane. And it sounds neater.</span></div><div style="display: inline;"></div><style type="text/css">
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</style>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-38524986086040543912010-09-14T13:30:00.002-04:002010-09-15T22:11:23.958-04:00What is the worst kind of evil?This is an open-ended question. No tricks or traps. Just a good old-fashioned dinner-table discussion question. What do you think?Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-81883634591000462862009-06-29T21:30:00.006-04:002010-09-15T22:12:30.269-04:00Got Joy?<blockquote></blockquote><span style="color: #003300;">I was musing the other day about the service of the Lord, and how we often exchange the pleasantries of the flesh in order to fulfill the service of God. There is, with this fulfillment, a sure joy that is bigger than ourselves. Somewhere in this musing, the question came: </span><br />
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<blockquote style="color: #cc6600; font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">Who wants comfort, when we can have joy?<br />
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</span></blockquote>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8739987442056185916.post-39439359300249020262009-05-18T23:40:00.005-04:002010-10-18T22:53:40.442-04:00Musings of Death<blockquote>Oh joy, O delight, should we go without dying!<br />
No sickness, no sadness, no dread, and no crying.<br />
Caught up in the clouds with our Lord unto Glory<br />
When Jesus receives His own.<br />
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O, Lord Jesus, how long? How long<br />
'Till we shout the glad song:<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"> "Christ returneth! Hallelujah!</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Hallelujah, Amen."</span></blockquote><br />
<a name='more'></a>The day is comingwhen each of us must face death. I've often wondered what death is like, and why we dread it so much. The Bible says that it is only a portal into the great world to come, and yet it strikes a chord of painful dread in my mind. I wonder what it feels like to die?<br />
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For the body ridden with pain and suffering, death is the most sure relief. It is an escape from the inescapable. For the soul longing to see her lover, death is an open door through which shines the light of glory. For the anti-religious, death is the end of all things. For all of us, it is a mystery. But laying aside philosophy, theology, and science, I wonder how it feels when spirit of man passes from time to eternity. When mortality looses her tight grip on his soul, and he slides between her fingers into the abyss of eternity. Though death might have a different face to each soul, I think there must be some commonality for everyone who faces death.<br />
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I don't know. When I do, it won't matter. It is only a passing question, but there is a sure promise: after I pass through this unknown portal, my life will begin in the fullest dimension. When I die, I'm going to see Jesus. "Even so come, Lord Jesus."Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06070837665427591351noreply@blogger.com0