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God-lover, singer, poet, writer, friend.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

The Autumn Dance

It’s here again – Autumn! The brave storm clouds are gathering together, threatening to beat rain down upon our heads. I hope the wind returns as in so many other autumns and whips the rustling leaves into that feverish swirling dance of gold.

Can you not look around and see how it all works so orderly together – clouds, storm, wind, leaves – all meant to join in the autumn dance that was choreographed just for them. This is no accident, no accumulation of a billion tiny accidents that just happen to fit together as some scientists wish to think. I must laugh at the thought – accidents? All of it?? Scientists know so very, very little and are bound by such limited vision.

A hand created this, a voice spoke it into existence . . . And now I hear that voice in the thunder!


Photograph: swirling leaves, unknown

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Thin Ropes of Mercy

So there you are. Poor tired soul. Been adrift at sea for quite awhile now, haven’t you. If not for those thin ropes of mercy tethering you to that fragmented bit of salvage. . . you’d be drowned.

Now what? How does a shipwrecked life find healing anyway? Where is deliverance from the merciless wind that tears at your skin and the unkind water that grabs at you with its cruel, icy fingers. And that gray sky, that sorrowful gray sky that stretches infinitely on, that threatens to banish the sun forever from your gaze – who can call back the blue and bright above and drive away the gray forever?

I know who . . . and I know how . . . I know His name well. He is a brash lover of souls and a fearless one who is not intimidated by violent winds or cold waters that run perilously deep. He’s calling you – no, no, it’s not the wind you hear. It’s Him!
Open up your eyes, dear soul, your deliverance is at hand!

Artwork: All That was left of the Homeward Bound by Riviere

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Burned By Such A Flame

The days are darkening. Twilight has fallen lightly, but it is soon to pass and darkness deep and troublesome will take its place. And that is when His Glory rises best and shines the brightest – in the deep of darkness!

I feel the fire stirred within me, a thing that blazes in my eyes, a passion for the lovely One who’s faithful even when I have wearily lost my faith. It is this love that causes hardened hearts to soften as melted butter in a flame.

I do not mind being burned by such a flame, for I am softer for it, and I glow the brighter soaking in such Glory. Religion carries with it no heat of any kind – cold and dreary are its halls, and hearts wane weak and thin when nourished on its food. Christ does not live in such a place . . . and nor shall I.


Artwork: Resurgam by Sir Frank Dicksee