Worth the Drinking

I found something worth the drinking. Ha! I found a good strong tonic that does my heart good. And a funny thing is there are some in the church who do not even believe it exists - they have NEVER drunk it (so sorry for them). And some who have heard of it will not touch "the stuff".  

It has a name, though they do not like to speak of it, thus I shall whisper it here so as not to bring too much offense (new wine). Have you heard of it before?

It is completely different from the old stuff - fresh, bursting with flavor, very potent. And I find myself a bit tipsy on the joy it brings. All I can say is . . . GIVE ME MORE!

Artwork: New Wine by unknown

Strong Grip

He won't, you know. He never has. Not since the first moment that you called His name and believed. He has never let go of you - and He never will.

Oh, I can guarantee that you will; at least a few times in this journey. You will let go of him, fail Him, falter in some way; but He holds on. That is the only reason any of us ever make it to the end, for the sake of His strong grip.

You cannot be snatched from His hand. Not stolen. Not lost. Even if you were to sink down into a miry pit, Father's hand would find you there and pull you out . . . now that is true security. 

Artwork: Cast Your Cares, hand pulling you up,  unknown

This Rain Floods

It rained down again this morning. It soaked me to the core and washed away all of yesterday. And when it did I felt the lightness spring into my step again. 

Sweet, cleansing, a new beginning even - I cannot get enough of this daily downspout. "Let it rain!!" I cry up to the heavens as I dance beneath the shower. "Let your mercies rain and never stop!" 

Down it plunges from the heavens. Down it floods anew each morning till heart is tender, clean, and ready for another day. Dear Papa in the heavens . . . your mercy I shall always need.

Artwork: Dance in the Storm © Christine Council

http://www.christinecouncil.com/

Gotten Themselves into a Muddle

Oh, it's moving quickly now, plowing down the road in lightening speed. Far quicker than A&E ever intended. They bit hard and quick, thinking the bite would straighten him out, put him in line, punish him just enough to back him in a corner. But it took off, with their teeth desperately imbedded, and them not being able to free themselves. Poor A&E. Now they have gotten themselves into a muddle.

They did not know how to handle it: Another voice has dared to speak; another soul has refused to bow to the media's thought police.

And I say - WELL DONE! Well done, Phil Robertson, for speaking truth and answering those simple questions as straightforward as you did. No hemming or hawing from you. No cowering or worrying who thinks what about you . . . refreshing . . . encouraging . . . wonderful to see that there are those who do not bend with fear before that vocal crowd who have a tendency to call evil good - and who try to punish those who refuse to do the same.

Millions of us stand behind you, without a platform, without that clarion vantage that you have to speak and have it broadcast for the world to hear. Thank you, Phil Robertson. Your voice means much to us! . . . Poor A&E. Let's see how you get your teeth out of this one.

Artwork: (c) Peter Bay Alexandersen
http://www.shannonassociates.com/artist/peterbayalexandersen

God's Lovely Mess

You called upon Him - and there He is. Surprised? Did you really think that all your stuff would be too much for Him to bear or too ugly for Him to look upon? Or worse: That you were just too unlovable for Him to love?

He came because you called. And you called because you believe. Deep inside your heart it was there and you did not even know it - a tiny seed of faith that had been planted years and years ago; a knowing that God is there. And you wandered, and you chose wrong paths, and you hid the wounds. Until that day - when you called His name.

Perhaps you are a mess . . . but you are God's lovely mess now.

Artwork: Her Choice (c) Diana Moses Botkin
http://www.dianamosesbotkin.com/

A Place of Graves

The gate is wide. The gate is tall and stately . . . and intimidating. As well it should be! (say those who enter through it) For there beyond lies a most sacred place with which we pride ourselves in its clean, and orderly, and necessarily structured confines that make us feel so duly holy, so right before our God, so happy we can come here with other like-minded fellows and enjoy the reverent company.

But . . . it is a place of graves, isn't it? (They do not hear me) Excuse me! It is a place for dead people, is it not?

As I peek in I see the tombs - white-washed and very pretty. Rows and rows of them. I see the burdens on the backs of those who walk within . . . no, I do not think that I shall enter in.

Artwork: Cemetery at Dusk by Caspar Friedrich

Stronger Than Your Winds

O, Autumn, come! Come early if you can. My storm-loving sensibilities are missing you.

I am so ready for the wind to gather up the leaves again. Storms, you must promise to pummel hard and shout with those thunderous voices you are so well versed in. God’s voice has sounded like your thunder. My God is bigger, though. Bigger than you, Storms—louder than your thunder, stronger than your winds, fiercer than your lightning that you cast upon the earth.

I cannot wait for autumn’s storms—they so remind me of the God I love.

Artwork: An Autumn Wind by unknown