Mud cakes I make. Diamonds are His.
His voice like many rivers.
Mine is more a hiss.
I speak like shadows
From behind the flesh.
He speaks of Light.
From Eternity’s chest.
By nature I am contrast.
By Glory He is Life.
By Righteousness He’s free.
From hiding I am strife.
So much revealed.
Vast sums are hidden.
Yet it’s enough,
To speak as bidden.
He’s so much life
That even so,
Our tiny words
Produce His will.
To bring His Glory
Down to us;
To shape His message
From the dust.
“To the stars and beyond!”
How the worthless is praised.
On display before all –
With mindless eyes glazed.
Prayers by the billions
To the singers of song.
Certainly,
To these ones,
Prayer belongs?
The one who offers
Profitless words
Receives the greatest praise.
While the profit of Men
Is spent . . .
Futilely filling their days
Where is understanding?
Did wisdom go and hide?
Perhaps
A thrashing in the night,
Was missed,
As …………………
Wisdom died.
Did the Morning Sun change color?
Does the grass grow from the sky?
Does the wind secrete from below the ground?
Then why is wisdom not to be found?
The Knowledge of ancient ones,
Lay abandoned
On the ground.
Lifeless words have
Taken “PLACE”
There!:
Gilded chants surround.
What gives them right
To change “What Is”
To an empty promise of Man?
What gives them right
To praise the ones
Who despise
THE GREAT
“I AM”?
“To all perfection I see a limit, but your commands are boundless.” (Psalm 119:96)
All of them were right. Every one of them gave his testimony; with what words they had, they described what they saw. Chaos exploded before their very eyes. Reality appeared then vanished.
A car accident, in full view of many witnesses. Differing statements were taken. And the question is asked in retrospect, how can so many variations of witness exist?
It is because there is a difference between believing and seeing. It is because there is a difference between the imagination and true perspective. When what we believe comes into view, we find we do not have the words to describe it.
For a split second a rift opened between the peace of man and the truth of God. For a split second the reality of eternity displayed itself before their very eyes: “If man continues on that destructive path, bodies will be exploded where they live”.
Yes.
The Incarnation of the Word of Life
1 “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. 2 The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. 3 We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 4 We write this to make our joy complete.”
Are people supposed to be happy? Then why is there such an onslaught of sadness about us? Explain that.
Is pleasure the purpose of life? Or is it simply a means of escape from a forced reality check?
If we let ourselves be happy, does that take away death, sickness, disappointment, and the like?
If we wrap our days in pleasure, does that lessen reality?
Blessed is the one who finds the will to enter the fire of reality and remain there.
The parents of a murderer are pressed hard against the wall. They remember when he was a baby; purely innocent and full of potential. But now, like he, they must face the fact of the things he has done. If he is sentenced to life in prison, they have to wrestle with the understanding that he will never come home again.
With the purest possible love, and the greatest possible regret, they remember him when he lay so sweetly in their arms. But mistakes, the influence of outside forces, and the choices of the man, have ripped potential from their dreams. Who can voice a sadness like that? Tell me that loss isn’t personal.
Tell me they don’t think of how much better it might have been if their sweet baby had been stillborn. Better for the victim’s family. Better for the society that was robbed of precious potential. Better that a prison cell should house anyone else, and that for lesser crimes. . . PLEASE! Better for the sounds that the walls of their house remember. Better for their aching hearts that cannot find healing.
They cannot love their child to the potential they once desired, for once a deed like that is done it cannot be erased.
But you will not rip away what love remains, from their hearts. For they will seek with great diligence to find the shreds of their baby that remain in their son.
Love is not passive.
Love is not blind.
Love is married to wisdom.
Pure love understands what is pure.
Love makes way for reality.
Love may experience restriction.
Love may be forsaken!
But it is impossible for love to die.
True humility is not a brand of servitude. It is a joyful and willing acceptance of one’s place in life, according to ALL that is true.
Pride is the exact opposite. Pride thinks it is humble. But such false humility only weighs itself against a certain compartment of life. Pride refuses to take into consideration the fullness of what is offered.
Humility receives all and is glad. Pride rejects all, and sadly keeps what it thinks is his.
But let’s not be mistaken here, pride seamlessly believes it is humble. Therefore it is fully incapable of understanding true humility. It is fully incapable of receiving anything. Pride will gladly die, in abject poverty of truth.
By His Grace
We: Live, Die, Face Judgment. Jesus or die twice.
My new buddy
Stubborn And Courageous Adventures Reflecting the Father's Heart to The People.
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