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Giving/Service
For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it. (Mark 8:35)
Recent Posts
God? Who Needs Him?May 31, 2013
Self-sufficient humanism. Paul saw it coming – “lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God.”
Imago Dei
September 12, 2012
So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
Why Can't I Pray?
August 18, 2012
The bible gives us several reasons, but according to Jeremy Taylor, a deceitful heart is at the root of prayerlessness.
It's Not Rocket Science
July 23, 2012
To keep in step with the Spirit should be our daily quest. And if we are successful at that, all of life falls into place.
Theological Steak
April 10, 2012
These words by P. T. Forsythe on the magnificence of Christ's work are to theology what Ruth's Chris is to a good steak.
Describing the Indescribable
February 11, 2012
What we have in Christ will take all eternity to describe. But for one segment of one sermon, a great preacher made a mighty attempt.
Making Sense Of It All
January 30, 2012
Where are things headed? Is there rhyme and reason to the endless cycle of summer, fall, winter and spring? Is there a plan in place, or is randomness the explanation?
The Problem With Puddles
March 28, 2009
It rains, and they appear. Want-a-be lakes, they show up and are gone. Puddles are a nuisance more than anything - good for nothing, really. How do we keep our lives from being the equivalent?
Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual zeal, serving the Lord. Romans 12:11
Puddles tend to be muddy, undrinkable, and more likely to spash than anything else. Their value is minimal. One can hardly think of anything complementary to say about them.
Henry Vaughn (1650) in his poem THE DAWNING, makes good use of puddles as a metaphor. In prayer-like fashion he asks.....
Grant, I may not like puddle lie
In a Corrupt securitie,
Where, if a traveller water crave,
He finds it dead, and in a grave;
But as this restless, vocall Spring
All day, and night doth run, and sing,
And though here born, yet is acquainted
Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted;
So let me all my busie age
In thy free services engage,
And though (while here) of force I must
Have Commerce sometimes with poor dust,
And in my flesh, though vile, and low,
As this doth in her Channel, flow,
Yet let my Course, my aim, my Love,
And chief acquaintance be above;
So when that day, and hour shall come
In which thy self will be the Sun,
Thou'lt find me dressed and on my way,
Watching the Break of thy great day.
Or, as Paul puts it at the end of 1 Corinthians 15....
Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. (58)
Puddles tend to be muddy, undrinkable, and more likely to spash than anything else. Their value is minimal. One can hardly think of anything complementary to say about them.
Henry Vaughn (1650) in his poem THE DAWNING, makes good use of puddles as a metaphor. In prayer-like fashion he asks.....
Grant, I may not like puddle lie
In a Corrupt securitie,
Where, if a traveller water crave,
He finds it dead, and in a grave;
But as this restless, vocall Spring
All day, and night doth run, and sing,
And though here born, yet is acquainted
Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted;
So let me all my busie age
In thy free services engage,
And though (while here) of force I must
Have Commerce sometimes with poor dust,
And in my flesh, though vile, and low,
As this doth in her Channel, flow,
Yet let my Course, my aim, my Love,
And chief acquaintance be above;
So when that day, and hour shall come
In which thy self will be the Sun,
Thou'lt find me dressed and on my way,
Watching the Break of thy great day.
Or, as Paul puts it at the end of 1 Corinthians 15....
Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. (58)
Making A Difference
November 13, 2008
We all want our lives to matter, to count for something. How can we be sure we are not throwing our life away? What will count for eternity? This much we know. Giving ourselves to Kingdom of God work is never wasted effort.
Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. 1 Corinthians 15:58
Edward Burne-Jones was an English artist of the late 19th Century, and bemoaned the little impact his life had made. With joy he had strived for beauty and good work in it, and had hoped to influence his fellow-creatures in both these directions, but he had come to realize how small, if not absolutely nothing his influence had been.
His biographer sat and tried to console him. Burne-Jones would not hear of it. He understood that the people who professed the greatest admiration for his work were also people who held views of life that he saw as an abomination. His conclusion? "Such bitter draughts of seeming failure are poured out in all ages for those to whom the work is appointed of carrying on the lasting traditions of the world." (GOLD CORD page 36)
Amy Charmichael found herself in India, with a calling to rescue children who had been dedicated to the temple for worship purposes - and unmentionable evil.
"With the coming of each new child we learned a little more of the private ways of this dreadful underworld of India..." She drew strength from the prayer of F. H. Meyers who asked that God "teach me yet anew with what a fierce and patient purity I must confront the horror of the world."
Charmichael knew on Whom she must rely. "We can only touch evil by virtue of the cleansing blood. Nothing but the white fires of God's holiness suffice for such contact. Move out from the full stream of Calvary and you know yourself not only defenceless, but stained."
Still, "bitter draughts of seeming failure" flooded her at times. "And unlike the artist," she says, "we had no canvases crowded with beauty to offer to anyone - Not as though I had already attained was written in large letters over everything we touched. It is written there still. And yet something in the words of Burne-Jones made them unforgettable. They struck down to reality."
"Perhaps in a sense not in the least understood then, they forecast what we were to find in the days when people would be kind to us and interested, and pleased, and yet not really in sympathy and not truly understanding. To count on such for so-operation was to be disappointed."
"It was well to be forewarned. For the work wsa to develop upon lines that would not find general acceptance, and we had to learn the unchangeable truth: Our Master has never promised us success. He demands obedience. He expects faithfulness. Results are His concern, not ours. And our reputation is a matter of no consequence at all."
What though I stand with the winner,
Or perish with those that fall?
Only the cowards are sinners,
Fighting the fight is all.
Strong is my foe, who advances,
Snapped in my blade, O Lord;
See their proud banners and lances -
But spare me the stub of a sword.
Amy Charmichael
Edward Burne-Jones was an English artist of the late 19th Century, and bemoaned the little impact his life had made. With joy he had strived for beauty and good work in it, and had hoped to influence his fellow-creatures in both these directions, but he had come to realize how small, if not absolutely nothing his influence had been.
His biographer sat and tried to console him. Burne-Jones would not hear of it. He understood that the people who professed the greatest admiration for his work were also people who held views of life that he saw as an abomination. His conclusion? "Such bitter draughts of seeming failure are poured out in all ages for those to whom the work is appointed of carrying on the lasting traditions of the world." (GOLD CORD page 36)
Amy Charmichael found herself in India, with a calling to rescue children who had been dedicated to the temple for worship purposes - and unmentionable evil.
"With the coming of each new child we learned a little more of the private ways of this dreadful underworld of India..." She drew strength from the prayer of F. H. Meyers who asked that God "teach me yet anew with what a fierce and patient purity I must confront the horror of the world."
Charmichael knew on Whom she must rely. "We can only touch evil by virtue of the cleansing blood. Nothing but the white fires of God's holiness suffice for such contact. Move out from the full stream of Calvary and you know yourself not only defenceless, but stained."
Still, "bitter draughts of seeming failure" flooded her at times. "And unlike the artist," she says, "we had no canvases crowded with beauty to offer to anyone - Not as though I had already attained was written in large letters over everything we touched. It is written there still. And yet something in the words of Burne-Jones made them unforgettable. They struck down to reality."
"Perhaps in a sense not in the least understood then, they forecast what we were to find in the days when people would be kind to us and interested, and pleased, and yet not really in sympathy and not truly understanding. To count on such for so-operation was to be disappointed."
"It was well to be forewarned. For the work wsa to develop upon lines that would not find general acceptance, and we had to learn the unchangeable truth: Our Master has never promised us success. He demands obedience. He expects faithfulness. Results are His concern, not ours. And our reputation is a matter of no consequence at all."
What though I stand with the winner,
Or perish with those that fall?
Only the cowards are sinners,
Fighting the fight is all.
Strong is my foe, who advances,
Snapped in my blade, O Lord;
See their proud banners and lances -
But spare me the stub of a sword.
Amy Charmichael
