Saturday, February 23, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
UN Report on a Children's Cup CarePoint
Check this out. Click on the link below. It's a United Nations article about Children's Cup.
allAfrica.com: Swaziland: Giving Orphans 'Some Time of Real Childhood' (Page 1 of 1)
allAfrica.com: Swaziland: Giving Orphans 'Some Time of Real Childhood' (Page 1 of 1)
Monday, February 18, 2008
PUSHING THROUGH THE CROWD
The King is speaking.
I'm in the crowd wanting to be as close to Him as I can. There's a bit of commotion behind me. Someone is trying to push through the crowd.
Then I feel a nudge trying to get me to make room for the anxious one to pass.
I turn to face him. My look is rebuking him, "Who do you think you are pushing past us?"
"Didn't you hear? The King just called my name to come to Him!"
Then I understand.
It would be wrong not to press ahead when King Jesus calls us forward.
I'm in the crowd wanting to be as close to Him as I can. There's a bit of commotion behind me. Someone is trying to push through the crowd.
Then I feel a nudge trying to get me to make room for the anxious one to pass.
I turn to face him. My look is rebuking him, "Who do you think you are pushing past us?"
"Didn't you hear? The King just called my name to come to Him!"
Then I understand.
It would be wrong not to press ahead when King Jesus calls us forward.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
"MY TONGUE IS THE PEN OF A READY WRITER"
Evangelist Dick Mills read me this verse forty-five years ago and told me God was telling me to write. He did not know me and nothing about me then would have indicated I would ever be a writer. I had only recently climbed back out of atheism.
I’ve been thinking how much that verse has impacted my life.
Sometimes I feel like my pen is flowing ink-words right out of my soul—like my mind is learning them for the first time as I write. Sometimes I know I didn’t start the thoughts.
I go to the keyboard and see my fingers (I still have to watch the keys to type) seek and find the right letters—surprised when I read what they wrote. It’s as though my eyes are reading into my mind thoughts from my soul never before shaped into words.
And often I’m overwhelmed when I hear what the microphone did with my words—where did they come from?
Other times I feel clumsy about what I produced. Perhaps some of the thoughts are profound only to me being birthed out of my own desire to know God-things in a deeper way—and I must admit that some seem banal and trite and a waste of the alphabet.
But perhaps some of them are truly inspired and anointed by God’s Holy Spirit. The next thought shortens my breath: if they are, indeed, inspired I must be a good steward of the words.
Who does The Anointer want me to share them with? Where? How?
What more should I be doing to spread them?
I’ve been thinking how much that verse has impacted my life.
Sometimes I feel like my pen is flowing ink-words right out of my soul—like my mind is learning them for the first time as I write. Sometimes I know I didn’t start the thoughts.
I go to the keyboard and see my fingers (I still have to watch the keys to type) seek and find the right letters—surprised when I read what they wrote. It’s as though my eyes are reading into my mind thoughts from my soul never before shaped into words.
And often I’m overwhelmed when I hear what the microphone did with my words—where did they come from?
Other times I feel clumsy about what I produced. Perhaps some of the thoughts are profound only to me being birthed out of my own desire to know God-things in a deeper way—and I must admit that some seem banal and trite and a waste of the alphabet.
But perhaps some of them are truly inspired and anointed by God’s Holy Spirit. The next thought shortens my breath: if they are, indeed, inspired I must be a good steward of the words.
Who does The Anointer want me to share them with? Where? How?
What more should I be doing to spread them?
CHILD JESUS, WHEN DID YOU KNOW?
Did you know the meaning of what you just saw, Child Jesus? You've seen the Passover celebration many times, and it was always the same.
What did you think when you first saw the spotless little lamb they brought forward? Did the tender child part of you want to wrap the lamb in your arms to protect it?
On the other hand, you are the child who astounded the priests with your knowledge of what the prophets had said. Surely you knew, or did you?
Something in your eyes as you watched the lamb seemed to say that you did know that the loving lamb was but a living metaphor to help us understand your part in the grand plan of salvation. There was a bond between you.
All the ritual you observed would consummate in your own life--were you aware of that?
Did you shiver a little just then when you saw the priest pierce the lamb's body to shed its blood into a cup--blood that would be poured out upon the altar for the remission of sins?
Did your words about that cup echo back from the future Upper Room Supper? You watched so knowingly as the priest performed the ritual of the cup.
Was that glaze of tears in your eyes just a lens that let you see the people of all generations--including me--whose sins your blood would cover?
Those two pomegranate poles lying on the ground like a cross--what are they for? Oh, I see. They took the longer one and pierced it through the length of the lamb's body. The short one was used to spread-eagle the front legs.
Christ Child, did something in you just shudder as you saw the lamb lifted up on the cross to be hung over the searing fire?
When you accepted your portion of the sacrificed lamb to eat, you held it for an extra moment. Your tender expression firmed a little--like you were reconfirming a decision. You would, indeed, follow through and complete the awesome contract to repurchase our souls from hell.
From start to finish, the Passover pageant unfolded the great drama of redemption. The plan was born before time began. Justice and symmetry born in the mind of God had now taken form within the logic of man. Concepts beyond limited human reasonings were given recognizable shape in life.
Before Bethlehem you knew the plan, and at some time after you knew it again. You knew that the only way we could know the Father was to know you as one of us.
The Passover was finished for an¬other year now, and it looked like that knowing sense of purpose stayed with you. Did you know that it wasn't really over until you became that lamb on the cross?
When did you know it would be you who would declare to all generations, "IT IS FINISHED!"
What did you think when you first saw the spotless little lamb they brought forward? Did the tender child part of you want to wrap the lamb in your arms to protect it?
On the other hand, you are the child who astounded the priests with your knowledge of what the prophets had said. Surely you knew, or did you?
Something in your eyes as you watched the lamb seemed to say that you did know that the loving lamb was but a living metaphor to help us understand your part in the grand plan of salvation. There was a bond between you.
All the ritual you observed would consummate in your own life--were you aware of that?
Did you shiver a little just then when you saw the priest pierce the lamb's body to shed its blood into a cup--blood that would be poured out upon the altar for the remission of sins?
Did your words about that cup echo back from the future Upper Room Supper? You watched so knowingly as the priest performed the ritual of the cup.
Was that glaze of tears in your eyes just a lens that let you see the people of all generations--including me--whose sins your blood would cover?
Those two pomegranate poles lying on the ground like a cross--what are they for? Oh, I see. They took the longer one and pierced it through the length of the lamb's body. The short one was used to spread-eagle the front legs.
Christ Child, did something in you just shudder as you saw the lamb lifted up on the cross to be hung over the searing fire?
When you accepted your portion of the sacrificed lamb to eat, you held it for an extra moment. Your tender expression firmed a little--like you were reconfirming a decision. You would, indeed, follow through and complete the awesome contract to repurchase our souls from hell.
From start to finish, the Passover pageant unfolded the great drama of redemption. The plan was born before time began. Justice and symmetry born in the mind of God had now taken form within the logic of man. Concepts beyond limited human reasonings were given recognizable shape in life.
Before Bethlehem you knew the plan, and at some time after you knew it again. You knew that the only way we could know the Father was to know you as one of us.
The Passover was finished for an¬other year now, and it looked like that knowing sense of purpose stayed with you. Did you know that it wasn't really over until you became that lamb on the cross?
When did you know it would be you who would declare to all generations, "IT IS FINISHED!"
Saturday, February 09, 2008
BLOODY HANDS
Years ago my wife Jean's admonition painted a thought-picture in my mind.
Even now as this thought fills my mind again I feel dread and shame. Yet, I must let the words flow. I must face them for I have done this.
Will you follow the words with me?
The wounded warrior stumbles his way to the cross.
“Father, forgive me for I have sinned,” is his contrite plea.
And one more time the Blood avails. He is forgiven. His sins, his wounds—some of them self-inflicted though they be—are under the Atoning Blood of God’s own Son covering the sin.
Angels rejoice.
Many men rejoice.
But some do not.
“How can he get off that easy?” the doubters and haters and pious pretenders say.
“And look at her. Everyone knows what she has done. If He were God He’d know what she is and not let her wash His feet. “What a show—crocodile tears and that dramatic gesture of drying His feet with her hair…”
Quoting David the Psalmist, Paul talked about the covering of sins saying, “Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered.”
Covered by the Blood, Jesus’ Blood.
Come carefully with me into the next thought.
Confessed sin is under the Blood, It’s why Jesus’ died. If his or her sin is covered by the Blood, that means I must reach through the Blood to bring it back into the open and to remember it against the forgiven one.
Now look at my hands. Your hands.
They are now Blood-stained with the very Blood that covered the repenter’s sins.
Who can bear such guilt? Help us, Lord to never again have Bloody hands.
Cry out the Psalmist’s words with me, “Deliver me from Bloodguiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall sing aloud of Thy righteousness.
Even now as this thought fills my mind again I feel dread and shame. Yet, I must let the words flow. I must face them for I have done this.
Will you follow the words with me?
The wounded warrior stumbles his way to the cross.
“Father, forgive me for I have sinned,” is his contrite plea.
And one more time the Blood avails. He is forgiven. His sins, his wounds—some of them self-inflicted though they be—are under the Atoning Blood of God’s own Son covering the sin.
Angels rejoice.
Many men rejoice.
But some do not.
“How can he get off that easy?” the doubters and haters and pious pretenders say.
“And look at her. Everyone knows what she has done. If He were God He’d know what she is and not let her wash His feet. “What a show—crocodile tears and that dramatic gesture of drying His feet with her hair…”
Quoting David the Psalmist, Paul talked about the covering of sins saying, “Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered.”
Covered by the Blood, Jesus’ Blood.
Come carefully with me into the next thought.
Confessed sin is under the Blood, It’s why Jesus’ died. If his or her sin is covered by the Blood, that means I must reach through the Blood to bring it back into the open and to remember it against the forgiven one.
Now look at my hands. Your hands.
They are now Blood-stained with the very Blood that covered the repenter’s sins.
Who can bear such guilt? Help us, Lord to never again have Bloody hands.
Cry out the Psalmist’s words with me, “Deliver me from Bloodguiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall sing aloud of Thy righteousness.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD
I’ve heard many people describe their philosophies and ways of confronting competing concepts of right and wrong as, “I take the middle of the road approach.”
As if that absolves them from heading into error.
Truism: The middle of the road is determined by the boundaries.
Who determine the boundaries set the direction of the road—even to 180 degree U-turns.
Safety is not the middle of the road, it is staying on course with the Word of God.
As if that absolves them from heading into error.
Truism: The middle of the road is determined by the boundaries.
Who determine the boundaries set the direction of the road—even to 180 degree U-turns.
Safety is not the middle of the road, it is staying on course with the Word of God.
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