Toughen Your Feet and Walk On.

Lead of Love--by Caedmon's Call

Looking back at the road so far
The journey's left its share of scars
mostly from leaving the narrow and straight
Looking back it is clear to me
That a man is more than the sum of his deeds
and how you've made good of this mess
I've made is a profound mystery
Looking back you know
you had to bring me through
(All that I was so afraid of)
(Though I questioned the sky, now I see why)
(Had to walk on rocks to see the mountain view)
Looking back I see your lead of love
Looking back I can finally see
How failures bring humility
Brings me to my knees
Helps me see my need for
Thee Looking back you know
you had to bring me through
(All that I was so afraid of)
(Though I questioned the sky, now I see why)
(Had to walk on rocks to see the mountain view)
Looking back I see your lead of love
Had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view.
Looking back I see the lead of love.

I got life jabbing into my feet. but I know where I am headed: "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." --Paul, a Man of God

Wonder

"It is possible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun; and every evening, 'Do it again' to the moon. It may not be the automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately but has never gotten tired of making them...The repetition in Nature may not be a mere occurance; it may be a theatrical encore."

THE MYSTERY

If sunset clouds could grow on trees

It would but match the may in flower;

And skies be underneath the seas

No topsyturvier than a shower.

If mountains rose on wings to wander

They were no wilder than a cloud;

Yet all my praise is mean as slander,

Mean as these mean words spoken aloud.

And never more than now I know

That man's first heaven is far behind;

Unless the blazing seraph's blow

Has left him in the garden blind.

Witness, O Sun that blinds our eyes,

Unthinkable and unthankable King,

That though all other wonder dies

I wonder at not wondering.

-G.K. Chesterton.

# 166 in the old books

O, how lovely is the morning,

When it is begun with God;

Joy and thanks our hearts adorning,

As behooves a child of God,

Waking after night so fair

In the Maker's gentle care,

Rising without grief or sorrow

To a new and joyful morrow.

A Contribution to Statistics -by Wislawa Szymborska

Out of a hundred people

those who always know better
--fifty two,

doubting every step,
--nearly all the rest,

glad to lend a hand
if it doesn't take too long
--as high as forty-nine,

always good
because they can't be otherwise
--four, well maybe five,

able to admire without envy,
--eighteen,

suffering illusions
induced by fleeting youth
--sixty, give or take a few,

not to be taken lightly
--forty and four,

living in constant fear
of someone or something
--seventy seven,

capable of happiness
--twenty-something tops,

harmless singly,
savage in crowds
--half at least,

cruel
when forced by circumstances
--better not to know
even ballpark figures,

wise after the fact
--just a couple more
than wise before it,

taking only things from life
--thirty
(I wish I were wrong),

hunched in pain,
no flashlight in the dark
--eighty-three
sooner or later,

righteous
--thirty-five, which is a lot

righteous and understanding
--three,

worthy of compassion
--ninety-nine,

mortal
--a hundred out of a hundred.
Thus far this figure still remains unchanged.

[addendum: Does Jesus count as mortal because he died? Or immortal because he lives? Rejoice. the figure is no longer unchanged-- Easter morning, 33 A.D.]

I Have this Reoccuring Dream Where I am just about to Punch Someone

Today at school, we watched a video on school violence: bullying. There was the boy who was grabbing other kids and berating them, screaming at them, moving them from one place to another--dominating them physically;
there was this girl who came up from behind and grabbed another girl by her neck and drug her around the playground saying, "we're hurting her, wanna help?" and kids would come up and punch and kick her;
there was a fight like the ones at Highland used to be, a thick circle of kids in the parking lot surrounding two of their own, who were so mismatched! the thinner boy got beaten badly, punched in the kidneys and two directly in the face and he just stopped. He sat down, crying--rocking back and forth. (the one other time I remember someone rocking back and forth was the little boy at camp who had been abused badly in foster care. he was 5 years old, but he looked 3. He didn't look you in the eyes...ever)
I remember that...I remember being drug around when I was in elementary. (I remember being so scared as a freshman because this junior hated me. Every day she would find me and threaten me, make fun of me, intimidate me. I bawled EVERY DAY on my way home from school.) I wasn't a cool guy.
But, for my brother, who is a freshman, a big freshman who is smart and funny, a real cool guy. Baby, you need to know this:

YOU ARE THE ANSWER.

1. In one of every two acts of bullying/intimidation/violence, all it takes is one person to say, "Stop it." and the bullying will stop within 10 seconds. Be that one person, C-DAWG.
2. Kids need ONE friend to get by. Just one that they can sympathize with, one that they can vent to--and I know you got your "one," but someone else doesn't. Be their one. Because if you don't, that is going to be the kid whose name is written on a big plaque at your graduation, "In loving memory of _____________." But you know that, don't you, little one. Your class already has to have one of those plaques... and I'm sorry about that.
3. These are NOT the best years of your life. These are the worst. Things will get better.
4. Always speak up. Just saying, "NO!" with force will cause bullies to reconsider and usually get the attention of someone who should help.

It's hard to stand up to a crowd. To a bully. But That's why Jesus came. 'Cause we couldn't do it on our own.

Romans 8: 3 For what the law was powerless to do in that it was weakened by sinful nature, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful man to be a sin offering.

8:2 Because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.

Revolution

She'd roll over in her grave if she knew I was writing about her, but Nikki Giovanni did say it best:

and if ever i touched a life i hope that life
knows that i know that touching was and still is and always will
be the true
revolution.

I heard the man who lives next door to me say that most people who live indigently are given very little affectionate, or even casual physical touch. He said if he lived that way, he'd notice that people went out of their way not to touch him and he'd feel lonesome...and outcast. I read about someone who was coming down from a mountain and he saw a man who had a skin disease that was assumed to be contagious. Because the disease was assumed contagious, the man was put out of society and made to yell, "UNCLEAN!" as he approached people. He was denied all human touch.
This was a father not allowed to rest a hand on his child's head. This was a husband not allowed to wrap his arms around his wife, making her laugh with his growling kisses and mock complaints about a late supper. Little boys threw rocks at him. Former business associates gossiped about him and the "evil" he must have done to have brought such a disease on him. This was a man denied his dignity. Denied part in the human race.
So this person who was coming down the mountain, and the man with the terrible disease ran forward and fell down in front of him on his knees, "Master, if you want to, you can heal my body." The stranger reached out and touched him, touched him, saying, "I do want to. Be clean." Right then and there, all the open, oozing wounds, chunks of dead or missings skin were made new. The stranger whispered to him, "Don't talk about this all over town. Just quietly go to the authorities to be declared clean and thank God."

He touched him. not with one finger like on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel. He reached down and pulled that lonely man up in a hug--a hug or something like it. Jesus doesn't do finger pokes, or finger points for that matter. Jesus came to save and to heal. and to touch the untouchables

touching was, and still is, and always will
be the true
revolution.
"Your cleansed and grateful life, not your words, will bear witness to what I have done." Mat8:4

the true revolution

I locked my Keys in my Car Last Week.

The Story of Charlie

Mark Herrmann tells this story:

I was contracting a house in the Peoria area. We were almost finished, and because I'm a workaholic, I was there well into the evening on more than one night. On one such occasion, I had two of my buddies who worked in heating and cooling there helping me finish some ductwork. We needed more pipe, which was downstairs. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard rustling. I thought maybe someone was breaking in to steal our tools. My heartbeat picked up, and I waited a minute there, quiet. The noise didn't seem big enough to be a thief. I stuck my head around the corner, and saw the hind end of a skunk! I flew up the stairs as quietly as I could.
"Guys, there's a skunk in the basement, what do we do?" We talked it over. Skunk is NOT what we wanted this couple to be smelling next week when they moved in. One of the guys had his cell phone, so we called a vet friend of ours.
"No matter how it dies, its going to release it's stink sack." But he told us we might have a few seconds between it's death and when it released.
Charlie, one of the two guys with me, just happened to have his 22 in his truck.
"All I need is one shot."
I looked at him, "You're sure? You're positive you can do this?"
He nodded.
The plan was for me to go first with a blanket and open the door, he'd stick the barrel around the corner and shoot it. I'd take the blanket, wrap it up and run.
We snuck down the stairs. I opened the door, and Charlie nosed the barrel of the rifle into the room.
"I can't see it."
"What?"
"You're gonna have to get its attention."
"right."
I threw a screw-driver in on the floor. Up came its head. BANG!
In I ran, scooped up the skunk and thundered past Charlie and Joe on the stairs, out the door and to the corn field.
Before dumping the skunk, I looked to see if it was dead. Ol' Charlie had got 'em right between the eyes!

And THAT'S why we call him One Shot Charlie.

This is the church in Douglas, AZ that we walked by in the mornings.  

Peace is a Decision

I just want to encourage you. Sometimes peace is a decision. It is choosing to go past the whirlwind of emotions and circumstances into the eye of the storm, the faith that Christ is the Captain and He can calm any storm, should he so choose; and when He does not calm the storm, it is with perfect providence. With the power of the storm, God changes me. I am whipped, drenched, bludgeoned, and shattered into the image of Christ. There was no 'comeliness' to Him, it says in the King James--nothing in him to make people say, what a nice looking guy, or what a real man's man, or what a king. They didn't like Him. He wasn't what they were looking for--but is He really what we're looking for? Do we see him for who He is and what that means? When He saw he was made in the image of a man, he humbled himself and took the form of a servant. Who wants a God who spits in the mud and wipes it on people? Who wants a God who cries? Who wants a God who hangs out with losers? Who wants a God so weak he would die at the hands of his own creation?

I do. I want a God who tosses children in the air and catches them. I want a God that has a thing for lost causes. I want a God who gives his followers nick-names like "Sons of Thunder;" Who cries at funerals, even when he knows the guy ain't gonna be dead long. I want a God so confident, so aware of His position, that humbling Himself doesn't phase Him; who strips down to the waist, rolls up his sleeves, and takes calloused, blistered, hot, sweaty, odorous feet in his hands and in gentleness, blesses the men who own those feet with a massage. I want a God who smells the stench of my immorality and sees the revolting selfishness that is eating me alive and rather than putting me out of my misery and just beginning hell a few years ahead of schedule...*sigh*. I couldn't have thought it up. Not in a million years spent doing nothing but trying to think up a way to save the world...

Who wants a girl who can't keep her shoes tied? Who wants a girl who doesn't like standing in the foyer at church because she doesn't feel like she belongs? Who wants a girl whose ability to sing is lessening exponentially by the day? Who wants a girl who wins burping contests so regularly nobody even tries to compete with her anymore? Who wants a girl who would rather you be intimidated by her silence than to let you see how fearful she is of being found out for a fraud? Who wants a ragamuffin?

He does. and that makes all the difference. Be encouraged.

Though the angry surges roll on my tempest-driven soul,

I am peaceful, for I know, wildly though the winds may blow,

I've an anchor safe and sure, that can evermore endure.

Mighty tides about me sweep, perils lurk within the deep,

Angry clouds o'ershade the sky, and the tempest rises high;

Still I stand the tempest's shock, for my anchor grips the Rock.

I can feel the anchor fast as I meet each sudden blast,

And the cable, though unseen, bears the heavy strain between;

Through the storm I safely ride, till the turning of the tide.

Troubles almost 'whelm the soul; griefs like billows o'er me roll;

Tempters seek to lure astray; obscure the light of day:

But in Christ I can be bold, I've an anchor that shall hold.

And it holds, my anchor holds;

Blow your wildest, then, O gale,

On my bark so small and frail;

By His grace I shall not fail,

For my anchor holds,

my anchor holds.

(W. C. Martin)