http://youtu.be/GFQYaoiIFh8
Love this song, 'Demons' by Imagine Dragons, definitely uplifting, moving, and powerful.
xoxo Wise Owl Lady
Recent Photoshoot: Shakespearean Graffiti Wall Quote -Inspire- 2014
Monday, May 26, 2014
'The Boy Who Saw Jesus' Chapter III, IV, V
[This excerpt is from The Story of Jesus In The World's Literature. Ed. Edward Wagenknecht. Il. Fritz Kredel. Copyright, 1946. Creative Age Press, Inc. New York, N.Y.]
At last, one day, the wonderful news came. Jesus
was coming to Tiberias! He had left Capernaum and
was working his way southward down the shore of
the lake.
Andrew was almost beside himself with joy. If
only he might see the Teacher, and talk to him, then
everything else-- he did not know how or why--
would be all right.
And then a very terrible thing happened.
They were speaking of the Teacher one night at
supper, now that his visit was drawing near, and
Andrew put in a word which made them know how
much he wanted to see Jesus.
He never spoke to his family of the things he felt
most deeply, but he was so full of his longing to see
Jesus that he just could not keep it to himself.
And Joseph and Judas laughed at him.
Laughed at him, laughed loud and scornfully.
What did he think he was, they wanted to know,
that the great Teacher could be bothered about him?
Reuben did not laugh. He never laughed. But he
turned his black eyes on Andrew--they were stern
and piercing under overhanging brows.
"When the Teacher comes," he said, "you will
stay at home where you belong. It is bad enough
that everybody in Tiberias should know I have a
worthless son. I have no wish it should be made
known through all Galilee."
A worthless son!
This was the most terrible thing Reuben had ever
said to his child.
So Andrew wanted to see the Teacher and to talk
to him! Joseph and Judas thought that very funny.
They would never have dreamed of asking such a
thing for themselves, nor could they have desired it.
That their queer little brother could and did struck
them as very comical indeed. It was much too good
a joke to keep. They must tell their friends about it.
And evidently everybody else thought it just as
funny as they did. Wherever Andrew went it seemed
to him that people were laughing at him.
The next few days were the worst he had ever
lived through in his whole life. He felt he was without
a friend in Tiberias. His father had definitely
told him he was a worthless son; he had given up all
hope of him. Worst of all was the doubt in his own
heart. If everybody else thought he was wrong and
silly, how could he possibly believe in himself?
Through it all he clung stubbornly to a single
hope-- the hope of seeing Jesus. That was all life
held for him now. On it he staked everything. If he
could not see the Teacher, it seemed to him that he
must die.
At last, one day, the wonderful news came. Jesus
was coming to Tiberias! He had left Capernaum and
was working his way southward down the shore of
the lake.
Andrew was almost beside himself with joy. If
only he might see the Teacher, and talk to him, then
everything else-- he did not know how or why--
would be all right.
And then a very terrible thing happened.
They were speaking of the Teacher one night at
supper, now that his visit was drawing near, and
Andrew put in a word which made them know how
much he wanted to see Jesus.
He never spoke to his family of the things he felt
most deeply, but he was so full of his longing to see
Jesus that he just could not keep it to himself.
And Joseph and Judas laughed at him.
Laughed at him, laughed loud and scornfully.
What did he think he was, they wanted to know,
that the great Teacher could be bothered about him?
Reuben did not laugh. He never laughed. But he
turned his black eyes on Andrew--they were stern
and piercing under overhanging brows.
"When the Teacher comes," he said, "you will
stay at home where you belong. It is bad enough
that everybody in Tiberias should know I have a
worthless son. I have no wish it should be made
known through all Galilee."
A worthless son!
This was the most terrible thing Reuben had ever
said to his child.
So Andrew wanted to see the Teacher and to talk
to him! Joseph and Judas thought that very funny.
They would never have dreamed of asking such a
thing for themselves, nor could they have desired it.
That their queer little brother could and did struck
them as very comical indeed. It was much too good
a joke to keep. They must tell their friends about it.
And evidently everybody else thought it just as
funny as they did. Wherever Andrew went it seemed
to him that people were laughing at him.
The next few days were the worst he had ever
lived through in his whole life. He felt he was without
a friend in Tiberias. His father had definitely
told him he was a worthless son; he had given up all
hope of him. Worst of all was the doubt in his own
heart. If everybody else thought he was wrong and
silly, how could he possibly believe in himself?
Through it all he clung stubbornly to a single
hope-- the hope of seeing Jesus. That was all life
held for him now. On it he staked everything. If he
could not see the Teacher, it seemed to him that he
must die.
IV
And then he came.
V
He came, one night at sunset, down the shore of the
lake, on foot, with his chosen disciples about him, a
poor man, poorly dressed, his robe covered with the
dust of his journey.
The news spread quickly throughout Tiberias.
The cobbler immediately got his neighbors together,
to carry his old, palsy-stricken, mother down
to the seashore so that she might be healed.
Mary and Rebecca, the two old sisters who lived
alone together, went a bit reluctantly, having agreed
that when the Teacher came they would let him
settle a disagreement about some property which
had embittered their home all winter.
And Reuben went too, fearfully and hopefully, to
pray the Teacher to bless his nets, so that he might
make a great catch when he went out to fish.
Many people went down to the seashore to meet
Jesus as he came into Tiberias, but very few of them
loved him. Nearly all of them wanted something.
When Andrew arrived, the Teacher was sitting
on a stone by the seashore, talking quietly to those
who had gathered about him. The boy had imagined
him in a thousand different ways, each more wonderful
than the last, but nothing that he had imagined
was half so wonderful as what he saw. There was
such strength and such loveliness in the Teacher's
face that it seemed as if all the Beauty and all the
Goodness in the world were centered there. His
father's commands meant nothing to him now, nor
did he care that he was making a fool of himself. He
did what in all his brooding over the Teacher's coming
had had never once dared to imagine himself
doing; he rushed forward and cast himself at Jesus's
feet, his arms around the Master's knees.
Not even Reuben had expected that. He was more
angry than he had ever been in his life. It seemed to
him indeed that he had good reason for anger. Now,
indeed, his worthless son had disgraced him in the
eyes of all men. How could the Teacher be expected
to bless his nets after such a thing as this had
happened?
He came forward quickly, and his respect for the
presence of Jesus could only just barely keep the
harsh word on his lips from turning into an oath. He
seized his son roughly by one arm and dragged him
to his feet.
Jesus rose with the boy. He was not a very tall
man, as height is measured in feet and inches, but it
seemed just then as if he might be going to strike his
head against the stars. It was not anger, for he was
incapable of anger. He knew that when men do
wrong it is either because they cannot see the light
or because they lack the courage to follow it. But
the hand that Reuben had raised to strike his son
never descended.
"Suffer little children," he said (Reuben was
never to forget his words), "suffer little children to
come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is
the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, whosover
shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little
child, shall in no wise enter therein."
"I thought..." began the embarrassed father,
"I only meant..."
But Jesus continued, more sternly than before:
"Take heed that you despise not one of these little
ones; for I say unto you that in heaven their angels
do always behold the face of my Father which is in
heaven."
What need is there that I should write any more?
If you have followed my story thus far, you know
how Andrew felt as the Master spoke these words
quite as well as I could tell you. Much better, indeed;
for you are a child yourself, and you know how children
feel better than I do. From the depths he passed
to the heights, to the loftiest heights he had ever
known. Warmth, peace, and joy flowed into him.
He was always thereafter faithful to Jesus. He
was too young to become one of his disciples, that
day in Tiberias, though he would dearly have loved
to do so, but in later years, after the Teacher had
died, he was among the faithful who helped to carry
on his work. His life, not so important as the world
counts importance, was built into the very fabric of
the Christian Church. Jesus won his heart, that day
by the seashore, for time and for eternity. The Master
vindicated the Boy, and the Boy gave the Master
the opportunity to utter one of the most gracious
sayings that ever fell from his lips.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
'A Wake Up Call' Daily Confession 5/25/2014
It is crazy,
Just amazing,
Continuing to grow and change,
Knowing many things will never be the same,
Venturing onward,
Trying to forget a past,
Knowing that the storms,
They never last,
But the storm of the soul,
Can endure until it is put to rest.
The digits are beginning to make sense,
2014, 25, 2015, 26, 2016, 27, 2017, 28,
Maybe I'm mistaking, but I know I ain't.
My time has be set from the get go,
He's carrying me through with my faith.
Knowing from a curse,
Came the pain,
Then the rain,
To the Fall,
To the Helping Hand,
To the Courage,
To the Rise,
What a surprise?
Wondering how one could be so blind,
Had to hit rock bottom to get a wake up call,
Build a premise from a heartless hole,
Still be able to smile with a dagger in my heart;
But from the darkness,
Shown a light,
It was all too bright,
Made me realize that from this light,
Came new life,
A peace of mind,
No fear,
Dreams sublime,
An invisible crown,
With a protective shield;
A vision so prime.
A Father found,
Pain subside,
Wisdom gained,
Demons lost,
Sins forgot,
Passions brought.
Love surpasses all.
Charity possessed,
My path is set,
And the greatest feeling of being Blessed
-Wise Owl Lady
Just amazing,
Continuing to grow and change,
Knowing many things will never be the same,
Venturing onward,
Trying to forget a past,
Knowing that the storms,
They never last,
But the storm of the soul,
Can endure until it is put to rest.
The digits are beginning to make sense,
2014, 25, 2015, 26, 2016, 27, 2017, 28,
Maybe I'm mistaking, but I know I ain't.
My time has be set from the get go,
He's carrying me through with my faith.
Knowing from a curse,
Came the pain,
Then the rain,
To the Fall,
To the Helping Hand,
To the Courage,
To the Rise,
What a surprise?
Wondering how one could be so blind,
Had to hit rock bottom to get a wake up call,
Build a premise from a heartless hole,
Still be able to smile with a dagger in my heart;
But from the darkness,
Shown a light,
It was all too bright,
Made me realize that from this light,
Came new life,
A peace of mind,
No fear,
Dreams sublime,
An invisible crown,
With a protective shield;
A vision so prime.
A Father found,
Pain subside,
Wisdom gained,
Demons lost,
Sins forgot,
Passions brought.
Love surpasses all.
Charity possessed,
My path is set,
And the greatest feeling of being Blessed
-Wise Owl Lady
II CORINTHIANS CHAPTER IV.
THEREFORE, seeing we have this ministry, as
we have received mercy, we faint not;
2 But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty;
not walking in craftiness, nor handling the
word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of
the truth, commending ourselves to every man's
conscience in the sight of God.
3 But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that
are lost:
4 In whom the god of this world hath blinded
the minds of them which believe not, lest the light
of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image
of God, should shine unto them.
5 For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus
the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus's
sake.
6 For God, who commanded the light to shine
out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give
the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in
the face of Jesus Christ.
7 But we have this treasure in earthen vessels,
that the excellency of the power may be of God,
and not of us.
8 We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed;
we are perplexed, but not in despair;
9 Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;
10 Always bearing about in the body the dying
of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might
be made manifest in our body,
11 For we which live are always delivered unto
death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus
might be made manifest in our mortal flesh.
12 So then death worketh in us, but life in you.
13 We having the same spirit of faith, according
as it is written, I believed, and therefore have I
spoken; we also believe, and therefore speak;
14 Knowing, that he which raised up the Lord
Jesus, shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall
present us with you.
15 For all things are for your sakes, that the
abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of
many redound to the glory of God.
16 For which cause we faint not; but through
our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed
day by day.
17 For our light affliction, which is but for a
moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory;
18 While we look not at the things which are
seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the
things which are seen are temporal; but the things
which are not seen are eternal.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
'The Boy Who Saw Jesus' Chapter II by Edward Wagenknecht
[This excerpt is from The Story of Jesus In The World's Literature. Ed. Edward Wagenknecht. Il. Fritz Kredel. Copyright, 1946. Creative Age Press, Inc. New York, N.Y.]
It was just about this time that Andrew began to
hear about a wonderful man who was coming to be
talked about around the Sea of Galilee. His name
was Joshua, or, as the Greeks had it, Jesus, and his
father had been a carpenter in the inland city of
Nazareth.
Jesus himself had been brought up to the carpenter's
trade, and had worked at the bench until he
was about thirty years old. But now he had given it
up for good. He spent all his time going about the
country helping people.
Nobody knew where this Jesus of Nazareth had
got his strange power. He was not even a learned
man, and everybody knew there had been nothing
remarkable about his family.
At Capernaum he had done many wonderful
things. He could heal sick people, it seemed, simply
by placing his hands upon them, some of them people
who had been sick a long time and had spent all
their money on doctors without finding a bit of relief.
Once they brought him into a room where a
little girl had just died. "She is not dead," he said;
"she is asleep." And they laughed at him. He said,
"You must leave me alone with her for a time." So
they did, and when they came back the little girl
was sitting up in bed talking to Jesus. Nobody knew
what he had done to her.
Even stranger stories than this were told of him.
It was said that he had once walked on the water,
as calmly, as confidently as men walk on dry land.
It was said he had once fed a hungry crowd with
five loaves and two little fishes.
The old men talked about these things wonderingly
as they sat on their benches at the gates of the
city in the evening when the day's work was done.
Their wives and daughters talked about them too
when they went to draw water from the well and
carry it home in their goatskins. And always Andrew
would listen quietly, with wide, shining eyes.
He did not care so much about the walking on the
water. The healing of the sick he did like to hear
about, for Andrew himself seemed to hurt, way deep
down inside, whenever he knew that somebody
around him was suffering. The walking on the water
did not seem so very important. Some of the men
said frankly that they did not believe such stories.
Andrew did not go so far as that. If so wonderful a
man as Jesus of Nazareth had appeared in the world,
it seemed to Andrew quite a fitting thing that he
should be able to walk upon the water if he wanted
to. Andrew did not doubt for a moment that he
might have done it. But it did not matter much
whether he had done it or not. It was not because
Jesus had walked on water that Andrew loved him.
For he did love him. It had come to that. The little
boy was in love with a man he had never seen.
He loved him most of all for the wonderful words
he had spoken. He knew them only as they had been
repeated to him-- a scrap here, a fragment there,
often sadly mangled in the telling. But it is impossible
to spoil them, those matchless words, for those
whose hearts are open to fell their beauty, as Andrew's
was.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God."
"Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be
called the children of God."
"Bless them that curse you, pray for them that
despitefully use you."
"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall
find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."
It seemed to Andrew that this wise Teacher must
know everything. He must know the answer to all
the questions that were troubling Andrew's little
mind, and to all the questions that all the other people
in the world were asking too.
Then there were his stories. Andrew had never
heard any stories that seemed to him quite so beautiful
as the stories that Jesus told. There was the story
of the young man who had left his father to go into
a far country, where he led an evil life. When all his
money was gone, and he was sick and hungry, he
came back home. And instead of scolding him for
what he had done, his father rushed out eagerly to
meet him, and welcomed him home, and fed him
and clothed him, and invited the neighbors in to
make a great feast. "For," he said, "my son was dead
and is alive again; he was lost and is found." And
there was the story of the good Samaritan who found
a Jew, his enemy, beaten by robbers and wounded
upon the highway, and took him to an inn, and
washed his wounds, and nursed him, and paid his
own money to the innkeeper to look after him until
he should return. "Take care of this Jew," he said,
"and whatsoever thou spendest more, I, when I come
back again, will repay thee."
If only Jesus of Nazareth would come to Tiberias!
If only Andrew might see him, hear him speak,
touch his hand! It seemed to him that he wanted
that more than anything else in the world, more than
always having enough to eat, more than having his
father kind to him, more than anything!
It was just about this time that Andrew began to
hear about a wonderful man who was coming to be
talked about around the Sea of Galilee. His name
was Joshua, or, as the Greeks had it, Jesus, and his
father had been a carpenter in the inland city of
Nazareth.
Jesus himself had been brought up to the carpenter's
trade, and had worked at the bench until he
was about thirty years old. But now he had given it
up for good. He spent all his time going about the
country helping people.
Nobody knew where this Jesus of Nazareth had
got his strange power. He was not even a learned
man, and everybody knew there had been nothing
remarkable about his family.
At Capernaum he had done many wonderful
things. He could heal sick people, it seemed, simply
by placing his hands upon them, some of them people
who had been sick a long time and had spent all
their money on doctors without finding a bit of relief.
Once they brought him into a room where a
little girl had just died. "She is not dead," he said;
"she is asleep." And they laughed at him. He said,
"You must leave me alone with her for a time." So
they did, and when they came back the little girl
was sitting up in bed talking to Jesus. Nobody knew
what he had done to her.
Even stranger stories than this were told of him.
It was said that he had once walked on the water,
as calmly, as confidently as men walk on dry land.
It was said he had once fed a hungry crowd with
five loaves and two little fishes.
The old men talked about these things wonderingly
as they sat on their benches at the gates of the
city in the evening when the day's work was done.
Their wives and daughters talked about them too
when they went to draw water from the well and
carry it home in their goatskins. And always Andrew
would listen quietly, with wide, shining eyes.
He did not care so much about the walking on the
water. The healing of the sick he did like to hear
about, for Andrew himself seemed to hurt, way deep
down inside, whenever he knew that somebody
around him was suffering. The walking on the water
did not seem so very important. Some of the men
said frankly that they did not believe such stories.
Andrew did not go so far as that. If so wonderful a
man as Jesus of Nazareth had appeared in the world,
it seemed to Andrew quite a fitting thing that he
should be able to walk upon the water if he wanted
to. Andrew did not doubt for a moment that he
might have done it. But it did not matter much
whether he had done it or not. It was not because
Jesus had walked on water that Andrew loved him.
For he did love him. It had come to that. The little
boy was in love with a man he had never seen.
He loved him most of all for the wonderful words
he had spoken. He knew them only as they had been
repeated to him-- a scrap here, a fragment there,
often sadly mangled in the telling. But it is impossible
to spoil them, those matchless words, for those
whose hearts are open to fell their beauty, as Andrew's
was.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God."
"Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be
called the children of God."
"Bless them that curse you, pray for them that
despitefully use you."
"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall
find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."
It seemed to Andrew that this wise Teacher must
know everything. He must know the answer to all
the questions that were troubling Andrew's little
mind, and to all the questions that all the other people
in the world were asking too.
Then there were his stories. Andrew had never
heard any stories that seemed to him quite so beautiful
as the stories that Jesus told. There was the story
of the young man who had left his father to go into
a far country, where he led an evil life. When all his
money was gone, and he was sick and hungry, he
came back home. And instead of scolding him for
what he had done, his father rushed out eagerly to
meet him, and welcomed him home, and fed him
and clothed him, and invited the neighbors in to
make a great feast. "For," he said, "my son was dead
and is alive again; he was lost and is found." And
there was the story of the good Samaritan who found
a Jew, his enemy, beaten by robbers and wounded
upon the highway, and took him to an inn, and
washed his wounds, and nursed him, and paid his
own money to the innkeeper to look after him until
he should return. "Take care of this Jew," he said,
"and whatsoever thou spendest more, I, when I come
back again, will repay thee."
If only Jesus of Nazareth would come to Tiberias!
If only Andrew might see him, hear him speak,
touch his hand! It seemed to him that he wanted
that more than anything else in the world, more than
always having enough to eat, more than having his
father kind to him, more than anything!
Sunday, May 18, 2014
"The Boy Who Saw Jesus" Chapter I By Edward Wagenknecht
[This excerpt is from The Story of Jesus In The World's Literature. Ed. Edward Wagenknecht. Il. Fritz Kredel. Copyright, 1946. Creative Age Press, Inc. New York, N.Y.]
Andrew was a little Jewish boy who lived, very
many years ago, in Palestine, in a small city called
Tiberias, which was on the west shore of the Sea of
Galilee. He lived with his father, Reuben, who was
a fisherman, and two older brothers, Joseph and
Judas. They made their home in a little, flat-roof,
one-room house.
Perhaps if his mother had lived, Andrew might
have been a happy little boy, but she had died while
he was so small that he could just barely remember
her.
Andrew and his father and his brothers were very
poor, but that was not what made the little boy
unhappy. Everybody was poor in Tiberias. At least,
everybody that Andrew knew. Andrew had never
known anything but poverty; it did not occur to him
to ask for anything else. He was unhappy because
he was lonely. The world was such a vast, unfriendly
place. Nobody in it seemed to understand him much
better than his father or his brothers did. And they
did not understand him at all.
Reuben, the father, did not wish to be unkind. He
was a man who worked hard himself, from morning
until night, and he expected everybody else to work
also. As soon as his sons were old enough they were
trained to help him when he went out fishing in his
little boat. It was hard work to pull up the nets --
even when you had not taken very much-- and Reuben
had need of all the hands he could get.
Reuben did not expect Andrew to work as hard as
Joseph and Judas worked, for they were older and
stronger than he was. But he did expect him to show
some interest and do his part.
You are not to suppose that Andrew was a bad
boy. Joseph and Judas were disobedient sometimes,
or got into mischief, but he never did. He always
seemed willing to go out with the boat whenever his
father told him to do so. But it was easy to see that
his heart was not in his work. Even when his hands
were working, his mind would be off somewhere
wool-gathering, far away. When things quieted
down he would go off by himself and sit quietly in
a corner of the boat, and as likely as not when Reuben
wanted him he might have to call three or four
times before the boy gave any sign that he had
heard. To a man who had never done anything except
catch fish-- and who had never wished to do anything
except catch fish-- to a father who believed
that unless his son learned how to catch fish he
would probably starve to death after he grew up,
all this was very annoying.
Andrew kept much to himself. He loved to wander
alone, across the fields or along the seashore. If,
when he returned, you asked him where he had
been or what he had done, he never seemed to have
anything he could tell you.
That which satisfied his father and his brothers
was not enough for him: he was looking for something
more.
At first Reuben had been very patient with the lad.
For one thing, he felt sorry for him, deprived so
early of a mother's care. Leah had dearly loved her
youngest child, and Reuben loved him too, for her
sake if not for his own. There had been something
of the dreamer about her also.
"It will pass," said Reuben to himself. "He is still
very young. His mother's milk is not yet out of him."
Again he would say: "He is not a bad boy. He is
only a little slow. When he gets older he will take
hold of things, as Joseph and Judas do."
But it did not seem to be working out that way.
Andrew was nine now; only three years more, and
he must be ready to take his place in the congregation
of Israel. And he seemed only to grow more
dreamy, and -- as far Reuben could see--more useless
as time went on. The fisherman was shocked one
day when he realized for the first time that he almost
hated his child. Small-minded, ignorant people always
hate what they cannot understand, and Reuben
was both ignorant and small-minded, though he was
a good man according to his lights. He knew that
Andrew had something inside of him that he did not
have himself, something that he never could have,
not if he were to live a hundred years. He resented
the boy's superiority to himself, resented it even
while he refused to acknowledge it.
Reuben hated himself because he hated his son.
And because he hated himself, he only hate his son
the more. He did not actually mistreat the boy, but
he rarely spoke to him nowadays except when he
ordered him to get to work.
Andrew suffered silently under such treatment,
for he was the kind of boy who greatly needs to have
love about him. He did not love his father and his
brothers--as he had loved his mother, or even as he
loved the birds and the little lambs-- for they had
never given him a chance. But he would have loved
them if the chance had come, for he was terribly
lonely with nobody but the lambs and the birds to
talk to.
Andrew was a little Jewish boy who lived, very
many years ago, in Palestine, in a small city called
Tiberias, which was on the west shore of the Sea of
Galilee. He lived with his father, Reuben, who was
a fisherman, and two older brothers, Joseph and
Judas. They made their home in a little, flat-roof,
one-room house.
Perhaps if his mother had lived, Andrew might
have been a happy little boy, but she had died while
he was so small that he could just barely remember
her.
Andrew and his father and his brothers were very
poor, but that was not what made the little boy
unhappy. Everybody was poor in Tiberias. At least,
everybody that Andrew knew. Andrew had never
known anything but poverty; it did not occur to him
to ask for anything else. He was unhappy because
he was lonely. The world was such a vast, unfriendly
place. Nobody in it seemed to understand him much
better than his father or his brothers did. And they
did not understand him at all.
Reuben, the father, did not wish to be unkind. He
was a man who worked hard himself, from morning
until night, and he expected everybody else to work
also. As soon as his sons were old enough they were
trained to help him when he went out fishing in his
little boat. It was hard work to pull up the nets --
even when you had not taken very much-- and Reuben
had need of all the hands he could get.
Reuben did not expect Andrew to work as hard as
Joseph and Judas worked, for they were older and
stronger than he was. But he did expect him to show
some interest and do his part.
You are not to suppose that Andrew was a bad
boy. Joseph and Judas were disobedient sometimes,
or got into mischief, but he never did. He always
seemed willing to go out with the boat whenever his
father told him to do so. But it was easy to see that
his heart was not in his work. Even when his hands
were working, his mind would be off somewhere
wool-gathering, far away. When things quieted
down he would go off by himself and sit quietly in
a corner of the boat, and as likely as not when Reuben
wanted him he might have to call three or four
times before the boy gave any sign that he had
heard. To a man who had never done anything except
catch fish-- and who had never wished to do anything
except catch fish-- to a father who believed
that unless his son learned how to catch fish he
would probably starve to death after he grew up,
all this was very annoying.
Andrew kept much to himself. He loved to wander
alone, across the fields or along the seashore. If,
when he returned, you asked him where he had
been or what he had done, he never seemed to have
anything he could tell you.
That which satisfied his father and his brothers
was not enough for him: he was looking for something
more.
At first Reuben had been very patient with the lad.
For one thing, he felt sorry for him, deprived so
early of a mother's care. Leah had dearly loved her
youngest child, and Reuben loved him too, for her
sake if not for his own. There had been something
of the dreamer about her also.
"It will pass," said Reuben to himself. "He is still
very young. His mother's milk is not yet out of him."
Again he would say: "He is not a bad boy. He is
only a little slow. When he gets older he will take
hold of things, as Joseph and Judas do."
But it did not seem to be working out that way.
Andrew was nine now; only three years more, and
he must be ready to take his place in the congregation
of Israel. And he seemed only to grow more
dreamy, and -- as far Reuben could see--more useless
as time went on. The fisherman was shocked one
day when he realized for the first time that he almost
hated his child. Small-minded, ignorant people always
hate what they cannot understand, and Reuben
was both ignorant and small-minded, though he was
a good man according to his lights. He knew that
Andrew had something inside of him that he did not
have himself, something that he never could have,
not if he were to live a hundred years. He resented
the boy's superiority to himself, resented it even
while he refused to acknowledge it.
Reuben hated himself because he hated his son.
And because he hated himself, he only hate his son
the more. He did not actually mistreat the boy, but
he rarely spoke to him nowadays except when he
ordered him to get to work.
Andrew suffered silently under such treatment,
for he was the kind of boy who greatly needs to have
love about him. He did not love his father and his
brothers--as he had loved his mother, or even as he
loved the birds and the little lambs-- for they had
never given him a chance. But he would have loved
them if the chance had come, for he was terribly
lonely with nobody but the lambs and the birds to
talk to.
II CORINTHIANS CHAPTER III
DO we begin again to commend ourselves? or
need we, as some others, epistles of commendation
to you, or letters of commendation from you?
2 Ye are our epistle written in our hearts, known
and read of all men:
3 Forasmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be
the epistle of Christ ministered by us, written not
with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not
in tables of stone, but in fleshly tables of the heart.
4 And such trust have we through Christ to Godward:
5 Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think
any thing as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of
God;
6 Who also hath made us able ministers of the
new testament; not of the letter, but of the spirit:
7 But if the ministration of death, written and
engraven in stones, was glorious, so that the children
of Israel could not steadfastly behold the face of
Moses for the glory of his countenance; which
glory was to be done away:
8 How shall not the ministration of the Spirit be
rather glorious?
9 For if the ministration of condemnation be glory,
much more doth the ministration of righteousness
exceed in glory.
10 For even that which was made glorious had
no glory in this respect, by reason of the glory that
excelleth.
11 For if that which is done away was glorious,
much more that which remaineth is glorious.
12 Seeing then that we have such hope, we use
great plainness of speech:
13 And not as Moses, which put a vail over his
face, that the children of Israel could not steadfastly
look to the end of that which is abolished:
14 But their minds were blinded: for until this day
remaineth the same vail untaken away in the reading
of the old testament; which vail is done away in Christ.
15 But even unto this day, when Moses is read,
the vail is upon their heart.
16 Nevertheless, when it shall turn to the Lord,
the vail shall be taken away.
17 Now the Lord is that Spirit: and where the
Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.
18 But we all, with open face beholding as in a
glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the
same image from glory to glory, even as by the
Spirit of the Lord.
Monday, May 12, 2014
II CORINTHIANS, CHAPTER II
BUT I determined this with myself, that I would
not come again to you in heaviness.
2 For if I make you sorry, who is he then that
maketh me glad, but the same which is made sorry
by me?
3 And I wrote this same unto you, lest, when I
came, I should have sorrow from them of whom I
ought to rejoice; having confidence in you all, that
my joy is the joy of you all.
4 For out of much affliction and anguish of heart
I wrote unto you with many tears; not that ye should
be grieved, but that ye might know the love which
I have more abundantly unto you.
5 But if any have caused grief, he hath not grieved
me, but in part: that I may not overcharge you all.
6 Sufficient to such a man is this punishment,
which was inflicted of many.
7 So that contrariwise, ye ought rather to forgive
him, and comfort him, lest perhaps such an one
should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.
8 Wherefore I beseech you that ye would confirm
your love toward him.
9 For to this end also did I write, that I might
know the proof of you, whether ye be obedient in
all things.
10 To whom ye forgive anything, I forgive also:
for if I forgave any thing, to whom I forgave it, for
your sakes forgave I it in the person of Christ;
11 Lest Satan should get an advantage of us: for
we are not ignorant of his devices.
12 Furthermore, when I came to Troas to preach
Christ's gospel, and a door was opened unto me of
the Lord.
13 I had no rest in my spirit because I found
not Titus my brother: but taking my leave of them,
I went from thence into Macedonia.
14 Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth
us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest
the savour of his knowledge by us in every place.
15 For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ,
in them that are saved, and in them that perish:
16 To the one we are the savour of death unto
death; and to the other the savour of life unto life.
And who is sufficient for these things?
17 For we are not as many, which corrupt the
words of God: but as of sincerity, but as of God,
in the sight of God speak we in Christ.
not come again to you in heaviness.
2 For if I make you sorry, who is he then that
maketh me glad, but the same which is made sorry
by me?
3 And I wrote this same unto you, lest, when I
came, I should have sorrow from them of whom I
ought to rejoice; having confidence in you all, that
my joy is the joy of you all.
4 For out of much affliction and anguish of heart
I wrote unto you with many tears; not that ye should
be grieved, but that ye might know the love which
I have more abundantly unto you.
5 But if any have caused grief, he hath not grieved
me, but in part: that I may not overcharge you all.
6 Sufficient to such a man is this punishment,
which was inflicted of many.
7 So that contrariwise, ye ought rather to forgive
him, and comfort him, lest perhaps such an one
should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.
8 Wherefore I beseech you that ye would confirm
your love toward him.
9 For to this end also did I write, that I might
know the proof of you, whether ye be obedient in
all things.
10 To whom ye forgive anything, I forgive also:
for if I forgave any thing, to whom I forgave it, for
your sakes forgave I it in the person of Christ;
11 Lest Satan should get an advantage of us: for
we are not ignorant of his devices.
12 Furthermore, when I came to Troas to preach
Christ's gospel, and a door was opened unto me of
the Lord.
13 I had no rest in my spirit because I found
not Titus my brother: but taking my leave of them,
I went from thence into Macedonia.
14 Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth
us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest
the savour of his knowledge by us in every place.
15 For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ,
in them that are saved, and in them that perish:
16 To the one we are the savour of death unto
death; and to the other the savour of life unto life.
And who is sufficient for these things?
17 For we are not as many, which corrupt the
words of God: but as of sincerity, but as of God,
in the sight of God speak we in Christ.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
The Strength of Having Faith 5/7/2014
"With each and every passing day,
I have to say,
It's the strength of having faith;
With every passing sorrow,
Hoping for so much change,
Knowing that one day His Kingdom shall come,
Yes, it's the strength of having faith;
Having fear subside walking through the valley of death,
See that there is no turning back,
Temptations daily,
Trying to stay on track,
Seeking forgiveness for my mistakes,
It's the strength of having faith,
Wanting to share the gifts that have been given unto me
With the world,
Or with somebody that I used to know,
Somewhere from down that road...
Loosening the ties with the negatives,
Building an army small, but strong,
No longer a woman of defiance,
But wearing my lessons from life naked upon my heart,
Oh, the strength of having faith;
Knowing I must serve Thy Father and help all those I can,
Upon whom I've been blessed in this Life to meet.
Knowing that one day I shall be Given back,
To that which was Given unto me.
To love freely with my heart, soul, and with the words that I say,
Truly, it is enlightening, the feeling of the strength of having faith."
-Wise Owl Lady
I have to say,
It's the strength of having faith;
With every passing sorrow,
Hoping for so much change,
Knowing that one day His Kingdom shall come,
Yes, it's the strength of having faith;
Having fear subside walking through the valley of death,
See that there is no turning back,
Temptations daily,
Trying to stay on track,
Seeking forgiveness for my mistakes,
It's the strength of having faith,
Wanting to share the gifts that have been given unto me
With the world,
Or with somebody that I used to know,
Somewhere from down that road...
Loosening the ties with the negatives,
Building an army small, but strong,
No longer a woman of defiance,
But wearing my lessons from life naked upon my heart,
Oh, the strength of having faith;
Knowing I must serve Thy Father and help all those I can,
Upon whom I've been blessed in this Life to meet.
Knowing that one day I shall be Given back,
To that which was Given unto me.
To love freely with my heart, soul, and with the words that I say,
Truly, it is enlightening, the feeling of the strength of having faith."
-Wise Owl Lady
Sunday, May 4, 2014
The Second Epistle of Paul, the Apostle, to the CORINTHIANS. CHAPTER I
PAUL, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of
God, and Timothy, our brother, unto the church
of God which is at Corinth, with all the saints
which are in all Achaia:
2 Grace be to you and peace from God our
Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.
3 Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of
all comfort;
4 Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that
we may be able to comfort them which are in any
trouble by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are
comforted of God.
5 For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us,
so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.
6 And whether we be afflicted, it is for your
consolation and salvation, which is effectual in
the enduring of the same sufferings which we also
suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your
consolation and salvation.
7 And our hope of you is steadfast, knowing,
that as ye are partakers of the sufferings, so shall
ye be also of the consolation.
8 For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant
of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that
we were pressed out of measure, above strength,
insomuch that we despaired even of life:
9 But we had the sentence of death in ourselves,
that we should not trust in ourselves, but
in God which raiseth the dead:
10 Who delivered us from so great a death,
and doth deliver: in whom we trust that he will
yet deliver us:
11 Ye also helping together by prayer for us,
that for the gift bestowed upon us by the means of many persons,
thanks may be given by man on
our behalf.
12 For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our
conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity,
not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God,
we have had our conversation in the world, and
more abundantly to you-ward.
13 For we write none other things unto you, than
what ye read or acknowledge; and I trust ye shall
acknowledge even to the end;
14 As also ye have acknowledged us in part,
that we are your rejoicing, even as ye also are
ours in the day of the Lord Jesus.
15 And in this confidence I was minded to come
unto you before, that ye might have a second benefit;
16 And to pass by you into Macedonia, and to
come again out of Macedonia unto you, and of you
to be brought on my way toward Judea.
17 When I therefore was thus minded, did I use
lightness? or things that I purpose, do I purpose
according to the flesh, that with me there
should be yea, yea and nay, nay?
18 But as God is true, our word toward you
was not yea and nay.
19 For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was
preached among you by us, even by me, and Silvanus,
and Timotheus, was not yea and nay, but in
him was yea.
20 For all the promises of God in him are yea,
and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us.
21 Now he which establisheth us with you in
Christ, and hath anointed us, is God;
22 Who hath also sealed us, and given the earnest
of the Spirit in our hearts.
23 Moreover, I call God for a record upon my soul,
that to spare you I came not as yet unto Corinth.
24 Not for that we have dominion over your faith,
but are helpers of your joy: for by faith ye stand.
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