Showing posts with label Christ's love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ's love. Show all posts

Friday, March 12, 2021

Rambling Friday: Music Makes Me Happy

 I love music. Why, you ask? 

It makes me happy. 

I can smile again




It gives me a chance to exercise, breathe deeper:

I want to dance, or sing, or laugh out loud. 


When my spirit is down or sad,

Positive music uplifts me.

I forget my troubles for a bit 

and rejoice in my space of relief.



When I need renewed in spirit--

I turn to spiritual music.

I draw nigh to God once more,

I leave my burdens at His feet,

I trust once more,

I lean on Him,

I grow to love Him more

and feel assurance once again of His love for me.


Question for you:

How does music affect YOU?

Sunday, February 09, 2020

Sunday Morning Sunshine: Love is...

Love is...

The ancient Greeks described it in different ways:

* Storage: a natural affection
* Eros: Sexual
* Philia: Friendship
* Ludas: Flirting
* Pragma: Committed, married love
* Philautia: Self-love
* Agape: Unconditional, divine love

The technical stuff...
Phenylethylamine or PEA:  A chemical that naturally occurs in the brain and is also found in some foods, such as chocolate. It is a stimulant, much like an amphetamine, that causes the release of norepinephrine and dopamine. This chemical is released when you fall in love.

And the mushy stuff...
Being wildly and emotionally happy
Back rubs
Verbal words of assurances, compliments
Clasping hands
Looks
Expressions of tenderness
Kissing
Hugs

Then there's the serious stuff...
* Staying true, loyalty, faithfulness
* Communication, talking
* Growth in understanding, overlooking and forgiving
* Acceptance of flaws
* Patience
* Respect

Read 1 Corinthians 13.  
Love is so much and so many things. 
Blessings!

Sunday, September 03, 2017

Sunday Morning Peace: Rain and the Rainbows...


The Bible says:
It rains on the just and the unjust...




But those who trust in the Lord
have God's rainbows 
in their lives.



Forgiveness
Mercy
Faithfulness
Goodness
Love

and much more. 
Don't be afraid of the rain and storms of life.
Remember:
God has this.
God has YOU!


Blessings!

Monday, April 06, 2015

Monday Morning Gratitudes

Thankful . . .
Christ rose for me!
Victory!
As a christ-lover, I can trust him for the end results. :)
Sweet memories
For a best friend who knows all, for earthly friends who encourage, for a hubby-friend who's supportive, loving and the best!
Things that make my heart happy
Spring flowers
Life!
Release from the cold of winter; release from the burden of sin.


Blessings!

Sunday, December 29, 2013

Sunday Morning Peace

Looking forward to in 2014:

  • A continued and stronger hope in my Savior!

  • Two new books from my cozy mystery series, Alex and Denton Davies:
           Bat Crazy
           Daffy's Duck
  • Continued work on the sequel to The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman
  • Continued work on the 2nd book in my WWII series (and completion!)
  • Continued and completion on my historical, light suspense, novel
  • More publication!
Thank you to all who've made my two novels a success: The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman and Hog Insane, and for all your support!

Blessings for a wonderful, peaceful, and successfully happy New Year!




Monday, March 25, 2013

Monday Morning Gratitudes

The strength of Christ's victory over death and the grave and hell
The timeless evidence of Christ's resurrection
The awesomeness of faith
The love of Mary
Christ's gentleness
What a man!
What a God!
The beauty of Easter
The celebrations: worship, songs, peace, joy
The enjoyments: children, new clothes, hats, colors, flowers, springtime, gatherings, food
Jesus' love.


Blessings!

Friday, March 18, 2011

A 92 Year Old Pastor


A church in Atlanta honored one of its senior pastors who had been retired many years. He was 92 at that time. Why did the church even bother to ask the old gentleman to preach at that age?

After a warm welcome, introduction of this speaker, and the applause quieted down, he rose from his high back chair and walked slowly, with great effort and a sliding gait to the podium. Without a note or written paper of any kind he placed both hands on the pulpit to steady himself and then quietly and slowly he began to speak.....

"When I was asked to come here today and talk to you, your pastor asked me to tell you what was the greatest lesson ever learned in my 50-odd years of preaching. I thought about it for a few days and boiled it down to just one thing that made the most difference in my life and sustained me through all my trials. The one thing that I could always rely on when tears and heartbreak and pain and fear and sorrow paralyzed me . . . the only thing that would comfort was this verse . . .
Jesus loves me this I know.
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong,
we are weak but He is strong.....

Yes, Jesus loves me.....
The Bible tells me so."

When he finished, the church was quiet.. You actually could hear his foot steps as he shuffled back to his chair.
A pastor once stated, "I always noticed that it was the adults who chose the children's hymn 'Jesus Loves Me' (for the children of course) during a hymn sing, and it was the adults who sang the loudest because I could see they knew it the best."

And for all those with white hair--or no hair, here's a new version:
JESUS LOVES ME

Jesus loves me, this I know,
Though my hair is white as snow
Though my sight is growing dim,
Still He bids me trust in Him.
YES, JESUS LOVES ME.. YES, JESUS LOVES ME..
YES, JESUS LOVES ME, FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.
Though my steps are oh, so slow,
With my hand in His I'll go
On through life, let come what may,
He'll be there to lead the way.
When the nights are dark and long,
In my heart He puts a song..
Telling me in words so clear,
"Have no fear, for I am near."
When my work on earth is done,
And life's victories have been won.
He will take me home above,
Then I'll understand His love.

I love Jesus, does He know?
Have I ever told Him so?
Jesus loves to hear me say,
That I love Him every day.

Blessings!

Friday, September 11, 2009

The Redeemable

I help out with Bible Club sometimes on Tuesday evenings. Lots of these kids come from the neighborhood and love the games, stories, songs, and snacks provided. I see how they respond to each individual section of the two-hour fun and learning time.

One little boy (I'll call him Ricky, and that's NOT his name, of course) is about eleven. Very mischievous, a troublemaker, and a kid that craves love. He readily admits to stealing and being thrown out of stores, forbidden to return. He brags about the trouble he gets into at school, teases the other kids and sometimes refuses to participate in activities even at Bible Club.

Why does he continue to come? Who knows? Maybe he's urged to come by parents who want some free time. Maybe he comes to be with friends. Or maybe he does come because he senses someone loves him.

Last night we sent chocolate roses home with any of the kids who wanted them. It was a favorite! Eyes lit up. They lifted and admired the boxes the roses came in. Some couldn't stand it, and eventually opened and ate the chocolate.

But Ricky gave his decision about what he'd do with the TWO roses he had, when he left the bus: "I'm going to give one to my mom and one to my dad. I don't know why I'm going to give one to my dad."

My heart expanded with love for this growing into a teenager youngster. Sometimes dirty, definitely ornery, and a homely little fellow, grew lovelier with those simple two sentences. Down in the depths of his inner being was something that made him think of some one besides himself.

Maybe, just maybe, he could be salvaged from the life of crime for which he seemed to be heading.

Dear Lord, show your love through me to this young boy.



Quote:
Hold a true friend with both your hands. --Nigerian proverb

Blessings

Friday, April 03, 2009

Two Choices

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled, comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

"Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!'

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball; the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team."
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

Touching, huh?


Quote:
Fear breeds fear. --Bryon Janis


Blessings

Monday, February 16, 2009


Take my Son
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier.
The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son. About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art.'
The young man held out this package. 'I know this isn't much.I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.'
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears.
He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.
'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift.'
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son.
The auctioneer pounded his gavel . . . 'We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?'
There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.'
But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will somebody bid for this painting. Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?'
Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandt's. Get on with the real bids!'

But still the auctioneer continued. 'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?'
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting.'
Being a poorman, it was all he could afford.
'We have $10, who will bid $20?'
'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters.'
'$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?'

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!'
man sitting on the second row shouted, 'Now let's get on with the collection!'
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. 'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'

'What about the paintings?'
'I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!'
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: 'The son, the son, who'll take the son?'
Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

Pretty interesting, huh?

Quote:
There are some people that if they don't know, you can't tell 'em. --Louis Armstrong

Blessings!

Monday, January 19, 2009

A Chilling Story . . .


Read on for a story that caught my attention when a dear friend sent it to me this week.



AFTER A FEW OF THE USUAL SUNDAY EVENING HYMNS,
THE CHURCH'S PASTOR SLOWLY STOOD UP,
WALKED OVER TO THE PULPIT AND,
BEFORE HE GAVE HIS SERMON FOR THE EVENING,
HE BRIEFLY INTRODUCED A GUEST MINISTER
WHO WAS IN THE SERVICE THAT EVENING.

IN THE INTRODUCTION, THE PASTOR TOLD
THE CONGREGATION THAT THE GUEST MINISTER
WAS ONE OF HIS DEAREST CHILDHOOD FRIENDS
AND THAT HE WANTED HIM TO HAVE A FEW MOMENTS
TO GREET THE CHURCH AND SHARE
WHATEVER HE FELT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE FOR THE SERVICE.

WITH THAT, AN ELDERLY MAN STEPPED UP
TO THE PULPIT AND BEGAN TO SPEAK.

'A FATHER, HIS SON, AND A FRIEND OF HIS SON
WERE SAILING OFF THE PACIFIC COAST,' HE BEGAN.
'WHEN A FAST APPROACHING STORM BLOCKED
ANY ATTEMPT TO GET BACK TO THE SHORE.
THE WAVES WERE SO HIGH, THAT EVEN THOUGH
THE FATHER WAS AN EXPERIENCED SAILOR,
HE COULD NOT KEEP THE BOAT UPRIGHT AND THE THREE WERE SWEPT INTO THE OCEAN AS THE BOAT CAPSIZED.'

THE OLD MAN HESITATED FOR A MOMENT,
MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH TWO TEENAGERS
WHO WERE, FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE SERVICE BEGAN, LOOKING SOMEWHAT INTERESTED IN HIS STORY.

THE AGED MINISTER CONTINUED WITH HIS STORY,
'GRABBING A RESCUE LINE, THE FATHER HAD TO MAKE
THE MOST EXCRUCIATING DECISION OF HIS LIFE:
TO WHICH BOY WOULD HE THROW THE OTHER END
OF THE LIFE LINE. HE ONLY HAD SECONDS TO
MAKE THE DECISION. THE FATHER KNEW THAT HIS SON
WAS A CHRISTIAN AND HE, ALSO, KNEW THAT HIS
SON'S FRIEND WAS NOT.
THE AGONY OF HIS DECISION
COULD NOT BE MATCHED BY THE TORRENT OF WAVES.

AS THE FATHER YELLED OUT, 'I LOVE YOU, SON!'

HE THREW OUT THE LIFELINE TO HIS SON'S FRIEND.

BY THE TIME THE FATHER HAD PULLED THE FRIEND
BACK TO THE CAPSIZED BOAT, HIS SON HAD DISAPPEARED BENEATH THE RAGING SWELLS INTO THE BLACK OF NIGHT.

HIS BODY WAS NEVER RECOVERED.

BY THIS TIME, THE TWO TEENAGERS WERE SITTING UP
STRAIGHT IN THE PEW, ANXIOUSLY WAITING FOR THE NEXT WORDS TO COME OUT OF THE OLD MINISTER'S MOUTH.

'THE FATHER,' HE CONTINUED, 'KNEW HIS SON WOULD
STEP INTO ETERNITY WITH JESUS AND HE COULD NOT
BEAR THE THOUGHT OF HIS SON'S FRIEND STEPPING INTO
AN ETERNITY WITHOUT JESUS.. THEREFORE,
HE SACRIFICED HIS SON TO SAVE THE SON'S FRIEND. '

HOW GREAT IS THE LOVE OF GOD THAT HE SHOULD
DO THE SAME FOR US. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER SACRIFICED
HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON THAT WE COULD BE SAVED.

I URGE YOU TO ACCEPT HIS OFFER TO RESCUE YOU AND
TAKE A HOLD OF THE LIFE LINE HE IS THROWING OUT
TO YOU IN THIS SERVICE.'

WITH THAT, THE OLD MAN TURNED AND SAT BACK DOWN
IN HIS CHAIR AS SILENCE FILLED THE ROOM.

THE PASTOR AGAIN WALKED SLOWLY TO THE PULPIT AND DELIVERED A BRIEF SERMON WITH AN INVITATION AT THE END. HOWEVER, NO ONE RESPONDED TO THE APPEAL.

WITHIN MINUTES AFTER THE SERVICE ENDED, THE TWO TEENAGERS WERE AT THE OLD MAN'S SIDE.

'THAT WAS A NICE STORY,' POLITELY STATED ONE OF THEM,
'BUT I DON'T THINK IT WAS VERY REALISTIC FOR A
FATHER TO GIVE UP HIS ONLY SON'S LIFE IN HOPES
THAT THE OTHER BOY WOULD BECOME A CHRISTIAN.'

'WELL, YOU'VE GOT A POINT THERE,' THE OLD MAN REPLIED, GLANCING DOWN AT HIS WORN BIBLE. A BIG SMILE
BROADENED HIS NARROW FACE.
HE ONCE AGAIN LOOKED UP AT THE BOYS AND SAID,
'IT SURE ISN'T VERY REALISTIC, IS IT?
BUT, I'M STANDING HERE TODAY TO
TELL YOU THAT STORY GIVES ME A GLIMPSE OF
WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE FOR GOD TO GIVE UP
HIS SON FOR ME.

YOU SEE...
I WAS THAT FATHER AND YOUR PASTOR IS MY SON'S FRIEND.'





Quote:
Sadness is almost never anything but a form of fatique. --Andre Gide


Blessings

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