Emerald Isle...obviously this is my tribute to St. Patty's Day!
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
I wish I wrote this, but I didn't.....
To most of us, life is a series of mirrors wherein every situation, every person, is perceived in terms of self-interest: “How will that affect me?” “What can he do for me?”
The Master’s life was a series of windows. He was totally “extra-centered” or “other-centered” instead of being self-centered. He came to teach us, to help us, to cure us, to love us, to save us. And he lost himself in those tasks. It was Emerson who said, “See how the masses of men worry themselves into nameless graves, while here and there a great, unselfish soul forgets himself into immortality.” Certainly the Savior is the ultimate, literal example.
Jesus Christ not only died for us, he lived for us. Wanting only to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man, he had not the slightest personal ambition. He was uninterested in praise or publicity; except for the reward of our eternal happiness, he didn’t care about reward.
Because of this, and because of who he was, the Savior saw into people – into their fears, their sins, their feelings, their potential. He saw behind the impetuousness into the strength of a Peter. He saw past the hated occupation into the loyalty of Matthew. He saw through the sins and weaknesses of all mankind into their eternal potential and into their sonship with God and their brotherhood with himself.
Knowing that Christ was perfect implies knowing that he was totally free from the sin of selfishness, a sin that holds or has held (at least partially) every other resident this earth has ever had. Selfishness is the dimming, darkening blanket flung softly and silently across our minds by Satan. Its forces of dark win many battles against the light brigades of charity and love. But though those forces win many battles they will lose the ultimate war because (in eternal time) “charity never faileth”; and the “extra-centeredness,” the love, the windows shown us by Christ, will someday (a thousand-year day) transform this earth to a paradise, cresting on Christ’s charity and submerging Satan’s selfishness.
Not only did our Lord love all mankind, he loved each of mankind. He spoke in different ways and with different analogies, depending on the nature and understanding of his listeners. He viewed and judged and taught each man according to that person’s unique situation. He praised the man who doubled two talents to four, and held him equal with the man who turned five into ten. He was as aware of the momentary opportunities to teach individuals as he was of his chances to speak to masses.
Men walk about in the world, their minds filled with “island thoughts” of themselves, of their territory. By comparison, Christ’s thoughts were more like the sea – they surrounded and included the needs of all men, touching each, caring for each.
Never were the Savior’s “windows” so powerfully obvious as when, in the very midst of Gethsemane’s agony, he recognized as teaching moment with a disciple and gave what was needed – a lesson about willing spirit and weak flesh (see Mark 14:37-38). How could a man, bent under the assumption of mankind’s sins, still think at that moment of an individual’s needs? How, indeed! How could any man?
The final-line message of the Master’s extra-centeredness is the sure feeling that if there had been only one person to save on this earth, only me or only you, Jesus Christ would still have made his great sacrifice for me or for you.
The Master’s life was a series of windows. He was totally “extra-centered” or “other-centered” instead of being self-centered. He came to teach us, to help us, to cure us, to love us, to save us. And he lost himself in those tasks. It was Emerson who said, “See how the masses of men worry themselves into nameless graves, while here and there a great, unselfish soul forgets himself into immortality.” Certainly the Savior is the ultimate, literal example.
Jesus Christ not only died for us, he lived for us. Wanting only to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man, he had not the slightest personal ambition. He was uninterested in praise or publicity; except for the reward of our eternal happiness, he didn’t care about reward.
Because of this, and because of who he was, the Savior saw into people – into their fears, their sins, their feelings, their potential. He saw behind the impetuousness into the strength of a Peter. He saw past the hated occupation into the loyalty of Matthew. He saw through the sins and weaknesses of all mankind into their eternal potential and into their sonship with God and their brotherhood with himself.
Knowing that Christ was perfect implies knowing that he was totally free from the sin of selfishness, a sin that holds or has held (at least partially) every other resident this earth has ever had. Selfishness is the dimming, darkening blanket flung softly and silently across our minds by Satan. Its forces of dark win many battles against the light brigades of charity and love. But though those forces win many battles they will lose the ultimate war because (in eternal time) “charity never faileth”; and the “extra-centeredness,” the love, the windows shown us by Christ, will someday (a thousand-year day) transform this earth to a paradise, cresting on Christ’s charity and submerging Satan’s selfishness.
Not only did our Lord love all mankind, he loved each of mankind. He spoke in different ways and with different analogies, depending on the nature and understanding of his listeners. He viewed and judged and taught each man according to that person’s unique situation. He praised the man who doubled two talents to four, and held him equal with the man who turned five into ten. He was as aware of the momentary opportunities to teach individuals as he was of his chances to speak to masses.
Men walk about in the world, their minds filled with “island thoughts” of themselves, of their territory. By comparison, Christ’s thoughts were more like the sea – they surrounded and included the needs of all men, touching each, caring for each.
Never were the Savior’s “windows” so powerfully obvious as when, in the very midst of Gethsemane’s agony, he recognized as teaching moment with a disciple and gave what was needed – a lesson about willing spirit and weak flesh (see Mark 14:37-38). How could a man, bent under the assumption of mankind’s sins, still think at that moment of an individual’s needs? How, indeed! How could any man?
The final-line message of the Master’s extra-centeredness is the sure feeling that if there had been only one person to save on this earth, only me or only you, Jesus Christ would still have made his great sacrifice for me or for you.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
"What Manner of Man" - Meridian Magazine
I just read this tonight on www.Meridianmagazine.com and liked this about the Savior:
Picture the Master sitting by the seaside as the sun sets; in a boat a little way out, speaking to the multitude on the shore; on the side of a mountain, alone in prayer; going out of the city’s dust and clamor to the peaceful beauty of Bethany; winding his way through a golden cornfield; withdrawing to the wilderness to pray.
Now hear the imagery of his words:
“How often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings” (Matthew 23:37)
“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow … even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Matthew 6:28-29)
“The wind bloweth where it listeth.” (John 3:8)
“Her branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves.” (Mark 13:28)
He spoke of putting “a new piece of cloth unto an old garment” and of “children of light” (Matthew 9:16; John 12:36).
All that the Lord did has a clarity, a beauty, a sensitivity, and harmony with nature and earth. All that he said had the poetic qualities of awareness and vividness.
How in tune the Lord was! How in touch, how in time!
I wondered for years why it was that his sensitivity and love for the earth went so far beyond that of any man. Then one day I heard the phrase, “We love what we have made.” The Lord saw beauty in all things partly because he put beauty in all things.
He loved nature – the fresh, the good, the pure, the majestic. He went alone to the mountains, to the seashore, to the deserts to regenerate, to be recharged by the calm serenity of his earth and by the peace of its spirit.
Ponder how such retreats could precede great outpourings of the Holy Spirit. (From the desert he comes, preaching with new power. From the seaside he comes, curing and healing. From the mountains he comes, walking on water.)
It has been said that poets can speak with true beauty only about the things they love. The Master loved all, and loved us all, and therefore was the most sensitive and beautiful poet of all time.
Picture the Master sitting by the seaside as the sun sets; in a boat a little way out, speaking to the multitude on the shore; on the side of a mountain, alone in prayer; going out of the city’s dust and clamor to the peaceful beauty of Bethany; winding his way through a golden cornfield; withdrawing to the wilderness to pray.
Now hear the imagery of his words:
“How often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings” (Matthew 23:37)
“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow … even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Matthew 6:28-29)
“The wind bloweth where it listeth.” (John 3:8)
“Her branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves.” (Mark 13:28)
He spoke of putting “a new piece of cloth unto an old garment” and of “children of light” (Matthew 9:16; John 12:36).
All that the Lord did has a clarity, a beauty, a sensitivity, and harmony with nature and earth. All that he said had the poetic qualities of awareness and vividness.
How in tune the Lord was! How in touch, how in time!
I wondered for years why it was that his sensitivity and love for the earth went so far beyond that of any man. Then one day I heard the phrase, “We love what we have made.” The Lord saw beauty in all things partly because he put beauty in all things.
He loved nature – the fresh, the good, the pure, the majestic. He went alone to the mountains, to the seashore, to the deserts to regenerate, to be recharged by the calm serenity of his earth and by the peace of its spirit.
Ponder how such retreats could precede great outpourings of the Holy Spirit. (From the desert he comes, preaching with new power. From the seaside he comes, curing and healing. From the mountains he comes, walking on water.)
It has been said that poets can speak with true beauty only about the things they love. The Master loved all, and loved us all, and therefore was the most sensitive and beautiful poet of all time.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Monday, February 21, 2005
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Friday, February 18, 2005
I'm addicted to the picture collage thing now...
That Picassa program is amazing. I could stay up all night creating picture collages. But, i won't. I could though.
Britten...how did your appointment go today?
Britten...how did your appointment go today?
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