Dear Friends,
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Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when
with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wilder seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push back the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
This we ask in the name of our Captain,
Who is Jesus Christ.
(Sir Francis Drake)
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Our Lord Jesus is ever giving, and does not for a solitary instant withdraw his hand. As long as there is a vessel of grace not yet full to the brim, the oil shall not be stayed. He is a sun ever-shining; he is manna always falling round the camp; he is a rock in the desert, ever sending out streams of life from his smitten side; the rain of his grace is always dropping; the river of his bounty is ever-flowing, and the well-spring of his love is constantly overflowing." - Charles Spurgeon
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Counted Worthy
This weighty burden thou dost bear,
This heavy cross,
It is a gift the Lord bestows,
And not a loss;
It is a trust that He commits
Unto thy care,
A precious lesson He has deigned
With thee to share.
Rejoice that He so honors thee
And so esteems
Of highest worth; the crown of thorns
With Him to wear,
And all the suffering of that crown
With Him to bear,
That by and by His glory, too,
With Him thou’lt share.
Annie Johnson Flint
Acts 5:41 And they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name.
Romans 8:17 And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.
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It Is Well with My Soul - Horatio G. Spafford (1873)
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
"Christianity is intended to be a supernatural existence from beginning to end, and the demonstration of God's power should be the norm" (Daniel Kolenda).
Indifference
- Studdart Kennedy,
Army chaplain in World War I:
When Jesus came to Golgotha,
they hanged him on a tree,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
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"Christianity is intended to be a supernatural existence from beginning to end, and the demonstration of God's power should be the norm" (Daniel Kolenda).
Indifference
- Studdart Kennedy,
Army chaplain in World War I:
When Jesus came to Golgotha,
they hanged him on a tree,
They drove great nails through hands and feet
and made a Calvary;
They crowned him with a crown of thorns,
Red where his wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days,
and human flesh was cheap.
When Jesus came to "Hogsback"
they simply passed him by,
They never hurt a hair on him, they only let him die.
For men had grown more tender
and they would not give him pain
They only passed him down the street
and left him in the rain.
Still Jesus cried: "Forgive them,
For they know not what they do"
And it rained the wintry rain
that drenched him through and through.
The crowds went home, and left the streets
without a soul to see,
That Jesus crouched against a wall and cried for Calvary.
To see the world in a grain of sand
Heaven in a wildflower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
See infinity in an hour
William Blake
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GEBED VOOR MIJN KINDEREN
Ik leg de namen van mijn kinderen in Uw handen
Graveer Gij ze daarin met onuitwisbaar schrift.
Dat niets of niemand ze meer ooit daaruit kan branden,
Ook niet als satan ze straks als de tarwe zift.
Houdt Gij mijn kinderen vast, als ik ze los moet laten
en laat altyd Uw kragt boven hun swakheid staan.
Gij weet hoe mateloos de wereld hen zal haten,
Als zij niet in het schema van die wereld zullen gaan.
Ik vraag U niet mjn kinderen elk verdriet te sparen,
Maar wees Gijn wel hun troost, als ze eensaam zijn en bang.
Wil om Uw's naam ontwil hen in Uw verbond bewaren,
En laat ze nooit van U vervreemden, nooit, hun leven lang.
Ik leg de namen van mijn kinderen in Uw handen...
ON BEING HUMAN
by C. S. Lewis
Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence
Behold the Forms of nature. They discern
Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities
Which mortals lack or indirectly learn.
Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying,
Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear,
High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal
Huge Principles appear.
The Tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of
Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap
The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness
Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap;
But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance
Of sun from shadow where the trees begin,
The blessed cool at every pore caressing us
-An angel has no skin.
They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it
Drink the whole summer down into the breast.
The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing
Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest.
The tremor on the rippled pool of memory
That from each smell in widening circles goes,
The pleasure and the pang --can angels measure it?
An angel has no nose.
The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes
On death, and why, they utterly know; but not
The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold bilberries.
The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot
Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate
Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf's billowy curves,
Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges.
—An angel has no nerves.
Far richer they! I know the senses' witchery
Guards us like air, from heavens too big to see;
Imminent death to man that barb'd sublimity
And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be.
Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior,
This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares
With living men some secrets in a privacy
Forever ours, not theirs.
Behold the Forms of nature. They discern
Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities
Which mortals lack or indirectly learn.
Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying,
Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear,
High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal
Huge Principles appear.
The Tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of
Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap
The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness
Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap;
But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance
Of sun from shadow where the trees begin,
The blessed cool at every pore caressing us
-An angel has no skin.
They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it
Drink the whole summer down into the breast.
The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing
Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest.
The tremor on the rippled pool of memory
That from each smell in widening circles goes,
The pleasure and the pang --can angels measure it?
An angel has no nose.
The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes
On death, and why, they utterly know; but not
The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold bilberries.
The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot
Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate
Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf's billowy curves,
Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges.
—An angel has no nerves.
Far richer they! I know the senses' witchery
Guards us like air, from heavens too big to see;
Imminent death to man that barb'd sublimity
And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be.
Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior,
This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares
With living men some secrets in a privacy
Forever ours, not theirs.
**************
Restless
There is something inside me. Something that can't wait to see you. Something that gives me butterflies and keeps me from focusing on today. Something inside me tells me to hope for things I cannot see. And so, I hope because you are coming. You are coming. You've told me this and I wait in eager anticipation. There is something inside me that knows you are on your way. That same thing that knows you are coming, knows everything will be different when you get here. And for that I rejoice. I sing and I dance because I know that when you come it will be true. We will finally be together, and I cant seem to hope for much else.
And so I wait. I stop and I wait. Patiently, when my feet allow, but mostly anxiously, like a young child knowing her father will return. I move and fuss. I pace this hardwood floor and find myself gazing out the window. I can't stand still. Soon we will be together. You've promised that you will come and because of that my song will not be silenced and my feet cannot be still.
I hear words of your arrival. Your voice whispers a promise, that renews my strength. I trust you and know that you are good. And so - this waiting turns to hoping, which nourishes my love for you. Soon we will be together.
~ Stephanie Faridnia
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