Encourage to Faith Blog

I am persuaded that undisciplined men of this modern age have slopped up so much imitation pudding that they now habitually forgo the better choice–mom’s matchless homemade variety. I plead guilty. I speak of course, not of food, but of all realms of life where we choose increasingly to turn from that which nourishes. We wittingly sabotage ourselves.

A typical winepress in Biblical times consisted of two large vats—one in which the grapes were thrown to be trodden, and another positioned to collect the juices that poured forth. It was an indelicate but highly effective process.

When we look around at the depravity of this once God-fearing society, we tend to get anxious and understandably angry.

Insightful tongues warn of the dangers of letting high and mighty words get in the way of the message when writing about God. Glad those aren’t the kind in my writings. I would be aghast and discomposed to exorbitant proportions were it so. Now I love words, as the previous sentence may suggest. But I love God more. So how do I convey the love I feel for each without getting in the way myself? I have no clear answer.

The quavering bleat of a sheep is an emotive, vulnerable cry it uses to signal the shepherd. It is a bleat of dependency, a calling out to be rescued and for its needs to be met by another. Ultimately, it is a bleat of faith.

My cousin recently sent me a text: The Grandparents’ house is gone! He included a picture of a vacant lot where their house used to be. They passed away years ago, and now the home of our most cherished childhood memories was also gone—the home where we were showered with affection; where we played in the big sand pile, then…

No country is lastingly great apart from the will of God. Once, and for a good while, our country was great. For a time it stood upon the durable principles that our Founding Fathers spelled out in the Constitution. They were meant to be durable anyway.

Yesterday I got to my car and realized I forgot my keys. So I went back inside to my bedroom, but when I got there I forgot why I was in the bedroom, so I went back out to the car and realized I forgot my keys. The good news is I only went through that process twice. Short of death or rapture, there is no escape—I am aging.

No country is lastingly great apart from the will of God. Once, and for a good while, our country was great. For a time it stood upon the durable principals that our Founding Fathers spelled out in the Constitution. They were meant to be durable anyway. They were the reasoned consequence of the moral precepts found in the Bible. Man was made to be free, and these brave men created a masterpiece to see that through. In the Bible, the Greek word for masterpiece is poiema, from where we get the word poem. It refers to a work of sublime beauty and craftsmanship. The Constitution was indeed a poem.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39)

Those times in life when I’m not actively thinking, I love You, God, I don’t love Him any less than when I bow down to speak adorations in the privacy of my room.

I looked up to see what bird was sounding such chitter. As I did, the river birch framed a crescent moon, in broad daylight. The three drew me in and made themselves known. A daytime trinity of sorts enfolded me–a perfect harmony of beauty, serenity, and comfort. They seemed to enjoy the union and I felt invited to do the same.

There once was a humble electrician who loved God and who had a profound effect on my life. His name was Uncle Jack. Married to Aunt Joy, my mother’s older sister, Uncle Jack spoke few words. His actions spoke the Library of Congress.

When you think about it, being called a “man of the world” is quite the put down.

The diving bell spider, or argyroneta aquatica (but you already knew that), lives its life at the bottom of the pond. It manages this feat by breathing air bubbles that cling to the hairs on its legs, and in such manner spends its days very much in the water, even though it is not really of it. For without the oxygen supply from above, it would quickly die.

If all that exists is matter–atoms and molecules–what room for love? If everyone eventually turns to dust and bones, no more consciousness, just nothingness, then right and wrong are only figments of our imagination. And if this is so, all our actions are ultimately devoid of any real purpose.

The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man is he who listens to counsel. -Proverbs 12:15

A few weeks ago I had a dental procedure which involved general anesthesia. All went well, and I got home in a state of relative comfort, took a brief nap, then arose feeling surprisingly robust. “Honey,” I announced to the other room, “I’m feeling just fine. I was expecting to write the day off, but I think I’m actually going to get some things done today.” She didn’t see it that way and kindly pointed out that I was still visibly woozy and it was best not to push it.

Origin, meaning, and destiny. Of all the earth’s creatures, humans stand alone in grappling with these abstractions. When put in question form, they look like this: “Where did I come from?” “Why am I here?” and “Where am I going?” It seems incomprehensible that anyone would choose to go through life without pausing to contemplate these issues.

“Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4:19b)

In the year 2014, three men were standing by the shore, deep in discussion. They could be heard arguing over the matter of fishing. One man debated whether it was better to fish in deep waters or in shallow ones; another wrangled over the best time of day to catch fish; and the third man carried on about the correct bait one should use.

Self-pity is a ruinous thing. Pride hides therein, cloaked in excuses, each one contending undue hardship. But behind the facade of deprivation, the illogic and pretense of self-pity are easily exposed. Consider: God says He loves us. Thus, we are beloved. And to be beloved by our Maker leaves no room for self-pity. After all, who are we to reject God’s assessment and replace it with our own?

There’s an old anecdote about a college student who wrote home, “Dear Dad, No mun. No fun. Your son”; to which his father replied, “Dear Son, Too bad. So sad. Your Dad.”