An angel was dispatched from heaven to roam the earth, and find two subjects.  One subject was to be a paragon of life, and the other death.  After a long search the angel found just two such subjects, and brought them together with an assignment.

A droll and pallid drone beats percussively in my heart, sometimes;
I don’t think it’s a single voice,
but a chorus in semi-unison;
and they drone on, flowing and surging as a tide riding each beat of my heart,
then they ebb for a time;

Rounding a corner she arrived at the bus stop and set herself heavily down upon the bench.  The man next to her fidgeted at the sound of soft mumbles breaking the air, and turned toward her.  Acutely aware of his stare, she turned away and went silent; but even then she could feel his curiosity probing her.

Why, if people are growing up in your church, must they be sent away to seminary in order to be suitable parents of their own?  Shouldn’t they have learned from you?

The master smiled, “Therein lies your problem.  You think there is a right answer.”

Do you enter into any relationship, just hoping the other party will use you?

'A cold coming we had of it,

Just the worst time of the year
For the journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

Simon and his father Eli stood and watched them from a distance.  They had seen the wave-like undulation of black hats forge through that grove every Sunday for as long as they could remember.  Whether baked in summer’s greatest furnace, or bitten by winter’s cruelest blast, there they were, always wearing black, plodding along the same well-worn path.

A ruminating poem on self-indulgence, self-deprecation, striving & freedom.

Go down into the forest and find where the Sapient river splits in two.  There you will see the tallest, most beautiful Evergreen tree.  I want you to take a boulder the size of your head from the heart of the river’s bed, and place it atop the pinnacle of that tree.

Antonio Machado a Spanish Poet born in 1875 was one of the leading figures of the Spanish literary movement known as the Generation of '98.  This is a brilliant poem, yes translated into english.  

“Why do you teach of perseverance and suffering, if Jesus suffered on the cross already?  Why must we face trials?  Isn’t that the point of the cross?” the rich man asked.

    A young believer was struggling to ascertain the cross.  After many classes and much discussion she still felt there was more.  Agitated after hours of fruitless meditation one morning, she drifted into sleep.  While she slept she entered a vivid dream.

    A constant winter rain eagerly turned the streets into swamp.  Steadily piercing the ice laden mist a lonely procession plunged forward into the night.  A solitary coffin labored along, tenuously rocking atop the aching shoulders of the six lone pallbearers.  No one led the procession and no one trailed.  Passing by thatched roofs and deserted markets the coffin trudged forward.

    Standing in the holy place, we will finally see how foolish - how ridiculously pompous - we have been all our lives, how confused and in error we were about so many things, how we took the small measure of revelation God gave us and tried to market it as the beginning and the end. We will understand just how gracious God has been to us, how patiently he bore with our smallness of mind and hardness of heart, how gentle and kind he was when we least deserved it, and how - out of pure generosity - he protected us from our own folly again and again.   And we will stand in awe.

by Cherie Dack

      “How can I know that I’ve found salvation?” I asked a wise man once.

      He replied with frustrating brevity, “Trust”.

      “But how can I know,” I emphasized in both voice and manner.

      “You find it hard to trust your savior?”

      “Sometimes,” I responded honestly.

      “It is hard because of the god you know.”

      “The god I know?”

    In his dreams a man was walking with the Father in a garden.  He’d been fighting with his wife again that day, and was at his wits end.  The Ancient-of-Days listened intently, like any good father, as the man bared his soul and relieved his burdens.

    In the back streets of a dingy, cringing city, there is a House of Prayer made out of cardboard boxes and plastic bags.  A small community of street people built it using whatever they could find.  It stands in the corner of an alley, seemingly always on the edge of collapse yet providing a permanent landmark for those who regularly pass that way.  The devoted builders make such improvements to it as they can.  Recently, a battered door (full of bullet holes) was carried in a shopping cart to the House of Prayer and put into place.

    Once upon a time Jack and Diane went down separate paths. One walked a narrow path and one took a wide path. As life would have it they found folks to love, children to raise and shared life. Through the storms of life and the wounds and brokenness, their marriages were well on to death before they ended. Broken dreams and vows that as a matter of life blew away in the wind of time like the dust in a hot prairie wind.

 Not even a sparrow, worth only half a penny, can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. Mt 10:29

Once upon a time a Momma bird hatched new baby sparrows. One sparrow was bigger and stronger than the other sparrows of the nest. With time, he grew faster, grew grander than his compatriots. There was so little this sparrow couldn't do and became legendary among the other sparrows. Creatures of the air and land would come from all over to watch this one amazing sparrow fly, soar and sing. Like all things great, many loved him. Many wanted to be like him. Many wanted to be in his presence as it somehow made them more popular, important and special, well, at least so they thought. As many loved our hero the sparrow, others disliked him. Others were critical of him calling him to standards that no mere sparrow could ever live up to. The higher he flew, the louder he sang, the bigger a flock he drew, the more the criticism and out cry for un-sparrow like perfection.

    The universal experience of the human heart is loneliness. This is God’s gift to us. He knows that we cannot complete each other, and he proves it by blessing us with family in all its forms. Human intimacy feeds our surface hungers while leaving the deeper cry of our heart unanswered. And so, we are driven to seek someone beyond ourselves. This is the jealous generosity of God.

by Cherie Dack

    The girl who sits two desks in front of you. She’s all you’ve been able to think about for months. Finally, after careful planning and meticulous preparation (involving a rigorous regiment of squirming), you talk your friend into going over to her in the school yard and giving her a message, something like, “Hey, so-and-so likes you.” You watch breathlessly from a distance as the messenger approaches your beloved...He is speaking to her...She is smiling...Smiling!...And then, he is saying something and gesturing...She is giggling...She is pulling playfully at his coat sleeve...Hey, wait a minute!...They are hugging each other! Crushed and helpless, you watch as the two of them walk away arm in arm.

    I went to heaven this morning in the Spirit. It was glorious – a rather pale word but I have no other human word to express it. As I walked toward the Throne Room of the Most High, the worship to and the Glory our beloved was totally rapturous. Wow, wow, wow! The glory was intense! As I looked to the throne, which seemed kilometres away – the waves of His glory and splendor was my undoing. Standing, let alone walking under the weighty Kabod of the most high was impossible. Then I heard "Come". It was in His word and His will that I could stand and begin to cross the span of the Throne Room. Through the throngs of people both great and small.