2010.02.10 05:00
There was once a sculptor who worked hard Spiritual disciplines are the skills and techniques .... from the book, "Spiritual Direction" by Henri Nouwen |
2010.02.10 08:47
2010.02.12 11:48
I arise today
through the strength of heaven,
light of the sun,
radiance of the moon,
splendor of fire,
speed of lighting,
swiftness of the wind,
depth of the sea,
stability of the earth,
firmness of the rock.
I arise today
through God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look after me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak to me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
from the snares of the devil,
from everyone who desires me ill,
afar and near, alone or in a multitude,
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.
2010.02.12 12:55
Chances are you've given little thought to housing your soul.
We create elaborate houses for our bodies,
but our souls are relegated to a hillside shanty where
the night winds chill us and the rain soaks us.
Is it any wonder the world is so full of cold hearts?
Doesn't have to be this way.
We don't have to live outside.
It's not God's plan for your heart to roam as a Bedouin.
God wants you to move in out of the cold
and live with HIM.
Under HIS roof there is space available.
At his table a plate is set.
In his living room a wingback chair is reserved
just for you.
And HE'd like you to take up residence in HIS house.
Why would he want you to share HIS house?
Simple, HE's your Father.
from "The Great House of God" by Max Lucado
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To See the Unseen
An example of faith was found on the wall of a concentration camp.
On it a prisoner had carved the words:
I believe in the sun, even though it doesn't shine.
I believe in love, even when it isn't shown.
I believe in God, even when he doesn't speak.
I try to imagine the person who etched those words.
I try to envision his skeletal hand gripping the broken glass or stone
that cut into the wall.
I try to imagine his eyes squinting through the darkness
as he carved each letter.
What hand could have cut such a conviction?
What eyes could have seen good in such horror?
There is only one answer: eyes that chose to see the unseen.
from the book, "Grace For The Moment"
by Max Lucado