tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40636399554800044762024-03-13T07:56:38.176-04:00Polycarp 55:A man's search for grace in all the unusual places. I may amuse, I may stand accused, I may anger you, but all in all I am a sinner, in a need of a righteous God, just like y'all.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.comBlogger320125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-58261265842502597532015-03-26T08:11:00.001-04:002015-03-26T08:11:32.391-04:00Nate Larkin Goes for A Walk<iframe frameborder="0" height="100" id="audio_iframe" scrolling="no" src="http://www.podbean.com/media/player/x2fvn-5323cc/initByJs/1/auto/1?skin=103" width="100%"></iframe><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-73239470999907128582014-12-10T13:52:00.002-05:002014-12-10T13:52:59.309-05:00<div class="content">
<div class="post_box top" id="post-5370">
<section class="headline_area">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mXl7x1SebDU/VIiWgJybIRI/AAAAAAAAG4A/NWr0j86Yijg/s1600/10259768_764690180229395_3578392575793941091_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mXl7x1SebDU/VIiWgJybIRI/AAAAAAAAG4A/NWr0j86Yijg/s1600/10259768_764690180229395_3578392575793941091_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<h1 class="headline">
Taking a Fence Down</h1>
<span class="post_author_intro">by </span> <span class="post_author"><a href="http://www.chesterton.org/author/admin/">ACS</a></span>
</section>
<div class="post_content">
<div style="text-align: right;">
| QUESTION<br />
<em>I remember reading somewhere that John F. Kennedy quoted Chesterton
as saying something about not taking a fence down until you know the
reason why it was put it up. I think the idea was if someone says they
don’t understand why something is the way it is and wants to destroy or
change it, don’t let them. Any help?</em></div>
ANSWER<br />
Bartlett’s <em>Familiar Quotations</em> says that the quotation, “Don’t
ever take a fence down until you know the reason why it was put up,” was
ascribed to Chesterton by John F. Kennedy in a 1945 notebook. (Bartlett
is not a very good source for Chesterton quotations, by the way: a
pitifully small selection, and citations like this one, that reflect
zero research. But then, that’s why we’re here!)<br />
The quotation you’re looking for is from Chesterton’s 1929 book, <em>The Thing</em>, in the chapter entitled, “The Drift from Domesticity”:<br />
<blockquote>
In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from
deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle
which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a
certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a
fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer
goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear
it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well
to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you
clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell
me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-66348785791729391592013-04-22T11:25:00.001-04:002013-04-22T11:25:51.634-04:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5-3sEHpq2dA/S9BBpNxWr7I/AAAAAAAACSM/WEZVeiGbquY/s1600/Greg+Smiles+.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5-3sEHpq2dA/S9BBpNxWr7I/AAAAAAAACSM/WEZVeiGbquY/s320/Greg+Smiles+.gif" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: red; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Audio Sermon Prescription Warning</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Sermons by Gospel Centered Churches is one way of hearing the word. But do not think that listening to sermons is a way to make yourself justified with God. You are only forgiven through the work of the Godhead (Father. Son. Holy Spirit.) Your own efforts outside the Godhead (God, Christ, Holy Spirit) will end in disorder, despair and feelings of being cheated. Your feelings of being unfairly treated by God, are out of focus and a readjustment from a Pastor, or Elder, at your Local Church would be recommended. These sermons, no matter how tremendous, do not replace the need to go fellowship with other believers. Fellowship is one of the four means of Grace: The Preached Word, Prayer, Sacraments and Fellowship. I find that fellowship keeps me from tainting the news with my own biases. These biases taint the message being delivered.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-66707858283456013922013-03-29T11:26:00.001-04:002013-03-29T11:26:07.159-04:00Apologetic <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4EJqFJv3k34/S_6qEW9JXqI/AAAAAAAACY8/fk8MBjx-D_k/s1600/-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4EJqFJv3k34/S_6qEW9JXqI/AAAAAAAACY8/fk8MBjx-D_k/s320/-1.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #edeff4; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I can see the argument of those that attack the Gospel use one weapon that only goes one way.... they stick to this idol with a cathexis, a focus so strong as to be unhealthy, they become obsessed with defacing the Gospel. But what will make them rethink may be the Centipede dilemma, where if you ask them why they will get to a point where they can no longer answer it... and in their frustration they will loose their ability to reason accurately. We have a truth that is the truth... and guided by the holy spirit we can stand to reason.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-54825857165382550482012-08-20T13:00:00.000-04:002012-08-20T13:00:07.428-04:00Heretical Jukebox <br />
<strong>It’s
All Meshugas to Me</strong>
<br />
<div align="center" class="h3">
(B. Joel, C. Srulowitz, G. Veroba)</div>
<div align="center">
What’s the matter with the Kiddush I’m giving <br />
Can’t you tell that your cake’s too dry, <br />
Maybe I should just eliminate the kugel, <br />
Well, in our shul, you’d better not try! <br />
<br />
Where have you been hiding out lately, sonny, <br />
You can’t give a Kiddush til’ you spend a lot of money, <br />
Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout the right foods, funny, <br />
But it’s all Mishegas to me… <br />
<br />
What’s the matter with the chulent I’m serving, <br />
Can’t you tell that its got no meat, <br />
Maybe I should serve some cole slaw and salad, <br />
That would look like you were trying to cheat, <br />
Borrow money from your family pushka, </div>
<div align="center">
And serve four kugels with a healthy slice of kishka, <br />
Potato, rice, lukshin twice, one sweet, one spice, <br />
All a Mishegas to me! </div>
<div align="center">
Oh, it doesn’t matter what they serve at a Kiddush <br />
It’ll always be the same old thing, <br />
Your wife is gonna deal an entire Shabbos meal <br />
And you’d better savor everything, <br />
I’m sure you know what I mean… <br />
Have some wine, or some Shnapps for Kiddush, <br />
Don’t you know that I only use scotch, <br />
Forget Red Label, just go with the green one, <br />
Or the Blue, if it’s not too much <br />
Plain gefilte fish is not very daring, <br />
Your best bet would be twelve types of herring, <br />
Cream cakes, potato knishes, table cloths, hot dishes <br />
All a Mishegas to me <br />
What’s the matter with the Kiddush I’m giving, <br />
Can’t you see that the place is too tight, <br />
Don’t you know you need at least 10 tables <br />
If you have 80 men to invite <br />
Nowadays, you gotta be very cautious, <br />
Pick the wrong food and your guests will be nauseous, <br />
Right food, right place, scotch and bourbon by the case <br />
It’s all a Mishegas to me <br />
Everybody’s talkin’ bout the food at the Kiddush, <br />
But it’s all Mishegas to me! </div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SuWY0amQM_E" width="560"></iframe> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-64681381076120124172012-08-17T12:52:00.000-04:002012-08-17T12:54:07.699-04:00Review of Timothy Keller's The Freedom of Self Forgetfullness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-im_JATNs8Oc/UC52j4h9pYI/AAAAAAAAFCs/twsIc7D4Niw/s1600/BHC2797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-im_JATNs8Oc/UC52j4h9pYI/AAAAAAAAFCs/twsIc7D4Niw/s320/BHC2797.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13579364-the-freedom-of-self-forgetfulness" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1333641348m/13579364.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13579364-the-freedom-of-self-forgetfulness">The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/847789.Timothy_Keller">Timothy Keller</a><br />
<br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/393962362">5 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
<br />
This book is short and profoundly challenging. The simplicity of the
message will rattle around in the tombs of our soiled memories. <br />Tim
Keller looks at our condition in this inflated/deflated world. The
world is flat and black and white; while we perform in our shadowed
reality. There is only one way to the truth and the light. We find
ourselves off the beaten track and lost. Until, we are picked up for vagrancy.<br /> We are then brought to a trial room with only the
smiling mob and the Court Jester. Every day we wake to a trial, much
like the trial of the main character in Franz Kafka's The Trial. <br />
We find that all the jurors are pointing at us and laughing at our
hopeless condition, because we still think we can save ourselves. We
think that there is a away for us to justify our actions. We cower at
our reflected image and our ballooned ego lets out a gasp and we find
ourselves thinner than Jack Sprat. <br />Where is your heart (insert your name here)? is the first question the Supreme Court Jester asks. <br />We say in response, "I played the game! I played by the rules! How can you accuse me of being a loser on my own?"<br />The Jester replies, "Who do you want to be son, than be that person."<br />We wake up and the trial resumes.<br />
Keller
shows us how to break out of this fun house mirror and self delusion
through the reliance of Christ. This book must be read by anyone who
struggles with depression or anxiety in the modern world.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3211399-gregory-rothbard">View all my reviews</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-85476816820089657032012-07-16T13:04:00.001-04:002012-07-16T13:05:55.187-04:00Heretical Jukebox<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BS3QOtbW4m0" width="560"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-59667612427471164002012-07-16T11:50:00.000-04:002012-08-06T09:45:42.787-04:00Men Beating Drums: Stewardship<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiLk69rSZNI/UAQ4Psv5F8I/AAAAAAAAE38/iM5-dU6Qmm8/s1600/DESERT_INN_LAS_VEGAS_1950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiLk69rSZNI/UAQ4Psv5F8I/AAAAAAAAE38/iM5-dU6Qmm8/s320/DESERT_INN_LAS_VEGAS_1950.jpg" width="320" /></a><span id="goog_721649792"></span><span id="goog_721649793"></span><br />
<h1>
Stewardship From the Eyes of a Dog? </h1>
<br />
<br />
Good stewardship begins at home with a smile and a willing ear, maybe a waggle of a tail. I am called to take joy in God and love my neighbors, through an endowed abundance of joy. Also if my master throws a ball I am to go after it and bring it back to him, for it makes him so happy. I am not to spend all my hours in private daydreams. Rather, I am called to be an encourager and a bearer of the gospel, in this darkened world. For a later promise, could it be a bone? <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-18417709167084689952012-07-15T13:40:00.000-04:002012-07-15T13:52:51.823-04:00Men Beating Drums: SlumpsHard to believe that Mr. Tim Hardaway of the Golden State Warriors, went 0-15 for field-goals, in one game.<br />
<br />
Heck, I probably would have said to myself, "I am no longer any good, time to retire." <br />
<br />
But even the All Stars deal with slumps sometimes. <br />
<br />
We, men, tighten up when we fear that our performance is not adding up. We are most likely to terminate our position for fear that we are not adding to a well run machine. However, during slumps we must trust our abilities and the ability of the team, and go forward, not dwelling on could have beens, or on the problem that happened earlier. One must first relax, laugh, and allow the flow to happen; forcing the flow only makes things a lot worse.<br />
<br />
<br />
Enjoy the video clip:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9jOrUgr4Sss" width="560"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-42162266435259768942012-07-13T03:50:00.000-04:002012-07-13T03:58:45.665-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lJ3xXQ4qMFQ/T__TVd0V57I/AAAAAAAAE2Q/Dr1hNrU4Y_4/s1600/3.10.2010Sin+Stretch.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lJ3xXQ4qMFQ/T__TVd0V57I/AAAAAAAAE2Q/Dr1hNrU4Y_4/s320/3.10.2010Sin+Stretch.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
<cite>We salt our lives with other people's sins. Our flesh to us tastes sweet... That's the fuel, the vapor that spins that carousel, the raw stuff of terror, the excruciating agony of guilt, the scream from real or imagined wounds. The carnival sucks that gas, ignites it, and chugs along its way. </cite> -Ray Bradburry Something Wicked this Way Comes<br />
<br />
Chapters 39 and 40 of this book are some of the greatest metaphors, and explanations of Genesis 3 I have ever read. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-12751407634669250212012-06-21T07:38:00.000-04:002012-06-25T08:39:28.729-04:00Heretical Jukebox<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bmukyU9zTiY" width="420">&lt;iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/G2IDtMy-ca8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/G2IDtMy-ca8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;</iframe>
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/G2IDtMy-ca8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<body> The journey up and down the road will warry us if we think it is all dependent upon our efforts. Our truck will run out of gas. We will be surely crawling towards our goal. So keep Trucking and move forward, but Christ Goes First.</body>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-44632390062178268112012-06-19T10:48:00.002-04:002012-06-19T10:52:58.853-04:00Book Excerpt from Kahil Gibran the Madman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8h21Kfbp0Cs/T-CRJA-GKZI/AAAAAAAAEqM/6PL_Jmc9aDQ/s1600/64738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8h21Kfbp0Cs/T-CRJA-GKZI/AAAAAAAAEqM/6PL_Jmc9aDQ/s320/64738.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<h1>
The Scarecrow</h1>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this lonely field.”<br />
<br />
And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it.”<br />
<br />
Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have known that joy.”<br />
<br />
Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”<br />
<br />
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me. A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher. And when I passed by him again I saw<br />
<br />
Khalil Gibran. The Madman (Kindle Locations 41-45).<br />
<br />
I like the simplicity of this thought and how deep it is. <br />
I also was watching <u>Everything Must Go</u> a good portrayal of our lives in this place between sorrows and joy. Where God smashes the boxes those whose lust are not in him. He loves us enough to shape us into his likeness. We grow from our pain. Pain is part of the process. We are shaped. God stand stills. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-55714329870402855802012-06-19T08:54:00.000-04:002012-06-25T08:40:52.898-04:00Heretical Jukebox<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VUoXtddNPAM" width="420"></iframe><body>What little box holds all of your idols? What happens when this box is threatened? What threatens the box?</body>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-38064489119245395032012-06-07T09:19:00.003-04:002012-06-07T09:21:28.644-04:00Sermon Response Hebrews 12:28 - 13:17<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<img border="0" height="125" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eFcjnWkzjKM/T9CoiM9rBDI/AAAAAAAAEmA/j6QmNUyiHlg/s200/Fidler+on+the+Roof.gif" width="200" />Witnesses stood outside. They stood on a hill overlooking the town in the valley. They were awed by the sight of a fiddler perched on a roof, like a rooster on a hen house, or a weather vane. He stroke one chord. The chord strongly vibrated across the valley into the private solitude of the slumbering residents. The chord awoke the slumbering children. Steel clung into the midnight light. The lights of the city click on, the houses become alighted, one by one. A pure note lit the valley homes in the mid of night. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-28590995817819982992012-06-07T08:21:00.000-04:002012-06-14T08:40:25.514-04:00Heretical JukeboxThere was a fiddler, who played a tune. The tune woke up Boulder Colorado, and then the world. The person playing the fiddle was my brothers best friend when growing up, Jeb Bows. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hKGH42dimLY" width="420"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-83427265662894266082012-05-07T07:55:00.001-04:002012-05-07T07:55:47.911-04:00Heretical JukeboxThe Pet Shop Boys till us its a sin. "Father, I tried not to do it..." But as we try we are more bound to the social cages that they have put us into. The only escape is Jesus Christ our savior and redeemer. <br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/y7I5UaB7mx4" width="420"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-19197427263081778142012-05-04T09:53:00.000-04:002012-05-04T09:53:45.687-04:00Meditation Response: Hebrews 11<h5>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrZLOcduT-M/T6FBiU4WUTI/AAAAAAAAEiw/q0W37NZV1Lc/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrZLOcduT-M/T6FBiU4WUTI/AAAAAAAAEiw/q0W37NZV1Lc/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<center>Prayer: My Meditation Response </center><br />
Faith Sounds like__the sway of palm trees_______.<br />
Faith Tastes like_____a wine with taste of the earth and dirt and everything good in this world_____.<br />
Faith Feels like__soothing quiet peaceful vibrations_________.<br />
Faith Smells like___cedars in an island breeze_______.</h5>
<h5>
Faith looks like_finally receiving a message back, from 1,000 of messages cast to the sea. </h5>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-83790737911872020642012-05-02T11:18:00.000-04:002012-05-07T08:34:38.420-04:00Men Beating Drums<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xsccFsysCMQ/T6FPuSBeVFI/AAAAAAAAEi8/8S8FiGZsP_s/s1600/9OUR5MCbh6zC14a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xsccFsysCMQ/T6FPuSBeVFI/AAAAAAAAEi8/8S8FiGZsP_s/s1600/9OUR5MCbh6zC14a.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<h1>
Morality in Hollywood? Was there a time?</h1>
<br />
Yes, there was a time. Hollywood, in the late 40's, felt their job was to maintain and condition morality in suburban America. <br />
<br />
"A nude statue! Who said anything about nudity? Tits.
Didn't anyone tell you that tits aren't allowed in a Hollywood film? It
doesn't matter how beautiful they are, it's immoral and indecent. Plus,
the goddamn statue has to come to life on screen. Do you want us to be
accused of corrupting the whole of America?" Ava Gardner in My Story by Ava Gardner.<br />
<br />
Did creating a strict moral code work? No, policing morality did not work. Because, by enforcing a moral code only pushes the sin deeper into society's stitching. Also it took the responsibility off of the family and put it in the hands of the state. Fascist control never works to moralize a society. <br />
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<br />
<blockquote>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-28924473279819094382012-05-01T12:37:00.000-04:002012-05-02T10:17:29.635-04:00Meditation Prompts: Hebrews 11:1-31<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s1xUmlZ6_Js/T6ARI-ctsPI/AAAAAAAAEik/K2Ehta4E66E/s1600/2018918-rev.-gary-davis-say-no-to-the-devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s1xUmlZ6_Js/T6ARI-ctsPI/AAAAAAAAEik/K2Ehta4E66E/s200/2018918-rev.-gary-davis-say-no-to-the-devil.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<h5>
<center>Prayer: Lord, I want to know what</center><br />
Faith Sounds like__________.<br />
Faith Tastes like__________.<br />
Faith Feels like___________.<br />
Faith Smells like__________.</h5>
Look for my response on Friday!!!!! Can't wait to hear from y'all. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-25792171471125941582012-05-01T12:19:00.001-04:002012-05-01T12:21:47.435-04:00Men Beating Drums<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4WIGxOUwXsM/T6ANEOZ05II/AAAAAAAAEiY/szd4zzK8RFU/s1600/card07336_fr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4WIGxOUwXsM/T6ANEOZ05II/AAAAAAAAEiY/szd4zzK8RFU/s320/card07336_fr.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<h1>
Sleeping</h1>
The LORD hides his ways while we are sleeping. <br />
Abraham slept, and a covenant was sealed.<br />
Jacob slept, and he saw the future.<br />
Peter slept, and the plan was finished.<br />
We sleep, and are restored. <br />
Sleep, rest, find comfort in the LORD. <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-29844149203627615312012-04-30T10:40:00.001-04:002012-04-30T10:40:25.661-04:00Heretical Jukebox<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GEETxncBKy8" width="420"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-85404694352232432632012-04-23T21:00:00.000-04:002012-06-14T09:15:50.649-04:00Sermon Responses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CIoP7IyMZ_g/T5VK4ywOiTI/AAAAAAAAEgk/4Dq3p6KbdlI/s1600/DSCF2460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CIoP7IyMZ_g/T5VK4ywOiTI/AAAAAAAAEgk/4Dq3p6KbdlI/s400/DSCF2460.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i></i><br />
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<h2>
Hebrews 10:32-39</h2>
<br />
<h2>
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.<br />
(The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran)</h2>
<br /><br />
<br />
A farmer in the field sees the shadow moving across the land, the shadow is complexity filled: hope-despair, fear-brave, but then the word became flesh. As the dark purple cloud moves across his farm rising the dust up in whirling eddies he rests on his shovel. He rested and all around him he heard the sound of dried wheat stalks swaying in the wind. Dust tickled his throat. He coughed. He held onto his hat made of straw, he feared it would blow away. All the land was thirsty, but his farmers almanac did not report any rain. The almanac had not said one word about banks calling in bank loans.<br />
<br />
The farmer smiled. He thought of all of the bank notices that were collecting on his kitchen table. The table was dust-filled, he had written S.O.S. in the dust, as a message maybe to a UFO or was it God? He had borrowed on the banks in order to plant this year's crop. The year before all was wasted. By one hail storm! This year the drought! And still the banks called and called and called and called upon the isolated farmer. The banks had lent the farmer money, and were now calling about the loan. The banks not paid, sent yellow foreclosure notes. The official notes laid like a deck of tarot cards played by a psychic at the county fair. The wood of the table held secrets from forgotten conversations. Recorded in its wood so long ago.<br />
<br />
The horror, of official visits from official representatives of the good old banks, was a serene nightmare.<br />
<br />
The land had been with his family for sixty years. His great grandfather had bought the land in 1866 a year after coming back to the Carolinas. A year after killing his last soldier in blue. His great grandfather hoped for a new beginning in Ohio. A land of promise, a land that was fertile and ready for growing. The land had been a stage of marriages, burials, and harvest festivals. A place where one called home. <br />
<br />
The farmer knew his life here in Ohio was endangered. But still the farmer smiled. He joyfully accepted the plundering of his property for he knew what the bible declared, you will have a better possession an abiding one....He knew this land belonged to God. If God's will was to sell the land than so be it, no worries. Even if this meant working at a factory in Cincinnati, or in Cleveland. He hoped beyond hope that he could move on from here. But all he knew was the tending of the farm. He smiled through the broken dreams and gutter swamps of his mind. Because he had an abiding possession that would never fade from Glory.<br />
<br />
He looked at his hands and smiled. Locusts played their legs. He wish he could have seen the sign of the times, he wish he could have seen the seven years of bad, and seven years of good. He would have sold the farm the year before and have some change in his pockets. But now all he had was faith in God and a smile that stated, "So be it!"<br />
<br />
The wind scooped up the top soil.
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
This story was based on an idea expressed by Stephen King in his novella 1922 from <i>Full Dark No Stars.</i> I listened to David Martin's sermon this Sunday and combined the ideas of 1922 with the scripture. I hope y'all like it.<br />
<br />
Here's a bit of the history of the Dust Bowl for you:<br />
<br />
A Good book to read is The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan.
History from Wikipedia:<i> The unusually wet period, which encouraged
increased settlement and cultivation in the Great Plains, ended in 1930.
This was the year in which an extended and severe drought began which
caused crops to fail, leaving the plowed fields exposed to wind erosion.
The fine soil of the Great Plains was easily eroded and carried east by
strong continental winds.
On November 11, 1933, a very strong dust storm stripped topsoil from
desiccated South Dakota farmlands in just one of a series of bad dust
storms that year. Then, beginning on May 9, 1934, a strong, two-day dust
storm removed massive amounts of Great Plains topsoil in one of the
worst such storms of the Dust Bowl. The dust clouds blew all the way to
Chicago, where they deposited 12 million pounds of dust.[9] Two days
later, the same storm reached cities in the east, such as Buffalo,
Boston, Cleveland, New York City, and Washington, D.C.[10] That winter
(1934–1935), red snow fell on New England.
On April 14, 1935, known as "Black Sunday", 20 of the worst "black
blizzards" occurred throughout the Dust Bowl, causing extensive damage
and turning the day to night; witnesses reported they could not see five
feet in front of them at certain points.</i><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-21471975085129624882012-04-23T09:37:00.002-04:002012-04-23T09:43:26.294-04:00Heretical Jukebox<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L0egKoyJgBc" width="560"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-27768757782457903402012-04-18T12:22:00.002-04:002012-04-23T09:44:03.395-04:00Heretical Jukebox<h2>
I found this on the Merry Monk of Love's Blog: This rocks my world. Please listen.</h2>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/K8k9rD7lx9c" width="560"></iframe><poetry>
We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living
and since that first breath… We’ll need grace that we’ve never given
I’ve been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts
and it’s not only when these eyes are closed
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach,
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better
but it won’t, at least I don’t believe it will…
so I’ve built a wooden heart inside this iron ship,
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts.
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember
I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts
we all have the same holes in our hearts…
everything falls apart at the exact same time
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step
but my fear is this prison… that I keep locked below the main deck
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden
and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward…always running out of fight
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam
lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember
My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water
I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep
all these machines will rust I promise, but we’ll still be electric
shocking each other back to life
Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected
our bones grown together inside
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided
our spines grown stronger in time
because are church is made out of shipwrecks
from every hull these rocks have claimed
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change
so come on yall and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember</poetry>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063639955480004476.post-68836758139696026262012-04-18T12:02:00.000-04:002012-04-23T09:45:59.271-04:00Men Beating Drums<br />
<h2>
This May Anger Y'all!!!! .... But I don't care as long as you think <br />on God's words Mt 5:21-26</h2>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I think it is time that we bury the hatchet on our phobias. We need to know what is right and what is wrong! But when people turn to Christ they must feel the warmth of home from its believers. I felt this hatred when I was crossing the street one day, I was age ten, and I waved at a girl, the girl said; "I can't talk to you for you and your kind are Christ Killers." Now, looking back, I want to hug that little girl and tell her sorry that you feel that way; then I would tell her: "I can assure you that it was God's plan to kill his only son, and that this plan was done because of all of our sins, and the fact that all of our sins were so grievous that we could not correct our own actions. He loved us so much that he sent his only son to us as a gift of redemption." <br />
<br />
I ask that you watch this clip with open eyes, and child like minds. I know it is hard for me a heterosexual to look at two men kissing. I know it is hard to look at Jesus portrayed as a homosexual! I know it is hard to face your fearful pride! I know we must hold onto our principles, but don't let the principles harden the heart and we fail to love our brothers (homosexual or heterosexual). We must point like men on a hill to the love and righteousness found in Christs forgiveness for all sins. <br />
<br />
We can not point when we are yelling at our brother for their behavior. The child will ask, "Momy and Dad why are these people hated?" Don't bar the child from the love of Christ!<br />
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Iw1d-ABRjXE" width="560"></iframe><br />
John Fuller vice president of Focus on the Family's Audio and New Media devision said. <br />
<blockquote>
All of us – including those with special needs, the elderly, the orphan, the preborn – have inherent worth because we are uniquely created by God for a purpose. Once we recognize this simple truth, we are inspired to offer a kind word and an understanding heart to those society considers outcasts. Once we see the dignity in each and every individual, we become willing to disrupt our “model” lives and embrace the beautiful mess of investing in others.</blockquote>
<a href="http://www.christchurcheastbay.org/site/images/CMS/mp3/sermon-20120226.mp3">Listen to a sermon on 5:21-26 from Christ Church Berkley.</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11934813959273198462noreply@blogger.com0