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"Helping Others Communicate"

OF GOD AND COUNTRY

6/28/2013

 
As we turn our attention to the celebration of Independence Day, we rightfully acknowledge the principle of patriotism. As defined by Webster’s, patriotism is a “love for or devotion to one's country”.  By this definition, I certainly qualify as patriotic. Anyone who knows me knows that I love my country.  Cut me, as the old saying goes, and I will bleed red, white, and blue.

I am proud to be a citizen of the United States of America.  I believe she is the single greatest country in the history of the world.  And I thank God regularly for the sheer privilege of having been born here in her midst.  I also find myself overwhelmed when I reflect on the sacrifices made by generations of  American service men and women which made possible my freedoms. 
 
But as a follower of Jesus Christ, I know that I hold dual citizenship – in both an earthly country and in a Heavenly Kingdom.  The Apostle Paul understood this principle well.  When his life was threatened after he had been unjustly treated, he asserted his rights as a citizen of the mighty Roman Empire (Acts 22:25).  Those who had beaten him without a trial were suddenly quite afraid for what they had done.  At the same time, in Philippians 3:20, Paul asserted that, ultimately, his citizenship, as a believer, was in Heaven. 
 
The point here is that, while it is right and fitting that we embrace the earthy country of our birth by loving, honoring, supporting, and defending her, it is also equally important that we do the same for our other Kingdom - the one up in Heaven.  In short, for the  follower of Jesus Christ,   while earthly patriotism is praiseworthy, it is not enough.

Six decades ago, the great pulpiteer, H. A. Ironside, addressed this very issue.  He asked the simple question of whether or not patriotism by itself was enough.  Here are his thoughts:

"When nations are engaged in deadly strife, it is common for patriots to declare that he who gives his life for defense of his country may be certain of a home in heaven because of having made the supreme sacrifice. 

This teaching is in accord with the principles of the Moslem religion and not with true Christianity.  Mahomet promised his fanatical followers a place in Paradise if they died for the faith in conflict with the 'infidels' who rejected his teachings. 
 

Patriotism is a virtue of which any man may well be proud. 'Lives there a man with soul so dead, who never to himself hath said, this is my own, my native land?'  But patriotism, praiseworthy as it is from the human standpoint, will never fit the soul for the presence of God.  It can never wash away the guilt of sin."

He then tells the story of Edith Cavell, a brave British nurse who was killed by the Germans during the First World War.  
 
"This noble woman was born in Swardeston, Norfold, on December 4, 1865.  She entered the London Hospital for nurses’ training in 1895. In 1907 she was appointed first matron of the Berkendael Medical Institute at Brussels, Belgium.  This became the Red Cross Hospital in Belgium at the outbreak of the conflict in 1914. 

From August of that year, until August, 1915, Nurse Cavell helped to care for wounded French, Belgian, English and German soldiers alike.  She ministered faithfully even to those who had fallen while fighting against her own nation. 

Naturally, her sympathies were with the Allies, and in cooperation with the efforts of  Prince Reginald de Croy, she aided many derelict English and French soldiers who had fled from the Germans.  These escaped by 'underground' methods to the Dutch frontier, where, with the aid of guides, they were conveyed across to Britain. 
 

When some of these fugitives were traced to her house in Brussels, she was immediately arrested and after a court-martial was sentenced to face a firing-squad.  All her kindness to the German wounded was forgotten. Her  captors considered her a spy and treated her accordingly.

Just before the bandage was placed over her eyes, as she stood fearlessly facing the soldiers who were about to take her life, she gave a last message to the world.  'I am glad,' she said, 'to die for my country. But as I stand here I realize as never before that patriotism is not enough.' 
 

Then she went on to give a clear, definite testimony to her personal faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and her assurance of salvation, not through laying down her life for others, but because He laid down His life for her.  In perfect composure, she submitted to the bandaging of her eyes and, in a few moments fell, pierced by many German bullets.

Her words, 'patriotism is not enough!' have spoken loudly to many in the years that have gone since she died a martyr to her convictions.  Yet many forget this.

'What more is needed?' you  may ask.  The answer is 'Christ!'   It is through faith in Him alone that the soul is saved and Heaven assured."

How right he was.  As we approach the Fourth of July holiday and all of its accompanying activity, be thankful for your country.  Be thankful for your freedoms.  Be thankful for those who died and made all these things possible.  
 
But remember as well, the fact that, as a Christian, you are also a citizen of Heaven.  And as your citizenship in that Kingdom would not have been possible without Jesus Christ and His sacrifice, make certain that you take time to thank Him and to acknowledge the price He paid for your spiritual freedom as well.  
  
Lastly, as you share a hot dog or a piece of apple pie, make certain to let your neighbors know that they can become citizens of Heaven as well.  All are welcome in that Kingdom.
Whosoever will, let him come.

“Greater love hath no man that this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

“When we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son” (Romans 5:10).
 
*SOURCE:  Illustrations of Bible Truth by H. A. Ironside, Moody Press, 1945, pp. 60-61, as quoted at:  
https://bible.o
rg/illustration/patriotism-not-enough
.”” ”

REMEMBERING THE PURPOSE

6/25/2013

 
I remember it like it was yesterday.  It was the summer of my seventh grade year.  Like most good Southern Baptists, I had been raised faithfully attending Vacation Bible School each and every year.  But my experience at VBS during the summer of 1974 was to be different.  I was to learn a valuable lesson in the true purpose of the church and her mission.  It was a lesson I have never forgotten; and one that I hope I never will.

In those days, VBS ended with the sixth grade.  Seventh grade and above were welcome to attend, but were also encouraged to become  workers and help out the adults.  Moreover, for the first time, our little church decided to undertake an offsite version of VBS.  This was in the afternoon, and in addition to our regular VBS, which itself was in the morning.  It was held specifically in a mobile home park, and designed to reach out to those whom, today, would be referred to as "unchurched".

As a part of the daily VBS program, the children were all welcomed, and then led in the saying of pledges – one each to the American flag, to the Christian flag, and to the Bible.  Thus, on that first afternoon, the pledge was said first  to the American flag.  

As might be expected, most every child knew this.  After this came the Christian flag.  When asked if they knew what this flag represented, a little child proudly raised her hand and responded that it was the Red Cross.

In what amounts to one of the less responsible acts of my whole life, along with several others who were equally as immature and insensitive as me at that age, I snickered.  In my mind, I was thinking, “How could anyone not know this was the Christian flag?!”  As might be expected, we were promptly, if lovingly, admonished by our leaders.  Later, when the time was right, a much more thorough discussion followed.

Of course, I now see the point.  I had been raised in church. I was familiar with church terms, church symbols, and church customs.  But these children in the mobile home park had no such blessing.  They operated in an entirely different context.  All they knew of church, or Christianity, or even of Jesus Christ, was from the perspective of those outside the faith community.  In truth, the little girl was only being honest.  She knew nothing of Jesus, of His church, or of Christian things.  Hence, the purpose of VBS, and of our being there to begin with.  
  
I have been reminded of this episode yet again this week.  I praise God for hundreds of little lives whose paths we, as a church, will cross this week during VBS.  For many of them, this may be the first they have ever heard of Someone named Jesus.  It might also be the last they will ever hear of Him.  In light of these things, it behooves us to make absolutely certain that we tell them all about Him.

May we always remember this simple but profound truth. May we always remember to tell  everyone we encounter about Jesus.  And if we do, then Vacation Bible School (and everything else we do) will have been worthwhile -  because it will have fulfilled its primary purpose.  

I leave you with two great passages of Scripture to ponder...

13”Then were there brought to him little children, that he should put his hands on them, and pray: and the disciples rebuked them. 14But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come to me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven. " (Matthew 19:13-14)

 
13”For whoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved. 14How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?” (Romans 10:13-14)

GETTIN’ ON UP THERE!

6/20/2013

 
Somebody very dear to me, someone I know and love very much, recently had herself a birthday.  Of course, I would not dare to mention her name here.  For my part, I would never want to do anything to make her feel any older than she already is! :-)

However, her recent birthday did get me to thinking about this whole business of aging.  So, I decided to do a little research on the subject; and low and behold, I discovered that she is not alone.  Apparently, a lot of people are getting on up there in age.  
 
Witness the following testimonials…

I've sure gotten old!  I've had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, and new knees; I've fought  prostate  cancer and diabetes; I'm half blind; I can't hear anything quieter than a jet engine; I take 40 different medications that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts; I have bouts with dementia; I have poor circulation;  I hardly feel my hands and feet anymore; I can't remember if I'm 85 or 92; and I have lost all my friends.   But, thank God, I still have my driver's license!

 _____

I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor's permission to join a fitness club and start exercising.  I  decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for over an hour.  Whew, did I ever work up a sweat?!  Unfortunately, though, by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over.

_____

What do I hate the most about getting old?  Well, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be.  Also, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be.

_____

I've finally learned how to prevent sagging...  Just eat till the wrinkles fill out.

_____

It's scary when you start making the same noises as your coffee maker.

_____

These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says, "For fast relief."

_____

Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to me and asked, 'How old was your husband?'  '98,' I  replied: 'Two years older than me'  'So you're 96,' the undertaker commented.  To which I responded, 'Hardly worth going home, is it?'

_____

Reporters were interviewing me on my 104th birthday.  One asked:  'And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?'  I replied simply, 'No peer pressure.'

_____

Lastly, it seems fitting today to conclude my thoughts with this...
 
THE SENILITY PRAYER:


"God grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I  do, and the eyesight to tell the difference."


Amen!
 
SOURCE:  Based on material found online  at:  
http://jafs.ca/
2012/10/definition-of-old/
.

A FATHER’S LEGACY

6/17/2013

 
Several years back, a series of books exploded onto the marketplace.  They were known as  “Chicken Soup for the Soul”.   In this series, authors Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen compiled collection after collection of short stories that contained uplifting messages of hope and inspiration.

One story in volume two in particular really touched my heart.  It is a moving piece, contributed by Dan Clark, which speaks volumes about genuinely practicing  love.  I had wanted to share it in my message on Father’s Day yesterday; but time constraints would not allow.  So I thought I would post it here today.
 
THE CIRCUS 
 
Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a  big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of twelve.
 
You could tell they didn’t have a lot of money. Their clothes were not  expensive, but they were clean.  
The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants, and other acts they would see that night.  One could sense they had never been to a circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives.

The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband’s hand, looking up at him as if to say, 'You’re my knight in shining armor.'  He was smiling and basking in pride, looking at her.

The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly said, 'Please, let me buy 8 children’s tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus.' THE TICKET LADY QUOTED THE PRICE. The man’s wife let go of his hand, her head dropped and the man’s lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, 'HOW MUCH DID YOU SAY?' The ticket lady again quoted the  price.

The man didn’t have enough money.  How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn’t have enough money to take them to the circus?  Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground.  (And we were not wealthy in any sense of the word.)  My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, 'EXCUSE ME, SIR, I BELIEVE THIS FELL OUT OF YOUR POCKET.'

The man knew what was going on. He wasn’t begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my  dad’s eye, took my dad’s hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with quivering lips and a tear streaming down his cheek, replied, 'THANK YOU, THANK YOU. THIS REALLY MEANS A LOT TO ME AND MY FAMILY.'

My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn’t go to the circus that night, but we didn’t go without.*
 
*SOURCE:  
http://books.google.com/books?id=393ftuDDBNI
C&pg=PT13&lpg=PT13&dq=man+family+$20+pocket+circus
&source=bl&ots=ztNQsnNGrq&sig=AAmhg-WtBkHb9M1ceKO
wJikHU2M&hl=en&sa=X&ei=yAe_UaiNFJP69gTUpYGgBQ&sqi=
2&ved=0CDoQ6AEwAw

BIG GLOVES TO FILL

6/13/2013

 
Most pastors spend the week thinking about their upcoming Sunday   sermon.  I am no different.  This week in particular, with Father’s Day approaching, as I have been preparing for my weekly message, I have also been thinking a lot about my own father.  He passed on to Heaven thirteen years ago.  But he lives on in this world through the influence he had upon those he knew and loved.

One thing always seems to stand out among all the memories from my childhood with regard to my father:  his hands.  I remember them well.  As a little boy, they seemed so large to me.  I studied them often.  I knew every square inch of their surface.  I also whiled away many a moment in church, sitting on the pew next to him, pulling, poking, and prodding his fingers. 

One other thing I often did was to compare my hands to his. I was pretty sure, even as a child, that one day my hands would be as big as his; but I knew instinctively that the process of getting them there would not be easy. For my hands to be like his, I realized that mine would have a lot of growing to do.  
 
In retrospect, I thank God for those hands.  They protected me.  They provided for me.  They directed  me.  And when necessary, they even disciplined me.  Above all, though, they loved me.  I long for the day when I will see those hands again.   

In the meantime, I pray for the strengthening of my own hands; for I know that I have three children of my own who have, in all probability, studied them in turn.  Pray for me, I have big gloves to fill.

I thought I would close today by posting the following poem, My Dad’s Hands, written by David Kettler.  It seems to encompass my thoughts this day quite well.

MY DAD’S HANDS

Bedtime came, we were settling down, 
I was holding one of my lads. 
As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight: 
My hands... they looked like my dad's! 

I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks, 
there was always a cracked nail or two. 
And thanks to a hammer that strayed from its mark, 
his thumb was a beautiful blue! 

They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough, 
as strong as a carpenter's vice. 
But holding a scared little boy at night, 
they seemed to me awfully nice! 

The sight of those hands - how impressive it was 
in the eyes of his little boy. 
Other dads' hands were cleaner, it seemed 
(the effects of their office employ). 

I gave little thought in my formative years 
of the reason for Dad's raspy mitts: 
The love in the toil, the dirt and the oil, 
rusty plumbing that gave those hands fits! 

Thinking back, misty-eyed, and thinking ahead, 
when one day my time is done. 
The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands 
will pass on to the hands of my son. 

I don't mind the bruises, the scars here and there, 
or the hammer that just seemed to slip. 
I want most of all when my son takes my hand, 
to feel that love lies in the grip.*
 
*SOURCE:  
http://www.fathersdaycelebration.com/fathers-day-poems.html.

STAYING POWER

6/11/2013

 
Exactly thirty years ago today, back on June 11, 1983, my beautiful wife and I were wed.  Outside of the relationship I have with my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, my relationship with my wife is the single most important relationship I have.

In a bit of irony, perhaps, my mother sent me the following humorous piece during this very week while I am  celebrating my thirtieth wedding anniversary.  I thought it was worth posting.

Dear Wife, 
 

I am writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you forever.  I've been a good man to you for seven years and yet I have nothing to show for it. 
 

These last two weeks have been horrible.  Then, your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today, and that was the last straw. 
 

Last week you came home and didn't even notice I had a new haircut, that I had cooked your favorite meal, or even that I was wearing a brand new pair of silk boxers.  
 

All you did was to eat in two minutes flat, and then go straight to sleep after watching all of your soap operas. 

You don't ever tell me you love me anymore.  Neither do you seem to want anything that connects us as husband and wife.   So, either you are cheating on me, or you don't love me anymore.  But, whatever the case, I am now gone! 
 

Your soon to be Ex-Husband 
 

P.S.  Your sister and I are moving away to West Virginia together!  My lawyer will be in touch!  Have a nice day.  
 

****************************************************************

Dear Ex-Husband, 
 

Nothing could have made my day more than receiving your letter.  Yes, it is true you and I have been married for seven years now.  But, I assure you that a good man is a far cry from what you have been. 

I watch my soaps a lot.  I do so because I hope they will drown out your constant whining and griping.  Too bad that does not appear to work. 
 

I did notice your haircut last week; but honestly, the first thing that came to mind was, 'You look just like a girl!'  Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you cannot say something nice, I decided not to comment. 

When you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with my sister, because I stopped eating pork seven years ago. 

And regarding those new silk boxers, I turned away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on them.  I can only pray that it was a coincidence that my sister had borrowed $50 from me earlier that same morning. 
 

Yet, after all of this, I still loved you and felt we could work things out.  So, when I hit the Lotto for $10 million this morning, I quit my job and went and bought us two tickets to Jamaica. 

However, when I got home, I discovered your note after you had left.  Oh well, I guess everything happens for a reason.  I really do hope that you will now have the fulfilling life you have always wanted.  
 

However, my lawyer said that the letter you left me ensures you will not get a dime from me.  So take care, and have a good life. 
 

Signed, 
Y
our Loving Ex-Wife 
 

P.S.  One last thing, I do not know if I ever told you this, but my sister Carla was actually born Carl and then had an operation.  I hope that's not a problem.

Yikes!  I can only hope this exchange was all fictional!  All jokes aside, though, one reasonably accurate indicator of a healthy, happy marriage is longevity.  This was underscored for me recently at my son’s wedding.  During the reception, the DJ called for a married couple’s slow dance.  My wife and I participated.
 
After a moment, he started weeding couples out, first asking  those married less than five years, then a little later those less than ten years, then fifteen years, etc…, each in turn to be seated.  My wife and were seated at less than thirty.  Eventually one couple was left.  Turns out they had been married 52 years.  
  
After the applause, someone asked them what the secret to a long marriage was.  The man replied, “Learn to say ‘Yes’ a lot!”  How true!  Marriage is about commitment, and also sacrifice.  In the area of giving and sacrifice, it has been said, marriage is less 50/50 and more 100/100. 

For my part, I’m thankful for thirty wonderful years of marriage.  I look forward to another thirty.  I trust my wife does as well.  Together, we’ll keep saying “Yes” a lot. And maybe, in the process, we’ll be an example to our children and grandchildren of what staying power is all about in a world where marriages all too often don’t stand the test of time.

HANG IN THERE!

6/6/2013

 
Mark Brunner is a Lutheran Lay Minister who owns and operates Beech Springs Consulting in Kewaskum, Wisconsin. He has also served as a teacher at Beech Springs Academy, which he founded along with his wife Holly in 1995.  
 
Some time ago, I recently came across a piece he wrote titled “A Gold Mine of Opportunity!”  In it, he tells the story about discouragement having caused a man to miss the opportunity of a lifetime.
 
There once was an old Dutch farmer who owned a farm in a semi-arid part of South Africa which had, over the years, gone from semi-arid to arid.  Even though his crop was wheat which required little moisture to grow and his few livestock did not require much in the way of feed and forage, as the land grew more and more arid, it was not long before the wheat that he did plant was stunted and fruitless while his livestock, bereft of adequate pasture, had to be sold.  

He loved the land.  It had been his father’s and that of his father before him. Y et, he slowly became convinced that his was the last farm on the land.  He would have sell and move on.  It would not be an easy thing to do since the land was no longer fit for farming or even grazing.  Who would buy it?  

Day after day he rode his horse out to a ridge in the center of his land, the highest point on his property.  From this vantage point he could see his entire ranch, the abandoned fields and the  dusty roads leading to and from his ramshackle barns.  In the distance he could hear the mournful lowing of the few cattle he had left.  It was his custom to ride out to this point, a rocky granite outcropping in the middle of nowhere, dismount and sit.  As he sat, he cried.


One day a man drove up from the city.  He had seen the ad in the paper for 400 acres of land for sale.  The price was right, only $25,000.  That came to less than $70 an acre.  He seemed all too happy to make the farmer an offer and the farmer was all too happy to accept the money for land that had little or no value to it as it was.  

Several weeks later, after the farmer had moved family and goods, the new owner came back to the land.  But, this time he did not come alone.  He brought with him a geologist and a small mining crew.  Less than a month later, news had quickly spread that a great discovery had taken place on an old farmstead near Durban, South Africa.  

One of the richest gold mines in Africa had been discovered on a rocky outcropping in the middle of an arid plain.  The spot marking the site of the first test core drilling was exactly the same spot that the old farmer used to use as his place to sit, cry, and mourn the uselessness and sterility of the land. 


Mark uses this story to illustrate a great tragedy:  just how close we often are to new opportunities when in the depths of sorrow and despair.  Yes, life can be pretty brutal. Because of this, it is so easy to get discouraged and simply give in and sell out to our fears. 

But God often delights in delivering us only when we have reached our own wits end. And He does this simply because he wants us to understand that He and He alone is our deliverer.  He and He alone can do what we could never hope to do in our own strength.

Mark uses this story specifically to illustrate the circumstances of  Joseph, who can be found in Genesis chapter 41 sitting in a dungeon down in Egypt, and thinking his whole world had come to an ignominious end, as he had been abandoned and all but forgotten.  And yet, God was about to open up doors of opportunity for him and his family that he had never foreseen. 

Indeed, the old adage is true:  it is always darkest just before the dawn.  But that does not mean we have been forgotten and/or abandoned by God.  What is does so often mean is that God finally has us just where He needs us in order for Him to do some great work in our life.
 
In our own Wednesday evening Bible study at church, we have been studying the book of Genesis.  Long before Joseph all but gave up in desperation, his father Jacob had experienced his own time of despair.  

As a young man, Jacob himself had left home and gone to far off Haran to seek a wife.  In the process, he had been tricked into fourteen years of bondage by his own uncle Laban.  He then worked another six years trying to get on his own two feet. During this period, he had his wages changed ten different times by Laban. 
 
It probably seemed to him as if everyone and everything was stacked against him.  Given this, it would have been understandable, perhaps, if he had simply chosen just to give up.  Yet, he did not.  He chose, rather, to persevere. He dreamed.  He innovated.  He worked hard.  He persisted.

And because of these things, God opened doors of opportunity for him that would soon  have many  far reaching consequences for him and his family.  So much so, that by the end of Genesis chapter 30, Jacob has become the most successful man in all of the land of the Arameans.
 
And God was just getting started.  Jacob would soon have his name changed to Israel.  And his twelve sons, each of whom had been born during this extremely difficult time in his life, would go on to found the twelve tribes of the nation of Israel.  

And through them, of course, God would ultimately fulfill His promise to Abraham to make his posterity as numerous as the sand of the sea.  More importantly, God would use one of these descendants, Jesus of Nazareth, to redeem all of fallen mankind, including you and me.  Thank God Jacob never gave up!
 
Are you currently sitting on a hill of despair?  Are you crying the blues?  That's okay.  It can be therapeutic to have an occasional pity party.  A good cry can be quite cathartic.  But having done so, be sure to look all around, and especially up above, before you give in and sell out to your fears. 

It may just be that God is about to open up a whole new world of opportunity in your life – one you never even saw coming.  And who knows?  By the end of this particular chapter in your life, you might just find that your entire world has been turned upside down!   Jacob did.  So did Joseph.  The same could have been true for an old Dutch farmer!  I hope it will be for you.

*NOTE:  Mark’s webpage is:
http://www.beechsprings.com/.

LIFE FROM GOD’S PERSPECTIVE

6/3/2013

 
I recently received the following by e-mail.
 
“CAN YOU RAED WAHT FLLOOWS?”  
 
7H15 M3554G3 53RV35
7O PR0V3 H0W 0UR M1ND5
C4N D0 4M4Z1NG 7H1NG5! 
1MPR3551V3 7H1NG5! 
1N 7H3 B3G1NN1NG 
17 WA5 H4RD BU7 
N0W, 0N 7H15 LIN3 
Y0UR M1ND 1S 
R34D1NG 17 
4U70M471C4LLY 
W17H 0U7 3V3N 
7H1NK1NG 4B0U7 17, 
B3 PR0UD!  0NLY 
C3R741N P30PL3
C4N R3AD 7H15. 
1F U C4N, YUO ARE 
08OIVSULY PTTR3Y
5ARMT!
 
Arppatnely, olny 55 people otu of 100 can raed this.  For my own prat, I cdn’uolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to rseearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, is waht is on dipslay hree. 

Yuo see, it rllaey dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres wthiin a word are in; the olny iproamtnt tihng is that the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. 
  
The rset can be a taotl mses and you can still raed it whotuit a pboerlm.  This is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but rthaer the word as a wlohe. Azanmig, huh?  Yaeh, and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was spospued to be very puipmorantt!

 
Amazing indeed!  And did you catch the explanation?  As long as the first and last letters are in order, your brain can read the word, even if the letters in between are all jumbled up.  
 
As I read this, I thought about life.  I was blessed to be born. To be is certainly better  than not to be!  It is a privilege just to be alive and experience all that life has to offer.  Of course, along the way, I  showed my frailty and shortcomings.  And Because of this, I got things more than a little jumbled up.  
  
But, praise God, I have been gloriously redeemed by Jesus Christ, the very Son of my Creator.  Because of this, I know I will be blessed beyond measure on that day when the Lord calls me home to Heaven.  And the world to come will definitely be far better than anything this present world has to offer!  
 
So, with a good beginning and an even better ending to my life assured, I have decided that it does not ultimately matter what will have befallen me anywhere in the middle.  I know that I will make it through to the end just fine.  For  the One Who has declared Himself the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End of all things, has already read the whole of my life; and He has seen it from the perspective of the whole of eternity.
 
My prayer, therefore, is that I will increasingly be able to look at life, with all its ups and downs, from God’s perspective, seeing life in its entirety, and from the perspective of eternity.  For I know that the more I do this, the more easily will I be able to take the seeming incongruities of daily life. And that will not only make life more bearable, but ultimately, more rewarding. 

    Cleo E. Jackson, III

    Occasionally I will add
    a few thoughts to my blog. If you find them inspirational, I will be
    honored.

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