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Whatever is Pure - Easter 2010 Behold The Man Behold the man! For our transgressions, he was scourged Hear the sound of nails being driven See the empty tomb where he lay Behold the Man!, Jesus Christ! © written in Jesus name by: Mrs. Geraldine Rose 6/12/2003 The Day I Received my Crown You gave into death For Satan had overpowered us The devil thought he had us But early Sunday morning You see the power started with me God Word was this man ©2010 Sharona Franks The Finches The Finches What a Breath taking wonder is the arrival of Spring!! The impressive silence of the bleak, stark, stillness of an Ontario winter causes thoughts of life renewal to fade somewhat. Even though, I celebrate all of the seasons, and enjoy the uniqueness of each. ..But… LOOK!! Can you see the tiniest of green shoots peeping above the crusty ground along the house there? Look at those tiny snowdrops! They risk a little peek at the sun from under the wintery skeletons of garden shrubbery! Listen! Do you hear the familiar trills and warbles of our returning little birds? Can it really be Spring? Very early, one recent morning, while I sipped a freshly-brewed cup of coffee, I was distracted by great fluttering and activity that was taking place on our balcony, barely 12 inches from our breakfast table. A delightful couple were discussing the existing dimensions and floor space of an outdoor hanging wicker shelf. Seemingly, Mr. & Mrs. R. Finch discovered that shelf had prospects and could provide an exciting real estate. Red Finch, with his spry energy, regal red head, shoulders and chest plumage, appeared to be absorbed in persuading his love, Virginnia Finch, to agree with him. His well rehearsed routine of strut and sway, (used only as a ‘last resort’ for persuasion purposes) began in soft and blissful rhythm. His natural gift of choreography, combined with his dashing performing talents were winners in his ‘beloved’s eyes! Virginnia’s coy glances, though appearing to be preoccupied with her own preening, betrayed her delight as ‘Red’ performed his repertoire for her alone. Decisions and details, following an obviously private yet loving communication, resulted in construction commencing promptly - very early the next day. This dream home was definitely a work of their new love. However, as both were perfectionists, this tiny couple settled for only the highest quality of straw-ish bricks, teeny twigs, dry grasses and fluff and strands of pink and brown ribbon, which they gathered and inspected themselves. Each morning, I was amazed by the progress. One morning however, my breakfas companion and I sensed that was quiet! Our raised eyebrows to each other said it all as we turned back to watch Mr and Mrs Finch. There was ‘Red’!!, quietly strutting and preening himself. Four of the sweetest, tiniest eggs lay nestled amongst Virginnia’s finest down, accented by pink ribbon rosettes. This new nest had quickly become "The Finch Family Home" Red quietly hovered overhead, and daringly perched on our railing, with just a couple of ‘chirping’ sounds to remind his little wife that he loved her. He attended Virginnia’s joy as she snuggled her new eggs. He served her lunch. He swept up stray bits from the wicker home. Red was proud and able to keep Virginnia happy and fed so she could keep their beautiful tiny new eggs, warm and safe. I know that it is Easter! As Christians, we celebrate Easter, on bended knee. The Greatest tragedy and yet the Greatest gift and ecstasy from Almighty God Himself! What enormity of love, that he, the Lamb of God, would die for us and forgive all of our sins. Then with one defiant act against all evil, He rose again, conquering death. How great the process of New Life! Just as we celebrate this Easter Season, we also celebrate the Gift of the Resurrection. Jesus promised all of us who believe in His Death, and the Glory of His Resurrection, that our sins would be forgiven, and we would live forever with Him in Paradise. With greatest humility and thanks, we accept His offer for all - that of new life in Him. ©2010 Helen Mailer His Majesty's Whisper I live in the Pacific Northwest, home of the Cascades, Mount Rainier, towering evergreens, soggy weather and some Really Big Trees. Every time I look out my window, I’m reminded of Psalm 111:2, 3: Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them. Glorious and majestic are his deeds, and his righteousness endures forever. Each mountain bristling with evergreens is a reminder. Every hike along a laughing lake nudges. Every singing stream speaks. Sunsets, daffodils, starry skies and soaring eagles tug at my sleeve, reminding me of the One who created them and says, "I’m here!" If I look, I find myself surrounded by awe, by God tossing testimonies like darts at a board: "I am! I am!" Have you ever done the same? When? You may live in the mountains, desert, plain or prairies or near the beach, but wherever you are, can you pause a moment and open your eyes and ears? Do you, like me, ever wonder how we can live in a world dripping with wonder and majesty and lose sight of the Wonder Maker? We do, don’t we? We get so used to grace that we become jaded. So familiar with faithfulness that we yawn. God’s daily care, protection, and lovingkindness? A tomb minus a body? Hand me another pillow. Worse yet, we demand more. God provides a house and we want a bigger one. He opens doors to a new job and we demand a quick promotion. He gives us a reliable Chevy and we want a BMW. More signs. More proof. More wonders. As if God resides in an Aladdin’s lamp, a cosmic genie we can summon at will, expecting Him to grant our every wish. Can I ask you something? Have you lost your sense of awe? Are you reluctant to let your jaw drop, to suck in your breath and chime a carillon of "wow’s"? Why? Maybe the frequency of wonders blinds us to their beauty. Wrapped in regularity, we yawn at the passage of seasons, shrug at the complexity of snowflakes, take children and grandparents for granted. We swap the extraordinary for the everyday. Theology may "explain" the miraculous. Science may chart a map to the land of humdrum. Statistics stifle our oos and ahs. Don’t be fooled. Do you want to see the Lord’s face, witness His majesty? Then dig out your sense of awe. The next time you hear a wren warble, smell a honeysuckle bloom, stroke a baby’s cheek, or stare in mute marvel at a soaring spruce tree, pay attention. I have it on good authority that if you listen, you’ll hear His Majesty’s whisper: "I’m here!
HEvencense - Exploring the delightful, sometimes dangerous and often mysterious realm of Christian womanhood with candor, hope, and faith.
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