God

Is it significant that a back-to-front dog becomes God, while a slightly more contorted cat becomes act (probably with a small 'a')?? Must have a word with Sirius (which reminds me, on behalf of all cats, why is there no cat-star?)

God Moves in a Mysterious Way
by William Cowper

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

An agnostic dyslexic insomniac is someone who stays awake all night wondering if there really is a dog.

'I refuse to prove that I exist,' says God, 'for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.'

'But,' says Man, 'The Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED.'

'Oh dear,' says God, 'I hadn't thought of that,' and promptly vanished in a puff of logic.

'Oh, that was easy,' says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing.

Once or twice--well, no, not a god, actually, but a responsive spider. 1. sitting on the ground with her (then)lover, Ted, in some afternoon-filtered sunshine. Late late autumn in a part of the world where winter barely arrives --the sun is still strong on on skin and clothes are still light weight. Ted is leaving soon and they are uncertain of when they will see each other again. Ted sees a tiny spider walking on the leg of his jeans. He says to the spider, »Tie me to Belle--c'mon, I'll give you a quarter.«
Immediately, like a close up slo-motion sequence from a PBS science special: the spider launches a gossamer web thread into the air, with a kind of shower of crystal almost-sparks, the thread sails across the gap between the lovers and connects at Belle's knee. The spider walks across.

Please tell me why God allowed over 6000 innocent people to be murdered on September 11, 2001?

Answer?

I don’t know.

Where was God?

I don’t know.

When Leslie Weatherhead, a minister in London during the Second World War, was asked by a member in his congregation where God was when his son was killed in a bombing raid, Weatherhead replied, »I guess he was where he was when his son was killed.«

And where was that?

I don’t know.

Isn’t »I don’t know« too ambiguous? Isn’t »I don’t know« an unconvincing way to convince young people Christianity is true?

Actually, »I don’t know« confirms one critical truth about Christianity…it’s a mystery!

Jesus loves us, right?

Of course.

So if he loves us, he protects us, right?

If he loves us…he is with us.

Jesus can heal, can’t he? And perform miracles?

Of course. Just not very often.

Why?

I don’t know.

What about God’s will?

My youth director says we’re supposed to seek God’s will. There are lots of verses in the Bible that tell us to do God’s will, aren’t there? God does have a will, right?

Absolutely.

Trouble is God’s will is not like a to-do list. It’s more like an undecipherable code. The Bible definitely gives us some clues about the code of God’s will, which means we can figure out part of it; but, because it’s God, we will never crack the code.

Clues?

Yeah, like, follow me, serve me, love me, live by my commandments, point people to me.

That’s it? Just follow me, serve me, love me and trust me?

That’s about it.

What do you mean »that’s about it?«

You don’t want to know.

Yes I do.

We get a cross.

Cross????? What does that mean?

I don’t know.

But God does heal people, doesn’t he?

Certainly.

And miracles do happen, don’t they.

Right.

So we can count on God helping us, can’t we?

We can count on God being God.

Which means…??

I don’t know.

And what does that mean?

It means we can trust God if we lost someone in the WTC or if they survived.

It means we can trust God when we have cancer and when we’re healed.

We can trust God if we survive a natural disaster or if we don’t.

We can trust God when we get a glimpse of Divine will and when we don’t.

We can trust God in the answers and the questions, in the good and the bad, in the light and the dark, when we’re winning and when we’re losing.

We can trust God even when the Truth doesn’t answer all our questions or leaves us with even more questions.

And, most importantly, just beyond our »I don’t know’s,« Jesus is waiting with open arms to snuggle us in the mystery of his love.

I have always felt that the differences between Native American beliefs and Christianity are only in the way the Story is told. I have long believed that the Great Spirit and God are one in the same. After all, God tells us that there is only One God for all peoples, no matter what we call him.

I am not a Native American, my ancestors come from England and Germany. I was raised in a Congregational church where they taught me about God and Christ and the Holy Spirit. The Holy Trinity. As an adult, I became disenchanted with organized religion and sought a more personal relationship with Him. For many years I took Him for granted, I knew He was there because He said so. I just didn't feel any special closeness at that time. I was in church choir, and attended Sunday school. I even taught little ones for a time.

After I finished high school, I went for 2 years to Junior College and then I worked in a department store for awhile. While working at the store, I the man that I marrried. He was not a Christian, he was divorced and had 5 kids. Soon, we added our own little one to the family. I used to tell the kids about Jesus. I would buy the story books and Children's Bibles to share with them. Still, the closeness wasn't really there, not that I could feel anyway. We had temporary custody of his kids for the first three years of our marriage and then his exwife came and got them.

I went to church off and on over the years. I took my daughter to Sunday School and for many years she was in the children's choir. Jim, even though he hadn't been saved, never objected to our going, but as the years went by, we drifted away from church. The final straw was when, after my husband died, we sought counselling through the pastor for my daughter and he told her that I didn't need the additional expense of professional help to guide her through her grief. (She was only 13 years old) He told her to just give her pain to the Lord and she would be fine.

It was in 1976, when Jim became ill with Cancer. By this time, we had been blessed with three children of our own. Tracy, a son, in 1969, and John,in 1974. He was a man with many flaws, but he loved his children with passion. He was good to the kids (and to me) but alcohol was his personal demon. He was never physicall abusive but the alcohol gave him a mean mouth at times and he could be very argumentative.

In November of '76, he had his first bout with the cancer. He was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. This was when I had my first encounter with an angel (I'm sure that is who he was). Everyone was asking me how I was getting to the hospital, I replied that I would drive there. A man stepped out from behind our friend and said: »No, I am here to take you there.« He put me in his car, drove me to the hospital, and stayed until my mother-in-law got there. Then he dissapeared, no one saw him leave and no one saw him again. No one knew who he was.

Jim was in and out of the hospital for the next month, he was in terrible pain the whole time. Our neighbor, a lay pastor from a Christian Reformed church, tried many times to see him. Jim always refused him. On December 18 or 19, Mr. Buikema was preparing for his evening services when he heard a voice tell him to go to Jim, that he would be ready to see him. (Mr. B told me this later) All of Jim's family was gathered at the hospital when Mr. B arrived. We were all concerned about Jim's reaction to his presence, so I took the doctor aside and asked him to go in the room with Mr. B. Normally, he wouldn't do that, he said, but because he'd known me since I was a child, he would. When we came out of the room across from Jim's, Mr. B. was already coming out of his room. His family was in tears, and his brother, who didn't believe in anything, reached out, shook Mr. B's hand, and through his tears thanked him for what he had done. Mr. B motioned for me to go on in and said he would see me at home later. I went in the room, Jim was resting comfortably for the first time. There was such a look of peace on his face. Mr. B. told me later, that Jim had become as a child, they prayed together, and Jim asked for forgiveness and accepted Jesus into his heart.

The next day, Monday, the doctor said that Jim might not make it through Christmas. I went and prayed. I asked that He take Jim Home that night and to please take the pain away first. That day, Jim refused any thing to eat or drink and later, that night, he shed his pajamas and would not put them back on. He then went to sleep for awhile. I also went to sleep (they had brought a roll away bed in for me). Jim's sister stayed there with me that night.

I slept for 2 or 3 hours when I was awakened by a male voice calling my name. Jim was the only man in the room, and he was to weak to even whisper, let alone call out. I feel, in my heart, that it was the voice of the one who brought me to the hospital that day, the same voice, perhaps that told Mr. B. that Jim was ready. When I went to his bedside, I could see that the pain was gone, his breathing was somewhat labored, and the end was near. Jim died that morning, December 21, 1976, quietly, free from pain and full of the Love of Jesus. I know that I will see him again.

I know that this is a very long letter, but I wanted to share just ONE of the miracles the Lord has given to my family. There are two more major ones that He has blessed this family with. Some day I would like to share those with you too. I look back and see so many things that He has done to Bless my life with and I am in awe. HE REALLY DOES LOVE ME !

Love and Peace, Your sister in Christ, Barb

Aged three, I was spotted with my mouth open as my revered five-year old cousin (just back from Scripture class in kindergarten) told me in lordly fashion »God is everywhere, you know, he is even in that wheelbarrow...«. No doubt the reason why one is nearer God's heart (and backside, sitting in that wheelbarrow) in a garden than anywhere else on earth.

In his book, The Easy Yoke, Doug Webster retells a great Wil Willimon story about a young, idealistic college student who ended up in one of the worst-looking housing projects in Philadelphia.

A brand-new Christian, this wide-eyed urban missionary didn’t have a clue how to evangelize in the middle of the city. Frightened and anxious to share his new faith, the young man approached a very large, intimidating tenement house. Cautiously making his way through the dark, cluttered hallways, he walked up a flight of stairs and heard a baby crying. The baby was inside one of the apartments. He knocked on the door and was met by a woman holding a naked baby. She was smoking, and she was not in the mood to hear about Jesus. She cursed at the boy and slammed the door. The young man was devastated. He walked outside, slumped down on the street curb, and cried. »Look at me,« he said to himself. »How in the world could someone like me think I could tell anyone about Jesus?«

Then the young man looked up and saw a dilapidated old store on the corner. It was open, and he went inside and walked around. It was then that he remembered the baby in the tenement was naked and that the woman was smoking. So he bought some diapers and a pack of cigarettes and headed back to the woman’s apartment. He knocked on the door, and before the woman could start cursing him, he slid the cigarettes and diapers inside the open door.

The woman invited him in.

The student played with the baby. He put a diaper on the baby—even though he’d never put a diaper on a baby before. And when the woman asked him to smoke, he smoked—even though he’d never smoked before. He spent the whole day playing with the baby, changing diapers, and smoking.

Late in the afternoon the woman asked him, »What’s a nice college boy like you doing in a place like this?« He told her all he knew about Jesus. Took him about five minutes. When he stopped talking, the woman looked at him and said, »Pray for me and my baby that we make it out of here alive.« He prayed.

This young man’s story is a freedom story. Because of his freedom in Christ, he was led by the Holy Spirit to change diapers and, well...smoke. If this young man were in your youth group and gave this testimony, I have a strong feeling many Christians wouldn’t be celebrating his freedom in Christ—they’d be asking you what was going to be done about his »indiscretion.«

Trouble is, what he did was a Spirit-led indiscretion. Paul said it best: »Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom« (2 Corinthians 3:17). And in this situation, he was free to smoke.

Uh oh. When Jesus says the truth sets us free, he isn’t kidding.

The trouble with modern Christianity is that we’ve tried to de-fang the truth. Freedom in Christ does have fangs. Sharp ones. That’s why, when Christ was around, people weren’t afraid to tear roofs apart and let little children run out of control. The freedom Jesus is about isn’t a nice, religious concept or a cute idea—it’s a wild, dangerous, shocking, upsetting, uncomfortable, daring, threatening truth. Freedom in Christ means we are free to fail and free not to fail; we are free to follow Christ and free to run from him; we are free to obey and free not to obey; we are free to sin and free not to sin.

Freedom in Christ makes us all extremely nervous. It should! Because freedom in Christ isn’t a youth ministry issue, it’s a soul issue. Although the Spirit of God calls us to freedom, many of us have allowed our bosses, our churches, and our parents to quench the Spirit and kill the life within us. Then, instead of following Christ, we start following policy, parental expectations, and staff directives. And suddenly we find ourselves exhausted, burned out—our souls lifeless and dead.

Freedom in Christ is very hazardous to our jobs, too. It means we’re more afraid of disappointing Jesus than we are of being fired. Freedom in Christ means we have the courage to ask why our staff meetings are about church business instead of about Jesus.

Freedom is a wonderfully risky consequence of listening to the wild whispers of Christ’s Holy Spirit and sharing those whispers with our students.

»Are you tired?« Jesus asks. »Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me, and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly« (Matthew 11:28-30, The Message).

What is Jesus whispering to you? Are you too busy? Then slow down. Quit programming so much. Quit trying to fix everybody. Take time to savor Jesus’ love for you—and let him run freely in your soul.

Ummm...no. I used to thinnk he did when I was a little girl because everyone always said he did. But then I grew up and started thinking for myself and learning things people tend to just not tell you. Like the fact that there have been dozens more religions before Christianity or Catholisism and whatnot. I believe there is a supr3eme entity out there but for the most part »God« is just someone maade up by government for control. Not that people don't need God, even if he is fake, though. If people all knew that there was no God then complete chaos would probably take control. People would panic. But if there was a God I would want to sent a big »Fuck You« out there for creating a planet and then just giving up on it or never even caring. For all I know we could just be some science experiment went bad. God must be sadistic if he is really true. To create such a place of pain, agony, torture, misery, sadness, a place with so many wars and starving children. God isn't there, if he is he sure as hell isn't going to help anyone. When little kids are raped and murdered, that's when you know there is no God out there to help you.