Friday, September 16, 2016


  "High as heaven, that is the calling wherewith we are called. But this very height makes it seem impractical or impossible. It is natural to say - That was well enough for one so transcendently gifted as Paul to hope for: but I am no gifted person -- I have no iron strength of mind -- I have no optimistic or positive hopefulness of character --

I am disposed to look on the dark side of things -- I am undetermined, weak, vacillating; and beside that, I have a whole army of passions and follies to contend with. We have to remind ourselves of one thing we have forgotten: It is the high calling of God if you will; but it is the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. What the world calls virtue is a name and a dream without Christ. The foundation of all human excellence must be laid deep in the blood of the Redeemer's cross, and in the power of His resurrection." F. W. Robertson.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016


  Another young woman in her mid twenties came in for lunch at the mission and she was average looking, very lean and using heavy. She was doing what they call the "flail" which is moving about in a way that her body is difficult to control, not as though she were drunk, but it almost looks like the behavior of someone with M.S.
She was clothed in the most distressing manner; clothes dirty and messy, and her pants were unbuttoned and drooping off of her to the point her pubic hair was showing. She had the street grime on her feet and hands and I felt I just had to help her in some way and asked if we had a belt for her. We didn't but I realized it was impossible for me to do anything because she wasn't coherent and I'm sure she would have become combative if I had tried to help her in any way. I looked for a female volunteer but to no avail. So, I handed her the lunch and watched as she reeled and lurched her way out. Here I was right in the building where she could find safety, shelter and counsel and I was impotent to do anything. She just haunted me and her state of vulnerability was so perilous I just couldn't imagine her going a day without suffering some brutal attack. I found myself wondering whose daughter this was and the blood chilling horror they would feel if they saw her in this condition.

  The following day, and for a week now, she has been on my mind. We hear of people that are found dead and castaway in the city from time to time and I realized she may well be in one of those reports. So I write her story to help me remember to pray for her because I know at some point my memory of her will fade and she will become just one more nameless person on the streets. Oh God, help keep her safe.

Wednesday, September 07, 2016



  "It is a bad thing for a man to talk too much about his cares to anybody. Cares are very much like pimples; if you let them alone they will dry up and disappear." 
Henry W. Beecher. 

  "We must do something" is the unanimous refrain. "You begin" 
is the deadening reply. 
Walter Dwight. 

Tuesday, September 06, 2016

The following is a great piece on what a true Apostle looks like. 
Oh, to be more like this!


  
 "There is in most of us a fiber of self-will, of hardness, of stubbornness which we desire to be broken. If the light is clouded, and the joy is blotted out, and the energy burns low, it is not a sign that we have failed, but that the mind of God is bent still more urgently upon us. What we may pray for and desire is courage, to live eagerly in joy and not less eagerly in sorrow; to be self-controlled in happiness and courageous in trouble." Ruskin. 

   "One can hardly ever know enough of a man's temperament and antecedents to condemn him unreservedly. It is scarcely possible to be sure that a man is worse than he need have been, or that one would have done better if one had been in his place; and thus one must try to resist any expression of personal disapproval, because such an expression implies a consciousness of moral superiority, and the moment that one is conscious of that, as in the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, the position of the condemner and the condemned is instantaneously reversed." A. C. Benson.  


Monday, August 29, 2016


  If you are a gardener, ( and if not, my deepest sympathies) you will be transported to glory by this piece.


 "Independently of romantic rubbish, however, that old garden had its charms. On summer mornings I used to rise early, to enjoy them alone; on summer evenings, to linger solitary, to keep tryst with the rising moon, or taste the kiss of the evening breeze, or fancy rather than feel the freshness of dew descending. The turf was verdant, the graveled walks were white; sunbright nasturtiums clustered beautiful about the roots of the doddered orchard giants. There was a large berceau, above which spread the shade of an acacia; there was a smaller, more sequestered bower, nestled in the vines which ran all along a high and grey wall, and gathered their tendrils in a knot of beauty, and hung their clusters in loving profusion about the favored spot where jasmine and ivy met and married them." Charlotte Bronte.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Moments of inspiration


The following is a description of Helen, a fourteen-year-old girl and a moment of inspiration that overtakes her conversation and the impact it had on Jane Eyre, a girl of eleven, as she listened and watched her.

  "The refreshing meal, the brilliant fire, the presence and kindness of her beloved instructress, or, perhaps, more than all these, something in her own unique mind, had roused her powers within her. They woke, they kindled: first, they glowed in the bright tint of her cheek, which till this hour I had never seen but pale and bloodless; then they shone in the liquid luster of her eyes, which had suddenly acquired a beauty more singular than that of Miss Temple's -- a beauty neither of fine color nor long eyelash, nor penciled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance. Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell: has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hold the swelling spring of pure, full fervid eloquence? Such was the characteristic of Helen's discourse on that, to me, memorable evening; her spirit seemed hastening to live within a very brief span as much as many live during a protracted existence." Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre.