Aug 242012
 

Please pray for baby Bennet. He’s in NICU, they are running tests on his heart. Problems with blood sugars and heart rate. Please pray.

 Posted by at 4:17 pm
Aug 242012
 

I instinctively scanned each license plate in the parking area without even thinking about it.

My native instincts were correct as always…the lot to the viewpoint and trails was infested…with Californians.

I’m not prejudiced, but…

 

Growing up in Oregon we always believed we should be able to trap and release them as we did with other pests and vermin.

We wanted to protect a way of life and ways of living that meant little to our wealthy, brash southern neighbor.

Now there are more of them then there are of us, because we sold our souls for thirty pieces of California silver.

As we got on the trail, there they were.

A buffoon drinking from a massive beer bottle as his kids ran screaming up and down the path.

Upteen obvious tourists with cameras running to take a picture of something they couldn’t truly see and then rushing away thinking they had accomplished something.

“Baby, this sign says this is lava. Don’t you need a volcano to have lava”? “Har, har, har”.

I wanted to tell him there were two volcanos…one about twenty five miles from where he was standing and another one standing next to him.

Farther up the trail two young people were discussing how to “conquer” the river in a kayak…I told them that we may or may not be able to recover their bodies.

They were interlopers, foreigners, and they were robbing me in broad daylight of all I hold precious.

I hate their chatter…I cannot hear the voice of God in the waters, the greeting of the birds from tree to tree above their blather.

I had come to hear Him and to smell the the incense of God as He warms the Douglas fir with the sun to release their fragrance.

I had come to worship in my holy place and the barbarians had sacked the temple.

The beer swilling buffoon tossed his bottle into the underbrush, gathered his herd and moved to the next place to desecrate.

We pressed on up the trail and sitting at my favorite viewpoint were two more of them.

They were elderly and silent…a walker stood vigil next to the bench, she held a rosary.

After a few minutes the old man spoke…”We want our ashes laid here to rest for this is the hand of God”.

I nodded in approval…he understood.

My earthly remains will also await His coming from this spot.

I asked him where he was from.

“Riverside…California”.

The river roared with the laughter of God, the birds and trees sang together and incense flooded the temple.

God has His people everywhere.

Even California.

Make your own application.

Aug 222012
 

While I’m working out the kinks here, the blog will be heavily moderated.

I apologize for the inconvenience and we’ll approve comments as fast as we can.

Aug 222012
 

CHRIST did truly rise again from death, and took again His body, with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining to the perfection of man’s nature, wherefore He ascended into heaven, and there sitteth until He return to judge all men at the last day.

The third article, as a quick refresher, was, ” Christ died for us, and was buried, so also is it to be believed that He went down into Hell.”

The fourth article is, at least to me, a no-brainer. As always, anyone is welcome to lay into it. Is this essential? Are you out of the family if you reject such a belief?

Personal note: Welcome back! I was absolutely thrilled with the response to these threads previously. Thanks for discussing! Love you folks!

 Posted by at 6:35 pm
Aug 222012
 

In the Rogue River Gorge there is a sign drawing your attention to a…stump.

The stump was once a great fir tree but it was arbitrarily cut down by men, yet the tree didn’t die.

You see, the trees here in the Gorge are living in shallow topsoil on top of lava rock so instead of shooting roots deeply into the ground the tree roots find other firs and connect with their roots.

Thus, the trees nourish each other and even when cut down they can still survive with the help of the community.

Without those connections providing nourishment and refreshment the stump…and the other trees now connected to it…would be left alone to contend with forces of nature and the whims of men.

However strong they may be, the unconnected tree will eventually lose those battles.

The tree with its roots in the community will survive, even when cut down in it’s prime.

The stump, though stricken down, is not only living but it is a source of life for its community.

Need I tell you to make your own application?

 

%d bloggers like this: