(ring, ring) Hello
Oh, hi. What’s happening with you? Us? We’re watching Hellboy. Hellboy. Hell … Boy. Yes, it’s a movie. Well, what did we know? That’s right. Yeah! It’s a gas. No, I don’t understand much of it except he’s a super hero with an attitude. Oh, and cigars. He smokes cigars and has an attitude.. Plot? There’s a plot? Lots of monsters, but … yeah, he likes this Pyro Chick too. They grew up together in a lab or cave or something. She needs a little color.
Cool CGIs…. gross, elaborate, endless, but cool. Oh, fer sher, totally not the slightest Biblical except for some fire here and there. No, Pyro Chick is a good… uh, huh, and she even goes to coffee shops. And then there’s an amphibian guy, too. He swims a lot and eats rotten eggs.
Naw, other than that, nothin’ much goin’ on. What’s up with you?
Sequel? There’s a sequel…..? Well, not this week.
Good news
It appears the portrait was real, was really going on display. But the good news is that good people can really get something done when they speak up and stand up.
This will not be annoying anyone any time soon. But wait, there’s more only because there’s always more.
Repent
If you are a professed Christian, and you voted for this in spite of his record on infanticide, there’s still a chance to repent. It won’t change anything except you.
This time, I really, really get to be offended, outraged, livid and righteously indignant. This time, this image should get a reaction out of every Christian. If it doesn’t, and you don’t see anything wrong with it, change your mind or turn in your baptism certificate.
Next stop — eternity
He whose name is not written in the Lamb’s Book of Life will be cast into the lake of fire forever.
Why would a merciful and loving God create hell?
Let’s say instead….
Why would anyone reject a loving and merciful God who sacrificed so much to make a way to Heaven? To know about Him is not knowing Him. You have to introduce yourself.
When you choose to reject salvation, you choose to be sent to hell.
Simple.
The Light of the world came to us at Hanukkah, the festival of lights, near our celebration of Christmas. As it was in 2008, in 19 more years Hanukkah will coincide with Christmas again. When I say “came to us” I mean He was conceived during the festival of lights. The light came to earth like the rest of us, hidden in the womb for 9 months. He was born the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles in the fall.
Using the Christmas celebration as an illustration, picture the most wonderful gift you’ve ever seen or hope to see beautifully wrapped up, under the tree, with your name on it. Now imagine you leave it sitting there. You take down the tree and the house decorations, you put them up again next year and that gorgeous gift is still sitting there unwrapped. You’ve ignored it, stepped over it, around it, pushed it into a corner, dutifully dusted it, thrown coats on it in winter, even used it as a coffee table. You’ve convinced yourself that because it’s in your house, it’s serving a purpose.
You know what’s in it. Several people have told you. You know it doesn’t require anything more than grabbing it, literally receiving it to make it work in your life. Deep down you know it has no function until you claim it, even when your name is printed clearly on the tag. It’s of no use and cannot change, heal, or help you until you pick it up and open it. Your name is not in the Book yet until you claim the gift.
There’s a hell. We are all eternal no matter what you may have heard or thought was reasonable from someone you trusted or who you thought made sense. It’s clearly written in scripture, in the red ink. Our existence doesn’t just end in nothingness without Jesus and go on with Jesus.
There’s a hell. there’s a heaven. There’s a future with Jesus. We will live forever. What’s your forwarding address? There are two to choose from.
Not for Minnesota only
After the initial first cup of coffee, I’ll check the email for the WNOX weather report so I know which of my many gowns I wear to work and if I have to plan extra time to hunt down an umbrella which is more than likely in the car or at work. They include road reports so I know which part of the interstate I need to avoid and a line or two of news.
This morning I was skimming the email and listening to Fox & Friends out of the ear closest to the TV. Fox & Friends were reporting the group deaths of 14 polo ponies in a barn just before a race. The news line in the WNOX email was:
PETA is pecking away at NASCAR fans doing the chicken dance. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals wants the Guinness records people to ignore an attempt to set a new record for the chicken dance.
WHY? Are we insulting chickens? We EAT chickens! Hey, PETA! Concern yourselves with cock fights less than 25 miles from my house! Stop pit bull breeding! Investigate the polo ponies’ deaths! Invade puppy farms and if you’re so concerned with chickens, open the cages and command they run free, but THE CHICKEN DANCE??
Take a gander (pardon the pun) and lighten up!!
Not for sissies
If the theory of DNA Memory is true, that we genetically carry the footprints of our ancestors, shadows of their cultures, then there are sub-conscious rumblings in my soul and echoes of flutes and drums in my veins that connect me to Ireland . I close my eyes and see green hills and Maureen O’Hara.
No? I don’t believe the DNA thing either. It just sounded good. According to Ancestry.com my European heritage is all of Europe. Lines weave backward through myriad shire and kingdom finding root through Troy to Goshen back to Abraham himself.
Yet, I feel so much more Irish than say, Prussian or Italian. That could have something to do with growing up with the surname of Murphy and listening to Dad talking about his Murphy line, who was the immigrant, etc. Mom also spoke of her Dutch line of sailors. I just wasn’t that fascinated. Sorry, Mom. But, aye now, the Irish, the twinkling eyes, the roguish smiles, the castles, the green shutters and stone fences, the dancing and drums … much more fun than say, wooden shoes.
We’re watching the Best of Riverdance. When I emerged from the Celtic store in Gatlinburg last week proudly waving my purchase, my son-in-law chuckled and said “as opposed to the Worst Of?” After viewing of the Best Of and remembering my experience of the live performance in Minneapolis, I’ve concluded that the Worst Of would look the same. There is no Worst.
It can only be described as an experience. You watch, you feel, you meld with it and believe all you have to do is put on the tap shoes and you are one of them. That night my friend Lisa and I persisted 65 dark miles through winter wind and snow, and froze our fingers and cheekbones walking to the old Minneapolis Theatre. The stage was wooden, the floors were wooden, the seats creaky and packed close together, barely room to peel off the parkas.
Lisa educated me all the way there on theater behavior. She studied theater, there is protocol. There is prescribed pattern. By first curtain, if theater is a verb, I knew how to. Then the thunder of steeled toes and heels vibrated through the stage, the floors, the seats and penetrated the bodies. At the first opportunity to do so, the whole of the audience flew to their feet, shouting, whistling, applauding hard enough to wear on the tendon and joint. Lisa must have been in theatrical shock but she too rose to her feet eventually, commenting later that she thought she was at a hockey game after a double overtime.
You too can buy the DVD in Dolby, set up the surround sound, crank up the subwoofer, and swim in the magic of Riverdance. But …. until they’re in front of you on a wooden stage, passionately stomping out their heritage, until you’re watching “by the seat of your pants,” you haven’t felt Riverdance. If you have that opportunity, you just may hear some Irish in your blood.
As soon as I find that little camera cord …
Since the SD card I used in the camera this weekend is the weird one that won’t function simply by inserting it into the slotty thing, I need the cord to connect from the camera to the laptop. It’s 8:45, I’ve been up since 5:02, worked two extra hours and am in no way excited about digging around for a connecting cord. Besides, Fringe is coming on.
We spent 4 short days with our Seattle kids, daughter and son-in-law. If I could retrieve it, a picture would go here.
We played games, went to a movie, shopped, shot fireworks, ate at a way cool restaurant on a bluff, talked, grilled, celebrated Jesus’ resurrection, grilled some more, shot off fireworks, laughed, went to Ripley’s Acquarium in Gatlinburg, ate carmel corn, played mini-golf, and watched a couple of movies at home. All that took 4 whole days to pack it in but we managed.
Tuesday morning came all too soon and early too. So did clock in time at work.
Our workload is heavy if not heavier than it was before they cut staff. Now they have to kick in with the overtime, begging for it in fact. After 3 weeks of “thou shalt not clock in earlier than your appointed time, nor shalt thou clock out later than your appointed time, not one minute!” So much for cutting expenses. Speaking of cutting expenses, I headed for the kitchen for my coffee and saw a monstrous machine that actually requires MONEY, 50 cents to be exact. HAH! I went to Wally’s and got an air pot! Too bad, so sad. They’re not getting my 50 cents a cup. I figure it will take a couple of weeks, then my coffee is freeee, freeee, I tell you! And mine, miiiine….
I miss my kids. We’re scheduled to fly out there the first full week of June for a combination trade show for Honey and the rest of the week with the kids. They want to take us to Seaside for a couple days of fun on the beach. In the meantime, that feels like a long time away.
Gotta run. Fringe is on. There’s a heavily clawed mysterious people eater on the loose and I have to concentrate on the plot. I hope I’m not so tired I fall asleep in the middle and dream about it.
The biggest and the best day ever
The Resurrection, the climax to the greatest story ever told. God created the beauty and comfort of the garden for man. When Adam and Eve fell, the plot thickened. As the story unfolded — prophecies, the flood, kings good and bad, cycles of blessings and exiles, obedience and rebellion rolled through the ages — the common thread of promise was woven, that of a savior who would sacrifice Himself for all.
I am going to thoroughly enjoy our Easter Sunday celebration, all the music and the joy. I think He got out of that tomb immediately after midnight Saturday, that rolling the stone away and posting the angels was for the benefit of those who came to the tomb at dawn. I think the shroud is what they say it is, that being a proud Dad, God took a picture of his kid on His graduation from death to life. I think Yeshua greeted his disciples with a huge grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye — hugs all around, tears flowing freely, maybe even uncontrolled fist bumps and air leaps. I’m going to celebrate this holiday with all I’ve got in me!
But we’re missing a few things after 17 centuries of dilution, religious wars, distortion and antisemitism.
The feasts given to Moses in the wilderness were the pattern of how that promise first mentioned just prior to the expulsion from the garden would be fulfilled both in the coming of the sacrificial lamb which we celebrate now and that of the victorious conqueror, soon to come again.
This year I attended Passover with my Messianic Jewish friends. They set it a day early as Yeshua did that fateful year of His sacrifice, knowing He’d be “busy” on the cross as the real and final lamb precisely when lambs were being slaughtered in the temple. Passover is the 14th of Nissan also known as Aviv. That year it fell on the Sabbath, sundown on Friday, explaining the hurry to get Jesus’ body in the borrowed tomb late that afternoon.
Our Church traditions have disconnected from the Passover with both the Roman calendar based on the sun (they were sun worshipers) and by renaming His Passover celebration exclusively as The Last Supper. By doing so, we come away with only bread and wine, still a beautiful sacrament. We’ve even diluted the wine part of that last feast of Passover by interpreting His statement that He would not drink of the cup again until He returned, as a teaching against all kinds of alcohol consumption. Instead He was referring to the fourth cup of the Passover feast.
We’ve lost a vast amount of value and blessing by obliterating our Judaic roots without considering Yeshua’s Jewishness and that He followed all the customs and feasts as did the first century believers. Want to know how that happened? Here’s an excerpt from this:
Passover, which fell on the 14th day of the month of Nisan, always fell on a full moon. Some Christians, principally those in the East, known as the Quartodecimians, thought Easter, too, should always fall on the 14th day of the lunar month, which was, by definition, the full moon, since the month started at the new moon. Others thought Easter should always fall on a Sunday, since that was the original Resurrection Day. This led to conflict: One reason to convene the Nicene Council was to prevent the resulting, threatened schism.
The Council decreed Easter to be the first Sunday after the Full Moon following the Spring Equinox, March 21, unless that Full Moon fell on a Sunday (in which case Easter would be the following Sunday).
In addition to the perfectly reasonable desire to keep the memorial on the same day of the week as Christ’s Resurrection, there were other, ignoble motives for separating the Christian celebration from the Jewish holy day. In his letter to those not at the Nicene Council, the Emperor Constantine spells out some of what we would refer to as anti-semitism:
“Let us then have nothing in common with the detestable Jewish crowd; for we have received from our Saviour a different way.”
- Eusebius The Life of Constantine
Other Reasons for Easter’s Date
Revelation wisdom
This morning I simply could not sleep past 5:41. I had been rolling left to right and back again when a shoulder or entire arm tingled prior to finally opening my eyes long enough to focus on those annoying glow in the dark numbers.
sigh.. I smell coffee
After a few minutes of news during which OBF’s degrading international statements of shame and embarrassment over our country eliminated the need for more caffeine and created the need for a tranquilizer before 7:30 am. None available.
I turned the channel to ANYTHING else and landed on Joni Lamb’s interview with a rabbi whose name escapes me. He brought up gifts and passions. How many times have speakers encouraged us to use our gifts, to pursue our passions. He put a new spin, no, he turned it around 180 degrees.
For instance, his passion is fishing. He isn’t very good at it, but no one is going to pay money to watch. Nor will anyone be blessed watching him fish.
To pursue one’s own passion — not to be confused with one’s occupation(s) or hobbies in this discussion — solely for the sake of passion is self indulgent despite any level of noteworthiness and therefore selfish. Instead he said we needed to project our passion outward in service to one another at any opportunity with passion.
We get so hung up on works vs. faith. Entire denominations are formed and operate on works and rituals. One of our ministers, Calvin Milan, said faith and works were our two main oars on the row boat. One without the other will send us in circles. Good works will do good for the recipient every time so don’t stop. To do good for points, or worse, as a means to earn salvation, is without personal reward. There are points or there wouldn’t be crowns or the judgment of good works, but God isn’t sharing His system so don’t even try to figure it out.
The secret is obedience to God in doing work He instructs you do to, besides what you just plain feel like doing for others because you truly want to bless someone. It’s all such a mystery to us in this life. Sometimes He makes it very clear what He wants us to do and it makes no sense whatsoever. In this too, don’t ask for it to make sense, it’s probably not going to be revealed. Just do it without regard to points or crowns.
Doing what people need done for them with passion whether God issues the order or not, or giving because giving feels good to bless others, may become your passion if you let it, or your calling, or your mission. It doesn’t have to be money. It can be a smile, a helping hand, a listening ear, an expression of sympathy and understanding, a compliment.
It certainly can’t hurt.
Done?
Dining room. Done. We have reduced the dining room to the china cabinet, the table and chair set, one small marble top chest for hot dishes and a plant stand with a lamp on it. It is so done, we have grapefruit and oranges in a bowl on the table.
Bathroom. Done but for replacing the light fixture maybe in six months.
Fireplace wall. Done but for finding something to hang on it. We’re waiting for our daughter’s decorating talent. A good excuse to shop.
The taupe paint for the living room is being stored in its can until we recover.
We have to plan meals, vacuum one more time, dust, and set up a spare bed.
Other chores are finding a dress for next Sunday, something for my friend’s wedding and a few summer pieces. I hate shopping for clothes since my figure has, in Mom’s words, “settled.” Nothing settled. Everything puffed up like a blow fish. I wish it would settle.
Tuesday is Passover, Wednesday we launder, Thursday we go to choir followed by a quick late supper and pick up the kids at the airport.
Hopefully I will fire up the camera and update the FlickR account with new happy faces from the holiday weekend.
Meanwhile, work has taken on a new shadow — the headset tether to the telephone. I can work with a new system. I can adjust to my job getting complicated, changing into something unrecognizable with no pay adjustment, and changing my lunch break time. Being a sharp old bird, I can do all that easily. But the headset was not in the new team job description for which we all applied. Surprise…..! What could be a real road block is that I can’t wear a headband or eye glass frames for more than an hour before I get a throbbing headache. Why should a headset pressing on one side of my head 8 hours straight not do that?
We’ll see how it all goes down by noon tomorrow. Maybe it’ll rhyme with “pick-up” as in a four wheeled vehicle. Speaking of Obama …..
who is spending our grand-children’s wealth, released embryonic stem cell research after research has shown that adult stem cells work and embryonic doesn’t, put a tax cheat in charge of our treasurey, okayed we pay for international abortions, fired a private citizen from a private company, threatened CEOs from private companies with “I’m the only person between you and a pitch fork”, gave control of private companies’ executives’ pay scales to Europe at the G20 conference, sent his toadie to the supreme court to ask that he be allowed to ban books during election cycles that speak negatively of candidates, slipped a clause in the first money balloon that nobody read!!! that sets up computer control in less than 5 years on how and if you get your meds under the heading “Meaningful Use”, and now congress has a bill that would grant him control and oversight of the Internet. So much for the first amendment.
Let us not forget his stand on abortion. I guess we did forget. At the least, the 7 million evangelical Christians that tipped the scales in his favor forgot. Did anyone stop once to ask exactly what the change was?
Don’t blame me. I voted for Palin.
