Whispers of Truth

Yesterday I had another wheel class at pottery, and honestly it was a little rough. I went to class already frustrated at my puppy for not cooperating with my schedule. Then, when class began, the teacher told us to prepare twice as much clay as usual to throw in our two-hour lesson because we were going to cut our pieces open and examine them.   Initially this horrified me. If I actually managed to make a piece I liked, it would be sliced in half. Ruined. Destroyed intentionally. My fear was that I would make the prettiest piece yet (still, not much to look at based on my skill level) and would lose it. But I wanted to be better than I was, so I made my preparations, c arefully measuring out the same amount of clay for four pieces and preparing each piece by wedging it, working it to make it pliable, to get out any air that might be trapped in it that would prevent our clay from centering.  Then we sat down at the potter’s wheel, our teacher watching us carefully to see problems with

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reversals The stench overpowered me as I stood looking down at the rubble of the ruins that was my life,              And I knew the truth was in them somewhere.                                                                                              All that was left of all I had known pulled me home,                                                                                       So I reversed the path of my lostness toward my father.                                                                               T he journey home seemed longer than it had when left, but I kept walking.   As I drew closer, I saw what I had left behind and almost lost what little courage remained; I lifted my eyes and saw my father running, towards me, and I fell to my knees before him, head bowed, Through tears uttering the words I had practiced and perfected this

WE who’ve been given so much in Christ must be careful not to cause offense in a world that neither understands nor has our freedoms about which Galatians 5:13 says we are “called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” As I read again through the gospels, I am picking up more and more on the word offense as it plays out in Jesus’ conversations, probably because I am seeing more and more that the so-called Christians in the world in which I am currently living are walking selfishly, giving offense rather than doing all they can to live at peace with everyone (Rom. 12:18). Living at peace while walking in the love of Christ and His truths allow us opportunity to extend the gospel that we do not have when we walk in selfishness.  There are many contexts in the gospels for the discussion of offense.The Pharisees and the scribes are often offended by Jesus, especially when they feel He has broken one of their

I’ve been chewing on this since yesterday, rather cow-like (sorry, I grew up on a farm spending far too much time watching cows chew their cud). Actually, I’m not sorry if that grosses you out. because it is the best way I know to explain how I digest Scripture. When I first read it, I swallow it best I can, usually quickly as I tend to read large amounts at one time. Then, it comes back up in my thoughts and I dwell on it, chewing it up and swallowing it again with more understanding or sometimes more questions. At some point what I've read is finally digested.  I know that I sound like a broken record sometimes, but as I have read through a chronological arrangement of the Scriptures this year, things have clicked like they never have in all my years of reading and studying. Maybe it is getting to a certain passage and seeing it linked to another relative passage that in the regularly arranged canon is far removed from it, maybe it is seeing the repetition that occurs when that

“If teachers be removed into corners, it is better to go after  them than to be without  them.”    - Matthew Henry Dr. Richard Freeman, my children’s Auburn pediatrician when they were babies, told me often when I would ask about one of my children not liking anything I put in front of him, “He will eat when he gets hungry. Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t starve to death physically (spiritually is quite another matter) and he did eat but only what he wanted when he wanted it regardless of my battles otherwise. In my own life, I too have often felt the need to be “fed” what I wanted when I wanted it, and at the time thought I was starving to death. In fact, I still get hungry at times, but nothing like I did in my youth when I was starving. Let me explain. I grew up in a tiny rural church where truth was preached but growth was limited, where the gospel was proclaimed but lives were often stunted. What I looked at as a youth as being limited mainly due to numbers in reality was limi