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Between Sorrow And Joy
I recently read someone’s observation that Good Friday is the end of all things, and also the beginning of all things. The phrase is a barbed one; it stings and stays with me. I think on how Christ’s disciples must have felt after their master was lowered from the cross. limp and bloodless and silent as a slaughtered lamb. The women took charge of caring for His body, and they must have discussed the burial details with the generous Arimathean, Joseph, and the men present must have seen the body taken away, and then the reality settled down on them. How silent it must have been. In their shock and…
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And About The Ninth Hour…
It is now three p.m. here, the ninth hour of the day if reckoned by the timekeeping of the earthly days of our Lord Jesus Christ. Either He died as the holy apostles have told us, or He did not. It was either accomplished for us, or it was not. His followers are either the most wretched of all men, or we are not. This is not the hour for arguments or syllogisms or debate. This is the hour when I am compelled to whisper, “Lord, remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy kingdom. Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief. Lord, increase my faith. Lord Jesus, receive my…
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The Third Sunday in Lent
My Old Farmer’s Almanac tells me that today marks the beginning of the hummingbirds’ migration north. The little wonders will arrive here and we will have their feeders ready for them, and our hearts will be glad to see them, and we will enjoy their company morning and evening as they swoop past and talk to us with their whirrs and squeaks. Speaking of birds, I have neglected to mention that we have a lovely little screech owl living in our barn. She was perched on the limb of the maple out back the other night when I was outside with Jinx, and she flew closer to the house and…
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Passion And Warfare
A light rain was falling this morning when I let Jinx out. I busied myself with my morning routine, and after a while I went to check and see if the spotted menace wanted back inside. I opened the door and took a breath into my lungs, preparing to call his name. That’s when I saw what looked like a short, medium-sized dog trundle across the front yard, just outside of the reach of the porch light. Then it registered. Coon. A big one. I looked around to see if Jinx was in sight, and then I called with a thin and tentative voice. “Jinx? Come on in, boy.” I…
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Perchance, Perchance
My questions never end, you know. And sometimes I am unprepared to even ask them, to form them into sensible words. I awaken sometimes and am so sure, so very sure, that someone...someone was talking with me just before I opened my eyes. I kick back to the surface of Here and when I lift my conscious face out of Wherever I Was, I am disoriented and off-balance, as if someone pulled a crutch from beneath my arm or a chair from under me. Perhaps my Father has sealed the answers to my questions in a scroll, in a book, and perhaps I am the only one worthy to break…