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Showing posts from May, 2015

The Great Adventure

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"Go with God into the limitless possibilities of Spirit-led living. Set no other lower horizon. Be surprised with unexpected opportunities to bless. Regard His awesome Creation and Church as a partnership matter. Spread the Good News of unimagined liberty and peace in and through Jesus. As Steve reminds us in the song, the love of God will take us far beyond our wildest dreams." (Doug)

Touching Him

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A classic song, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand”(1921) Apparently Myra Brooks Welch submitted her little poem to a church periodical. It was a blessing, but later came to be named “Anonymous”. A song was composed, as might be expected. In one convention after a reading, a man stood up and claimed that the words were those of his mother Myra Brooks Welch. She had been confined to a wheelchair and ravaged by arthritis. Writing was increasingly difficult with gnarled hands. Nevertheless the incredible joy of the Lord came to her in poems and the world was the richer. She once told her son that the poem was truly the Lord’s, having come to her in thirty minutes’ time and without any difficulty.


Our Little Lives: David Steindl-Rast and Film by Louie Schwartzberg

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How Can It Be?

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Love of Christ

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I can't contain this thing inside
It grows with each new morn
And helps me see the needs so real
Of lonely and forlorn
Of hurting and self-loathing
In town, at work, next door
Of all the ones in need of Christ
I never saw before.
It makes no sense to plead the case
Of those I never knew
But pray I do, and comfort too
For truly Lord, it's You.
You walk these streets and offer smiles
And help the old to cope
You hug a child and calm the wild
And give the hungry hope.
It's not a job; a life instead
To serve the Man of Peace
So use this clay, yes e'en today
In wondrous Love's release.

The Carters

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Where are you headed Friend?
Pushing that thing
Holding your precious strange cache
Night proved a damp one
The kind you must hate
Hiding yourself and your stash.
You see it all each day
Good haps and bad
Wisdom obtained on the race
Sunshine and blasting
They wear you right down
Shows in the marks on your face.
Women are at this too
Sad 'tis to say
Muttering their simplest of song
Eyes cast to sidewalk
In dreams of the past
Constables urge "Move along"
Reason is fleeting
But "Carters" deny
Anything wrong in the head
This their profession
To just make it through
Many a Friend ends up dead.
Should be a job
Or a service to give
Sidewalk no place for a soul
Daily their task
Just to live and let live
Folk stare and judge, hale and whole.