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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
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“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. . . . Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord. . . .” ― Charles Spurgeon “Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ― C. H. Spurgeon “Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.” ― Charles Haddon Spurgeon “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” ― Charles Spurgeon “A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.” ― Charles Spurgeon “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” ― Charles Spurgeon “When your will is God's will, you will have your will.” ― Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV)    |
| Spinning Hole of Blackness rare shreds all Hope they know Sleep relieves of Quest his care, reunion helps Hope grow. What's wrong with me? Where is my faith? I spoke, but it won't stop. Now falling, ever falling free. What's floor and what is top? The Nothing was a mass of something, but what he did not know. No walls. No mud. No trees to thud could stop the falling flow. At first, the frightened cub could see not one thing, more nor less, but slowly and more surely came dull colors out to bless. The purple hues, dark blue, and green brought Christmas tree to light, and Momma's face was clearly seen through wispy shades of night. In that short moment, snatched away, his Mom was out of reach, which left Quest spinning there in darkness, stripped of cheery speech. "When will this end? Why am I here? Am I about to die? Will someone help me please I beg? I need somewhere to cry." A snowball whizzed right past his face. "Will this mist never clear? "When will I know something for sure? Will I be free from fear?" Despair full grasped of him the throat. He coughed and gasped for air. "Why did I leave my bed today? I miss my Mother's hair." The laughing, large, red-suited man relieved the bear a bit, but he was gone so quickly, too, and joyful laughing quit. "What is this place? What mean these sights? Is Space this empty lair? So big this naught. It must have friends, an army great out there." The cub remembered stories that his parents read to him. The dark it ate, the great abyss out-grabbed to pull folks in Alone and hopeless, still he searched in situation's bad for something new to give him hope, and then he saw his Dad. by Jay O'Toole on May 31st, 2019 |
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