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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)    |
How often when I'm feeling sad, I walk away from you. The words I wrote have made me glad, to give perspective new. Forsaking my dear writing place, I run away and hide. The mountain vistas of Your Grace they met me as I cried. The Oklahoma Panhandle, a child's place all alone. The darkish walk with one candle, a safe place when I'm grown. How can I write when sadness reigns? Where is Atlantic isle, that helps me blest perspectives gain to break from me denial? The writing helps when sadness falls to lift me from despair. I cannot breathe 'til a new word calls, and breaks my lasting stare. A planet, far away from here, in rocket ship so fast the town of Joe 'N Tea, it's clear is one great day's repast. I find another town to walk and trip o'er one great joy to paint with feet, and hands, and talk with my own heartfelt boy. Though sadness lingers as I write in the land of murky woe, He leads me home out of the night with rest as on I go. The seas are filled with salty tears. The mind, a desert blows, th'unwritten feelings are great fears, the nighttime morbid grows. The written thoughts an ember lights. The fire from hopeful breath moves back the darkness with respite the growth of purplest heath. by Jay O’Toole on July 9th, 2024   |
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