A day to rest
A day with no mess
But a day that is blessed
A day that we recover
From all the weeks stress
A day of worship, healing, and fellowship
A fresh start
A renewing of the mind, body, and soul
A day that makes us feel whole.
Jesus lived and
Jesus died,
Jesus laughed and
Jesus cried.
Jesus loved and
Jesus felt,
Jesus stood and
Jesus knelt.
Jesus heard and
Jesus thought,
Jesus prayed and
Jesus taught.
Jesus healed and
Jesus fed,
Jesus preached and
Jesus led.
Jesus lived and
Jesus died,
Jesus is risen and
He is alive.
Bless me, Father, for I will sin
And go against your laws
But the winds of change are blowing
I must pick up the cause
At break of dawn I'll march to war
My sword will rise again
For our faith will be no more
Should our foe prevail
Sekigahara calls for me
To fight that raccoon fiend
But save me while I'm falling
Christ, my bosom friend
God of Mercy, I'm in your care
Your grace my strength to lift
This cross, your gift that I must bear
Along my battle flag
- In the voice of: Konishi Yukinaga (1558 - November 6, 1600), to Fr. Pedro Gomez, SJ.
-- The Battle of Sekigahara, 21st October 1600
* "that racoon fiend" refers to Tokugawa Ieyasu, who is often derisively referred to as tanuki (raccoon dog) by detractors.
The Genesis of a Promised Seed
was and has always been a conflict.
Since primordial Eden and Eve,
between her grain against devil's trick.
His journey to the womb of Mary
is a testament of His sovereignty.
Bloodlines of imperfect humanity,
finely woven redemptive purity.
The night, a loving Father's hand
laid His Promised Seed to a manger.
Reaching the unlightened world,
yet rejected, spit upon and shattered.
The sundial in the Hands of the Almighty,
while He buries His Begotten selflessly.
The Omniscient One cast the Seed lovingly.
Yes He died, but soon He's risen victoriously.
Jesus, the Promised Seed of the Father
is now exalted, seated in heaven's Throne.
Though His heel was wounded with scar,
He trampled the devil's head, defeated and dethroned.
Christ a phantom through my hours
flames within a kohl tongue
psalms crack the white cloth like a razor
On the way back
piercing kneeling knees,
a broken crown's mask
glistening
kindling
memory
Christ a phantom through my hours
piercing kneeling knees —
memory
Fall is breathing its dying breaths
and a chill settles deeper into the air.
The first flakes of snow have dusted the ground
leaving the world glimmering,
starlight reflecting off each crystal
and casting a beautifully eerie glow.
Nighttime silence is unbroken
save for the sound of my surreptitious breaths,
which cloud in front of me as they’re slowly released.
I can sense God here.
An all-encompassing presence that fills the emptiness with calm
despite the uncertain shadows lining the ground.
For a moment, just a moment,
(I refuse to allow myself longer),
I am not alone,
and I take comfort in His grace
until I’m greeted inside by the laughter of my family
and the warm glow of the fireplace.
This I can be certain is real,
this tangible, palpable love.
This is what I’ll live with my heart set on.
Where I land in the end is known only
to the holy adjudicator.
But as my mother’s love is enduring and unconditional
(unlike His, daily damning innocents and the joyously enamored),
I choose to establish my acts within such power
rather than living by divine ideal.
How dare they take the words from
Your mouth and the nails from
Your hands
and pass them off as from
their own flesh and blood.
They, who never bled a single drop in the name of others,
have crafted a halo of thorns
and adorn it,
”holy”
(self indulgent, self proclaimed).
What gives them the right
to denounce their equals
and lash the whip over their neighbor’s back?
Don’t they know that every drop of Your blood that touched the earth
sowed seeds of ceaseless forgiveness?
That every splatter ricocheted off the dirt
and echoed the promise “I love you”?
Holy? Wholly?
They know nothing of Your word;
they only twist it to tighten chains
they bind around the black sheep.
Little do they know their wool,
once white in Your hands,
is stained dark as sin.
How dare they take the words from
Your mouth and the nails from
Your hands
and pass them off as from
their own flesh and blood.
They, who never bled a single drop in the name of others,
have crafted a halo of thorns
and adorn it,
”holy”
(self indulgent, self proclaimed).
What gives them the right
to denounce their equals
and lash the whip over their neighbor’s back?
Don’t they know that every drop of Your blood that touched the earth
sowed seeds of ceaseless forgiveness?
That every splatter ricocheted off the dirt
and echoed the promise “I love you”?
Holy? Wholly?
They know nothing of Your word;
they only twist it to tighten chains
they bind around the black sheep.
Little do they know their wool,
once white in Your hands,
is stained dark as sin.
His light still burns, in my thoughts – Forever reflecting the music of psalms,
The soothing revelations of hope,
Songs born from believing, believing, believing…
Christianity is a worthwhile gift from One
Who left His light to guide, to feed, to bless, to reveal
what it means to be forgiven, all the sin that conceals joy, love and peace!
When you open up your eyes
Is He sitting at your side
With a smile on His lips
That betrays a certain pride?
Does He touch your injured hands?
Does His face go pale and grim
At the sight of wounds you bore
For your loyalty to Him?
Do you whisper “Lord, I’m sorry
You said ‘do not be afraid’
Still I winced when they condemned me
And I trembled as I prayed.
My dear Master, I am sorry
I was terrified to die.”
Does He answer “It’s all right,
My dear Peter, so was I.
Do you marvel at your God:
He who made the world exist.
Does He grin as if to say
Sweetest friend, you have been missed.
When you fall into His arms
Do you know what Heaven is?
Do you heal in His embrace?
Do your scars resemble His?
Europe
did
not
conquer
Christianity
Christianity
conquered
Europe
The Pope slams US Catholic leaders
who won't 'embrace meaningful change'
Yet he praises Russia's 'proud history'
~ Is the man deranged?!
The 9th descendant of Adam
He lived during a disaster he couldn’t fathom
He was chosen by God, contrary to fantasm
And lived nearly 1,000 years, transcending a phantom
Surviving the storm from the flood in the chatham
Alluding to events which form a chiasm
Including leading his ark, including the bantam
Following the flood water hitting the stratum
Weathering through the mark of wrath, events are not random
A confirmation of benevolence interpreted through oppression of Canaan
While Ham leaves a curse on Noah’s son Canaan
To forever integrate with the Biblical datum
Nondual Christianity
A matter of language
A new gospel..
Jesus as a self
A character
A role in stories
Empty stories..
The empty story of
Crucifixion
Brings to an end
Beliefs in
Self separation..
A resurrected
Empty self
Appearing as
All of us..
Which was never
Not the case...
I
Capitalists sell prayers and hope
From China, PRC, to you and me
In images and words: forward these
To all your contacts - such positivity
Yet we hear, embedded spyware
Comes with readymade China prayer
To Jesus or more often, "the Universe"
II
LORD, I owe my all to thee
My two children from a first marriage
And my current, S. African family
Blended families have challenges
Yet, You allow us all to share (Time)
- often at the last minute, LOL
As some youth seem to upset a schedule
To see they still have "love & first place" -
Jesus, help our youth, parents, guardians
Without thy Hand, we will fail more
In duty, stewarship, responsibility
To people, planet, parents-to-be
Bless this Day, this year; save us, purify us for GLORY ( amen)
One pastor spoke against "fwd-ing" messages
From WhatsApp, without knowing the source
In prayer, the character of the intercessor
Is as important as Trinity, God, subject of PRAYER
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