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There's an old Babylonian proverb that says, "If a man be lucky, (you can) pitch him into the Euphrates and like as not he will swim out with a pearl in his hand."1 Some modem writers have also suggested that there are those who continually stumble into prosperity, in spite of themselves. And so it seems that some people have all the luck. Success follows them as surely as noon follows morning. They are the ones who rise through the ranks of any group to emerge as the leader; who have full checking accounts; whose dreams don't turn to dust in their hands. Or so it seems.
"Verdant Meadows, stately forest, my heart longing, yearns for thee."1 The text of the song we have just heard focuses on the need to show reverence for the miracle of nature.
Political unrest, wars and rumors of wars, and the continuing upsurge in crime are indications that all is not well in human society. Turmoil and conflict seem to be the earmarks of our age.
The innocence and openness of children's prayers must surely be among the sweetest sounds of heaven or earth.
There is joy in life: the joy of participation, of sharing and involvement. Among the most basic and rewarding joys of life is that of work. To actively use our intellect, brawn and spirit in the achievement of worthwhile tasks is a right as inalienable as liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Perhaps our deepest dread is the fear of extinction, of being blown out like a candle flame, of ceasing to be. That inescapable fear of the unknown, at times grips each of us. And the more we love life, the more we fear death. That's why Christians everywhere feel a mighty surge of hope on Easter. For millions of people, Easter morning is the most stirring time of the year... a time when we are filled with awe and reverence, with wonder and gratitude.
We do many things in life out of duty. We pay our taxes, follow speed limits when we're late, and come back to work after lunch—all in the line of duty. And many of us classify obeying God as a similar action. It is duty. We worry that He is peeking around some corner waiting to pounce on us if we disobey. So with faces tight as army sheets, we grimly do what we think is right, reading the scriptures when we ache to read the paper, gritting our teeth and paying donations, checking off our list of Christian attributes with fixed determination.
Not long ago a man in the southern part of the United States saw a nurse's hand holding an eyedropper. For most of us the sight would have been barely worth a glance. For him it was spectacular because it was the first thing he had ever seen. After 51 years of life an operation had given him sight.
When compared with the complicated and sometimes wordy writings of many of the world's philosophers, the straight-forward sayings of Jesus are a refreshing reminder that simplicity is one earmark of truth.
Throughout the scriptures the Lord is continually giving reassurance of His love, His support and His availability to us at all times.
It is said that a famous philosopher wanted only two words written on his tombstone "the individual". That may seem strange at first until we think what a remarkable achievement it is to be ourselves in a world that is constantly beckoning us to be somebody else.
Prayer is man's way of communicating with the Lord. He has instructed us in its use, even gave us examples to follow. And through experience we have learned there are many forms of prayer. But the most common—and perhaps the most difficult—is to pray with words.
Among the parts of speech common to the English language is the verb. As we learned in early grammar, the verb is an action word, a word used to express motion or exertion. When we classify any word as a verb, we give it a special meaning: we intend for it to symbolize an act, a deed, something accomplished, something done.
We have heard much in recent years about the moral decay that seems to have weakened our country, of self-indulgent permissiveness, drugs, crime, pornography, the pampering of our youth, and rampant materialism.
Mortals share a secret which they hardly ever confess to one another—or if they do it is with some embarrassment, some hesitation, a feeling that no one else could possibly understand their meaning. And if on some long winter night in intense conversation when barriers are down and formalities are set aside for an instant, the topic is approached, it is as if one has let another into his sanctuary, his personal sacred ground where few have ever trod before.
Ours is an age of communication. Telephone wires hum with millions of voices. Satellites soar through the sky reflecting words and pictures to the waiting radio speakers and television screens. Mailbags bulge with correspondence and the ceaseless drone of human voices fills the air over every city of any size.
There is written a traditional Dutch proverb which states simply: "The Heart Never Lies." Whether we should rely upon the intuition of our inner feelings in every case, as the proverb suggests, is subject for debate. Certainly, intuition must be tempered with reason. A judgement or decision which is made wholly on the basis of one's own internal response, with a total disregard for the evidence or experience, is generally an unwise judgement.
George Bernard Shaw reportedly said that life is a series of smiles, sniffles and sobs: with the sniffles predominating. Surely none of us will escape the sobs that are part of this life, and hopefully we will enjoy our share of smiles. But what of the sniffles—the gray and humdrum outlook that can dampen our spirits and darken our days—are the sniffles an inescapable part of our existence? They need not be, because it is not our outward condition but the inward set of our minds that determines our world.
The clamor and confusion of the 1980 presidential campaign are now over. And this week, the 4Oth President of the United States will be installed in the highest elective office in this country. In so doing, Ronald Reagan fulfills the divinely inspired requirements of the Constitution, that the executive power of these United States shall […]
Change is as inevitable as the turning of the calendar. And with the New Year comes the new self. As surely as the tides roll upon the shore. . . as surely as the seasons redecorate the landscape, we will change.
To be considered important, of value, and wanted is one of the basic needs of the human soul. Yet, we're so often just a part of the crowd. At a football stadium we join thousands of indistinguishable faces, we hurry down city streets where no one recognizes us, we receive letters addressed to "occupant." It can make us wonder if our life has any distinct meaning to others. In fact, many experts think that many of our social problems stem from this human need gone astray, people searching for a way to say, "I'm important, I count for something, notice me."
Of the four seasons, winter is perhaps the least eulogized. Poets and artists alike have extolled the hope of spring, the vibrancy of summer, and the abundance of fall while depreciating the bleakness and stillness of winter. Indeed, nature herself appears lifeless during this barren season of the year.
As dusk turned to darkness on that silent night long ago, the inns of the day were overcrowded. The small towns teemed with travelers and animals, and people plodded down the dusty roads through Bethlehem. For most of them this day and night would be no cause for celebration. In days to come, if they remembered at all, they would note with distaste that they were forced to travel here to pay their taxes to their Roman overlords. Worldly cares hung heavily upon this people as the quiet night came on.
We have entered one of the most loved seasons of the year—a time when we openly encourage each other to extend ourselves in a spirit of brotherhood—and yet, the world seems filled with tension and increasing stress. There is much hardship and distrust on the earth.
The definition of the word success varies from individual to individual, from culture to culture. For some people, it has to do with the acquisition of wealth. For others, success involves professional titles or social status. And still others define success in terms of the amount of time available for recreation or leisure.
One of the problems with verbal language is its inability to adequately express abstract thoughts or feelings. Take, for instance, the oft-spoken phrase, “I love you.” Three syllables, three short sounds, uttered daily wherever English is spoken; and yet, this simple phrase can represent a wide variety of feelings or thoughts.
Someone once said there are two kinds of people: those who divide the world into two kinds of people, and those who don't. This may or may not be true, but it does seem that there are two kinds of most everything.
In the Bible, praise is given not to the strong man who "taketh a city," but to the stronger man who "ruleth his own spirit."1 The stronger man; it is he who exercises constant control over his thoughts, his speech, and his actions. We call it "self-discipline."
We have heard the Choir sing, "I waited for the Lord."1 Is there anything harder than waiting? We find it difficult enough to wait for a late companion, a late meal or a doctor's appointment. But to wait for the Lord, to wait for that special blessing we're sure we deserve, to wait for comfort in our grieving moments, to wait for relief when our whole heart cries out in the urgency of its need, those are times when patience is a virtue almost beyond reach.
One of the distinguishing features of our way of life is the increasing number of people who are involved in sports or athletic competition. Most young people now participate in some form of organized sports program. And, of course, spectator sports have become a major focus for the use of leisure time in many of our lives.