Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.
KJV
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
beyond grace
beyond grace:
"School of the Prophets
Exam Time "
Rob DeLuca, from His Way Church International in Auckland, New Zealand is the 'prophet' who 'prophesied' the Great Florida Healing Revival' into existence. Or so those who don't buy into the notion of a 'self-fulfilling prophecy' might say."
Read full article here:
http://beyondgrace.blogspot.com/2008/07/school-of-prophets-exam-time.html
"School of the Prophets
Exam Time "
Rob DeLuca, from His Way Church International in Auckland, New Zealand is the 'prophet' who 'prophesied' the Great Florida Healing Revival' into existence. Or so those who don't buy into the notion of a 'self-fulfilling prophecy' might say."
Read full article here:
http://beyondgrace.blogspot.com/2008/07/school-of-prophets-exam-time.html
Friday, July 25, 2008
Drinking at The Black Hole-By Bryan Hupperts
Drinking at The Black Hole
By Bryan Hupperts
bryanhupperts@hotmail.com
The din of the jukebox, the familiar smell of sleaze, the hustlers and the hustled all swirling madly together like a slithering shadow silhouetted against the cheap Christmas lights that twinkled unmerrily around the trim of the bar; such is the ambiance that is The Black Hole, the place I drink to nurse my sorrows and feed my demons. It’s a hopeless dive but its home.
All my life I’ve searched for the perfect drink, the one that would satisfy. I started bar hopping in college. My first haunt was Darwin’s Folly where I wasted my educational opportunity sucking down Blind Monkeys till I couldn’t think straight. Post-graduate, I became a regular at the Flesh Factory, inebriating my soul with the house specialty drink, a Blind Lust. One sip of that poison and you burn for hours finding neither relief nor fulfillment. And the more you drink, the more you burn.
To quench the fires that come from doing shots of Blind Lust, I got sloshed a bit at The Purple Wino. Their house drink is called a Flaming Fury, a volcanic swig that rages uncontrollably. In the end, I decided I preferred my vengeance ice cold rather than in a hot, drunken frenzy. Some drink to forget but I drink to remember.
That’s how I fell into The Black Hole.
Every bar has a specialty drink, their signature house concoction that puts them on the map. Like a sports team or a band you identify with and adopt, the Black Hole became my bar. Why? Their house specialty was my perfect poison. One sip of that familiar spirit, a venom called a Seething Grudge, and I knew I was home. No one can hold a Seething Grudge like me.
It’s so intoxicating, you can sip away the hours while the shot glass never seems to empty. It carries you away back to old offenses, real and imagined, to betrayal and disappointments, leaving a bitterness of regret in your gut no antacid can quell.
There are some drinks that can swallow you.
A Blind Lust can set the body aflame, but a Seething Grudge ignites the soul. More potent than an Oblivion from Dante’s Inferno, you can nurse it for countless hours and, the more you nurse it, the more potent it becomes. Sure, a Seething Grudge is an acquired taste that’s repugnantly bitter to swallow but, as they say, better the devil you know.
My loveable slosh of a college roommate had a motto: “If you’re at odds with God, make peace with your bartender.” Mine can pour three fingers of stout, instant therapy and, if it doesn’t work, I am usually too drunk to care. On this fateful day, my bartender called in sick so a temp was brought in to serve.
I watched the Stranger cross the room, pick up a towel and put it on his arm like a well-heeled servant, and step behind the bar. My bar. “The usual,” I said more out of boredom than habit.
“I’ve come with a new drink offering. Taste and see that it’s good,” said the Stranger.
New drink? Uh-uh. My bar. My rules.
“The infamous toxin of choice here at The Black Hole is a Seething Grudge and right now I need a double,” I said tapping my fingers on the bar, glaring at the upstart bartender. My fellow lounge lizards murmured in agreement.
“Sorry,” grinned the Stranger, “but I’m here to offer you a new drink.” He glanced at the Christmas lights, and said with a wry smile, “You might say Christmas has come early.”
He ignored the jab and set a line of shot glasses up on the bar then pulled a carafe from nowhere and began to pour. Is this new drink on the house? The Stranger replied, “Yes, but only because I paid for it in full. Please drink freely. Others who have tried it call it a Sweet Release. Drink up. It’s free.”
Free? Nothing’s free, I said flatly, and he shrugged, suggesting I take his offer on faith.
You can’t get a Sweet Release from The Black Hole. It’s just, just… wrong, a violation, an intrusion into my personal hell. And the old adage is dead wrong, too: misery hates company. I wanted to be left alone to drink so I threw the barkeep an angry look and demanded my Seething Grudge. He assured me again that what I really needed was a Sweet Release. Why not try it? After all, he was buying.
“You don’t look like you’ve ever been hammered in your life,” I said, dismissively sizing him up. “Have you ever had a Seething Grudge?”
The Stranger shook his head No but said he once gotten totally hammered in a contest in another black hole of sorts when he deliberately chugged a vile concoction called a Sinners’ Lament down to its bitter dregs. “Loosing sucks,” I admitted. He nodded in agreement but replied, “Actually, I won.”
OK, he had me confused but curious. If this was a challenge to a dirking contest, I was in. “OK, I’ll taste it to see if it’s good. Give me a Sweet Release.” He pushed the shot glass at me and I noticed odd scars on his wrists as if he’d been… hammered… with spikes. Very weird. In total seriousness, he said, “Drink this and you’ll never thirst again.” It’s that good? Fine. As I raised it to my lips, I had to ask, “That time you say you got hammered, was there a prize at stake?”
The Stranger looked on with triumph in his eyes as I slowly drank away the darkness in my soul with every healing drop of his Sweet Release. He said softly, “A prize? Yes. The prize is you.”
Bryan Hupperts © 2008
www.SheepTrax.com
By Bryan Hupperts
bryanhupperts@hotmail.com
The din of the jukebox, the familiar smell of sleaze, the hustlers and the hustled all swirling madly together like a slithering shadow silhouetted against the cheap Christmas lights that twinkled unmerrily around the trim of the bar; such is the ambiance that is The Black Hole, the place I drink to nurse my sorrows and feed my demons. It’s a hopeless dive but its home.
All my life I’ve searched for the perfect drink, the one that would satisfy. I started bar hopping in college. My first haunt was Darwin’s Folly where I wasted my educational opportunity sucking down Blind Monkeys till I couldn’t think straight. Post-graduate, I became a regular at the Flesh Factory, inebriating my soul with the house specialty drink, a Blind Lust. One sip of that poison and you burn for hours finding neither relief nor fulfillment. And the more you drink, the more you burn.
To quench the fires that come from doing shots of Blind Lust, I got sloshed a bit at The Purple Wino. Their house drink is called a Flaming Fury, a volcanic swig that rages uncontrollably. In the end, I decided I preferred my vengeance ice cold rather than in a hot, drunken frenzy. Some drink to forget but I drink to remember.
That’s how I fell into The Black Hole.
Every bar has a specialty drink, their signature house concoction that puts them on the map. Like a sports team or a band you identify with and adopt, the Black Hole became my bar. Why? Their house specialty was my perfect poison. One sip of that familiar spirit, a venom called a Seething Grudge, and I knew I was home. No one can hold a Seething Grudge like me.
It’s so intoxicating, you can sip away the hours while the shot glass never seems to empty. It carries you away back to old offenses, real and imagined, to betrayal and disappointments, leaving a bitterness of regret in your gut no antacid can quell.
There are some drinks that can swallow you.
A Blind Lust can set the body aflame, but a Seething Grudge ignites the soul. More potent than an Oblivion from Dante’s Inferno, you can nurse it for countless hours and, the more you nurse it, the more potent it becomes. Sure, a Seething Grudge is an acquired taste that’s repugnantly bitter to swallow but, as they say, better the devil you know.
My loveable slosh of a college roommate had a motto: “If you’re at odds with God, make peace with your bartender.” Mine can pour three fingers of stout, instant therapy and, if it doesn’t work, I am usually too drunk to care. On this fateful day, my bartender called in sick so a temp was brought in to serve.
I watched the Stranger cross the room, pick up a towel and put it on his arm like a well-heeled servant, and step behind the bar. My bar. “The usual,” I said more out of boredom than habit.
“I’ve come with a new drink offering. Taste and see that it’s good,” said the Stranger.
New drink? Uh-uh. My bar. My rules.
“The infamous toxin of choice here at The Black Hole is a Seething Grudge and right now I need a double,” I said tapping my fingers on the bar, glaring at the upstart bartender. My fellow lounge lizards murmured in agreement.
“Sorry,” grinned the Stranger, “but I’m here to offer you a new drink.” He glanced at the Christmas lights, and said with a wry smile, “You might say Christmas has come early.”
He ignored the jab and set a line of shot glasses up on the bar then pulled a carafe from nowhere and began to pour. Is this new drink on the house? The Stranger replied, “Yes, but only because I paid for it in full. Please drink freely. Others who have tried it call it a Sweet Release. Drink up. It’s free.”
Free? Nothing’s free, I said flatly, and he shrugged, suggesting I take his offer on faith.
You can’t get a Sweet Release from The Black Hole. It’s just, just… wrong, a violation, an intrusion into my personal hell. And the old adage is dead wrong, too: misery hates company. I wanted to be left alone to drink so I threw the barkeep an angry look and demanded my Seething Grudge. He assured me again that what I really needed was a Sweet Release. Why not try it? After all, he was buying.
“You don’t look like you’ve ever been hammered in your life,” I said, dismissively sizing him up. “Have you ever had a Seething Grudge?”
The Stranger shook his head No but said he once gotten totally hammered in a contest in another black hole of sorts when he deliberately chugged a vile concoction called a Sinners’ Lament down to its bitter dregs. “Loosing sucks,” I admitted. He nodded in agreement but replied, “Actually, I won.”
OK, he had me confused but curious. If this was a challenge to a dirking contest, I was in. “OK, I’ll taste it to see if it’s good. Give me a Sweet Release.” He pushed the shot glass at me and I noticed odd scars on his wrists as if he’d been… hammered… with spikes. Very weird. In total seriousness, he said, “Drink this and you’ll never thirst again.” It’s that good? Fine. As I raised it to my lips, I had to ask, “That time you say you got hammered, was there a prize at stake?”
The Stranger looked on with triumph in his eyes as I slowly drank away the darkness in my soul with every healing drop of his Sweet Release. He said softly, “A prize? Yes. The prize is you.”
Bryan Hupperts © 2008
www.SheepTrax.com
Monday, July 21, 2008
Killing the Heir to Possess the Vineyard-By George Davis
Killing the Heir to Possess the Vineyard
By George Davis
http://awildernessvoice.com/KillingTheHeir.html
People were so excited about what God was doing through the whole body (Head plus body), that they came early and went home late. I have never seen such corporate excitement before or since. ...It became apparent that all this threatened the leadership, so they set out to bring things in tow. They announced the following Sunday that it was time to get things back into order.
Years ago, I was to be licensed as a pastor, by a denomination that I will not name. The previous week had been a blur of activity, as the district supervisor shuttled Charlotte and me around the vast state of Montana, showing us the "churches" that were in need of a pastor. On the day of the ordination God spoke to me saying, "If you will give this up and walk away, I will show you what true ministry is." I walked away, realizing that the concept of ministry I previously held was not true ministry. All I had left was God's promise, "I will show you what true ministry is."
Sunday, July 20, 2008
A Chess Game with the Devil-By Bryan Hupperts
July 19, 2008
A Chess Game with the Devil
By Bryan Hupperts
bryanhupperts@hotmail.com
A senior pastor was sent a challenge to play a game of chess. The anonymous note said, “Victorious One: You are an undisputed Grandmaster. You’ve beaten your fellow servants frequently. You played against other senior pastors and won. Now, come play me.”
Game day came and the senior pastor found himself seated across a chess board from none other than Satan himself. In this knockout tournament, the pastor drew white winning the right to begin first. The devil grabbed the white piece from him and said arrogantly, “I always move first.”
Each set up their pieces and began to formulate strategy. The senior pastor was nervous but confident and declared to the enemy, “I will win. I have the mind of Christ.” Then the devil smiled a devilish smile and said, glancing at the senior pastor’s side of the board, “I cannot outwit the mind of Christ but you I will easily beat.”
The first match was on. Satan played with cunning and strategy and it became quickly clear the senior pastor was outgunned. Satan moved a pawn in gambit striking from the flank and taking an unguarded rook. Loss piled upon loss. No matter how valiantly he tried to respond, no matter if his moves were rooted in sacrifice or power, the senior pastor blundered. Every move he made seemed to benefit the adversary.
The chessboard carnage was brutal and the senior pastor was finally humbled to desperate prayer. The devil laughed as he cried out, “Lord, I need wisdom. I have your mind yet I am being outplayed, outmaneuvered, and beaten at every turn. Why, Lord. Why”
They played to endgame and the dreaded word was pronounced: checkmate.
The stunned senior pastor watched his king fall as he listened to the enemies’ taunts and, though he felt he had failed God, he humbled himself further crying out all the more for wisdom. How do you beat a master tactician and swindler like the devil? When the 2 minute warning sounded, he began to reset his side of the board for the next round. He was weighed down by a sickening dread when suddenly the Holy Spirit of God came upon him and said:
“Review the board.”
The senior pastor looked at the enemies’ pieces: pawns aligned on the front row with rooks, knights, bishops, queen and king in the back. Everything was in perfect military precision waiting for the strategic battle to commence.
The senior pastor then looked at his side of the board. He had the same pieces: pawns, rooks, knights, bishops, queen and king. He noticed, as if for the first time, that things were askew. Mentally reviewing the rules of engagement, he realized he had placed a pawn where a rook should be, a knight in the place of a bishop and, as he thought back on the failures of the first round, he saw that even the queen was occasionally out of place taking over the kings’ role. These foolish blunders were done at his command.
And the senior pastor had an epiphany. He had all the right pieces but many were serving in the wrong place on the board in roles they were not empowered to play. “I have played like a fool,” he said aloud. “I am only a servant and not the Master of the game.” He began to rearrange the board setting the pieces, kingside and queenside, into their rightful places. And the chessboard transformed into a battlefield.
The devil looked at the repositioned board in alarm. His eyes narrowed and he said slyly, “Perhaps, senior pastor, your first strategy was right. Move those pieces any way ‘ole you wish. After all, you’re in charge, right? I must have gotten lucky the first round; that’s all it was, just dumb luck. You’ve played your brothers in Christ and beaten them all.”
The pastor knew his cagy opponent was only seeking for an opportunity to devour him again, and replied, “I did beat my fellow servants and I was wrong to do so. Today, I repent. Devil, you did not defeat the mind of Christ. You only defeated me. I see now it is not mine to tell a piece how to serve not is it mine to dictate anyone’s destiny or calling. My role is to help all to work together in their unique giftings for the advancement the kingdom of God .”
The devil’s face went ashen and he said, tempting the pastor to pride, “You are the Grandmaster, the senior pastor. You decide what people should do and be!”
The servant pastor smiled humbly as he placed the last pawn in correct position. “It occurs to now that to have the mind of Christ in operation in my life and ministry, He must be the senior pastor and I must be the undershepherd. I will rely on his leadings to beat you. And, as you yourself so wisely said, you cannot beat the mind of Christ.”
The devil began to panic and said, “No, go back to your nepotism. Your church has always been run like a family business with you, your family, and your friends in charge. This could go badly for you. You will no longer be the senior pastor. Why give up your power?”
And the undershepherd servant pastor said meekly, “Christ alone is the senior pastor and it was never mine to dictate who serves where or how. Each piece must move in the light it is called to just as He himself is in the light. It is his kingdom, not mine.”
He continued, “The board was out of order. I was out of order. Christ is now our Senior Pastor and divine order has been re-established. I neither submitted myself to God nor did I resist you at first play which gave you first-move advantage. I will not be so foolish again. And now,” he said, redirecting his attention to the strategically placed pieces on the board, “let us pray for guidance as we play for victory. Christ himself will lead us as our senior pastor and Grandmaster!”
This match was to be played to sudden death. The devil raged for he now knew his time was short. And the battle was on.
Bryan Hupperts © 2008
http://www.sheeptrax.com/
A Chess Game with the Devil
By Bryan Hupperts
bryanhupperts@hotmail.com
A senior pastor was sent a challenge to play a game of chess. The anonymous note said, “Victorious One: You are an undisputed Grandmaster. You’ve beaten your fellow servants frequently. You played against other senior pastors and won. Now, come play me.”
Game day came and the senior pastor found himself seated across a chess board from none other than Satan himself. In this knockout tournament, the pastor drew white winning the right to begin first. The devil grabbed the white piece from him and said arrogantly, “I always move first.”
Each set up their pieces and began to formulate strategy. The senior pastor was nervous but confident and declared to the enemy, “I will win. I have the mind of Christ.” Then the devil smiled a devilish smile and said, glancing at the senior pastor’s side of the board, “I cannot outwit the mind of Christ but you I will easily beat.”
The first match was on. Satan played with cunning and strategy and it became quickly clear the senior pastor was outgunned. Satan moved a pawn in gambit striking from the flank and taking an unguarded rook. Loss piled upon loss. No matter how valiantly he tried to respond, no matter if his moves were rooted in sacrifice or power, the senior pastor blundered. Every move he made seemed to benefit the adversary.
The chessboard carnage was brutal and the senior pastor was finally humbled to desperate prayer. The devil laughed as he cried out, “Lord, I need wisdom. I have your mind yet I am being outplayed, outmaneuvered, and beaten at every turn. Why, Lord. Why”
They played to endgame and the dreaded word was pronounced: checkmate.
The stunned senior pastor watched his king fall as he listened to the enemies’ taunts and, though he felt he had failed God, he humbled himself further crying out all the more for wisdom. How do you beat a master tactician and swindler like the devil? When the 2 minute warning sounded, he began to reset his side of the board for the next round. He was weighed down by a sickening dread when suddenly the Holy Spirit of God came upon him and said:
“Review the board.”
The senior pastor looked at the enemies’ pieces: pawns aligned on the front row with rooks, knights, bishops, queen and king in the back. Everything was in perfect military precision waiting for the strategic battle to commence.
The senior pastor then looked at his side of the board. He had the same pieces: pawns, rooks, knights, bishops, queen and king. He noticed, as if for the first time, that things were askew. Mentally reviewing the rules of engagement, he realized he had placed a pawn where a rook should be, a knight in the place of a bishop and, as he thought back on the failures of the first round, he saw that even the queen was occasionally out of place taking over the kings’ role. These foolish blunders were done at his command.
And the senior pastor had an epiphany. He had all the right pieces but many were serving in the wrong place on the board in roles they were not empowered to play. “I have played like a fool,” he said aloud. “I am only a servant and not the Master of the game.” He began to rearrange the board setting the pieces, kingside and queenside, into their rightful places. And the chessboard transformed into a battlefield.
The devil looked at the repositioned board in alarm. His eyes narrowed and he said slyly, “Perhaps, senior pastor, your first strategy was right. Move those pieces any way ‘ole you wish. After all, you’re in charge, right? I must have gotten lucky the first round; that’s all it was, just dumb luck. You’ve played your brothers in Christ and beaten them all.”
The pastor knew his cagy opponent was only seeking for an opportunity to devour him again, and replied, “I did beat my fellow servants and I was wrong to do so. Today, I repent. Devil, you did not defeat the mind of Christ. You only defeated me. I see now it is not mine to tell a piece how to serve not is it mine to dictate anyone’s destiny or calling. My role is to help all to work together in their unique giftings for the advancement the kingdom of God .”
The devil’s face went ashen and he said, tempting the pastor to pride, “You are the Grandmaster, the senior pastor. You decide what people should do and be!”
The servant pastor smiled humbly as he placed the last pawn in correct position. “It occurs to now that to have the mind of Christ in operation in my life and ministry, He must be the senior pastor and I must be the undershepherd. I will rely on his leadings to beat you. And, as you yourself so wisely said, you cannot beat the mind of Christ.”
The devil began to panic and said, “No, go back to your nepotism. Your church has always been run like a family business with you, your family, and your friends in charge. This could go badly for you. You will no longer be the senior pastor. Why give up your power?”
And the undershepherd servant pastor said meekly, “Christ alone is the senior pastor and it was never mine to dictate who serves where or how. Each piece must move in the light it is called to just as He himself is in the light. It is his kingdom, not mine.”
He continued, “The board was out of order. I was out of order. Christ is now our Senior Pastor and divine order has been re-established. I neither submitted myself to God nor did I resist you at first play which gave you first-move advantage. I will not be so foolish again. And now,” he said, redirecting his attention to the strategically placed pieces on the board, “let us pray for guidance as we play for victory. Christ himself will lead us as our senior pastor and Grandmaster!”
This match was to be played to sudden death. The devil raged for he now knew his time was short. And the battle was on.
Bryan Hupperts © 2008
http://www.sheeptrax.com/
Saturday, July 19, 2008
To My Fellow Bloggers « Theology Today
To My Fellow Bloggers « Theology Today:
"The other day I was watching a guy attempt to teach his wife how to play tennis. The dude didn’t even know how to hold the racquet let alone play but he was acting and talking like he had spent his life on the tennis court. I see this quite a bit…..people without a clue what they are talking about acting like they know what they’re talking about yet lacking a clue.
I’m starting to see this same thing in what is known as the “Christian Blogosphere”….folks who pretend to know what they are talking about yet totally lacking a clue and leading innocent sheep into the ditch because they have no clue as to what they are talking about."
Read full article here:
http://phillyflash.wordpress.com/2008/07/19/to-my-fellow-bloggers/#more-177
"The other day I was watching a guy attempt to teach his wife how to play tennis. The dude didn’t even know how to hold the racquet let alone play but he was acting and talking like he had spent his life on the tennis court. I see this quite a bit…..people without a clue what they are talking about acting like they know what they’re talking about yet lacking a clue.
I’m starting to see this same thing in what is known as the “Christian Blogosphere”….folks who pretend to know what they are talking about yet totally lacking a clue and leading innocent sheep into the ditch because they have no clue as to what they are talking about."
Read full article here:
http://phillyflash.wordpress.com/2008/07/19/to-my-fellow-bloggers/#more-177
Herescope: Watchman or Gossip?
Herescope: Watchman or Gossip?:
"Watchman or Gossip?
Part 7: Contentiously Contending
By Anton Bosch
For years the evil King Saul pursued David like a man does an animal. He tried to kill him many times, broke David’s marriage and caused him to live the life of a vagabond and a fugitive. There is not any good to be said for Saul, and by all estimations the sooner he died and David ascended the throne the better for the nation.
One day Saul did die. The young Amalekite man who assisted in Saul’s suicide ran to bring David the good news and the crown he had taken from Saul’s corpse. He thought David would be glad to hear that his tormentor was dead so that David could finally claim the throne. But instead David mourned for Saul, rent his clothes, and sang a lament over the death of the king and Jonathan (2Samuel 1). The young man who killed Saul and who carried the news was executed for his trouble. David says of the event: “When someone told me, saying, ‘Look, Saul is dead,' thinking to have brought good news, I arrested him and had him executed in Ziklag – the one who thought I would give him a reward for his news” (2Samuel 4:10)."
READ FULL ARTICLE HERE:
http://herescope.blogspot.com/2007/07/watchman-or-gossip.html
"Watchman or Gossip?
Part 7: Contentiously Contending
By Anton Bosch
For years the evil King Saul pursued David like a man does an animal. He tried to kill him many times, broke David’s marriage and caused him to live the life of a vagabond and a fugitive. There is not any good to be said for Saul, and by all estimations the sooner he died and David ascended the throne the better for the nation.
One day Saul did die. The young Amalekite man who assisted in Saul’s suicide ran to bring David the good news and the crown he had taken from Saul’s corpse. He thought David would be glad to hear that his tormentor was dead so that David could finally claim the throne. But instead David mourned for Saul, rent his clothes, and sang a lament over the death of the king and Jonathan (2Samuel 1). The young man who killed Saul and who carried the news was executed for his trouble. David says of the event: “When someone told me, saying, ‘Look, Saul is dead,' thinking to have brought good news, I arrested him and had him executed in Ziklag – the one who thought I would give him a reward for his news” (2Samuel 4:10)."
READ FULL ARTICLE HERE:
http://herescope.blogspot.com/2007/07/watchman-or-gossip.html
Herescope: The Indigenous Peoples Movement
Herescope: The Indigenous Peoples Movement:
"The Indigenous Peoples Movement
The Doctrines of Dominionism: Part 7
The other day we received the following letter from a friend working for a private contractor in Iraq. Here is his experience:
Dear Friends,
I just came back from a military Bible Study with an Assemblies of God chaplain. Unfortunately my experience with Bible Study was not as good as that in the church service. We were studying in Romans Chapter 2. When it came to Romans 2:16 through the end of the chapter, the chaplain told us that this proved that if you were an aborigine and never hear of Jesus you could still be saved if you had a good heart. At this point I stopped him and asked if that meant that he need not believe on Jesus to be saved. He said that was right. What was worse there were many that agreed with him. I reminded them that man was not that good: “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” And “There is none righteous, no not one.” I told them that no one was good enough to go to heaven on their own. I was told this did not matter because Jesus Christ died for the sins of the whole world and not just some."
READ FULL ARTICLE HERE
http://herescope.blogspot.com/2007/08/indigenous-peoples-movement.html
"The Indigenous Peoples Movement
The Doctrines of Dominionism: Part 7
The other day we received the following letter from a friend working for a private contractor in Iraq. Here is his experience:
Dear Friends,
I just came back from a military Bible Study with an Assemblies of God chaplain. Unfortunately my experience with Bible Study was not as good as that in the church service. We were studying in Romans Chapter 2. When it came to Romans 2:16 through the end of the chapter, the chaplain told us that this proved that if you were an aborigine and never hear of Jesus you could still be saved if you had a good heart. At this point I stopped him and asked if that meant that he need not believe on Jesus to be saved. He said that was right. What was worse there were many that agreed with him. I reminded them that man was not that good: “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” And “There is none righteous, no not one.” I told them that no one was good enough to go to heaven on their own. I was told this did not matter because Jesus Christ died for the sins of the whole world and not just some."
READ FULL ARTICLE HERE
http://herescope.blogspot.com/2007/08/indigenous-peoples-movement.html
Herescope: Changing God's Name
Herescope: Changing God's Name:
"Changing God's Name
The Doctrines of Dominionism: Part 8
'It is time that Christians reclaimed the many beautiful names of the One Creator God in native languages instead of falling into Satan's trap and destroying them. We should reclaim those names and wash the dung of corruption off of them instead of giving them up to Satan. We must cast off the corruption that Satan has thrown on the many beautiful names of God in native languages. ."
READ FULL ARTICLE HERE:
http://herescope.blogspot.com/2007/08/changing-gods-name.html
"Changing God's Name
The Doctrines of Dominionism: Part 8
'It is time that Christians reclaimed the many beautiful names of the One Creator God in native languages instead of falling into Satan's trap and destroying them. We should reclaim those names and wash the dung of corruption off of them instead of giving them up to Satan. We must cast off the corruption that Satan has thrown on the many beautiful names of God in native languages. ."
READ FULL ARTICLE HERE:
http://herescope.blogspot.com/2007/08/changing-gods-name.html
Friday, July 18, 2008
DELAYS Are NOT DENIALS
Forwarded by: David Smith.
source:
http://www.revivalschool.com/
DELAYS Are NOT DENIALS
-Unknown.
How often have we been tempted to give up on God, on prayer, on
waiting, on patience and endurance, because God delayed in
answering prayer immediately? How many parents, after praying
for decades, have still not seen the salvation of a child? How many
believers have prayed night and day for healing, but still suffer or
have to behold the suffering of a loved-one? Not a few have prayed
and fasted for their financial needs to be met, and have agonized
because of mounting debt? BUT GOD…was in full control and had
a reason for the delay, for delays are not denials. We must keep
the bow string taut and continue to pray, for only God knows how
close to the crest of the hill we are. We must not give up despite
disappointments, for God will justify Himself and bring glory to
Himself. That great man of faith, Elijah, not only prayed to God for
rain. He also kept gazing toward the horizon for the tell-tale signs
of a cloud, until eventually a cloud the size of a man’s fist
appeared. He persevered until the heavens unleashed its glory,
and God’s word was fulfilled.
George H. Morrison in “Devotional Sermons” has given hope to the
weary. Read on, dear saint, and be reassured that “as soon as
you began to make your request, a reply was sent. I have come to
give you the reply…” (“You had no sooner started your prayer
when the answer was given” – Msg) – Daniel 9:23.
{Please don’t give up on the quality of speech in this devotional.
You might learn from it the treasures of the English language.}
The Doctrine of Delays
....There are myriads of creatures who are born and dance and die
in the short span of a bright July day. No one in watching them
would ever dream of charging the Creator with delay. But a nation
of men which is to serve the high ends of heaven is never fashioned
hastily like that. Through pilgrimage and war and struggle and
blood and tears, by heroism that oft seems unavailing and sacrifice
that is like water spilt, it becomes the polished instrument of God.
Delay, then, tends to become more marked, the higher you rise in
the Creator's purposes. Great delays in the mystery of providence
are the highway for the chariot of great blessing. The joy that
cometh in the morning might be far less thrilling, had not the
weeping from which it springs endured all night.
Had Jesus forgotten Mary and Martha? We see this very clearly in
the raising of Lazarus—that tenderest and most touching of all
miracles. When Lazarus was ill - when his state had become critical -
Martha and Mary, you remember, sent word to Jesus. Now Jesus
loved Lazarus and his sisters, and the happiest memories
encircled that village home; yet the Gospel tells us that when
Jesus heard the news, He abode two days still in the place where
He was. There are seasons when two days seems like a moment;
there are seasons when two days seems an eternity. When a life
is in the balance half-an-hour is endless; twice four-and-twenty
hours is unbearable. What did it mean? Had Jesus quite forgotten
them? Was He deaf and dead to the prayers of the sisters' love? I
think that Martha and Mary, with their eyes on dying Lazarus,
knew the burden of divine delay. They knew its burden then; they
know its meaning now. They see it irradiated with purpose and
with wisdom. A little boon might have been granted instantly, but
the great actions of God have tardy wheels. The greater and richer
the blessing that we pray for, the more must we reckon on the
delays of God. Nor should we forget—for this is very important—
what I might call the moral training of delay. Did we get everything
we craved for in the very hour of asking it, I think it would be a long
farewell to manhood. The one sure way to ruin a young child is to
give it immediately all for which it asks; and to the Ancient of days,
whose hairs are white as wool (see Dan_7:9), I fancy the oldest
readers are but as little children.
Think of Christ's treatment of the Syro-phoenician woman when
she came to Him praying for her daughter. All her motherhood was
on her lips and in her eyes as she pled and interceded for her child.
Do you think it was cruel of Christ to answer her never a word?
Do you think it was harsh to speak about the dogs? How much
we should have missed, and how much Christ Himself would have
missed, had it not been for that practice of delay! It was that which
called out in her fine persistence, her faith, her wit, all that was
brightest in her. She might have been anybody when she began,
but she was a woman among women when she ended. And many
a person has begun by being anybody, and ended by being a
woman among women, because they were kept praying and
pleading long for something that was to be granted by and by.
Work reveals character, but so does waiting. Waiting shows the
baby or the man. We need to be tested to prove if we be worthy
just to receive and use the thing we crave. So it often is that God
delays, and will not answer us, and keeps us waiting. It is not in
scorn, but in the wisest love, that He will not for a while.
There Is Silent Preparation behind God's Delay
Then it is very helpful to remember that divine delay does not mean
inactivity. God is not idle when He does not answer us; He is
busier preparing the answer than we think. There have been men
of genius who could only work irregularly; for long periods they
seemed to do nothing at all. Then suddenly, and as if by inspiration,
their powers took fire and they wrought at a white heat. You may
be sure of it that the periods in between were not so idle as the
world considered them. By thought, by reading, by communion
with glad nature, half unconsciously they were preparing for their
work. And when the kindling came, and the fire burned within them,
when they were divinely swept into utterance or action, they owed
far more than we should ever guess to the silent preparation of
delay. As it is with men of genius, so with God, only in loftier and
nobler ways. His delays are not the delays of inactivity. They are
the delays of preparation. In an instant the tropical storm may
burst and break, yet for weeks—unseen—the storm has been
preparing. The sunshine of May comes, and all the world is green,
yet on God's loom of January that robe was being spun. And the
morning breaks when at last some prayer is answered, and the
desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose, yet the answer was
being fashioned in these very years when we said there was no
eye to pity and no arm to save.
It takes a million years to harden the ruby, says the poet, yet
through all the years the hardening goes on. It takes a century
for the sea to wear away one cliff, yet every night when we sleep
the breakers dash on it. So when we pray and strive and nothing
happens, till we are tempted to say "God does not know, God
does not care," who can tell but that, behind the veil, infinite love
may be toiling like the sea, to give us in the full time our heart's
desire?
"My Father worketh hitherto and I work." It is a mysterious word
of the Lord Jesus Christ. Perhaps God, like some of the busiest
men I know, is doing most when He seems to be doing nothing.
There Is Love in Delay And so in closing I would say to you: do
not lose heart at the delays of God. Speed, after all, is but a
relative term, and there is more love in God's slow method than
you think. I was staying the other week with some friends in
Ireland, when word came that our friend's place of business had
been broken into. It was a holiday and he was away in Galway,
and was not to be home again until that evening. Well, he came
home, very tired and famished, and a foolish wife would have
rushed out to meet him with the news; but his wife was not foolish,
she was Scotch and sensible, and she let him wash and eat and
rest himself a little; and then when he was ready to see things
rightly she broke the news, and I saw there was wisdom and love
in that delay.
You who are mothers here, and who look back on those sweet
years when your innocent children played about your feet, had you
never some great news to tell your children, yet you deliberately
withheld it for a time? "If we tell them tonight there will not be one
wink of sleep; if we tell them when they waken, there will not be
one bite of breakfast"; and so deliberately you held back the
blessing, and you did it just because you loved them so. If ye
then being evil, act like that, is it incredible that God should do
the same? Is it fair to distrust our Father, to say He has no pity,
to charge the heavens with being brass above us? I think it is
wiser to pray on, strive on, casting all doubts to the devil who
inspired them; believing in a love that never mocks us, and that
will give us our heart's desire in His own time.
source:
http://www.revivalschool.com/
DELAYS Are NOT DENIALS
-Unknown.
How often have we been tempted to give up on God, on prayer, on
waiting, on patience and endurance, because God delayed in
answering prayer immediately? How many parents, after praying
for decades, have still not seen the salvation of a child? How many
believers have prayed night and day for healing, but still suffer or
have to behold the suffering of a loved-one? Not a few have prayed
and fasted for their financial needs to be met, and have agonized
because of mounting debt? BUT GOD…was in full control and had
a reason for the delay, for delays are not denials. We must keep
the bow string taut and continue to pray, for only God knows how
close to the crest of the hill we are. We must not give up despite
disappointments, for God will justify Himself and bring glory to
Himself. That great man of faith, Elijah, not only prayed to God for
rain. He also kept gazing toward the horizon for the tell-tale signs
of a cloud, until eventually a cloud the size of a man’s fist
appeared. He persevered until the heavens unleashed its glory,
and God’s word was fulfilled.
George H. Morrison in “Devotional Sermons” has given hope to the
weary. Read on, dear saint, and be reassured that “as soon as
you began to make your request, a reply was sent. I have come to
give you the reply…” (“You had no sooner started your prayer
when the answer was given” – Msg) – Daniel 9:23.
{Please don’t give up on the quality of speech in this devotional.
You might learn from it the treasures of the English language.}
The Doctrine of Delays
....There are myriads of creatures who are born and dance and die
in the short span of a bright July day. No one in watching them
would ever dream of charging the Creator with delay. But a nation
of men which is to serve the high ends of heaven is never fashioned
hastily like that. Through pilgrimage and war and struggle and
blood and tears, by heroism that oft seems unavailing and sacrifice
that is like water spilt, it becomes the polished instrument of God.
Delay, then, tends to become more marked, the higher you rise in
the Creator's purposes. Great delays in the mystery of providence
are the highway for the chariot of great blessing. The joy that
cometh in the morning might be far less thrilling, had not the
weeping from which it springs endured all night.
Had Jesus forgotten Mary and Martha? We see this very clearly in
the raising of Lazarus—that tenderest and most touching of all
miracles. When Lazarus was ill - when his state had become critical -
Martha and Mary, you remember, sent word to Jesus. Now Jesus
loved Lazarus and his sisters, and the happiest memories
encircled that village home; yet the Gospel tells us that when
Jesus heard the news, He abode two days still in the place where
He was. There are seasons when two days seems like a moment;
there are seasons when two days seems an eternity. When a life
is in the balance half-an-hour is endless; twice four-and-twenty
hours is unbearable. What did it mean? Had Jesus quite forgotten
them? Was He deaf and dead to the prayers of the sisters' love? I
think that Martha and Mary, with their eyes on dying Lazarus,
knew the burden of divine delay. They knew its burden then; they
know its meaning now. They see it irradiated with purpose and
with wisdom. A little boon might have been granted instantly, but
the great actions of God have tardy wheels. The greater and richer
the blessing that we pray for, the more must we reckon on the
delays of God. Nor should we forget—for this is very important—
what I might call the moral training of delay. Did we get everything
we craved for in the very hour of asking it, I think it would be a long
farewell to manhood. The one sure way to ruin a young child is to
give it immediately all for which it asks; and to the Ancient of days,
whose hairs are white as wool (see Dan_7:9), I fancy the oldest
readers are but as little children.
Think of Christ's treatment of the Syro-phoenician woman when
she came to Him praying for her daughter. All her motherhood was
on her lips and in her eyes as she pled and interceded for her child.
Do you think it was cruel of Christ to answer her never a word?
Do you think it was harsh to speak about the dogs? How much
we should have missed, and how much Christ Himself would have
missed, had it not been for that practice of delay! It was that which
called out in her fine persistence, her faith, her wit, all that was
brightest in her. She might have been anybody when she began,
but she was a woman among women when she ended. And many
a person has begun by being anybody, and ended by being a
woman among women, because they were kept praying and
pleading long for something that was to be granted by and by.
Work reveals character, but so does waiting. Waiting shows the
baby or the man. We need to be tested to prove if we be worthy
just to receive and use the thing we crave. So it often is that God
delays, and will not answer us, and keeps us waiting. It is not in
scorn, but in the wisest love, that He will not for a while.
There Is Silent Preparation behind God's Delay
Then it is very helpful to remember that divine delay does not mean
inactivity. God is not idle when He does not answer us; He is
busier preparing the answer than we think. There have been men
of genius who could only work irregularly; for long periods they
seemed to do nothing at all. Then suddenly, and as if by inspiration,
their powers took fire and they wrought at a white heat. You may
be sure of it that the periods in between were not so idle as the
world considered them. By thought, by reading, by communion
with glad nature, half unconsciously they were preparing for their
work. And when the kindling came, and the fire burned within them,
when they were divinely swept into utterance or action, they owed
far more than we should ever guess to the silent preparation of
delay. As it is with men of genius, so with God, only in loftier and
nobler ways. His delays are not the delays of inactivity. They are
the delays of preparation. In an instant the tropical storm may
burst and break, yet for weeks—unseen—the storm has been
preparing. The sunshine of May comes, and all the world is green,
yet on God's loom of January that robe was being spun. And the
morning breaks when at last some prayer is answered, and the
desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose, yet the answer was
being fashioned in these very years when we said there was no
eye to pity and no arm to save.
It takes a million years to harden the ruby, says the poet, yet
through all the years the hardening goes on. It takes a century
for the sea to wear away one cliff, yet every night when we sleep
the breakers dash on it. So when we pray and strive and nothing
happens, till we are tempted to say "God does not know, God
does not care," who can tell but that, behind the veil, infinite love
may be toiling like the sea, to give us in the full time our heart's
desire?
"My Father worketh hitherto and I work." It is a mysterious word
of the Lord Jesus Christ. Perhaps God, like some of the busiest
men I know, is doing most when He seems to be doing nothing.
There Is Love in Delay And so in closing I would say to you: do
not lose heart at the delays of God. Speed, after all, is but a
relative term, and there is more love in God's slow method than
you think. I was staying the other week with some friends in
Ireland, when word came that our friend's place of business had
been broken into. It was a holiday and he was away in Galway,
and was not to be home again until that evening. Well, he came
home, very tired and famished, and a foolish wife would have
rushed out to meet him with the news; but his wife was not foolish,
she was Scotch and sensible, and she let him wash and eat and
rest himself a little; and then when he was ready to see things
rightly she broke the news, and I saw there was wisdom and love
in that delay.
You who are mothers here, and who look back on those sweet
years when your innocent children played about your feet, had you
never some great news to tell your children, yet you deliberately
withheld it for a time? "If we tell them tonight there will not be one
wink of sleep; if we tell them when they waken, there will not be
one bite of breakfast"; and so deliberately you held back the
blessing, and you did it just because you loved them so. If ye
then being evil, act like that, is it incredible that God should do
the same? Is it fair to distrust our Father, to say He has no pity,
to charge the heavens with being brass above us? I think it is
wiser to pray on, strive on, casting all doubts to the devil who
inspired them; believing in a love that never mocks us, and that
will give us our heart's desire in His own time.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Fires, foreclosures increasing risk of West Nile virus - Inside Bay Area
SAN FRANCISCO —Two plagues in California, fires and foreclosures, may be increasing the risk of another: West Nile virus.
Wildfires have sullied the air in the Sacramento area so badly that officials there have held off aerial spraying of insecticide to combat the virus, which is spread to humans and animals by infected mosquitoes.
At the same time, backyard pools left with standing water in abandoned, foreclosed properties have created a breeding ground for mosquitoes, elevating the risk of West Nile infection.
Read full article here:
Fires, foreclosures increasing risk of West Nile virus - Inside Bay Area
Wildfires have sullied the air in the Sacramento area so badly that officials there have held off aerial spraying of insecticide to combat the virus, which is spread to humans and animals by infected mosquitoes.
At the same time, backyard pools left with standing water in abandoned, foreclosed properties have created a breeding ground for mosquitoes, elevating the risk of West Nile infection.
Read full article here:
Fires, foreclosures increasing risk of West Nile virus - Inside Bay Area
Monday, July 14, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
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