Me too!i'm thankful mines iz
[Nephillim, however, were never written in the Book of Life, and are the wicked ones who "go astray as soon as they are born, speaking lies", and they are "the dead/rapha who will not rise", cause the Adam flesh bodies They wore were got illegitimately for their evil spirits to wear, by unlawful deeds]The Hound of Heaven
by
Francis Thompson (1859-1907)
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat--
and a Voice beat More instant than the Feet--
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."
I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities
(For, though I knew His love Who followed,
Yet was I sore adread
Lest having Him, I must have naught beside);
But if one little casement parted wide, The gust of His approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clanged bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.
I said to dawn,
Be sudden; to eve,
Be soon; With thy young skyey blossoms heap me over
From this tremendous Lover!
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
The long savannahs of the blue; Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged his chariot 'thwart a heaven
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet--
Still with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet, And a Voice above their beat--
"Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me."
I sought no more that after which I strayed In face of man or maid;
But still within the little children's eyes
Seems something, something that replies;
They at least are for me, surely for me!
I turned me to them very wistfully;
But, just as their young eyes grew sudden fair With dawning answers there,
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.
"Come then, ye other children,
Nature's--share With me," said I, "your delicate fellowship;
Let me greet you lip to lip, Let me twine with you caresses,
Wantoning With our Lady-Mother's vagrant tresses'
Banqueting With her in her wind-walled palace,
Underneath her azured daïs,
Quaffing, as your taintless way is,
From a chalice Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring."
So it was done; I in their delicate fellowship was one--
Drew the bolt of Nature's secrecies.
I knew all the swift importings
On the wilful face of skies;
I knew how the clouds arise
Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;
All that's born or dies Rose and drooped with--made them shapers
Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine-- With them joyed and was bereaven.
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers Round the day's dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning's eyes. I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine;
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart I laid my own to beat,
And share commingling heat; But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's gray cheek.
For ah! we know not what each other says,
These things and I; in sound I speak--
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;
Let her, if she would owe me,
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
The breasts of her tenderness;
Never did any milk of hers once bless
My thirsting mouth. Nigh and nigh draws the chase,
With unperturbèd pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;
And past those noisèd Feet A voice comes yet more fleet--
"Lo naught contents thee, who content'st not Me."
Naked I wait Thy love's uplifted stroke!
My harness piece by piece
Thou hast hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee; I am defenseless utterly.
I slept, methinks, and woke, A
nd, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
I stand amid the dust o' the mounded years--
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke, Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
Ah! is Thy love indeed A weed, albeit amaranthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount? Ah! must--
Designer infinite!-- Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?
My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust;
And now my heart is a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.
Such is; what is to be?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?
I dimly guess what Time in mist confounds;
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity;
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.
But not ere him who summoneth I first have seen, enwound
With blooming robes, purpureal, cypress-crowned;
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.
Whether man's heart or life it be which yields
Thee harvest, must Thy harvest fields
Be dunged with rotten death?
Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at hand the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
"And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard? Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
Strange, piteous, futile thing,
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught," He said,
"And human love needs human meriting,
How hast thou merited--
Of all man's clotted clay rhe dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms. But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms.
All which thy child's mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for the at home;
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!"
Halts by me that footfall;
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstreched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."
Show me where in the Book of Life birthday parties are even mentioned.ote=yeshuasavedme;God ordained the celebration of birthdays, and He ordained the celebration of Jesus' incarnation and His birth.
In the Book of Life, where our days are bounded by the beginning of them -conception, and birth- to the end of them, in this world.
Great. Now how about those birthday parties?The angels in heaven rejoice when we are conceived, and mark that day, and our own guardian angels are there when we are born and when we die -but its a sad day for them if we die without seeking the Light that lights every man who comes into the world, in the hopes that we may seek Him, and seeking, find Christ the Light.
http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Job&c=3&t=KJV#comm/3
[/QUOTE]But not at a birthday party.God sent a whole host of of angels out to celebrate the birth of Christ come in human being flesh of second creation, and they rejoiced in song at His birth
Psalm 139:16Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them.qu
Show me where in the Book of Life birthday parties are even mentioned.
I will give you credit for creative stretch, tho.
Job asked for his day-His own birthday- and his own conception day, to be blotted out of existence -a futile plea from a depressed man in a seemingly hopeless condition -and we've all been there!
But not at a birthday party.[/quote]God sent a whole host of of angels out to celebrate the birth of Christ come in human being flesh of second creation, and they rejoiced in song at His birth
Every year before, since the Feast of Tabernacles was established in Israel, and every year since, as Tabernacles is His birthdate, according to the Word of God.
His conception as the Stone laid in Zion of the New Man temple not made with hands is the 24th day of the ninth month, which is dated exactly in Haggai, 2. That is the eve of Channukah [which was an added feast to celebrate the miracle of the lights, in the days of the Maccabees [how appropriate and significant!]. That makes his birthdate fall at the beginning of Tabernacles and his circumcision on the eighth day, that "Great Day" which signs the end of this present creation and the beginning of the New.
So in God's Feasts/memorials/rehearsals, Tabernacles is the birth date of Jesus the Christ come in "New Man flesh". That's a pretty significant birthday celebration!
"The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life."So your problem is the human being body, then, in general?
You fear that the pleasures God made for the race of Adam, whom He made male and female, are evil to enjoy?
I think you are very much mistaught by somebody, and I think the spirit behind the ideas you are espousing hates the human being body -period.
259.Do you know how many times the word rejoice is used by the Creator in Scripture?
For a person to speak a word they need breath, or air/wind. In greek, wind is the same word for spirit. What physical properties does the wind have?Did you know that Adam is made in the very bodily image of God the Word?...
Yes. Christians celebrate the gift of life each soul born into the world has, among their friends and relations, and they celebrate the birth of Christ come in flesh -even though some of them have the date wrong [it's at this time of year/Tabernacles]; they know its a really big event, and they celebrate it.
Early Christians didn't celebrate birthdays. Thats what kings, emperors, pharaohs, ect did.
It signifies the root cause.How so, then? If the people celebrating the birthdays care nothing at all for astrology (as most do not) then what does it signify if someone else somewhere else may once have done so?
Nothing at all. It's a ridiculous superstition.
I don't know who started the tradition of celebrating birthdays, and I don't see nothing wrong with it my self...
I just don't get it! What's the big deal? What's wrong with celebrating birthdays? Am I a pagan because I celebrate birthdays? Am I a pagan because I'm happy I and my loved ones have made another year? Surely there are more important things to debate!?[/COLOR]
A religious spirit is opposed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and wants to hold dominion over and gate the entrance into salvation of other human beings with burdens that Jesus never lays on any of His sons.
"His Yoke is easy and His burden is light", but religious spirits add burdens that cannot be borne, and make rebels against God who do not want anything to do with such a monster who takes all Joy of living away, by their "taste not touch not" unbiblical doctrines.
Tomorrow, my husband and I celebrate -with joy and gratefulness to God our Savior- the completion of 48 years of marriage.
We have seven children and thank God for each of them and tell them so, esp on their birthday anniversaries.
Thank God we have freedom of thought and religion and that we can freely celebrate with our loved ones the anniversaries of happy events in our lives, for which we events we praise God.
Maybe one day you might seem something wrong with exalting someone other than Christ.
...But I do know today, October 20, 2011, 46 years ago, God gave a woman in my state the gift of a little girl.
21 years later I married her.
Today is her 46th birthday.
And I thank God he sent her into my life.
I love you from the bottm of my heart Mrs. DeaconDean, Happy 46th Birthday!
And thank God He sent you into my life!..
You just did right here. To me it seems like your putting this woman over Christ. Your interests are divided my friend.
Yes, but notice the last three words here.Did I not give all the credit to God in Him allowing my mother-in-law to have daughter just for me?
You made it seem that way.You make it seem like I'm placing her on a pedestal and worshippinh her one day a year.
If you have a problem with birthdays, fine. But as for me, I see children as a gift from God, and the day they are born, exalting God for the good things He gives us.
And my wife was a gift from God to my mother-in-law.
God Bless
Till all are one.
Yes, but notice the last three words here.
You made it seem that way.
Every good and perfect gift is from above. I know what i'm defending, do you know what your fighting for?
Yes till all are one in peace.
Birthdays were always marked by whatever means the family and friends wished to mark them by, from the beginning of time.so birthday parties were not celibrated by early christians, but it is now celibrated