Self-denial that stands steady and apart from God stands upon yesterdays wrecks, and will live only long enough to see another take its place. For these, eternal life has no meaning, for whatever it is that satisfies their soul is truth.
Those who put nothing away; permit no rest for their own cause; or distinguish no person from another; neither the righteous from unrighteous: reject histories instruction; and have accomplished in their lifetime nothing worth mentioning.
And for the seen and unseen things that threaten them, they will neither move away nor brace themselves; neither will they prepare themself for that inevitable fall into the abyss of sorrow.
Held by the influential anchors of life; having locked the door from within; they stand upon the edge of a cliff waving their fists at a sea of tormented figures. Unable to move them from that same dreadful end, they live on the breath of every new science; of every passing thought and judgment; longing always for that promise of a fuller and richer tomorrow: yet to what end do they despair about the unknown?
Will they be satisfied with any complex explanations; will they ever be content; will any authority ever satisfy them? Will a new order of priests arise to bring their offering to the altar, or will the old order remain, every man a priest unto himself? Can a man rise up and find new inspiration in real objects, objects that are but tokens of his past?
Their thoughts support neither death nor immortality, neither hope or remorse, and whatever thing is in its place is neither good nor bad, even if out of its place. For theirs is a world of shadowy figures, of shrill sounds and raging wars, each washed in tasteless shades of gray!
Gods language is composed of powerful words, fuller and more promising than any script. Words burned into stone by the finger of his hand; and etched into the hardest of hearts. From the distant past comes the voice of promise, of hope, love and grace: the voice of a loving Savior reaching down from heaven in utterances heard throughout His eternity.
The light that lighteth the world will pierce the blackest of darkness as would a golden arrow cutting across a midnight sky. Quicken me O Lord with your loving kindness for I am a broken man! And from above I heard His voice, Come forth! and what a scene it shall be! For our Christ is the resurrection and the life, and for those who believe on Him though they were dead, yet shall they live.
The old man has been made alive, a new thing adventured, a sleeping heart awakened, and a tormented soul healed. But that final test of faith remains for many, and who will it be that falls at the feet of that anarchic camaraderie of Friday nights?
Phil LaSpino Taken from seekfirstwisdom.com
Those who put nothing away; permit no rest for their own cause; or distinguish no person from another; neither the righteous from unrighteous: reject histories instruction; and have accomplished in their lifetime nothing worth mentioning.
And for the seen and unseen things that threaten them, they will neither move away nor brace themselves; neither will they prepare themself for that inevitable fall into the abyss of sorrow.
Held by the influential anchors of life; having locked the door from within; they stand upon the edge of a cliff waving their fists at a sea of tormented figures. Unable to move them from that same dreadful end, they live on the breath of every new science; of every passing thought and judgment; longing always for that promise of a fuller and richer tomorrow: yet to what end do they despair about the unknown?
Will they be satisfied with any complex explanations; will they ever be content; will any authority ever satisfy them? Will a new order of priests arise to bring their offering to the altar, or will the old order remain, every man a priest unto himself? Can a man rise up and find new inspiration in real objects, objects that are but tokens of his past?
Their thoughts support neither death nor immortality, neither hope or remorse, and whatever thing is in its place is neither good nor bad, even if out of its place. For theirs is a world of shadowy figures, of shrill sounds and raging wars, each washed in tasteless shades of gray!
Gods language is composed of powerful words, fuller and more promising than any script. Words burned into stone by the finger of his hand; and etched into the hardest of hearts. From the distant past comes the voice of promise, of hope, love and grace: the voice of a loving Savior reaching down from heaven in utterances heard throughout His eternity.
The light that lighteth the world will pierce the blackest of darkness as would a golden arrow cutting across a midnight sky. Quicken me O Lord with your loving kindness for I am a broken man! And from above I heard His voice, Come forth! and what a scene it shall be! For our Christ is the resurrection and the life, and for those who believe on Him though they were dead, yet shall they live.
The old man has been made alive, a new thing adventured, a sleeping heart awakened, and a tormented soul healed. But that final test of faith remains for many, and who will it be that falls at the feet of that anarchic camaraderie of Friday nights?
Phil LaSpino Taken from seekfirstwisdom.com
