Your Dying Spouse 707 - What Jesus Wrote

We have the Bible; God's word, right?

So why do we try to read things into the Good Book?

One of these is 'divine health', that believers should 'walk in God's will for their health'. Well, it's nice, but why did Paul have to put up with the 'thorn in his flesh'? Surely Paul was a top-shelf believer, and yet he was not relieved of this.

And what was the 'thorn', anyway? People try to figure it out, but no amount of scholarship will now tell us.

It may be God's privilege to conceal things and a king's privilege to discover them (Prov. 25:2), but some things are not going to be known.

And it may be that they won't be known because we need not concern ourselves; the thorn was Paul's business, not ours.

Likewise, when the nasty men were about to stone the adultress, and after rebuking them Jesus knelt to trace a pattern in the dirt...what did He write?

Maybe it was a list of names and sins, maybe it was a just doodling...maybe, maybe, maybe, and we will never know in this life.

We use our guesses to try to force Jesus into a corner, that He would be writing what we secretly believe we'd have written.

I can just see Him, with a mysterious Mona Lisa smile, saying, "I'm the Lion of Judah, not your pet cat."

Then, after a pause, "And have you ever tried to get a cat to do what you want?"

We try to figure what He wrote

with His finger in the dust.

A list of names, cartoonish goat,

or "In God We Trust"?

We want to pin Him into place

to feed our preconceptions

as if there's not sufficient grace

in the Resurrection.

I wonder if He laughs at us

in His holy glee,

and gets His beard and hair all mussed

as He slaps His knees.

Did He know when He made the Earth

that we'd be supplying so much mirth?

Here's Switchfoot, with This Is Home, from the soundtrack of The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Marley, the canine waif from Afghanistan, whom WE helped save, has a Facebook page! Please drop by to see how happy he is today.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spouse 706 - General Jesus MacArthur {FMF}

I have a flat belly. I'm not saying that as a matter of pride, but when I look down, I can now see the tumour in the navel, bulging out. And that sucks.

So too, one on my forearm, by my elbow...who would have believed that?

Things just aren't going well, I'm tired, and sometimes I have the nagging thought...just give in, give up, let go of life.

Fall into the arms of Jesus.

Trouble, is, Jesus isn't entertaining my arm-falling application. He's puffing on His corncob pipe, looing at me through His Ray-Bans, and expecting me to quit whining.

He looks a bit like MacArthur.

Duty, honour, country. His country.

And He's right. If I give in, say I've gone as far as I can go, I'll negate of everything I've lived and written.

Faith and hope were conditional, after all.

But it cannot be thus; faith and hope may be conditioned only by death in God's service.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger. . . .

William Shakespeare, Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1

And so, we step out onto the wire, and below lies the abyss.

Every day the danger grows;

with every step along the wire,

from below the hot wind blows

and the flames are rising higher.

The rising smoke swirls and hides

the other end; how far to go?

The wire sways, the shifting tides

of fear that those who dare must know.

Another foot, I slide and pause,

and then the next, with pounding heart

that will not bow to safety's laws;

for glory I must play my part.

Some call me mad, some call me brave,

but I must walk, my soul to save.

This sonnet first appeared on December 2, 2019, as a comment on Joe Sicardi's blog post, To Dare Mighty Things, on his excellent blog, Father Says.

Here's a video clip from the marvelous film The Walk, set to music.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Marley, the canine waif from Afghanistan, whom WE helped save, has a Facebook page! Please drop by to see how happy he is today.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spouse 705 - A Long Last Look

The Christmas season. sometimes you look back.

Don't ever look back.

It hurts.

The Christmas lights are shining

through the softly falling snow,

and I find that I am pining

for the not-so-long-ago.

The last warm days of fading fall

contained such love and warmth,

and though I haven’t lost it all,

there is a hole, a dearth.

All good things must go away,

and all good people, too;

in a world gone so astray,

the fact of pain holds true.

I just wish to God I could rewind

and yesterday would yet be mine.

Music from Mike and the Mechanics, with The Living Years.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Marley, the canine waif from Afghanistan, whom WE helped save, has a Facebook page! Please drop by to see how happy he is today.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spouse 704 - Que Sera Sera

I won't say it was a terrific Thanksgiving holiday. Barb's friends are in the final stages of packing to move, and another of our senior dogs, Humphrey ('Humphalump'), a Pit Bull, is dying.

And I'm sicker than I was. No feasts for me, in any event. Nibble a bit here and there, and ice-cold light beer to get the swelling and pain down so I can swallow.

Never thought I'd get tired of beer. (Just kidding, I'm not)

I try not to look back. What's done is done, and what's here today, both the obligations and the opportunities (which still arise) deserve my best efforts.

And after that, it's God's decision.

A collision course with destiny,

an intersect with fate.

I was never very good,

and never will be great.

I did my best through every day,

and tried to hearken to the light;

or I thought so, anyway,

but did I get it right?

Someday, one day all too soon

I’ll have to go and meet

the Lord God in His living room,

sitting in His Judgement Seat.

It’s far too late to change my ways,

so I’ll just listen to what he says.

Bet you thought, given the title, that the music would be Que Sera Sera, but I don't really like that song. Instead, here's Daniel Boone with Beautiul Sunday. MUCH more fun.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Marley, the canine waif from Afghanistan, whom WE helped save, has a Facebook page! Please drop by to see how happy he is today.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.