Happy 12 / 12 / 12 !
Let's all concert in prayer at 12:12:12 today.
What a wonderful way to celebrate a "once in a lifetime" event!
(Afterward, comment on the focus of your prayer.)
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
GLASS HALF FULL (Joni Eareckson Tada)
Joni shares how seeing a glass "half "empty" can be changed into seeing differently, as she shares the story of her friend. Listen in or read the transcript at the link below.
http://www.joniandfriends.org/radio/5-minute/glass-half-full/
http://www.joniandfriends.org/radio/5-minute/glass-half-full/
HAPPINESS: The Neuroscience Behind It
Shawn Achor, son of a neuroscientist and Harvard graduate and professor, gives a birds eye view of the "SCIENCE" of happiness. This is calculable, quantitative evidence that is undeniable. You may choose not to believe it, but you do so at the risk of missing out on one of life's greatest treasures: HAPPINESS.
The Bible tells us that God "has give us ALL THINGS freely to enjoy." (I Timothy 6:17) So, what happened to happiness? Take just 12 1/2 minutes to listen. EVERY principle within this short video is nothing short of what the scripture teaches. A concise "how to" is what makes this video and the information contained therein, so very valuable. I dare you to try it.
Shawn is the author of the book "The Happiness Advantage" and has numerous resources available at Amazon.com
The Bible tells us that God "has give us ALL THINGS freely to enjoy." (I Timothy 6:17) So, what happened to happiness? Take just 12 1/2 minutes to listen. EVERY principle within this short video is nothing short of what the scripture teaches. A concise "how to" is what makes this video and the information contained therein, so very valuable. I dare you to try it.
Shawn is the author of the book "The Happiness Advantage" and has numerous resources available at Amazon.com
Monday, August 27, 2012
DON'T BE FOOLED BY ME
PLEASE HEAR WHAT I AM 'NOT' SAYING...
Please don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear, for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off and none of them are me. Pretending is an art that is second nature to me, but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression I'm secure and that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name, coolness my game, that water is calm and I'm in command and that I need no one, but don't believe me, please don't believe me.
My surface may be smooth, but my surface is a mask--my every varying and ever concealing mask. Beneath it dwells the real confusion, fear and aloneness. Beneath lies my smugness, my complacently, but I hide this--I don't want anyone to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That's why I frantically created a mask to hide behind-- nonchalant sophisticated facades to help me pretend-- to shield me from the glance that knows-- but such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only salvation and I know it. That is if it's followed by acceptance. If it's followed by love, it's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self built prison walls and from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I cannot assure myself, that I'm really worth while, but I don't tell you this, I don't dare--I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid that your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me and you'll laugh and your laugh will kill me. I'm afraid that deep down, I'm nothing and that I'm just no good and that you'll see this and reject me.
So I play my game; my desperate pretending; with the facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering, but empty parade of masks and my life becomes a front. I idle chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing and nothing of what's everything and what's crying within me.
So when I'm through going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying--what I'd like to be able to say, but for survival I need to say, but what I can't say.
I dislike hiding, honestly, I dislike the superficial game I'm playing, the superficial phony game. I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me, you've got to hold out your hand, even when it's the last thing I seem to want or need.
You can help wipe away from my eyes--the blank stare of grieving dead. You can help call me into aliveness each time you're kind, gentle and encouraging. Each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings.
Iif you choose to, please choose to. You can help break down the wall behind which I tremble. You can encourage me to remove my mask. You can help release me from my shadowed world of panic and uncertainty. From my lonely prison.
So do not pass me by-- please don't pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A lone conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach me, the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what books say about man, I am irrational, I fight against the very things that I cry out for, but I am told love is stronger than strong walls. In this lies my hope, my only hope, please help beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands--for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every women you meet.
CHARLES C. FINN
1966
Please don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear, for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off and none of them are me. Pretending is an art that is second nature to me, but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression I'm secure and that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name, coolness my game, that water is calm and I'm in command and that I need no one, but don't believe me, please don't believe me.
My surface may be smooth, but my surface is a mask--my every varying and ever concealing mask. Beneath it dwells the real confusion, fear and aloneness. Beneath lies my smugness, my complacently, but I hide this--I don't want anyone to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That's why I frantically created a mask to hide behind-- nonchalant sophisticated facades to help me pretend-- to shield me from the glance that knows-- but such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only salvation and I know it. That is if it's followed by acceptance. If it's followed by love, it's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self built prison walls and from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I cannot assure myself, that I'm really worth while, but I don't tell you this, I don't dare--I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid that your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me and you'll laugh and your laugh will kill me. I'm afraid that deep down, I'm nothing and that I'm just no good and that you'll see this and reject me.
So I play my game; my desperate pretending; with the facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering, but empty parade of masks and my life becomes a front. I idle chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing and nothing of what's everything and what's crying within me.
So when I'm through going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying--what I'd like to be able to say, but for survival I need to say, but what I can't say.
I dislike hiding, honestly, I dislike the superficial game I'm playing, the superficial phony game. I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me, you've got to hold out your hand, even when it's the last thing I seem to want or need.
You can help wipe away from my eyes--the blank stare of grieving dead. You can help call me into aliveness each time you're kind, gentle and encouraging. Each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings.
Iif you choose to, please choose to. You can help break down the wall behind which I tremble. You can encourage me to remove my mask. You can help release me from my shadowed world of panic and uncertainty. From my lonely prison.
So do not pass me by-- please don't pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A lone conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach me, the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what books say about man, I am irrational, I fight against the very things that I cry out for, but I am told love is stronger than strong walls. In this lies my hope, my only hope, please help beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands--for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every women you meet.
CHARLES C. FINN
1966
Friday, August 24, 2012
STRENGTH THAT DEFIES THE ODDS
How one young black man, through choices and determination, has risen above his circumstances and has exhibited an example worth following.
VIDEO IN AHKEEM'S OWN WORDS
Ahkeem's Story (Orlando Sentinal)
VIDEO IN AHKEEM'S OWN WORDS
Ahkeem's Story (Orlando Sentinal)
Saturday, July 28, 2012
100 YEAR OLD WOMAN STANDS TOE TO TOE WITH JAY LENO
I can only pray that I will be this delightful at age 100 "when" I arrive at that monumental milestone!
(YouTube: Sass, Sweetness and the Splits)
(YouTube: Sass, Sweetness and the Splits)
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Friday, June 08, 2012
17TH CENTURY PRAYER
Written by an aging 17th CenturyPuritan saint, this prayer captures the essence of what I desire for MY life as I move into what is described as my "Golden Years". This is my desire, my goal, my prayer.
"Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody. Helpful, but not bossy with my vast store of wisdom—it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point swiftly. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience. I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a sour old person—some of them are so hard to live with and each one a crowning work of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so. Amen."
http://www.joniandfriends.org/static/uploads/broadcast_mp3s/2012/06062012-17th-century-prayer.mp3
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
BE STILL...AND LET GOD LOVE YOU!
Is it possible? Do we even KNOW HOW? Listen and allow God to speak.
"BE STILL...AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD." (Psalm 46:10)
"BE STILL...AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD." (Psalm 46:10)
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