Not much to say, today, but wanted to show off one of my favorite photos. Surrounded by the safety in many uncles (the blue stripes and the adult finger belong to two of them) a young boy learns about which wildlife is to be trusted, a family tradition meant to instill wisdom and fearlessness:
Tomorrow I’ll show you why this post was late.
In honor of the 400th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into English, commissioned by King James of England in 1611, and originally published by Robert Barker, printer to the King, I will use this version for the rest of this year in these posts. Hope we can enjoy the quaint differences we find here and appreciate all that went into it.
Job Chapter 39
Knowest thou the time when the wild goates of the rocke bring forth? or canst thou marke when the hindes doe calue?
Canst thou number the moneths that they fulfill? or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?
They bowe themselues, they bring forth their young ones, they cast out their sorrowes.
Their yong ones are in good liking, they grow vp with corne: they go forth, and returne not vnto them.
Who hath sent out the wild asse free? or who hath loosed the bands of the wild asse?
Whose house I haue made the wildernesse, and the barren lande his dwellings.
He scorneth the multitude of the citie, neither regardeth he the crying of the driuer.
The range of the mountaines is his pasture, and hee searcheth after euery greene thing.
Will the Vnicorne be willing to serue thee? or abide by thy cribbe?
Canst thou binde the Vnicorne with his band in the furrow? or will he harrow the valleyes after thee?
Wilt thou trust him because his strength is great? or wilt thou leaue thy labour to him?
Wilt thou beleeue him that hee will bring home thy seed? and gather it into thy barne?
Gauest thou the goodly wings vnto the peacocks, or wings and feathers vnto the Ostrich?
Which leaueth her egges in the earth, and warmeth them in dust,
And forgetteth that the foot may crush them, or that the wilde beast may breake them.
She is hardened against her yong ones, as though they were not hers: her labour is in vaine without feare.
Because God hath depriued her of wisedome, neither hath he imparted to her vnderstanding.
What time she lifteth vp her selfe on high, she scorneth the horse and his rider.
Hast thou giuen the horse strength? hast thou clothed his necke with thunder?
Canst thou make him afraid as a grashopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible.
He paweth in the valley, and reioyceth in his strength: hee goeth on to meet the armed men.
He mocketh at feare, and is not affrighted: neither turneth he backe from the sword.
The quiuer ratleth against him, the glittering speare and the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with fiercenesse and rage: neither beleeueth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.
He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha: and he smelleth the battaile afarre off, the thunder of the captaines, and the shouting.
Doeth the hawke flie by thy wisedome, and stretch her wings toward the South?
Doeth the Eagle mount vp at thy commaund? and make her nest on high?
She dwelleth and abideth on the rocke, vpon the cragge of the rocke, and the strong place.
From thence she seeketh the pray, and her eyes behold a farre off.
Her yong ones also suck vp blood: and where the slaine are, there is he.
P.S. I picked these for you, all you moms out there. Enjoy!
Simple Gifts
‘Tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free.
‘Tis a gift to come round where you ought to be.
And when you find yourself in a place just right
‘Twill be in the land of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shall not be ashamed.
To turn and turn will be our delight,
Until turning, turning, we come round right.
The folks at postaday asked us to list for them our top posts for the year. Since my Internet still has issues with the idea that I am trying to USE it, I thought I would repost this one for those who may have missed it. Hope you like it; it got scads of views!
I remember a dream house we moved into, once, that required walking through a nightmare before we could really own it. In a job relocation, we had looked everywhere for anything that would contain us all and that was not affected by the housing bubble. Funny, although it was the only house we could afford, it was clearly the biggest we’d ever seen. I mean, 4000 square feet with 7 acres far exceeded our hopes, in my favorite layout: an A-frame with wings. I thought it was a dream come true.
On closing day, our realtor apologized for having to board an airplane immediately for a business trip. A lie? Maybe, but certainly convenient for the realtor. The sellers skipped town, too. Our sold house was 400 miles away. The new job beckoned.
The promised cleaning had not happened. In fact, the house was far dirtier than at the showing. Everything unwanted from the attic lay strewn all over the game roomfloor—three garbage bags full of it. The kitchen looked like a murder had happened there. Probably someone had just dragged leaky packages of ground beef across the floor to the fridge when someone slipped and nearly fell in it. And had not wiped it up. Of course, the promised professional carpet cleaning existed only in the land of promises-promises. The finale for the day probably was the cat litter and feces on the dining room carpet and the animal barf on the laundry room floor. That is, until I lifted the nasty, old, wet, cleaning rag from the kitchen sink and found inside it a huge dog clunker. I screamed and nearly passed out, grabbed a plastic bag, and hurried the mess out the front door. And bleached absolutely everything while crying.
What followed was a month of the unbelievable. We mastered spot-treating carpet. I would steam clean every night until I could not remember how to turn the machine off, usually around 2 a.m. We learned how to remove vinyl wall-paper glue with a knife. We used five coats of sealer/primer on the purple paint. I list only part. No one believes the rest. Or cares, usually. Let’s say “the dream house became a nightmare.”
BUT—God went before us. Constantly we found signs of His loving approval. The perfect wallpaper in NEUTRAL colors went on sale for $4.00. A wonderful furniture salesman helped us find honest repairmen. We thank God, often, for the fact that of all the things that did not work, the smoke alarms did, since there was a fire, one night.
God blessed, protected, and boosted us as we slipped into this hard place. He gave us joy and strength as we plowed through insurmountable difficulties. One by one, each small space was ours, by right of conquest.
Lately I’ve been thinking about myself when the Lord first moved into my being. I think I know a bit about how He felt.
But He’s been up late, nights.
I am His by right of conquest.
In honor of the 400th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into English, commissioned by King James of England in 1611, and originally published by Robert Barker, printer to the King, I will use this version for the rest of this year in these posts. Hope we can enjoy the quaint differences we find here and appreciate all that went into it.
Haue yee not knowen? haue yee not heard? hath it not beene tolde you from the beginning? haue hee not vnderstood from the foundations of the earth?
It is he that sitteth vpon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grashoppers; that stretcheth out the heauens as a curtaine, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwel in;
That bringeth the princes to nothing; hee maketh the Iudges of the earth as vanitie.
Yea they shal not be planted, yea they shall not be sowen, yea their stocke shall not take roote in the earth: and he shall also blow vpon them, & they shall wither, and the whirlewinde whall take them away as stubble.
To whom then will ye liken me, or shal I be equall, saith the Holy One?
Lift vp your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names, by the greatnesse of his might, for that hee is strong in power, not one faileth.
Why sayest thou, O Iacob, and speakest O Israel, My way is hid from the Lord, and my iudgement is passed ouer from my God?
Hast thou not knowen? hast thou not heard, that the euerlasting God, the Lord, the Creatour of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is wearie? there is no searching of his vnderstanding.
Isaiah 40:21-28
The powers-that-be have just dragged her from the bed of a man to whom she is not married.
Perhaps all she is wearing is a bedsheet.
Perhaps he is one of the powers-that-be.
Nevertheless, there she stands, exposed, before her authorities. They do not care about her. They do not care about right or wrong. The have stalked her, captured her, and reduced her to the status of rubbish for one purpose: to trick a popular counselor of that day.
“The law demands this woman be stoned to death,” they announce. Then they wait. They are so sure. They have Him this time. The Man of Mercies will have to admit that mercy does not always win. They think.
He is unperturbed. He stoops and writes in the dust. A list of their sins? Perhaps. Do they look around themselves, worriedly, confused? Perhaps.
Meanwhile, the life of a woman hangs over eternity. Perhaps, thrown down to the ground, does she cower? Perhaps. In a culture that forbids her uncovered state, in a land filled with huge stones, she waits, uncovered, for her stoning.
Finally the Man stands to speak. “And whoever is without sin should throw the first stone.” Then he resumes writing.
Beginning with the eldest–perhaps wisest–each man drops his gleeful attitude, drops his stone, drops his case. Point taken.
The kind Counselor turns to ask the woman, “Where are they? Who is accusing you?”
The answer, from inside a bedsheet: “No one.”
“Neither do I condemn you.”
Notice He does not say she did not sin, but only that He does not condemn her. She stands obviously guilty and shamed, but for her, there is now no condemnation.
Stoning is not prevalent in our society, but prostitution is. I want to ask you: How many of us have been there–a blackened past forgiven by the mercies of God?
How many of us throw away that forgiveness? How many of us hug our sad past close and get it out to look at it and mourn over it, to relive it to its fullest? How many of us labor with all our might to get out from under sin that no longer is over us? How many of us on, stormy days, add to the bad past by letting it create for us bad choices, bad attitutdes, bad excuses?
A bad present?
Jesus asked only one thing from that woman, that day, and asks it of us, too: “Go, and sin no more.”
In honor of the 400th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into English, commissioned by King James of England in 1611, and originally published by Robert Barker, printer to the King, I will use this version for the rest of this year in these posts. Hope we can enjoy the quaint differences we find here and appreciate all that went into it.
Heare, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord.
And thou shalt loue the Lord they God with all thine heart, and with all thy soule, and with all thy might.
Deuteronomy 6:4-5
There is one body, and one spirit, euen as yee are called in one hope of your calling.
One Lord, one Faith, one Baptisme,
One God and Father of all, who is aboue all, & through all, & in you all.
Ephesians 4:4-6
For there is one God, and one Mediatour betweene God and men, the man Christ Jesus,
Who gaue himselfe a ransome for all, to be testified in due time.
1 Timothy 2:5-6
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