What's in the Tote?

What’s In the Tote?

Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2020 Some handy Gospel booklets.

Evangelism: Constrained by Love Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2020

Song to a Confederate May 23, 2009

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Yankee lad,

A midnight sentry.

On the graveyard watch tonight.

In this bitter autumn campaign

As our Rebels hold ‘em tight.

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Fighting sleep,

The soldier’s struggle,

With the lives of troops at stake.

Fighting dampness, all a-shiver.

Singing, just to stay awake.

Perched on bluff,

And silhouetted,

With a chilly moon behind.

Easy target for my Springfield.

Morning sun-up, corpse they’ll find.

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But the song

Drifts cross the valley,

In his soothing baritone,

Of a loving, reaching Saviour.

One, by mother’s side, I’d known.

Something of

A calling Jesus;

And a wanderer’s cry for peace;

And one bitter night’s unloading;

And the Spirit’s sweet release.

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I had loved

My Mama’s rendering,

But I would not heed the call.

And with years of tramps and camps, since,

I’ve no heart for it at all.

So tonight

Oh foolish Yankee,

I will put the song to rest.

With a careful eye, a long breath

And a bullet through your breast.

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Though sited

Down the cold, gray steel,

I cannot make this kill.

My trigger hand’s a-shakin’

And it isn’t from the chill.

Oh, blue-coat boy,

You’re “saved” again

To see the sun’s first rays.

I’ll not have Mama’s ghost, and yours,

To haunt me all my days…

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…A million miles

I’ve traveled since.

And countless moons I’ve seen.

A business came, prosperity.

The war seemed but a dream.

One Christmas Eve,

Some long years’ thence,

I chanced to be afloat.

A break from work. A change of scene.

A festive riverboat.

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And word got ‘round

The evening’s sport

Would be a talent fair.

“The lights, the song. Oh come along.

We’ve got to see you there.”

The program came.

I went outside.

I’d no love for this day.

And aft, I watched the big wheel churn

Its frigid wake away.

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Another year.

Another gain.

By rights a sound success.

But like those waters swirling there,

Inside I was a mess.

Too cold it was.

I joined the throng.

I sat right at the rear.

A special guest, evangelist,

One Ira Sankey, here.

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I’d heard the news.

I’d read the press.

His tour of Britain’s halls

With Moody; their effectiveness,

Their skill in Gospel calls.

And after songs

Of Yuletide hope,

This tall man took the stage.

His frame so straight, his dress so fine.

A prince in any age.

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And then the voice.

That baritone!

My mother’s song begins.

Not Christmas cheer; the sentry’s here

To call me from my sins!

How’s this, I quake?

It must be so.

I’m here, but by some plan.

Oh Mama dear, I think that

Now I understand the man!

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His words so true.

His voice so rich.

God’s presence fills the place.

I’ll leave my night. I see the Son.

I’m saved and by His Grace.

(A life was spared.

A song was sung.

His Christ had seen him through.

I’d heard the song. I’d come along.

And now, his Christ I knew.)

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Evangelist

He was there for them

And they knew it

And his smiles and songs

Would brighten up the tent.

And the energy needed

To get through it

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Was a joyful package

Timely, Heaven sent.

He was just like them

Nothing really special

Save that Jesus had

Arrested all his heart.

And accordian and banjo

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Played their favourite

Songs of Zion

Building faith

Salvation to impart.

They were hurting

In a town

Close to rock-bottom

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And the government

Offered little of relief

But the preachers

Set the stage for

Life abundant

Triggered simply

By repentance

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And belief.

“He is here!

The Master yearns to do

His business

And to liberate

Where Satan has deceived.

And you’ve heard

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The words of Gospel

Transformation.

Who is ready to

Step forward and receive?�

With Salvation

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I will clothe your priests

With Salvation

Not innovation

Or lifestyle

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Or anecdotes

End time observation

Or summer vacation.

Yes, clothed with it

Reminiscent of it

Fragrant with it

And little else.

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For there is the joy

Discovering plenteous redemption

Not earned

Not learned

But graciously laid out

For wearing and sharing.

New clothes, righteous.

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In this shall saints

Loudly shout, laugh

And marvel.

Ever thankful.

Fueled for the Master

Purchased, begotten

And blessed.

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Then doors of praise

And manifestation

And all the rest.

Psalm 132: 16

Who’s In Charge?

Let us remember the Sovereignty of God Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2020

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In charge they said You call the shots The best of Love The best of thoughts And Highest Power And without lack.

So you must always Have my back.

But pain now comes In wicked ways Disheartened, aching Nowadays.

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So why no help?

I search your Writ.

I bow in prayer And beg for it.

I will not let The troubles mar Your Father’s Love It’s who you are.

There must be gain In wrestling so I trust you Lord And closer grow.

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Don't Waste Your Sorrows - ​October 03, 2010Â

Years ago I was given a copy of a book by this title. The donor, Bob was a friend who taught a class of special needs children. He was aware that Hilary and I were going through difficulties and he wanted to encourage us with honest insight on the purposes of suffering.

The author Paul Billheimer had enjoyed a vibrant ministry together with his wife until a serious heart attack put him on his back with little or no chance of returning to his beloved vocation. The Billheimers stayed close to the promises of God regarding healing and submitted to extensive treatment. The sense of hopelessness passed with the increasing realization of God's presence and love. Paul was returned to activity as counsel for the TBN Network (Paul and Jan Crouch).

The testing and victory led to the above-mentioned book which is a part of a trilogy of titles (Purposes in prayer; purposes in suffering; priority of love). I strongly recommend this writer.

He suggests that the greatest Sufferer of all is God who is so grossly misunderstood and maligned by the greater number of people. He is

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sovereign however, and His plans will succeed. He desires to partner with faithful children who are learning progressively to understand His nature and to walk in His ways. He wishes to accomplish His will in response to faithful prayer. Indeed, John Wesley went so far as to say that God will do nothing on this planet except in response to prayers and supplications from His children. We have a huge job to do in the way of intercession and we are told repeatedly in the New Testament that we are to PRAY - for friends, ministers, persons in authority, the sick, the deprived, the lonely, the wayward.

But how are such prayers to be offered with fervency? The answer is Christ-like compassion. How is that compassion to come? Identification with the real facts and issues and challenges behind the case. How is that identification to come? SUFFERING.

Therefore one must not "waste" his sorrows, through fretting, self-pity, anger or despondency. Look for the opportunities. Gain the audacity and the resource. Grow in Christ. Allow the greatness of His suffering and ultimate victory to chisel away at the size of your portion of gloom.

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And whatever the circumstances there is always cause to rejoice in the Lord (Philippians 4:4) and one's inevitable inheritance by faith.

Someone needs to hear this today. Someone needs to know that there is a precious currency and partnership in suffering.

Might Have Been... February 04, 2020

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sand castles disappear but bountiful Ocean remains

Might have been Oh so many Those hopes and dreams Of the past Invested heavily In many of them But good vibes

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Did not last.

I grumbled at All my bad luck.

(And this before Prayer life began.)

A saga of grim Perseverance But still just the Sweat of a man.

Then shockingly Hard times so pressing That God had to Show or die.

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And one tiny prayer For mercy Conveyed me His Open Sky. And fellowship Scarcely imagined Contentment in His Flock.

The greatest of joy For this rescued boy To kneel and To hear Him talk.

On Target February 02, 2020

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Â

The place spins round And sun looks down And moon will calm the weary.

Some battles rage And work’s slim wage And grief assaults the teary.

But all is mine And comes the time

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When Grace brings rest to waiting.

They know for sure Christ brings the cure With hatred’s curse abating.

I plan a Home For those who roam And look for love unmeasured The faithful there Beyond all care And endless joy so treasured. http://momentsmidstream.blogspot.com/2010/09/with-beasts.html

https://issuudotcomslashdewane.wordpress.com/2015/06/28/hope-from-the-hill/

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Prayer:​ Heavenly Father please forgive us for the times when we thought that you could have done otherwise; said otherwise. This amounts to grievous denial of your Love and Fatherly Wisdom. You have indeed saved our red little necks so often. We choose to trust, follow and dream large dreams requiring us to act for your Glory and the Kingdom of Heaven.

In Jesus name we pray. Amen

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