Possibilities and with a happy new year comes...what? Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo, ON, 2017
“Can't even imagine New beginnings Flip of the page Morning ice sparkles Matins ring at Saint Agnes And no paper delivery. Last night lacked real joy Holiday lights soon Down everywhere Frosted streets quiet For the thirty-first. And it's back to work Back to school Kids' homework A little trickier And Dad's input Pre-historic. So much the same For so long. Oh but Uncle Pete passed Brad and Sharon had a boy
Carrie started nurses' training Factory soon opens a new line Coupla movie stars And old political hacks No longer with us. City services chopped Yet again And foolish options Given much noise. What could be new? Set the heart a-racing Bring on optimism Surprising purposes And joy unprecedented?” Down the block People at St. Agnes Stuffing brochures For letter boxes And hand-out At the Mall: 'Come join us For heartfelt discussions Lively study Of a Gospel Encounters with The Living Christ Real prayer with friends. Could mean a big change We don't bite. Starts Thursday January 12 at seven thirty Twelve weeks If you like Plan to visit Plan to grow Who knows?'
Nasty Christians Need to Know
I shouldn’t need to change you I shouldn’t need to pound. Perhaps you’ve been mistreated
And left with hurts profound Perhaps you met a Christian Who cut you to the core Or left you feeling dirty And second-rate for sure.
My job is not the doctrine To cram into your heart. My job is dauntless loving That sets His Church apart. The kind that walked the seaside And bid the hurting near The kind that healed the wounded And took away death’s fear.
He didn’t need agreement He didn’t need to win He simply showed a kindness That made men loathe their sin. And He is all my pattern And He is all my pride. And He is waiting near you To put His Love inside.
Not Really Optional
It seemed like the cream-puff option A trip to my knees Petitions launched upward To Someone, Somewhere While life and duty
Pressed forward and inward And anger and self-pity Almost room-mates. But that Saturday In the workshop Knuckles rapped by a slipped wrench Curses uttered The “one day off” Becoming tiresome. Then two words Out of nowhere “Listen Son” “Whassat?” I couldn’t pass them by Not just foolish imagination And a strange sense Of a Presence. Then it seemed my own thoughts Had the podium ‘You complain Never content Self-pitying Blaming many others Marriage faltering Job on thin ice Never a new day Faced fresh.’ And again, “Listen Son And we’ll talk some.”
That was the beginning Workshop turned cathedral Time that I never calculated Turned holy. And He was there for me and mine The Glow returning. And I started To lift up others. In the name of Jesus.
Like a Dog in the Park
Don's wife had asked him how the Men's Study Group had gone. She knew that they had just polished off the final chapter in some topical book. Job, she thought. He had come home week after week for ten weeks, saying very little. Don was now being called upon to summarize, and he was finding it difficult. Being with the guys was always good, but it seemed that there was never any room in the evening for spontaneity. The role of facilitator was passed around from chapter to chapter, but the underlying agenda was always to get through the assigned pages. His attention had been drifting this time around and he found that he could not accurately report to Becky, although she was truly interested. Some author that everybody said was good, but still second-hand information when compared to the Book of books. Why did they persist in doing this? Running to some study guide with one man's spin on things? Considering that in this fashion they were "doing their duty"? Was this truly fellowship? Two weeks ago it had seemed that it was on the tip of Brad's tongue to let go with some personal problem. Something was eating at him. His face said that he was elsewhere. But there was that chapter to get through. The opportunity was lost. Don was starting to suspect that the problem went beyond the Men's Group at Crosspoints. It also put off the main body of the church from real engagement, real burden bearing, real examination of the scriptures. This was nothing like the thrill in his early years of faith when he had gobbled up the wonderfully consistent message of hope and of calling from Genesis to Revelation. Largely in his private time. Light gained which would never be forgotten. A true meeting with God, His thoughts and loving kindness. A true brotherly spirit with Jesus.
The next day at work, Don found himself musing on this predicament. Then suddenly, a recollection of something his father had said. Dad had been quite an exercise enthusiast, but eventually tired of the regimen. He said that he had come to know the total number of ceramic tiles in the bottom of the YMCA pool; the number of cracks in the sidewalk jogging around the downtown park. Then he got hold of a book from the military on aerobic exercise. The writer said that a work-out program should be as spontaneous and varied as the wanderings of a big dog in the park. Watch the animal. He will run uphill; sprint downhill; stop for a sniff at a tree; look overhead at some mocking crows; lope at an easy jog across the large playing field; walk while curiously examining some children at play on the swings; stop and catch his breath. Could one's faith walk possibly take on such a fresh approach? Could one's willingness to go with the flow of the moment open up new opportunities in fellowship, in community, in fulfilling the Great Commission? Ask the Holy Spirit for refreshment, for guidance, for Jesus in the midst? Something was wrong. He would have to take the risk and tell the guys. Who knows?
Note from Doug: This is one of a large number of ebooks of exhortation and faith. Simply browse google at issuu.com/dewane Email: blaredub@gmail.com See also the site Histouchalone