Like my Christmas Horn-aments?
Thinking about: Romans 8:28
"In one thousand trials it is not just five hundred of them that work for the believer's good, but nine hundred and ninety-nine of them, and one beside." (George Mueller).
The story is told of two artists, high on a scaffold in an Italian church. They were putting the finishing touches on a painting when the master painter stepped back to admire his work. The apprentice saw the move, and realizing his master was about to take a plunge to his death, thought not to cry out and startle his master and, in effect, assist in the disaster. Instead the young man splashed paint across the freshly completed portion, causing the master to lunge forward in anger screaming, "Why did you do that!?" Upon hearing the reason, his anger melted into tears of joy and thankfulness.
"If we are impressed with the scholarship of man and the achievements of scientific knowledge, then let us not play the fool by trumpeting a tiny chirp and ignoring the thunder clap of omniscience. " (John Piper)
Behold: the common log. When I look at a log or some other cut piece of a tree, I see things like
chicken floating, roasting above a fire or flaming marshmallow comets. When a sculptor sees a log, he sees art. To me, a chisel is a box of band-aids waiting to be opened. To the professional, it is the key that unlocks the treasure inside the block. The sculptor takes tool in hand and pokes and gouges and digs and hammer and pushes and forces and twists until there is a finished product. Behold: the common log. Fireplace fodder for one, a masterpiece to display on the fireplace mantle of another. God’s working in our lives may be painful, but his purpose is for our good.
"God is God, and God is good. As Paul affirms for the church, God's sovereignty is the ground of our hope, the assurance of God's justice as the last word, and God's loving rule in the very events of our lives." (Al Mohler on the Goodness of God and the Reality of Evil)
The story is told of two artists, high on a scaffold in an Italian church. They were putting the finishing touches on a painting when the master painter stepped back to admire his work. The apprentice saw the move, and realizing his master was about to take a plunge to his death, thought not to cry out and startle his master and, in effect, assist in the disaster. Instead the young man splashed paint across the freshly completed portion, causing the master to lunge forward in anger screaming, "Why did you do that!?" Upon hearing the reason, his anger melted into tears of joy and thankfulness."If we are impressed with the scholarship of man and the achievements of scientific knowledge, then let us not play the fool by trumpeting a tiny chirp and ignoring the thunder clap of omniscience. " (John Piper)
Behold: the common log. When I look at a log or some other cut piece of a tree, I see things like
chicken floating, roasting above a fire or flaming marshmallow comets. When a sculptor sees a log, he sees art. To me, a chisel is a box of band-aids waiting to be opened. To the professional, it is the key that unlocks the treasure inside the block. The sculptor takes tool in hand and pokes and gouges and digs and hammer and pushes and forces and twists until there is a finished product. Behold: the common log. Fireplace fodder for one, a masterpiece to display on the fireplace mantle of another. God’s working in our lives may be painful, but his purpose is for our good."God is God, and God is good. As Paul affirms for the church, God's sovereignty is the ground of our hope, the assurance of God's justice as the last word, and God's loving rule in the very events of our lives." (Al Mohler on the Goodness of God and the Reality of Evil)
"The stream of Providence is . . . so twisting, so dark, apparently so murky, and occasionally so devastating that it requires strong faith believe that it is the work of God and not of chance; and that if it is the work of God--it must be just, and wise, and good. In the darkest dispensations of Providence affecting ourselves, strong faith realizes that it is all from God; and must therefore be wise, and just, and good. To be able really say, "It is well. I am sure it is right. I cannot tell how it is right. I do not understand why this deep afflictive Providence came. I can find no key to unlock the mystery. But I am as confident that it is right, as if God's whole purpose were transparent to my reason, and I could see the event in all its connections, bearings, and results. I cannot see how or why--but I believe that my deep affliction is for God's glory and my ultimate benefit. I know that God causes everything to work together for good." (J.A. James, The Practical Believer Delineated.)
Popular posts from this blog
Three New Additions To My Desk
Actually, it’s an ad-duck-tion. I missed the perfect opportunity to say, “and they’re in a row, too!” Silly goose.
Rock Me, Epictetus!
“Keep constant guard over your perceptions, for it is no small thing you are protecting, but your respect, trustworthiness and steadiness, peace of mind, freedom from pain and fear, in a word your freedom. For what would you sell these things?” EPICTETUS, DISCOURSES, 4.3.6 b –8
The Smooth-flowing Life
Legend has it that the astronomer Ptolemy (1st century A.D.) suggested that falling stars were caused by the gods moving in the heavens, thus knocking stars out of their places. Somehow people reasoned that that if the gods were moving, they must be getting close to earth so they would lift their "prayers" or "wishes" (literally, "desires") whenever they saw the stars falling in hopes the gods would notice and grant a favorable answer. But how does one wish on falling star? Once you see it, it's gone before the wish or prayer can be made! The answer is simple: meteor shower. That's how to get your wish. Mrs. Ann Hodges had a wish fall right into her lap. Sort of. In 1954 Mrs. Hodges was sleeping on the couch when a 8 1/2 pound meteorite fell through her house and into her living room where it bounced off the radio and struck her left hip leaving her with a bruise. Not sure what she was wishing, but that's not how to do it. Epictetus hel...