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.
You Don't Have One
Think for a moment about everything you don't know.
Go ahead. I'll wait.
What is your opinion about those things you don't know? How do you feel?
You don't have an opinion because you don't know what you don't know--right?
Ok, think for a moment about something that might upset you. Can you name it? Say what it is?
- Did someone say something behind your back?
- What did they say?
- Did you hear it?
- Do you even know for a fact that anyone said anything about you at all?
- Was it derogatory or nice?
- Still don't know? Then why upset?
So why get upset about something we know nothing about?
- That guy that cut you off on the way to work this morning--why did he do it?
- To be rude because he saw YOU coming down the road and thought you needed a driving lesson? (That's selfish)
- He woke up late and is still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes?
- He was simply not paying attention?
- He had a bad night over a sick kid or a family fight and is not paying attention?
- He's hung over?
- His opinion was there was enough room to pull out?
- Still don't know? Then why upset?
Here's another way to look at it:
- if something does not exist, what power does it have for one to create an opinion about it?
- if something is irrelevant, why does it bother us?
Waste no more time and/or energy on things that don't matter.
Popular posts from this blog
“Men and women who saw God in the Bible: Why did they not all die?”
July 2004 I went to Kenya, Africa to speak in two Pastor’s Conferences on the subject of Man, Sin and Salvation. At the end of each day I left just over an hour for questions (half the time were questions touching the subject of my lectures, and the other half for “open questions”; that is, people could ask anything). For the next few weeks, I will be sharing the questions that were asked of me, and my answers—and believe me when I say these people really know how to think! Question from Kenya #1: “Men and women who saw God in the Bible: Why did they not all die?” [“ But He said, ‘You cannot see My face, for no man can see Me and live! ’” (Exodus 33:20) was the basis of the student’s question]. Answer: First, consider those who did see God—how did they respond when they saw Him? They were instantly aware of their sinfulness, and God’s holiness and righteousness (to name a few. And notice also that each responded in an attitude of worship, bowing down): Abraham built altars, wors
A Sonnet
“My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did burn, Besides their other flames? Doth poetry Wear Venus' livery? only serve her turn? Why are not sonnets made of thee? and lays Upon thine altar burnt? Cannot thy love Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise As well as any she? Cannot thy Dove Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight? Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the fame, Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name! Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose Than that, which one day, worms may chance refuse. Sure Lord, there is enough in thee to dry Oceans of ink; for, as the Deluge did Cover the earth, so doth thy Majesty: Each cloud distills thy praise, and doth forbid Poets to turn it to another use. Roses and lilies speak thee; and to make A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse Why should I women's eyes for crystal take? Such poor invention burns in their low mind Wh
A Fresh Perception
“In primitive times, when man awakes in a world that is newly created, poetry awakes with him. In the face of the marvellous things that dazzle and intoxicate him, his first speech is a hymn simply. He is still so close to God that all his meditations are ecstatic, all his dreams are visions. His bosom swells, he sings as he breathes. His lyre has but three strings—God, the soul, creation; but this threefold mystery envelopes everything, this threefold idea embraces everything. The earth is still almost deserted. . . . He leads that nomadic pastoral life with which all civilizations begin, and which is so well adapted to solitary contemplation, to fanciful reverie. He follows every suggestion, he goes hither and thither, at random. His thought, like his life, resembles a cloud that changes its shape and its direction according to the wind that drives it. Such is the first man, such is the first poet. He is young, he is cynical. Prayer is his sole religion, the ode is his only form of