I will delight myself in Your commandments

I know "coffee and the Word" has become a vastly overused, typical "Christian girl" phrase. But, when it comes down to it, is there really anything sweeter?
It's a delightfully slow summer morning here at home. The locusts, crickets, and birds hum their morning tunes outside my window, creating a summer symphony. As I sit in my room with a warm red mug of, yes, coffee in my hand and the living Word of God in my lap, I am overwhelmed with thanksgiving.
Who am I to hold the words of the living, powerful Creator and Sustainer and Ruler of all things?
Yet He has chosen to give these words to men--to us--to me.
Why? I don't know, except that He has chosen to do so. All we can do is read and live. In light of this living Word, how shall we then live?

Psalm 119 is full of thanks to God for the gift of His words and commandments. The Psalmist writes in Psalm verses 10-11:

"With my whole heart I have sought You;

Oh, let me not wander from Your commandments!

Your word I have hidden in my heart,

That I might not sin against You."

In verses 47-48:

"And I will delight myself in Your commandments,

Which I love.

My hands also will lift up to Your commandments,

Which I love,

And I will meditate on Your statutes."

And again in verses 103-105:

"How sweet are Your words to my taste,

Sweeter than honey to my mouth!

Through Your precepts I get understanding;

Therefore I hate every false way.

Your word is a lamp to my feet 

And a light to my path."

You can either choose to neglect or delight yourself in the Word of God today. Which will it be? 

The Psalmist cries out,"My soul faints for Your salvation, but I hope in Your word. My eyes fail from searching Your word." He was so much in the word that his eyes literally began to grow weak from searching it! Do yours?

About the Scriptures J. C. Ryle says,

"I want people to fill their minds with passages of Scripture while they are well and strong, that they may have sure help in the day of need. I want them to be diligent in studying their Bibles, and becoming familiar with their contents, in order that the grand old Book may stand by them and talk with them when all earthly friends fail. From the bottom of my heart, I pity that person who never reads their Bible. I wonder how they expect to draw their consolation in their time of need."

Little happenings

Today my alarm went off. Silently. And when my eyes finally popped open, I jumped out of bed. 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave my house.
Once I scrambled out of the door, I scraped the ice off of my car and opened the door. Only it didn't open.
As I shivered in the cold, I realized: I locked my keys in the car (again).

Today I walked across West Main Street to eat at Subway. Crossing a "busy" street in a small town may seem like a small feat to you, but to me it was quite the adventure.

Today a man in his eighties tried to convince me to get a Big Mac from McDonald's with him.

Today I learned a new word. In Spurgeon's Morning + Evening, he says, "Let your conversation be redolent of heaven."

red·o·lent  

/ˈredl-ənt/

Adjective Strongly reminiscent or suggestive of (something): "names redolent of history and tradition". Strongly smelling of something: "the church was old, dark, and redolent of incense".

Synonyms fragrant - odoriferous - odorous - aromatic - scented

Today the whole family gathered in the living room for lovely music, laughter, and conversation.

Today I learned once again that Romans 8:28 is absolutely and completely and wonderfully true.

"We know nothing of religion here: we think only of Christ."

As C. S. Lewis is one the best and brightest authors, I'm going to share a few quotes from his book, The Great Divorce.

"There have been men before now who got interested in proving the existence of God that they came to care nothing for God Himself . . . as if the good Lord had nothing to do but exist. There have been some who were so occupied in spreading Christianity that they never gave a second thought to Christ. You see it in smaller matters. Did you never know a lover of books that with all his first editions and signed copies had lost the power to read them? Or an organizer of charities that had lost all love for the poor? It is the subtlest of all the snares." (Ch. 9)

~ 

"There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, in the end, "Thy will be done." All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened." (Ch. 9)

~ 

"We know nothing of religion here: we think only of Christ." (Chapter 5)

~ 

"No natural feelings are high or low, holy or unholy, in themselves. They are all holy when God's hand is on the rein. They all go bad when they set up on their own and make themselves into false gods." (Ch. 11)

~ 

"'Oh, of course. I'm wrong. Everything I say or do is wrong, according to you.  

'But of course!' said the Spirit, shining with love and mirth so that my eyes were dazzled. 'That's what we all find when we reach this country. We've all been wrong! That's the great joke. There's no need to go on pretending one was right! After that we begin living.'" (Ch. 11)

~ 

"There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him." (Ch. 11) 

Source: pureblyss.tumblr.com via Courtney on Pinterest

The Lady of Shalott

   Part I.

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
   To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
   The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
   Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
   The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veil'd
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
   Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
   The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
   Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
   Lady of Shalott."


      Part II.

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
   To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
   The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
   Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
   Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
   Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
   The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
   And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half-sick of shadows," said
   The Lady of Shalott.


      Part III.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
   Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A redcross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
   Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle-bells rang merrily
   As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
   Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
   As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
   Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
   As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
   Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
   She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
   The Lady of Shalott.


      Part IV.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale-yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
   Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
   The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse--
Like some bold seër in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance--
With a glassy countenance
   Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
   The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right--
The leaves upon her falling light--
Thro' the noises of the night
   She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
   The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
   Turn'd to tower'd Camelot;
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
   The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
A corse between the houses high,
   Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
   The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
   All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
   The Lady of Shalott."

-- Alfred Tennyson, The Lady of Shalott 

They shall sing in the ways of the Lord

I know to many of you this blog has long been dead. But I'd like to think he's only been sleeping, gone on an extended vacation; hibernating; but still very much alive.
And in the hope of awakening this old Blog o'Mine, I'd like to share a page out of Spurgeon's Morning + Evening from February 1st that I've found to be such a help to me and, I hope, to you as well.

"They shall sing in the ways of the Lord."

Psalm 138:5

The time when Christians begin to sing in the ways of the Lord is when they first lose their burden at the foot of the Cross. Not even the songs of the angels seem so sweet as the first song of rapture which gushes from the inmost soul of the forgiven child of God. You know how John Bunyan describes it. He says when poor Pilgrim lost his burden at the Cross, he gave three great leaps, and went on his way singing—

“Blest Cross! blest Sepulchre! blest rather be The Man that there was put to shame for me!”

Believer, do you recollect the day when your fetters fell off? Do you remember the place when Jesus met you, and said, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love; I have blotted out as a cloud thy transgressions, and as a thick cloud thy sins; they shall not be mentioned against thee any more forever.” Oh! what a sweet season is that when Jesus takes away the pain of sin. When the Lord first pardoned my sin, I was so joyous that I could scarce refrain from dancing. I thought on my road home from the house where I had been set at liberty, that I must tell the stones in the street the story of my deliverance. So full was my soul of joy, that I wanted to tell every snow-flake that was falling from heaven of the wondrous love of Jesus, who had blotted out the sins of one of the chief of rebels. But it is not only at the commencement of the Christian life that believers have reason for song; as long as they live they discover cause to sing in the ways of the Lord, and their experience of his constant lovingkindness leads them to say, “I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.” See to it, brother, that thou magnifiest the Lord this day.

“Long as we tread this desert land,

New mercies shall new songs demand.”

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord

It wasn't easy to choose to stay at home and take on a full-time job when it seemed like just about everyone else was moving away and starting their freshman year of college.

 Honestly, every morning is a struggle. But the struggle is sweet when it is from, with, and for Jesus.

I have learned so very much about things I never thought I didn't know. Funny how we don't know so much that we don't even know we don't know. If that makes any sense at all.

Anyway, I've learned everything from how to [magically] fold cardboard into a perfectly-shaped shipping box, how to balance finances, how to convince telemarketers that we're not interested, and even just how to use the drive-thru at the bank. I'm experiencing things I've never done before. And I'm thankful for that. But more than anything else, I'm thankful for the precious lives I am able to come across, speak to, and encourage. I'm thankful for the stories and laughs, the wisdom and the advice they have given me.

I'll share one story a sweet lady told of her great-grandson.

~

When she was taking him to his Kindergarten class one day, he spoke up, pleading, 

"Mamy, would you pwease tell Ms. Julie (his teacher) that I'm sick and can't come today?" 

"But, dahlin' (it didn't matter who she was addressing, to Mamy, everyone is dahlin'), you're not sick."

"Yes, I am. I, I... I had a heart attack!"

Mamy stifled a laugh and decided to play along with him. She called Ms. Julie and told her what he had said. His teacher then said, 

"Well, in that case, we'll have to send for an ambulance right away."

When Mamy relayed the message to the backseat, he said, "Tell her it's too late! You and Mamma done buried me already."

~

Throughout this year, Habakkuk 3:17-18 has been such a comfort:

Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd in the stalls - 

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will joy in the God of my salvation.

Deuteronomy 6

In verses 6-9, God instructs us how we ought to respond to the Word He, in His kindness, has given to us:

“And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates."

Believer, this is how you ought to live - with His Word hidden in your heart and always before your mind. Teach it, speak of it, think on it - constantly. I want to know this Book more than any other, and His words more than anyone else's.

And how could I not? Verses 20-23 say:

“When your son asks you in time to come, saying, ‘What is the meaning of the testimonies, the statutes, and the judgments which the Lord our God has commanded you?’ then you shall say to your son: ‘We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt, and the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand; and the Lord showed signs and wonders before our eyes, great and severe, against Egypt, Pharaoh, and all his household. Then He brought us out from there, that He might bring us in, to give us the land of which He swore to our fathers."

As a believer, you are separated unto God. As a result, you look very strange to the world. As you should. God has set you apart and made you different. When they wonder at you and ask why? Why are you so odd? You should want nothing better than to tell of God's mercy and His great work in your heart! This should be your answer: That you were a slave. You were dead in your sins and subject to the chains of this world. But now you have been transferred into the kingdom of the Son of His love! Now you are under the happy bondage of our good, kind Lord and Master. There is no happier position, no better place. 

It is an ever-fixed mark

Amid all the candy hearts, pink balloons, and cheesy Hallmark cards of this over-marketed day of love, let's hear what Shakespeare has to say about real love in his 116th Sonnet.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved, 

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

To read is to fly

Mud pies

In "The Weight of Glory," C.S. Lewis says:

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday by the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

 Charles Spurgeon ought to stir us up even further when he says:

O true believer, called by grace and washed in the precious blood of Jesus, thou hast tasted better drink than the river of this world's pleasure can give thee; thou hast had fellowship with Christ; thou hast obtained the joy of seeing Jesus, and leaning thine head upon His bosom. Do the trifles, the songs, the honors, the merriment of this earth content thee after that? If thou art wandering after the waters of Egypt, oh, return quickly to the one living fountain; the waters of Sihor may be sweet to the Egyptians, but they will prove only bitterness to thee. What hast thou to do with them? Jesus asks this question - what wilt thou answer him?

What's my life if it's not praising you

With every breath I take, with every heart beat,  

Sunrise and the moon lights in the dark street.  

Every glance, every dance, every note of a song.  

It's all a gift undeserved that I shouldn't have known.  

Every day that I lie, every moment I covet 

I'm deserving to die, I'm just earning your judgment. 

I, without the cross there's only condemnation.  

If Jesus wasn't executed there's no celebration.  

So in times that are good, in times that are bad, 

For any times that I've had it all I will be glad.  

And I will boast in the cross. I boast in my pains.  

I will boast in the sunshine, boast in his reign.  

What's my life if it's not praising you.  

Another dollar in my bank account of vain pursuit. 

I do not count my life as any value or precious at all.  

Let me finish my race, let me answer my call.

If this life has anything to gain at all I count it lost if I can't hear you, feel you, 'cause I need you. Can't walk this earth alone. I recognize I'm not my own, so before I fall I need to hear you, feel you, as I live to make my boast in you alone. 

Tomorrow's never promised, but it is we swear.  

Think we holding our own, just a fist full of air.  

God has never been obligated to give us life.  

If we fought for our rights, we'd be in hell tonight.  

Mere sinners own nothing but a fierce hand.  

We never loved him, we pushed away his pierced hands.  

I rejected his love, grace, kindness, and mercy. 

Dying of thirst, yet, willing to die thirsty.  

Eternally worthy, how could I live for less?  

Patiently you turn my heart away from selfishness. 

I volunteer for your sanctifying surgery.  

I know the spirit's purging me of everything that's hurting me.  

Remove the veil from my darkened eyes.  

So now every morning I open your word and see the Son rise.  

I hope in nothin, boast in nothin, only in your suffering.

I live to show your glory, dying to tell your story. 

Glory was solely meant for you, doing what no one else could do.  

With All I have to give, 

I'll use my life, 

I'll use my lips. 

I'll only glory in your Word. 

What gift to me I don't deserve. 
I'll live in such a way that it reflects to you my praise.

-"Boasting," Lecrae

Made for Thyself

Made for Thyself, O God!

Made for Thy love, Thy service, Thy delight;

Made to show forth Thy wisdom, grace, and might;

Made for Thy praise, whom veiled archangels laud:

Oh, strange and glorious thought, that we may be

A joy to Thee!

Yet the heart turns away

From this grand destiny of bliss, and deems

'Twas made for its poor self, for passing dreams,

Chasing illusions melting day by day,

Till for ourselves we read on this world's best,

'This is not rest!'

-Frances Ridley Havergal

Word to the wise

Ermias gravely reminds us, "Hey, hey, everybody listen! You should really love your plate."

How can I not trust Him?

"Daily I turn my gaze in distrust. Daily I remember the Jesus who already washed clean this mess and I fall to my knees, sorrowful and repentant. How can I not trust? And He reminds me that I must die with Him – not just that once but every single day – choosing to throw off the distrust and walk with Him in the newness of life. Daily. Hourly. Sometimes seemingly every five minutes."

(Katie in Uganda. Read the whole Journey here.)

Eudora Welty on reading

"I learned from the age of two or three that any room in our house, at any time of day, was there to read in, or to be read to. My mother read to me. She'd read to me in the big bedroom in the mornings, when we were in her rocker together, which ticked in rhythm as we rocked, as though we had a cricket accompanying the story. She'd read to me in the dining room on winter afternoons in front of the coal fire, with our cuckoo clock ending the story with "Cuckoo," and at night when I'd got in my own bed. I must have given her no peace. Sometimes she read to me in the kitchen while she sat churning, and the churning sobbed along with any story. It was my ambition to have her read to me while I churned; once she granted my wish, but she read off my story before I brought her butter. She was an expressive reader. When she was reading "Puss in Boots," for instance, it was impossible not to know that she distrusted all cats.
It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass. Yet regardless of where they came from, I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them - with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself. Still illiterate, I was ready for them, committed to all the reading I could give them."

(Eudora Welty, One Writer's Beginnings)

"If any man will open the door I will come in."

First the child speaks:

Dear Lord Jesus, will You come

Into such a little home?

It is poor and it is bare,

Dear Lord, You'll find nothing there.

It is very dusty too;

Oh, it isn't fit for You.

Not a flower has bloomed for me,

There's no fruit upon my tree.

And, Lord Jesus, have you heard?

I have not one singing bird.

Dearest Lord how can You come

Into such a dismal home?

Then the Lord answers:

But, My child, I want to come,

Want to make your house My home.

If I come it shall be fair,

In and out and everywhere.

I will clear the dust away,

Make it clean and make it gay.

All its flowers will bloom for Me,

Fruit will ripen on your tree.

In your garden will be heard

Many a merry singing bird.

Dearest child, I want to come.

May I make your house My home?

And at last the child says,

O my Savior, Lord and King,

Come, I give You everything.

With my whole heart I say, Come;

Come and make my house Your home.

-Amy Carmichael, Ploughed Under

The Practice of the Presence of God

Of Necessary Practices For Attaining The Spiritual Life

1. That practice which is alike the most holy, the most general, and the most needful in the spiritual life is the practice of the Presence of GOD. It is the schooling of the Soul to find its joy in His Divine Companionship. Holding with Him at all times and at every moment humble and loving converse, without set rule or stated method, in all time of our temptation and tribulation, in all time of our dryness of Soul and disrelish of GOD. Yes and even when we fall into unfaithfulness and actual sin.

2. We should apply ourselves unceasingly to this one end, to so rule all our actions that they be little acts of communion with GOD; but they must not be studied, they must come naturally, from the purity and simplicity of the heart.

3. We must do all things thoughtfully and soberly, without impetuosity or precipitancy, which denotes a mind undisciplined. We must go about our labors quietly, calmly, and lovingly, entreating Him to prosper the works of our hands. By thus keeping heart and mind fixed on GOD, we shall bruise the head of the evil one, and beat down his weapons to the ground.

-Brother Lawrence

Dear blank, please blank.

-Dear Taylor Swift,

     

     If it is of any interest to you, Romeo and Juliet both kill themselves in the end.

                                                                                                       

                                                                                                          Sincerely, Shakespeare.

-Dear World,

                               

                                                                                            Sincerely, Ninjas.

-Dear Justin Bieber,

 

     Ariel would really love her voice back.

                                         

                                                Sincerely, King Triton.

 

 -Dear Yahoo,

   

     I've never heard anyone say, "I don't know, let's Yahoo! it..." just saying...

                                                                                                  Sincerely, Google.

-Dear girls who have been dumped,

 

     There are plenty of fish in the sea... Just kidding! They're all dead. 

                                                                                      

                                                                                         Sincerely, BP.

-Dear Facebook,

 

     Just wait, one day they'll abandon you as well.

                                                          Sincerely, Myspace.

-Dear Noah,

      

     We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving till 5.

                                                                            Sincerely, Unicorns.

-Dear World,

     If you don't want us to take all of the jobs, start actually studying in school.

                                                                                                Sincerely, The Asians.

-Dear life,

 

     Please get theme music.

                              Sincerely, my life would be so much more epic.

-Dear Glass of Water,

     You are half-full of emptiness.

                               Sincerely, an Optimistic Pessimist.

Source: dearblankpleaseblank.com. But, I can't wholeheartedly recommend this website. So, I just picked out some good, wholesome, hilarious ones to share.

Christmas is coming.

Is anyone else amazed that Christmas is 4 days away?
Or that 2011 is just around the river bend? (Oh how I love Disney songs.)
This. Is. Strange.
But I'm excited about all that 2011 has in store. It should be a pretty eventful year. Which is always better than a boring year.

I've also been overwhelmed with all this first-rate and incredible music that I've recently (re)discovered. But. It's not Christmas music, so I feel ashamed to share it. So it'll have to wait 'till after Christmas!

Remember Christ and His rich mercy toward undeserving sinners - toward us! - and in this busy Christmas season, seek Him:
"'And in that day there shall be a Root of Jesse, who shall stand as a banner to the people; for the Gentiles shall seek Him, and His resting place shall be glorious.'
It shall come to pass in that day that the Lord shall set His hand again the second time to recover the remnant of His people who are left, from Assyria and Egypt, from Pathros and Cush, from Elam and Shinar, from Hamath and the islands of the sea. He will set up a banner for the nations, and will assemble the outcasts of Israel, and gather together the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth." (Isaiah 11:10-12