Wednesday, April 02, 2014
Tuesday, April 01, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves --John Muir
pine trees after a snow storm, Easthampton, MA
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Depart from the highway, and transplant thyself in some enclosed ground,
for it is hard for a tree that stands by the wayside to keep its fruit until it be ripe. ---John Chrysostom
It's a nice time of year to retreat and allow the Lord to fill us back up....far
from the 'madding crowd...
lovely snow falling from pines....Easthampton, MA
Thursday, November 07, 2013
"I held a moment in my hand, brilliant as a star, fragile as a flower, a tiny sliver of one hour. I dripped it carelessly, Ah! I didn't know, I held opportunity."
"Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers."
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Wednesday, October 09, 2013
Our Lord had no design of constructing a system of truth in intellectual forms. The truth of the moment in its relation to him, The Truth, was what he spoke. He spoke out of a region of realities which he knew could only be suggested—not represented—in the forms of intellect and speech. With vivid flashes of life and truth his words invade our darkness, rousing us with sharp stings of light to will our awaking, to arise from the dead and cry for the light which he can give, not in the lightning of words only, but in indwelling presence and power.
How, then, must the truth fare with those who, having neither glow nor insight, will build intellectual systems upon the words of our Lord, or of his disciples? ....
To men who are not simple, simple words are the most inexplicable of riddles.
[George MacDonald, unwritten sermons I: "I shall not be forgiven", p 24 of this link]
photo taken in West Suffield, CT.