Thursday, 18 February 2010


Are you giving up anything for Lent?

The liturgical season of Lent begins next week on Ash Wednesday. Lent commemorates the final weeks leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion, and many Christians mark the season with a spiritual commitment or by giving up a habit or behavior for the duration of Lent.

Examples of Lent commitments I’ve seen include giving up television, reading through a particular part of the Bible, volunteering at a local food kitchen, and many others. Whether it’s trivial or epic in scale, the point of such a commitment is to focus attention on the person of Jesus Christ.
Are you doing anything to commemorate Lent this year?

Thursday, 11 February 2010

the tree

I loved a tree.
I visited him everyday
during my forty days of prayer in the ashram

then suddently I found 
our friendship grew.
much master than the tree itself.
daily we dialogued.

with his profound silence he answered all my questions.
he was always simply there.
with his many-figured arms stretched out to the skies,
extending to me a warm welcome,
he simply stood there and spoke to me ,
always in silence. he knew only one thing: to give.

he was a symbol of self giving.
with no thoughts of "mine", 
with no spirit of " having"
he embodied in himself
all that we understand
by the oft-misused precious word,
" unselfishness"

whenever I approached him 
he simply placed himself at my disposal
and told me in a language beyond all expression: take , take and have whatever you need. this is what I have, I KEEP IT ONLY FOR YOU" 
I wondered 
at his selfless surrender to me.
I felt ashamed. 
I lost myself in an amazed silence . 
later when awareness touched my limbs
I asked myself: 
"can a tree reflect the divine more than man?
Does it reflect the divine untarnished by consciousness?"

Sunday, 7 February 2010

my pictures...drawings..paintings

The Legacy

She could not give her children gold,
So she gave them faith to have and hold.

She could not give them royal birth...
A name renowned throughout the earth.
But she gave them seeds and garden spot
And shade trees when the sun was hot.

She could not give a silver spoon
Or servants waiting night and noon.
She gave them love and a listening ear
And told them God was always near.

She could not give them ocean trips
Aboard majestic sailing ships.
But she gave them books and quiet time,
Adventures found in prose and rhyme.

She could not give them worldly things
But what she gave was fit for kings.
For with her faith and books and sod,
She made each child aware of God.
   —attributed to Alice Leedy Mason

The Man in the Glory

The Man in the Glory
"...the man Christ Jesus." 1 Timothy 2:5 I wake in the morning with thoughts of His love
Who is living for me in the glory above,
Ev'ry minute expecting He'll call me away,
And that keeps me bright all the rest of the day.

But the moments speed forward, and on comes the noon
Yet still I am singing: "He'll come very soon;"
And thus I am watching from morning till night
And pluming my wings to be ready for flight.

There's a Man in the glory I know very well
I have known Him for years, and His goodness can tell:
One day in His mercy He knock'd at my door,
And seeking admission, knock'd many times o'er.

But when I went to Him, and stood face to face,
And listen'd awhile to His story of grace,
How He suffer'd for sinners, and put away sin,
I heartily, thankfully welcomed Him in.

We have lived on together a number of years,
And that's why I neither have doubtings nor fears,
For my sins are all hid in the depths of the sea,
They were carried down there by the Man on the tree.

I am often surprised why the lip should be curl'd,
When I speak of my Lord to the man of the world;
And notice with sorrow his look of disdain,
When I tell him that Jesus is coming again.

He seems so content with his houses and gold,
While despising the ark, like the people of old,
And yet at His coming I'm sure he would flee,
Like the man in the garden, who ate of the tree.

I cannot but think it is foolish of souls
To put all their money "in bags which have holes",
To find in the day that is coming apace,
How lightly they valued the "riches of grace".

As fond as I am of His work in the field,
I would let go the plough, I would lay down the shield:
The weapons of service I'd put on the shelf,
And the sword in its scabbard, to be with Himself.

But I'll work on with pleasure, while keeping my eyes
On the end of the field where standeth the prize.
I would work for His glory, that when we shall meet
I may have a large sheaf to lay down at His feet;

That He too, with pleasure His fruit may review:
Is the Man in the glory a stranger to you?
A stranger to Jesus, what, do you know
He is washing poor sinners much whiter than snow?

Have you lived in a land where the Bible's unknown,
That you don't know the Man who is now on the throne?
Ah, did you but know half His beauty and power
You would not be a stranger another half–hour.

I have known Him so long that I'm able to say,
The very worst sinner He'll not turn away.
The question of sin, I adoringly see,
The Man in the glory has settled for me.

And as to my footsteps whatever the scene,
The Man in the glory is keeping me clean;
And therefore I'm singing from morning till night
The Man in the glory is all my delight.
                     —George Cutting

My Mother's Bible

My Mother's Bible

This book is all that's left me now,
   Tears will unbidden start—
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
   I press it to my heart.
For many generations past,
   Here is our family tree;
My mother's hand this Bible clasped;
   She, dying, gave it me.

Ah! well do I remember those
   Whose names these records bear,
Who 'round the hearthstone used to close
   After the evening prayer,
And speak of what these pages said,
   In tones my heart would thrill!
Though they are with the silent dead
  Here are they living still!

My father read this holy book
   To brothers, sisters, dear;
How calm was my poor mother's look,
   Who loved God's word to hear
Her angel face—I see it yet!
   What thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
   Within the halls of home!

Thou truest friend man ever knew,
   Thy constancy I've tried;
Where all were false, I found thee true,
   My counselor and guide.
The mines of earth no treasure give
   That could this volume buy;
In teaching me the way to live,
   It taught me how to die.

         —George P. Morris