Questions & Answers
When I hear strains of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" they remind me of how the Christ operates in thought: simply firmly gently. If brass bands were blaring through my house I wouldn't hear the sonata even if it were playing.
The image in my mirror is so meek It does not do a single thing alone; It does not move or wince or smile or speak Unless I do it too, for we are one. Humility like this is plain to see, For not before nor after does it act, But selflessly and simultaneously— So keeping our relationship intact.
Dear God, rain on my parade—that parade of false illusive images. Dissolve them— make them nothing, thus cleansing my thought of all that is unlike You.
Courage qualities, the morally vital kind, make lionlike living a nonwillful task quickening the doing of whatever Principle asks. To roam unchained by materiality's curse, pounce emphatically on "What are you worth?" in firmest anticipation of Spirit's knowing of you as dauntless as the most intrepid lion, uncontained! Steven Alan Avey.
Our innocence, not beneficial? Not timely? Lamblike living permits entry to the sheepfold of grace where we discover what we always are, pure Christ-idea. Such purity, honed through living lamblike, reveals the practicality of innocence— no fear, no lack, no discouragement.
Recalcitrant memories are but dream shadows, drawing us into yesterday where we may lose sight of the nowness of Life. But I refuse to go back.
Jacob —wasn't he the one who cheated Esau of his blessing at their mother's instigation? Wasn't he the one who tricked his father, who was old and growing blind, then fled before his brother could become a murderer? Wasn't he the one who had a problem with his thigh, and slept on stone— a mortal with a long list of evils past, for which he must atone? or was he Israel —after whom whole nations of, generations of, Christly men would follow? Wasn't the past swallowed up in an opening path when he saw God as omnipresent and man as loving son, caring brother? Didn't his brother run to kiss him, and didn't he bring a family safely home? June Rice Scheetz.
God's is the hand that moves and weaves the thoughts we wear in this bright hour: their threads are woven into one robe of prayer .
Why should I keep trying when no one seems to care? Never mind who cares. See that flower? Is it clamoring, "Look at me!" and complaining because its tiny yellow jewel-flame is half-hidden by its cinquefoil leaves? Does it turn on and off its being like a lamp and go dark when I'm not here to appreciate its minute beauty? Shining for self, our light goes dim.
Brother Saul. Yes! Ananias called him that, without a trace of guile.