Friday, May 02, 2008
From the Desk of Glinda
Tell them it was a storm that dropped you here on the other side of the rainbow in this land of yellow brick roads and witches to the north, the south, and the west. There used to be one from the east, until your house fell upon her head. Oh, you shouldn’t be surprised those ruby red shoes fit your feet so well. Besides, she can't use them now. She’s dead. Go ahead little girl, skip down the yellow brick road to find the witch of the west. Kill her too; then, take her broom. Of course, it belongs to you. But if you even dare think about adding my wand to your collection, I’ll kill you.
P.S.— your little dog, too.
- posted by -g @ 9:32 AM | | 0 rocks in pond
Monday, April 21, 2008
I met a man that I have known and liked for some time. He told me that Obama was the anti-christ. I laughed and he didn't. 'now what?' I thought... "Have you read any good books lately?" I asked.
"Yes! You have got to read 'World War Z'. It is a great book about the attack of the zombies."
"Ok," I said.
80. How come it that a cripple does not offend us, but that a fool does? Because a cripple recognises that we walk straight, whereas a fool declares that it is we who are silly; if it were not so, we should feel pity and not anger. -Pascal. Pensées, section II.
So many of us are crippled fools. When do you suppose that 'great correction' will be here?
- posted by -g @ 8:04 AM | | 2 rocks in pond
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Coffee - luke warm in handmade cup.
These are the things I see before me.
- posted by -g @ 12:21 PM | | 2 rocks in pond
Monday, October 15, 2007
A is for Ablutophobia
In a painting class last week, I suddenly found myself creating an alphabet page for phobias. It startled me, as if I had been thinking about it for the past eight years without knowing.
- posted by emily oi! @ 3:11 PM | | 3 rocks in pond
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Without God, we cannot. Without us, God will not. -Agustine
- posted by -g @ 6:57 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Friday, June 08, 2007
Greg Martens is a remarkable man. In regards to his genius, I will not lean on my own understanding but simply be grateful for having encountered him and drink up any blessings that might flow from him in my direction. Greg made the drawing you see here. Perhaps he will see it and tell us something about it. Greg's posts are always a pleasure to read. As far as the likeness in each of the drawings, I believe he captured the psychological truth of each of us. Dare I say that I immediately recognized the two that were not me. Greg hit the mark with them profoundly well. It took me some time to accept the fact that he hit it with me as well. "Know Thy Self" as the highest aim of education needs to come with the additional suggestion: "and learn to live with it." I am learning. Thank you Greg.
- posted by -g @ 8:36 AM | | 2 rocks in pond
Monday, June 04, 2007
The compact writing of Saki (H. H. Munro 1870 - 1916) is a treat after so much shallow cartoon living that one is exposed to on a daily basis when one is involved with slowly developing children.
The elder of the two had the appearance and manner of a diplomat; in point of fact he was the well-connected foster-brother of a wine business. The other was certainly a journalist. Neither man was talkative and each was grateful to the other for not being talkative. That is why from time to time they talked.
"In the first place I may say that the disappearance of Mrs. Umberleigh was not regarded by the family entirely as a bereavement. My uncle, Edward Umberleigh, was not by any means a weak-kneed individual, in fact in the world of politics he had to be reckoned with more or less as a strong man, but he was unmistakably dominated by Crispina; indeed I never met any human being who was not frozen into subjection when brought into prolonged contact with her. Some people are born to command; Crispina Mrs. Umberleigh was born to legislate, codify, administrate, censor, license, ban, execute, and sit in judgement generally. If she was not born with that destiny she adopted it at an early age. From the kitchen regions upwards every one in the household came under her despotic sway and stayed there with the submissiveness of molluscs involved in a glacial epoch. As a nephew on a footing of only occasional visits she affected me merely as an epidemic, disagreeable while it lasted, but without any permanent effect; but her own sons and daughters stood in mortal awe of her; their studies, friendships, diet, amusements, religious observances, and way of doing their hair were all regulated and ordained according to the august lady's will and pleasure."
- posted by -g @ 4:44 PM | | 0 rocks in pond
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Sometimes a song just hits the spot - and sometimes it doesn't.
Mean Old Man - by James Taylor
On my own How could I have known? Imagine my surprise Just a fool From a tree full of fools Who cant believe his eyes Imagine my surprise I was a mean old man I was an ornery cuss I was a dismal dan I made an awful fuss Ever since my life began Man, it was ever thus I was a nasty tyke who was hard to like I had to misbehave I did things in reverse Refused to wash or shaveI was horrid to my nurse I got back what I gave Which only made me worse I had to have my way Which was bleak and gray, oh dear Living in here One hundred years of rain Such a drag This riches to rags With just myself to blame A dirty low-down shame
Other lyrics by other artists have other affects - what affects you?
- posted by -g @ 9:25 AM | | 1 rocks in pond
When this site was first initiated in the Fall of 2002, I was blessed with the insightful contribution of several genius children. I would like to return to an early entry and ponder where I have been so that I might better understand where I am going.
Sunday, October 27, 2002
1) The law of interest dictates that we do what we want to do and learn what we want to learn: it is a choice. The job of a teacher is to present information in a way that promotes interest and therefore makes it more likely to be learned. The job of a student is to make an effort to absorb this information and not reject it based on the qualifier that it's information. There is a borderline between the jobs of the student and the teacher: what if the student refuses to learn? if the teacher refuses to teach? The teacher's job is not only to provide information but also to present it... a thespian indeed.
2) The law of diminishing returns dictates that if interest does not serve to keep a student engaged, the teacher must become more and more engaging. This can be avoided by getting everyone engaged in the first place, and the subject matter addressed will become more interesting as it is more deeply investigated. Many are content to be comfortable; the teacher must then run at them several times with an increasingly pointier weapon. Assumptions contains ass. Yo b****.
Thank you EZL.
- posted by -g @ 7:41 AM | | 0 rocks in pond
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The following was sent to me by a friend who knows me well and was perhaps hinting that the content reflects my life - sigh
A man is bringing a cup of coffee to his face,
tilting it to his mouth. It's historical, he thinks.
He scratches his head: another historical event. He
really ought to rest, he's making an awful lot of
history this morning.
Oh my, now he's buttering toast, another piece
of history is being made.
He wonders why it should have fallen on him to
be so historical. Others probably just don't have it,
he thinks, it is, after all, a talent.
He thinks one of his shoelaces needs tying. Oh
well, another important historical event is about to
take place. He just can't help it. Perhaps he's taking
up too large an area of history? But he has to live,
hasn't he? Toast needs buttering and he can't go
around with one of his shoelaces needing to be tied,
Certainly it's true, when the 20th century gets
written in full it will be mainly about him. That's
the way the cookie crumbles--ah, there's a phrase
that'll be quoted for centuries to come.
Self-conscious? A little; how can one help it
with all those yet-to-be-born eyes of the future
Uh oh, he feels another historical event coming. . .
Ah, there it is, a cup of coffee approaching his
face at the end of his arm. If only they could catch
it on film, how much it would mean to the future.
Oops, spilled it all over his lap. One of those
historical accidents that will influence the next
thousand years; unpredictable, and really rather
uncomfortable . . . But history is never easy,
he thinks. . .
- posted by -g @ 11:40 AM | | 1 rocks in pond
A letter from the past to shine light on the future - with this thought to preface:
Recollection is a discarded garment, which beautiful as it may be, does not fit, for we have outgrown it. Repetition is an imperishable garment, which fits snugly and comfortably, neither too tight nor too loose. Hope is a charming maiden but slips through the fingers, recollection is a beautiful old woman but of no use at the instant, repetition is a beloved wife of whom on never tires. Youth hopes and youth recollects, but it requires courage to will repetition. If you only hope, you are cowardly; if you only recollect, you are voluptuary; if you will repetition, you are mature - the more expressly you know ho to make your purpose clear, the deeper is your maturity.
On to the letter:
So here are three particular questions - questions that I ask myself often:
How it began: The emotion of: guilt, anger, abandonment, alone/lonely, unloved,-worthlessness…-
It wasn’t the kind of thing where I planned ahead of time on my calendar. It would suddenly just happen. I felt like I had no control over how many times a day I would cut. It all began, I suppose, when I fell into depression and lost interest in what I had loved to do. I would stay in my room all afternoon. Most of the time I did not even eat at the table I took my food and ate in my room. As time went by, I felt more alone than ever. I felt abandoned and left behind. Not having things to occupy my time, (note: when I did I was never stressed out. It was fun. So it wasn’t like I was overworking myself.), made me think of my pass. Something I had tried to overlook during elementary. How I envied, and still do, people who would talk with admiration of their father. I could never do that. I suppose, it was the guilt thinking,“ I made them argue! I was the reason why my mother was ever abused by my father! IT WAS ALL MY FALUT!” guilt- Probably the main reason why anyone cuts…THEN later, I would cut when more disputes arrived in the house, my brothers drinking issue for example, (affects all of us in the family and has hurt us all because we love him…)
How I began to let go:
I never took any counseling, group therapy, etc. However, being in a relationship with someone who has supported me, and made me feel loved, helped me overcome this battle with the knife. Feeling that I am not the person pushed aside, made me let go.. So now its been 11 months without cutting.
3. How I am now:
Every now and then, I think of all that has happened that’s why I had said “I am addicted to tears” Remembering everything brings me down… so I cry. . . late at night. I am still in the process of overcoming everything. I want to feel complete ,COMPLETELY!. I’m putting myself together slowly.. and writing the letter to Graf was part of overcoming depression and cutting. I would never go back! Not after I’ve come so long without the knife. No, I don’t think of cutting anymore- Another step on letting go-…there’s so much ahead, I could never go back never!
- posted by -g @ 11:31 AM | | 0 rocks in pond
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
What ever happened to her?
Stellar group here.
- posted by -g @ 2:34 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
The photo was by Ann
- posted by -g @ 9:10 AM | | 0 rocks in pond
Can you tell by the expressions?
NPQ - N'importe Quoi
- posted by -g @ 9:05 AM | | 0 rocks in pond
Sunday, May 20, 2007
I've returned to this place after a long absence, indeed.
I saw it in need of visual revivification, so I provided for it.
I just now managed to log in to blogger (I had forgotten even my user name) and transfer everything to my google account.
A return to blogging?
- posted by dan @ 1:32 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Friday, May 18, 2007
notes from underground by that romantic crazy-man:
I am a sick man. ... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. Ibelieve my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about mydisease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctorfor it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine,anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I amsuperstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That youprobably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, Ican't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by myspite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by notconsulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am onlyinjuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it isfrom spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse!
I think I am going to memorize this and use it as a dramatic method for getting attention at dinner parties.
my poor wife
- posted by -g @ 9:20 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
images from a recent trip to the net -these can be found when googling images of "amazing photos" - for those who are insistent upon credit being given to where credit is due - I beg forgiveness for my laziness but direct you to see the source for yourself - along with so many others that are stunning.
- posted by -g @ 9:11 PM | | 0 rocks in pond
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Democracy: two wolves sitting down with a lamb and discussing what to have for dinner.
Liberty: a well-armed lamb contesting the vote.
- posted by -g @ 9:34 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Saturday, March 24, 2007
This is a difficult subject for me right now.
I have deep ties with emily joy, but I see her so infrequently that it is difficult to maintain a really close friendship. Part of that is my fault. I don’t make enough of an effort, but there’s so much else to do and so much else that needs to be done.
I have friends at school. My roommate makes fun of me for being a social butterfly, which never occurred to me before. In high school, I didn’t have that many friends, but a little effort exerted in college resulted in many more friends than I can properly deal with. I don’t have a best friend at school, I have a conglomerate of people I couldn’t function without. Most of them are sophomores, which will eventually leave me with the conundrum of what to do when they’re gone.
My default is no longer Milwaukee.
I suppose this is my default now. Second Burton lounge with Leah, James, and Erika watching Now & Then.
- posted by Allie @ 3:11 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
well, before i begin my first entry in probably a really long time, i'll respond to g's questions. 1) my best friend is jessica. 2) she is my best friend because she's always been there for me and vice versa. she listens well and she makes me feel comfortable and safe. 3)i kind of already answered that in two. 4) i honestly don't know how to respond to that. but i will say that after new years, i had a new sense of self-confidence. i have never had self-confidence. it feels great not to be weighed down with self-loathing thoughts. and with that, i end with a photo and a promise to mail a cd on saturday.
peace to all.
- posted by Elis @ 9:08 PM | | 0 rocks in pond
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Who is your best friend?
What do they do for you?
What do you do for them?
What is your default?
My default seems to be this:
My single most important responsibility to anyone is to be right with God - as far as it depends on me. Discernment is required in all circumstances and the suspension of judgment at almost all costs. The closer I get to anyone, the more messed up I find them to be - this is said with the humble acknowledgement that I am the most messed up of all.
Happy New Year and joy and peace to you.
- posted by -g @ 12:24 PM | | 2 rocks in pond
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Where have all the Rocks disappeared to?
- posted by Julia @ 8:10 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Some Thinking can cause Sinking.
- posted by -g @ 9:34 AM | | 0 rocks in pond
Monday, September 25, 2006
Fall hikes = goodness - photo by me
- posted by -g @ 9:43 AM | | 3 rocks in pond
photo by AMG?
- posted by -g @ 9:42 AM | | 1 rocks in pond
A Simple Little Thing
She stood in a beaten yellow rainslicker, on the corner of 68th and Milwaukee Street, waving. Legions of cars were wafting through, slowing at the stop sign, resting to a hault, checking for the right of way, and passing across the five- point intersection; and all the while, she kept waving. It was four months into the major highway reconstruction, all of us were frantic to find alternate routes and it was here, as we all happened upon this tributary of downtown traffic, that we came upon her. At first we all thought she was developmentally disabled. Or stupid. Or simple. Because all she did was wave.
She waved. She waved at everyone, constantly. She was ummistakeably an olde-fashioned crossing guard, complete with little red handheld hexagoned stop sign. She was supposed to, we knew, be commissioned to simply direct traffic around onslaughts of little people's steps and dropped homework and laughing, traipsing tiny gangs on their way to school. Sure, she could wave a time or two to an oncoming or particularly patient fleet of cars. That wouldn't be so out of the ordinary. That would be appropriate. She could give a nod and wink even to the passing motorists at the knowingness of "adults vs children's" sense of timing and pace. But to wave so damned incessantly like this? All the time?"
It made most of us nervous, to tell you the truth. Really. I mean, really. To stand around even when there were absolutely no kids in sight and still wave?!? This really was almost too much. She had to be stunted. They would have to find out that she was too irresponsible, or too inept, or too simple to deal with potentially a real traffic problem..and they would have to take her off the route, into a home where she could be monitered and given the correct drugs and attention to this kind of condition, thing...but. Still. Still, she stood there, day after day, in every weather, on the corner, kids or no, waving. AND SMILING. Like she knew what she was doing. Like she knew she was just waving to cars, for no good reason for god's sake. Smiling and waving. It drove us nuts.
You'd think the city would have noticed, but even if they did...they didn't take her away. It just lasted and lasted. All through the months, as we found our angry, longer, twistier, more inconvient commute-paths, every day, every rush hour, to every weather report, there she was. Smiling and waving and happily escorting the occasional child across the street. There she was, mostly just waving. And then, the thing happened. It happened and it and we changed.
She waved, and out of the blue, as a whim, somebody waved back. One car. One loping, on their way through, never mind who car. Some, onebody waved back. She acted like she expected it all along. She waved a little more fiercefully back. She smiled, right into the car. And then she turned, and waved to the other corner.
One car must have seen what the first car did, they must have seen the initial wave from the car, and the rapid little influx of wave back by the crossing-guard, and her tiny little lift of a smile she regifted back. And it must have been an enticement because the second car, wanting that smile and little special wave, also gave a wave as they went through. And the rest was dominos, a landslide, history. 68th and Milwaukee Street started waving their guts out.
Oncoming cars, idling cars, turning cars, merging cars, if there was traffic nearing the area, hands were out, smiles were anticipated, noses of passengers were tilted toward the window closest to her, the same tawdry rainslickered woman who'd only weeks before had been the Parriah, the Idiot, the Toad. And we, all of us, vied for her attention. And we waved, Oh, how we waved. We waved at her, waiting for her to turn and acknowledge us, to get our portion of her little palm a flutter. We waved, staring at other cars, waiting to get her attention, and while we waited, we figured, it wouldn't hurt to wave at each other. So we did. We waved across meridians, at oncoming traffic, hoping to telecast our smiles, our goodwill, our version of what she gave us, a do-good morning thing that was way better than any other routine we'd had for years.
We waved in anticipation, hoping to get to the intersection early, while it was busy, so different than a month ago when everyone timed their commute to find the least traffic possible; now we got there 'early' just to have a little more time...to wave.
We waved and waved. We all waited for that moment in the morning commute, when we could all feel good about ourselves, and believe that we belonged, and that life was right, and love could indeed be had by all.
Most of the time the feeling only lasted until the Marquette interchange, when busses, and trucks and hundreds of cars who hadn't had a wave-moment, slid into our vision and peripheries and within moments our goodwill vanished. Our memories of the the woman were lost in fine tuning the radio traffic report, in contemplating the first order of business, in silently swearing at our purses and briefcases for losing our entrance id cards and coffee change, and of scheduled meetings and deadlines and mean-spirited politics of the day. We would lose it in minutes, most of us. We would not remember until morning, the next day, of our joy of the moment of being pure. But there she was, and is.
Wisdom and peace. Waving to us. Waving from the streetcorners, crying out, "come! come to me! all you who are weary, and heavy laden, and i will give you rest". And verily, yea, while the freeway is being rerouted, and roads are repaved, today, we come. And we wave. And we know not her name, she in the beaten yellow rainslicker, looking for all the world to see, a simpleton. A simpleton, named Wisdom, and Peace.
-written by M. Ageyev
- posted by -g @ 9:12 AM | | 1 rocks in pond
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Going up or down?
Photo by -g
- posted by -g @ 1:53 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Monday, August 21, 2006
So, what's a good opening line for a book or story? Here are a few, can you guess what book they belong to?
1: Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were.
2: Ryan was nearly killed twice in half an hour. He left the taxi a few blocks short of his destination.
3: "Lot ninety-seven," the auctioneer announced. "A boy."
4: The great fish moved silently through the night water, propelled by short sweeps of its crescent tail.
5: His name was Gaal Dornick and he was just a boy who had never seen Trantor before. That is, not in real life.
6: Lessa woke, cold. Cold with more than the chill of the ever-lastingly clammy stone walls.
7: I was a bad kid.
8: Billy Pilgrim has become unstuck in time.
9: Marley was dead: to begin with.
10: The Navy is very old and very wise.
11: I always get the shakes before a drop.
12: If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.
- posted by -g @ 2:58 PM | | 2 rocks in pond
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
"Deep within every human being there still lives the anxiety over the possibility of being alone in the world, forgotten by God, overlooked among the millions and millions in this enormous household. A person keeps this anxiety at a distance by looking at the many round about who are related to him as kin and friends, but the anxiety is still there, nevertheless, and he hardly dares think of how he would feel if all this were taken away" (SK Journals, VIII 1 A 363). NASA stock Photo used for a visual effect here.
- posted by -g @ 9:14 AM | | 7 rocks in pond
Friday, June 02, 2006
Are you obsessed by something? You will probably say, "No, by nothing," but all of us are obsessed by something? usually by ourselves, or, if we are Christians, by our own experience of the Christian life. But the psalmist says that we are to be obsessed by God. The abiding awareness of the Christian life is to be God Himself, not just thoughts about Him. The total being of our life inside and out is to be absolutely obsessed by the presence of God. A child?s awareness is so absorbed in his mother that although he is not consciously thinking of her, when a problem arises, the abiding relationship is that with the mother. In that same way, we are to "live and move and have our being" in God ( Acts 17:28 ), looking at everything in relation to Him, because our abiding awareness of Him continually pushes itself to the forefront of our lives.
If we are obsessed by God, nothing else can get into our lives? not concerns, nor tribulation, nor worries. And now we understand why our Lord so emphasized the sin of worrying. How can we dare to be so absolutely unbelieving when God totally surrounds us? To be obsessed by God is to have an effective barricade against all the assaults of the enemy.
"He himself shall dwell in prosperity . . ." ( Psalm 25:13 ). God will cause us to "dwell in prosperity," keeping us at ease, even in the midst of tribulation, misunderstanding, and slander, if our "life is hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3). We rob ourselves of the miraculous, revealed truth of this abiding companionship with God. "God is our refuge . . ." ( Psalm 46:1 ). Nothing can break through His shelter of protection.
- posted by -g @ 5:54 AM | | 5 rocks in pond
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Power Call - The Great Correction is coming and it may be found in a Bird.
Words matter. Words and images together can impact more than either alone. 'It was so real I could almost taste it' is an example of how we combine our senses with words for more descriptive communication. Image-based words go directly to the brain. If you issue a call to action in abstract language, we must decode the abstraction before we act. Questions that evoke images help: 'What would it be like if we did accomplish that? What would it taste like, feel like?' Effective communication is hard work, and people don't seem to want to work very hard these days. I have a notion in mind, and 'it's so close we can almost touch it.' Does this make my notion more achievable? more real? more doable?" Being able to elicit images in the mind of others has advantages. A message that is easy to understand reflects well on the message and the messenger. What is your message? What is your notion?
- posted by -g @ 6:57 AM | | 2 rocks in pond
Friday, March 24, 2006
Such friendly children.
A day at Pike Lake.
The Human Condition.
- posted by -g @ 8:11 AM | | 1 rocks in pond
Thursday, February 09, 2006
The power of nature to indicate metaphors for living
Bhagavad Gita 2:66-72
- posted by dan @ 11:47 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
Friday, February 03, 2006
"A walk in the park is just that... but a struggle up a mountain will change a man."
Working for something is worth so much more than getting what you want.
So we all fight for whatever it is that gives us passion and meaning.
We all just want to be happy.
- posted by Julia @ 2:04 AM | | 4 rocks in pond
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Happy New Year
Here are a few quotes from various people that, I think, will set the tone for my coming year.
Death gives life its fullest reality.
-Anthony Dalla Villa
It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive - to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are.
It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth - and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.
The world sucks. But life is beautiful. It is just so hard to see it through all the crap.
Metaphysics is a dark ocean without shores or lighthouse, strewn with many a philosophic wreck.
Happiness is something final and complete in itself, as being the aim and end of all practical activities whatever .... Happiness then we define as the active exercise of the mind in conformity with perfect goodness or virtue.
The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness.
-John Kenneth Galbraith
There are three schools of magic.
One: State a tautology, then ring the changes on its corollaries; that's philosophy.
Two: Record many facts. Try to find a pattern. Then make a wrong guess at the next fact; that's science.
Three: Be aware that you live.
I know why I am here and my only real focused goal is to live each day to the fullest and to try and honor God and be an encouragement to others. What the future holds is firmly in God's hands, and I am very happy about that!
- posted by -g @ 8:22 AM | | 1 rocks in pond
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Do Children "Pay" For Their Parents' Sins?
Are you paying for your father's sins? Will your children have to pay for your sins?
The 2nd of the 10 Commandments says,
"You shall not bow down to (idols) or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments" (Deuteronomy 5:8-10, NIV). (Where the NIV says "punishing" the King James Version says "visiting").
Because of this verse, I have spent many years wondering, "Am I being punished for the sins of my grandfathers and great grandfathers?"
I also have spent a lot of time wondering, "Will my children and their children suffer for my sins?"
Perhaps you, too, have puzzled over these issues. Here's what the Bible has to say about the subject.
First, children do suffer for their parent's sins (notice the nuanced wording of the New International Version compared to the New Living Translation)...
You are loving and kind to thousands, though children suffer for their parents' sins (Jeremiah 32:18, NLT).
You show love to thousands but bring the punishment for the fathers' sins into the laps of their children after them (Jeremiah 32:18, NIV).
All you have to do to verify this is watch an episode of Dr. Phil. Dysfunctional, sinful (sometimes evil) fathers and mothers do leave emotional scars that can hamstring a child for life.
Second, children, however, do not pay for their parent's sins...
"Fathers shall not be put to death for their children, nor children put to death for their fathers; each is to die for his own sins" (2 Kings 14:6, 2 Chronicles 25:4).
What does this mean to a leader trying to disciple men?
As leaders, let's make sure our men understand they are not being held accountable for the sins of their fathers, even if they are suffering because of those sins. A man who never felt his father's love and approval is not responsible for his father's sin, even though it hurts.
As a deterrent to sinful behavior, let's make sure our men understand that when they sin (e.g., commit adultery or seek an unbiblical divorce), their children will indeed suffer for their sins. For example, a young woman told me, "When my father deserted us, I didn't just lose my dad. I lost my mom too, because she had to work two jobs and I hardly ever saw her." The effect on this young woman has been lifelong.
Let's encourage men to confess the sins of their fathers. It is biblical to confess the sins of our fathers (e.g., racism, abuse, neglect, dishonesty)?.
Those of Israelite descent had separated themselves from all foreigners. They stood in their places and confessed their sins and the wickedness of their fathers (Nehemiah 9:2).
But if they will confess their sins and the sins of their fathers... (Leviticus 26:40).
Fourth, let's encourage men to ask God for mercy to be released from any bondage resulting from their parents' sins...
David prayed, "Do not hold against us the sins of the fathers" (Psalm 79:8).
Let's encourage men to forgive their parents - they will never make real progress until they do. Immediately after the Lord's Prayer, Jesus said?.
For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins (Matthew 6:14-15).
Bottom line: Yes, as children we do suffer for our parents' sins, but we are not responsible for their sins. We don't "pay" for the sins of our parents. We each stand alone before God. We each need a Redeemer and Savior of our own.
Scott R. Kindness
- posted by -g @ 9:26 AM | | 2 rocks in pond
Sunday, December 25, 2005
So last night we were in church listening to the homily.
[The we here is Lauren and I who were playing violin in the choir loft. The rest of the church was packed completely, but we got to sit by ourselves. Imagine that!]
Anyways, the priest mentioned something in the homily that really struck me.
I was dumbfounded, realio trulio.
(something to the effect of)
"in the eyes of the Lord, there is nothing about anyone that is irredeemable."
It's not like I hadn't heard that before, it just had never sunk in like that.
It just made christmas really good.
and this, too:
yeah, that's a nano.
plus, my daddy-o made paella.
- posted by Allie @ 7:10 PM | | 1 rocks in pond
diarrhea of the brain
bad haiku daily
emily joy joy
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