I was writing to a friend some days ago about the intense inward struggle I have been battling lately. It has to do with kids - and the injustice of some of their situations. God's injustice, namely.
You know what he said? Probably not- I'll tell ya. He said, "kt... you're blaming the wrong person."
I thought to myself, "Oh yeah."
Herein lies the beginning of the answer to my struggle with the questions of freewill and power and the like - the questions of evil in the world; and how could a good and loving God allow so much of it?
You know, as a kid, my teachers always told my class and I, "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." And the concept of guilt by association was always a dominant theme. Standing by and watching the problem is just as bad as creating the problem in the first place. Like when a kid's being picked on, and ya'll just stand around and watch it happen instead of sticking up for the little guy. So, God's the big guy, and while the little ones here are being beaten unreasonably or given no good discipline, overfed to the point of diabetes, or going hungry, He stands by and watches.
But after being callused over in belief in that very statement and softened again, I have found that that argument really doesn't work. God knew what He was doing when He gave us freewill.
I've been thinking a lot lately of The Matrix. You know, the scene when Morpheus the big black guy asks Neo if he wants the blue pill or the red pill - that all of his future would rely on that one move. If he chose one, he would forget the realization of the Matrix; he'd forget that everything he always knew was a lie. If he chose the other, he would live in truth, but he would experience overwhelming pain and be handed an overwhelming platter of hardship and impossibility.
Let's pretend for a moment that the movie was only a half hour long and there was no trilogy at all because Neo chose the pill that would make him forget. He chose the bliss of ignorance (for those of you who've watched the movie, he chose the steak) for the sake of avoiding the pain of reality. Welp, the big black guy wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. If the choice was ever really there, he wouldn't be able to do anything if Neo chose wrong.
Welp, in an extremely oversimplified sense, that's sort of how I picture God's stance. He sits facing us with a blue pill and a red pill in His hands. Both of His hands are open no matter how much He longs for us to choose one over the other. He holds them out to us and says, "What will you choose? Will you choose My way? It's harder. But it's better. Will you choose your way? It's more fun, but it leads to death. Will you live for this world whose glory is fading away? Or will you live for the next whose glory is ever-increasing."
He gave us power in choice. He reliquished His omnipotence (for a time) in His love. He gave us the freedom to decide whether or not we would give the power back to Him by letting Him rule in our lives. How it must have grieved God's heart as He gave some of His power - the freedom to choose - to us knowing full well the terrors, the injustices, the pain that His move would cause. But perhaps, He also experienced an overwhelming joy that so many would choose Him, that many would also go against the grain. And Oh! He must have experienced the joy of giving a good gift that was not a pogo stick or a balloon. His gift was much more complex; it's use carried and still carries ultimately heavy weight.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Friday, March 10, 2006
shadows
I hate to generalize like I am going to do in a moment, because it is the sort of generalization that rises up some sort of immediate reaction emotion, even for me; but I will anyway because I don't hate it enough to avoid it.
I smile with a mischievous grin as I type: sometimes reaction emotions make for some really great heated discussions - usually, the type of discussions in which you say something that ends up coming out nothing like what you meant it to and one for which you think of the perfect response to much after the opportunity is gone. Fortunately, typing things out on blogs gives the opportunity to take time to ponder responses, and gives us the wonderful option of deleting something that reactively spewed from within.
Here goes:
It seems to me as though most religions - on second thought, maybe all religions - try so hard to get to God (or whatever it is they are trying to get to) that they lose sight of the real thing. Their focus disappears. While this is probably true of all religions, I have most experience of it in Christianity. And, since I believe in Jesus Christ as the ultimate truth, I think it matters most that Christians lose sight of the real thing - who is Christ.
Before I take the credit for a new thought, I must point out that the whole book of Colossians focuses on this very concept. As the church of Colosse struggled on their own, outsiders came in and tried to add to the simple truth of the gospel of Christ. They added all sorts of beliefs on rituals and traditions that should be done in order to follow Christ, but really, all of those things were shadows of the real thing.
The point should be made that some of them were shadows of the real thing. In other words, not all of them were abscure, completely revocable concepts that were to be eradicated hands down. Some of the traditions could have been good for their faith, but none of it was, because their focus was all wrong. They worried so much about the traditions that they could not see the reason for the traditions.
Figuratively speaking:
The Colossians never experienced the joys and sorrows of the book because they were too mezmerized by the cover.
They never walked into the mansion and witnessed all its beauty and mystery because they spent so much time being captivated by the complexity of the door.
They never became rich from the treasure inside the chest because they were too busy polishing the lock.
How often do we, as Christians, worry so much about acting like a Christian, looking like a Christian, and doing what Christians do that we forget that the substance of our faith is the fullness of Christ Himself - not Christianity, not Christian culture, not church, not church functions, not being a good evangelist.
Colossians 2:17 Such [things] are only the shadow of things that are to come, and they have only a symbolic value. But the reality (the substance, the solid fact of what is foreshadowed, the body of it) belongs to Christ. (Amplified Version; emphasis added)
For more, read Colossians. It's a good book.
I smile with a mischievous grin as I type: sometimes reaction emotions make for some really great heated discussions - usually, the type of discussions in which you say something that ends up coming out nothing like what you meant it to and one for which you think of the perfect response to much after the opportunity is gone. Fortunately, typing things out on blogs gives the opportunity to take time to ponder responses, and gives us the wonderful option of deleting something that reactively spewed from within.
Here goes:
It seems to me as though most religions - on second thought, maybe all religions - try so hard to get to God (or whatever it is they are trying to get to) that they lose sight of the real thing. Their focus disappears. While this is probably true of all religions, I have most experience of it in Christianity. And, since I believe in Jesus Christ as the ultimate truth, I think it matters most that Christians lose sight of the real thing - who is Christ.
Before I take the credit for a new thought, I must point out that the whole book of Colossians focuses on this very concept. As the church of Colosse struggled on their own, outsiders came in and tried to add to the simple truth of the gospel of Christ. They added all sorts of beliefs on rituals and traditions that should be done in order to follow Christ, but really, all of those things were shadows of the real thing.
The point should be made that some of them were shadows of the real thing. In other words, not all of them were abscure, completely revocable concepts that were to be eradicated hands down. Some of the traditions could have been good for their faith, but none of it was, because their focus was all wrong. They worried so much about the traditions that they could not see the reason for the traditions.
Figuratively speaking:
The Colossians never experienced the joys and sorrows of the book because they were too mezmerized by the cover.
They never walked into the mansion and witnessed all its beauty and mystery because they spent so much time being captivated by the complexity of the door.
They never became rich from the treasure inside the chest because they were too busy polishing the lock.
How often do we, as Christians, worry so much about acting like a Christian, looking like a Christian, and doing what Christians do that we forget that the substance of our faith is the fullness of Christ Himself - not Christianity, not Christian culture, not church, not church functions, not being a good evangelist.
Colossians 2:17 Such [things] are only the shadow of things that are to come, and they have only a symbolic value. But the reality (the substance, the solid fact of what is foreshadowed, the body of it) belongs to Christ. (Amplified Version; emphasis added)
For more, read Colossians. It's a good book.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Do you ever just feel sad and that's all?
As I sit here "studying", I get sidetracked easily. My mind just needs to know. I'm learning, but not the test material; and part of me wishes I could just learn without tests.
But no matter, the thoughts that strike me tonight are ones of longing. All of them. And all of them about different things. Longing for the people I love to stop making stupid decisions. Longing for the Lord Jesus. Longing for unity with Him. When I won't have to look at Him through this dark glass, but see Him face to face.
There is a certain thing that I eagerly expect. It might be the one thing I don't ever question. It's so deeply ingrained in me- whether taught or not, I do not know - that I cannot deny it for more than a moment. It is the hope that there is more to this life than what we see now. If this is the end, nothing makes sense. Evil, hunger, pain, sorrow, breakups, people crushing others beneath their feet...I question all those. I question God's justice there. I question my beliefs. I question everything I have always known. But I cannot question the hope of Heaven. I may forget about it for a time, but when it enters my mind, there is no turning back. There is Heaven. There is resolution. There is beauty beneath all the drudgery.
I don't know what Heaven will be like. I know that it won't be most of the things that we picture it being; we simply can't fathom complete goodness. Even our best thoughts of what good entails are tainted by a mind that sees dimly. But as I try to ponder the unponderable, I feel at home.
Resolution. No more battles. No more struggle. No more.
My heart longs with the very deepest longing for the fulfillment of the hope of heaven.
But no matter, the thoughts that strike me tonight are ones of longing. All of them. And all of them about different things. Longing for the people I love to stop making stupid decisions. Longing for the Lord Jesus. Longing for unity with Him. When I won't have to look at Him through this dark glass, but see Him face to face.
There is a certain thing that I eagerly expect. It might be the one thing I don't ever question. It's so deeply ingrained in me- whether taught or not, I do not know - that I cannot deny it for more than a moment. It is the hope that there is more to this life than what we see now. If this is the end, nothing makes sense. Evil, hunger, pain, sorrow, breakups, people crushing others beneath their feet...I question all those. I question God's justice there. I question my beliefs. I question everything I have always known. But I cannot question the hope of Heaven. I may forget about it for a time, but when it enters my mind, there is no turning back. There is Heaven. There is resolution. There is beauty beneath all the drudgery.
I don't know what Heaven will be like. I know that it won't be most of the things that we picture it being; we simply can't fathom complete goodness. Even our best thoughts of what good entails are tainted by a mind that sees dimly. But as I try to ponder the unponderable, I feel at home.
Resolution. No more battles. No more struggle. No more.
My heart longs with the very deepest longing for the fulfillment of the hope of heaven.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
recurring theme
there's this thing that goes on in my head. i can't remember when it started; and i don't know how to explain it exactly. it applies to countless circumstances, and i've never attempted to tell anyone because it has no words.
have you ever noticed how it's really difficult to talk about something you don't have a word for?
but i'll try anyways. it is sort of just a concept that appears in my mind. and every time it appears, it causes me to wonder and furrow my eyebrows and worship God. immediately.
i feel stupid even now explaining it because i just can't.
it's an image of yuck vs. God. usually my yuck, but not always. sometimes it's just an unowned yuck. it's an image of absolute purity vs. impurity, i guess.
yeah, that explanation applies, but it's so much more than that. i just can't capture it in words. i drew a picture of it on my computer once. so i'll just post that.
have you ever noticed how it's really difficult to talk about something you don't have a word for?
but i'll try anyways. it is sort of just a concept that appears in my mind. and every time it appears, it causes me to wonder and furrow my eyebrows and worship God. immediately.
i feel stupid even now explaining it because i just can't.
it's an image of yuck vs. God. usually my yuck, but not always. sometimes it's just an unowned yuck. it's an image of absolute purity vs. impurity, i guess.
yeah, that explanation applies, but it's so much more than that. i just can't capture it in words. i drew a picture of it on my computer once. so i'll just post that.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Picasso
Casual sex is like a paintbrush in the beak of a dodo bird.
Paintbrushes were created to express and put into being an artist’s mind. A paintbrush in the beak of a dodo bird, however, would be a bummer.
I picture the bird pogo-ing around in ecstatic delight of its discovery of the paintbrush and then using it as a q-tip or a shovel.
The whole scenario makes me pity the dumb bird who has no idea what a paintbrush is really for.
Paintbrushes were created to express and put into being an artist’s mind. A paintbrush in the beak of a dodo bird, however, would be a bummer.
I picture the bird pogo-ing around in ecstatic delight of its discovery of the paintbrush and then using it as a q-tip or a shovel.
The whole scenario makes me pity the dumb bird who has no idea what a paintbrush is really for.
Friday, November 18, 2005
I still live.
This is a link that began a cycle of thought for me. Because of it, I began to ask the Lord about His thoughts on vanity, beauty and appearance, and especially, my vanity, beauty and appearance. See, many women have this powerful tool, a weapon even, that we are so used to using that we are often unaware that we are even using it.
It feels really nice to be adored. And there is a longing within us girls to be loved. And often, being wanted feels like being loved. And often without knowing it, and sometimes with full knowledge, we pursue being wanted - maternally, sensually, sometimes desperately. Sometimes, we use the tools we possess to manipulate subtly. They are not always obvious, but they are powerful and can be destructive.
Proverbs gave me a clear picture of a yucky part of myself this morning. It was a blow from the Lord, and those always hit profoundly close to home. Too close for comfort.
Starting at 7:6. a compilation of a few versions.
“For I looked out through the wood-work at the window of my house. And I saw among the empty-headed and empty-hearted a young man without wisdom and understanding. He passed through the street near her corner and took the path to her house. It was dusk, the evening coming on, the darkness thickening into night. See, a woman comes to meet him. She is dressed like a woman who sells the use of her body, and with a heart that wants to fool and trap someone (NIV says she is "with crafty intent"; Amplified Bible says she's sly and cunning of heart; KJV says she's a woman with the attire of an harlot, and subtil [which is Old French for subtle] of heart). She is boisterous and rebellious; her feet do not remain at home; she is now in the streets, now in the squares where people gather. She lies in wait at every corner. So she catches him and kisses him. With a hard face she says to him...Come, let us take our fill of love until morning. Let us make ourselves happy with love. Soon she has him eating out of her hand, bewitched by her honeyed speech. All at once he follows her, like a bull going to be killed, like a wild animal goes into a trap, until an arrow cuts through him. Like a bird that hurries into the net, little knowing that it will cost him his life.”
Holy mackerel. Talk about destructive. No, I don’t sit on the street corners just waiting for some naïve youngin to come around so I can be wanted. It’s much more subtle than that and also more unconscious than that. It’s not a blatant intent to kill, destroy and devour, but it is not less destructive because of its subtlety.
So, there are two separate kingdoms fighting for control inside of me. There is my kingdom. One whose king I am who seeks to uplift my own glory (vainglory nonetheless), and whose streetcorners are wrought with cunning hearts and crafty subtlety. One that destroys itself. My kingdom uses my beauty to manipulate and captivate for my own glory. Beauty there, in the pursuit of uplifting myself longs to be seen; and though it is beautiful, cannot be pure.
And there is the Lord’s kingdom. One whose king the Lord is who seeks to uplift His glory in me as His unique creation (that is an image of Himself nonetheless), and whose streetcorners are wrought with gifts that fulfill the best interest of those who walk in it. One that is complete. One whose beauty is not less glorious, less attractive, or less stunning. Beauty in that kingdom is not used as a manipulative tool, but is the result of gloriousness. Beauty there, in the pursuit of uplifting the Lord, cannot be impure.
So the two kingdoms are fighting against each other. Beauty longs to be seen in purity. It longs to not be used as a tool. It longs to be seen in truth, but as long as these two kingdoms fight inside of me, I can’t handle the truth very well. I’m really good at distorting my own beauty so it is no longer a mode of “shewing forth” the Lord’s glory, but a manipulative tool designed to chisel an idol out of myself.
Galatians 2:20 “I am crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ live sin me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God who loves me and gave himself for me.”
And so, the blow: I still live. And my kingdom still lives. And my heart is divided. And longs for rest from war. It longs for peace and truth, when all things will be unveiled. Who will save me from this body of death?
More reading: 2 Cor. 3, Romans 6-8
It feels really nice to be adored. And there is a longing within us girls to be loved. And often, being wanted feels like being loved. And often without knowing it, and sometimes with full knowledge, we pursue being wanted - maternally, sensually, sometimes desperately. Sometimes, we use the tools we possess to manipulate subtly. They are not always obvious, but they are powerful and can be destructive.
Proverbs gave me a clear picture of a yucky part of myself this morning. It was a blow from the Lord, and those always hit profoundly close to home. Too close for comfort.
Starting at 7:6. a compilation of a few versions.
“For I looked out through the wood-work at the window of my house. And I saw among the empty-headed and empty-hearted a young man without wisdom and understanding. He passed through the street near her corner and took the path to her house. It was dusk, the evening coming on, the darkness thickening into night. See, a woman comes to meet him. She is dressed like a woman who sells the use of her body, and with a heart that wants to fool and trap someone (NIV says she is "with crafty intent"; Amplified Bible says she's sly and cunning of heart; KJV says she's a woman with the attire of an harlot, and subtil [which is Old French for subtle] of heart). She is boisterous and rebellious; her feet do not remain at home; she is now in the streets, now in the squares where people gather. She lies in wait at every corner. So she catches him and kisses him. With a hard face she says to him...Come, let us take our fill of love until morning. Let us make ourselves happy with love. Soon she has him eating out of her hand, bewitched by her honeyed speech. All at once he follows her, like a bull going to be killed, like a wild animal goes into a trap, until an arrow cuts through him. Like a bird that hurries into the net, little knowing that it will cost him his life.”
Holy mackerel. Talk about destructive. No, I don’t sit on the street corners just waiting for some naïve youngin to come around so I can be wanted. It’s much more subtle than that and also more unconscious than that. It’s not a blatant intent to kill, destroy and devour, but it is not less destructive because of its subtlety.
So, there are two separate kingdoms fighting for control inside of me. There is my kingdom. One whose king I am who seeks to uplift my own glory (vainglory nonetheless), and whose streetcorners are wrought with cunning hearts and crafty subtlety. One that destroys itself. My kingdom uses my beauty to manipulate and captivate for my own glory. Beauty there, in the pursuit of uplifting myself longs to be seen; and though it is beautiful, cannot be pure.
And there is the Lord’s kingdom. One whose king the Lord is who seeks to uplift His glory in me as His unique creation (that is an image of Himself nonetheless), and whose streetcorners are wrought with gifts that fulfill the best interest of those who walk in it. One that is complete. One whose beauty is not less glorious, less attractive, or less stunning. Beauty in that kingdom is not used as a manipulative tool, but is the result of gloriousness. Beauty there, in the pursuit of uplifting the Lord, cannot be impure.
So the two kingdoms are fighting against each other. Beauty longs to be seen in purity. It longs to not be used as a tool. It longs to be seen in truth, but as long as these two kingdoms fight inside of me, I can’t handle the truth very well. I’m really good at distorting my own beauty so it is no longer a mode of “shewing forth” the Lord’s glory, but a manipulative tool designed to chisel an idol out of myself.
Galatians 2:20 “I am crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ live sin me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God who loves me and gave himself for me.”
And so, the blow: I still live. And my kingdom still lives. And my heart is divided. And longs for rest from war. It longs for peace and truth, when all things will be unveiled. Who will save me from this body of death?
More reading: 2 Cor. 3, Romans 6-8
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Another paper for Christian Tradition
Freedom
The theme of Exodus is one that echoes throughout the entire Bible. It is one in which God releases His people Israel from the grip of slavery. In reading it, I am amazed at the facet of God that displays His gutsiness. He is no faint-hearted care-bear figure who flitters around in pastel colors or frolics in the clouds. He is a passionate, indomitable being whose word is all-powerful and whose plan is extraordinary.
God demonstrates this to us often in Exodus. He appears to Moses on Mount Horeb in the form of a blazing, burning bush. He transforms a simple staff into a hissing serpent. He rains down fire from heaven, and He dominates the Egyptian enemy army in the Red Sea, all in the pursuit of His first love – the hearts of the Israelite people. He longed to free them from the physical burden of slavery, but also from the spiritual bondage that their hearts were captive to. Slavery comes in many different forms – spiritual and physical - and even today, He is willing to do the same freeing work in our hearts.
The story of my own freedom from captivity starts long before my time. It begins when three little girls, the eldest of whom was my mother, sought to be loved and valued in a broken home. Fear gripped her heart as she scrambled to round up whatever would bring momentary peace. Shame and guilt formed the bars to her prison of never measuring up, and harsh memories formed the pictures on her cell walls. She grew up without the luxuries of a richly warm, loving and complete family. She did not know what such a family scenario would look like, but years later, when she married and started her own family, she longed to give her own children a better future than what her past handed to her; and maybe even more than that longing, there was a time when her heart cried out for spiritual truth.
She searched for it in all the wrong places before coming to know the Lord Jesus as her redeemer and friend. She found hope in Him. He accepted her. He renewed her. He gave her a fresh start and promised healing. As Psalm 103 says, he forgave all her sins, redeemed her life from the pit and renewed her youth like the eagle’s.
Her faith and commitment to the Lord Jesus made her surrender her parenting to Him. She had had no one in her past to look to for advice on parenting rightly; no one had shown her how to do it. She, many times, was terrified of continuing the cycle of bondage that her parents passed on to her. Yet, as she trusted God, He provided for her. He did it in obscure ways -- James Dobson would come on the radio with just the right topic at just the right moment or other events would occur that were too perfect to pass off as coincidences. The Lord Himself taught her how to be a good mom. She, in turn, taught us kids about Him. She showed me how to love and honor Him. She was also, and is now, a prayer warrior for our family, melting away the obstacles that loom over us in our spiritual journeys.
Because of my mom’s story, I have a story of freedom. I know what it is like to come home after school to a complete family. I know what it is like to be loved by my parents. I am free there!
The sequence of events that has led to my freedom is mind-boggling to me, because the sequence of nature is so often quite the opposite. Children wallow in the consequences of their parents’ bad decisions, and they learn there. They always learn. Then, when they get older, they know nothing besides mud. Their parents placed them there years ago just as their parents placed them there before that. They all grow up in it, and they all live in it generation after generation. But, because of the Lord Jesus’ work, I have not inherited that slavery from my mom! Instead of being given the heavy burden of fear and shame, I was given life and love!
He does that amazing work everyday in the lives of those He seeks to save. “The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed. He made known his ways to Moses, his deeds to the people of Israel.” (Psalm 103:6-7)
The theme of Exodus is one that echoes throughout the entire Bible. It is one in which God releases His people Israel from the grip of slavery. In reading it, I am amazed at the facet of God that displays His gutsiness. He is no faint-hearted care-bear figure who flitters around in pastel colors or frolics in the clouds. He is a passionate, indomitable being whose word is all-powerful and whose plan is extraordinary.
God demonstrates this to us often in Exodus. He appears to Moses on Mount Horeb in the form of a blazing, burning bush. He transforms a simple staff into a hissing serpent. He rains down fire from heaven, and He dominates the Egyptian enemy army in the Red Sea, all in the pursuit of His first love – the hearts of the Israelite people. He longed to free them from the physical burden of slavery, but also from the spiritual bondage that their hearts were captive to. Slavery comes in many different forms – spiritual and physical - and even today, He is willing to do the same freeing work in our hearts.
The story of my own freedom from captivity starts long before my time. It begins when three little girls, the eldest of whom was my mother, sought to be loved and valued in a broken home. Fear gripped her heart as she scrambled to round up whatever would bring momentary peace. Shame and guilt formed the bars to her prison of never measuring up, and harsh memories formed the pictures on her cell walls. She grew up without the luxuries of a richly warm, loving and complete family. She did not know what such a family scenario would look like, but years later, when she married and started her own family, she longed to give her own children a better future than what her past handed to her; and maybe even more than that longing, there was a time when her heart cried out for spiritual truth.
She searched for it in all the wrong places before coming to know the Lord Jesus as her redeemer and friend. She found hope in Him. He accepted her. He renewed her. He gave her a fresh start and promised healing. As Psalm 103 says, he forgave all her sins, redeemed her life from the pit and renewed her youth like the eagle’s.
Her faith and commitment to the Lord Jesus made her surrender her parenting to Him. She had had no one in her past to look to for advice on parenting rightly; no one had shown her how to do it. She, many times, was terrified of continuing the cycle of bondage that her parents passed on to her. Yet, as she trusted God, He provided for her. He did it in obscure ways -- James Dobson would come on the radio with just the right topic at just the right moment or other events would occur that were too perfect to pass off as coincidences. The Lord Himself taught her how to be a good mom. She, in turn, taught us kids about Him. She showed me how to love and honor Him. She was also, and is now, a prayer warrior for our family, melting away the obstacles that loom over us in our spiritual journeys.
Because of my mom’s story, I have a story of freedom. I know what it is like to come home after school to a complete family. I know what it is like to be loved by my parents. I am free there!
The sequence of events that has led to my freedom is mind-boggling to me, because the sequence of nature is so often quite the opposite. Children wallow in the consequences of their parents’ bad decisions, and they learn there. They always learn. Then, when they get older, they know nothing besides mud. Their parents placed them there years ago just as their parents placed them there before that. They all grow up in it, and they all live in it generation after generation. But, because of the Lord Jesus’ work, I have not inherited that slavery from my mom! Instead of being given the heavy burden of fear and shame, I was given life and love!
He does that amazing work everyday in the lives of those He seeks to save. “The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed. He made known his ways to Moses, his deeds to the people of Israel.” (Psalm 103:6-7)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
