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Below are the 16 most recent journal entries recorded in Caddan's LiveJournal:

    Monday, December 24th, 2007
    4:21 pm
    The Christmas Guest
    It happened one day near December's end,
    Two neighbors called on an old friend.
    And they found his shop so meager and lean
    Made gay with thousand bows of green
    And Conrad was sitting with face a-shine
    When he suddenly stopped as he stitched a twine
    And he said "Old friends, at dawn today,
    When the cock was crowing the night away
    The Lord appeared in a dream to me
    And said "I'm coming your guest to be."
    So I've been busy with feet astir and
    Strewing my shop with branches of fir.
    The table is spread and the kettle is shined.
    And over the rafters the holly is twined.
    Now I'll wait for my Lord to appear
    And listen closely so I will hear
    His step as He nears my humble place.
    And I'll open the door and look on His face.

    So his friends went home and left Conrad alone
    For this was the happiest day he had known,
    For long since, his family had passed away
    And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas Day.
    But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas Guest
    This Christmas would be the dearest and best.
    So he listened with only joy in his heart
    And with every sound he would rise with a start
    And look for the Lord to be at his door,
    Like the vision he had had a few hours before.
    So he ran to the window after hearing a sound
    But all he could see on the snow covered ground
    Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn
    And all of his clothes were ragged and worn.
    But Conrad was touched and he went to the door
    And he said, "You know, your feet must be frozen and sore.
    I have some shoes in my shop for you
    And a coat that will keep you warmer too."
    So with grateful heart the man went away
    but Conrad noticed the time of day
    And wondered what made the Lord so late
    And how much longer he'd have to wait.
    When he heard a knock, he ran to the door
    But it was only a stranger once more.
    A bent old lady with a shawl of black
    With a bundle of kindling piled on her back.
    She asked for only a place to rest
    But that was reserved for Conrad's Great Guest.
    But her voice seemed to plead "Don't send me away,
    Let me rest for awhile on Christmas Day",
    So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup
    And told her to sit at the table and sup.
    But after she left he was filled with dismay
    For he saw that the hours were slipping away
    And the Lord hadn't come as he said he would.
    Then Conrad felt sure he had misunderstood.

    When out of the stillness he heard a cry
    “Please help me and tell me where am I?"
    So again he opened his friendly door
    And stood disappointed as twice before.
    It was only a child who’d wandered away
    And was lost from her family on Christmas Day.
    Again Conrad's heart was heavy and sad
    But he knew he should make the little girl glad.
    So he called her in and he wiped her tears
    And quieted all her childish fears.
    Then he led her back to her home once more
    But as he entered his own darkened door
    he knew the Lord was not coming today.
    For the hours of Christmas had passed away
    So he went to his room and knelt down to pray
    And he said "Dear Lord, why did you delay?
    What kept you from coming to call on me?
    For I wanted so much your face to see.”

    When soft in the silence a voice he heard.
    "Lift up your head for I kept my word.
    Three times my shadow crossed your floor
    And three times I came to your lonely door.
    I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet
    And I was the woman you gave something to eat.
    I was the child on the homeless street.
    Three times I knocked, and three times I came in.
    And each time I found the warmth of a friend.
    Of all the gifts, love is the best.
    And I was honored to be your Christmas Guest."

    --Helen Steiner Rice

    (crossposted here.)
    Monday, November 19th, 2007
    7:52 am
    God's Love
    Y'know, I hear people all the time talking about God's love, how he went to the cross for us. There are even several scriptures that say the same thing. However, I think it goes much deeper than that.....

    God is eternal. He is unaffected by time. He is everywhere, everywhen. He knows the past, present, and future. He knows now what will happen in 300 years, or more.

    Picture God in the Garden of Eden, on the sixth day, about to create Adam. He wants a companion, one with the free will to choose to be with him. However, he also knows the future, and what will happen. He knows he will eventually inhabit this form, and what will happen at the cross.

    He forms feet, wonderful feet that will one day be pierced by nails. Legs that will have to bear the weight of a cross. A back that will be whipped until it is a bloody pulp, and will have to deal with the pain of splinters from the cross. A side that will be pierced with a spear, internal organs ruptured by that thrust. Hands that will be pierced. Arms that will one day control the whip that opens up his flesh. A head that will hold a crown of thorns.

    He looks down at this body, knowing that he will one day inhabit this body and that he, God, the Eternal One, will know what it is like to die. He knows about the Fall already, that Adam will choose to eat the fruit and be cast out. He knows that Noah will have to create an ark when He floods the world because it has become too wicked. He knows that he will one day walk in that body, and will be crucified. He knows each and every sin that will be committed, and all of the hatred that will come out against him from this form.

    He looks down at this shell of a human, and knows that he can keep all of this from happening. All He has to do is destroy this shell now, before it is alive, and the earth will remain perfect.

    However, he also knows, at this point, all of the people who will love him. He can see all of those who will desire to spend time in his presence, spending uncounted time just talking with God. That is what he wants. So he leans over and breathes life into Adam.

    He knowingly dooms His perfect world. He willingly sets into motion His own death. He sets Himself up for millenia of pain, watching as sin destroys all he has labored to build. He knows of the countless tears he will cry.

    All this, so He can spend time with YOU. Now that's love.

    Current Mood: awed
    Saturday, August 5th, 2006
    2:00 am
    Marriage
    As I type this, it is 2am. In just 12 more hours, my life will be irrevocably changed as I say "I do" to the woman that is my bride.

    Back when I was saved, 17 1/2 years ago, I told God I was not interested in the dating game that I saw played out so often in Jr. High and High School. I asked him to send me someone when He felt I was ready, and that I would not be searching on my own. 14 months and two days ago, she entered my life.

    Before she did, I had to be broken. I am currently dealing with the aftereffects of both a foreclosure and a bankruptcy. Everything I held in reserve was wiped out, and I had to learn to live by faith alone (not counting generosity from relatives). I had to learn what it means to provide for others to the point of sacrifice.

    I have learned that life is what happens when we are making other plans. It is possible to survive crushing defeats; it is even possible to learn from them and prosper. I have learned that the saying "every cloud has a silver lining" is more true than we realize. Her entering my life is a direct result of everything bad that happened to me, of every major mistake I have made. If even one of those choices had been made differently, the chain would be broken and we would never have even met.

    This is liberating, yet it is also frightening.


    (Crossposted here.)
    Thursday, February 23rd, 2006
    4:58 pm
    The Long View
    Friends,

    It helps now and then, to step back and take the long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

    We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificient enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that God's kingdom always lies beyond us.

    No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the church's mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

    This is what we are about: We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

    We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

    We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.

    Amen.

    --Archbishop Oscar Romero

    (crossposted to [info]christianity here.)

    Current Mood: liberated
    Thursday, February 16th, 2006
    11:08 pm
    She said YES!!!
    The date: February 14th, approx 6pm

    The setting: her apartment, where i've prepared dinner

    The scene: When she walks in the door, i'm waiting. On the table, i've got three empty vases.

    *pulls out a yellow rose with red tips* "This represents our past. Friendship turning into love."

    *pulls out a boquet of 12 red roses* "This represents our present. Romance and love."

    *pulls out a boquet of 2 red roses and 1 white* "This represents our future. Unity."

    *drops to one knee and exposes the ring on the "future" boquet* "Will you marry me and join me in unity?"

    see the title......

    Current Mood: giddy
    Tuesday, December 6th, 2005
    10:45 pm
    A new perspective on an old joke
    There's a joke i've heard. You've probably heard it too. I don't remember all the details, so i'm going to sum it up.

    Jesus walks into a bar. He approaches 3 men sitting at the bar. Each one of them has some sort of infirmity. He offers to heal them, and the first two eagerly accept. The third, however, vehemently drives Jesus away, screaming "Don't touch me! I'm on disability!"

    It's a lot funnier when read properly, I know. But humor is not what's on my mind.

    We can all laugh, because most of us know someone who knows someone who is in that situation. Disabled, receiving a paycheck from the government. Getting a free ride, right? Right?

    But what was Jesus offering?

    He was offering a second chance at life. A chance for that man to better himself, to possibly make even more than his disability check was offering. Why didn't the man take it? He was probably comfortable with his current life, disability and all, and didn't want to take chances. Although i'm sure he complained about his problems whenever he could, in the end, he chose to keep his problems rather than try something new.

    Are we really any different?

    Every one of us has something in our life we grumble about. It may be a bad job, or perhaps a problematic relationship. It may be something physical; how many of us would like to lose a few pounds? Especially over the holidays? And yet, how many will take steps to remedy that situation? Do you look for a new job, or do you just continue grumbling about the current one? Do you change your eating and exercising habits, or do you simply continue to complain? Are we really any different than that man in the bar?

    And what about Jesus?

    Jesus offers new life. A chance to start over with God. A chance to better ourselves and our fellow man. But this new life is not free. The old must be put away, everything must be made new. The bible compares Jesus to a refiner's fire, like that used to burn impurities away from precious metals.
    Problem is, burning hurts. And many of us like those impurities in our souls. We've gotten used to them. They're familiar, comforting pains.

    Each of us is like that man in the bar. We don't want to give up what we already have, for the chance of something much better. Yet we must.


    (crossposted in [info]christianity here and in [info]unicorngryphon here.)

    Current Mood: contemplative
    Friday, September 30th, 2005
    7:08 pm
    When I Fall In Love
    Maybe I'm old fashioned
    Feeling like I do
    Maybe I am living in the past
    But when I meet the right one
    I know that I'll be true
    My first love will be my last

    When I fall in love,
    It will be forever
    Or I'll never fall in love.
    In a restless world like this is,
    Love is ended before it's begun
    And too many moonlight kisses
    Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun.

    When I give my heart,
    It will be completely
    Or I'll never give my heart.
    And the moment I can feel that
    You feel that way, too,
    Is when I fall in love with you.



    I love you, Rebecca Anne Sires.
    Sunday, September 18th, 2005
    9:56 am
    I was there to hear your borning cry,
    I'll be there when you are old.
    I rejoiced the day you were baptized,
    To see your life unfold.

    I was there when you were but a child,
    With a faith to suit you well;
    In a blaze of light you wandered off
    To find where demons dwell.

    When you heard the wonder of the word
    I was there to cheer you on;
    You were raised to praise the living God,
    To whom you now belong.

    If you find someone to share your time
    And you join your hearts as one,
    I'll be there to make your verses rhyme
    From dusk to rising sun.

    In the middle ages of your life,
    Not too old, no longer young,
    I'll be there to guide you through the night,
    Complete what i've begun.

    When the evening gently closes in
    And you shut your weary eyes,
    I'll be there as I have always been
    With just one more surprise.

    I was there to hear your borning cry,
    I'll be there when you are old.
    I rejoiced the day you were baptized,
    To see your life unfold.

    --John Ylvisaker
    Wednesday, September 14th, 2005
    10:44 pm
    The Serenity Prayer (in full)
    God grant me the serenity
    to accept the things I cannot change;
    courage to change the things I can;
    and wisdom to know the difference.

    Living one day at a time;
    Enjoying one moment at a time;
    Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
    Taking, as He did, this sinful world
    as it is, not as I would have it;
    Trusting that He will make all things right
    if I surrender to His Will;
    That I may be reasonably happy in this life
    and supremely happy with Him
    Forever in the next.
    Amen.

    --Reinhold Niebuhr

    crossposted to [info]christianity in this entry.
    Thursday, July 28th, 2005
    9:53 am
    (anonymous poem from 17th century latin, translated by Rev. Edward Caswall)

    My God, I love thee
    Not because I hope for heaven thereby
    Nor yet because who love thee not
    Must die eternally

    Thou, oh my Jesus,
    Thou didst me upon the cross embrace
    For me did bear the nails and spear
    And manifold disgrace

    Why, then why
    O blessed Jesus Christ, should i not love thee well
    Not for the hope of winning heaven
    or of escaping hell

    Not with hope of gaining aught
    Not seeking a reward
    But as Thyself has loved me,
    O ever-loving Lord

    Even so, I love thee
    And will love and in thy praise will sing
    Solely because thou art my God
    And my eternal King




    (crossposted here)
    Wednesday, May 18th, 2005
    1:39 pm
    Flames of the Spirit
    I was downtown shopping for designer sheets, when an old man whispered...
    I have no bed.

    I stood at an appliance store, comparing consumer reports on microwave ovens, when an African woman wept...
    I have no food.

    I hired a decorator to remodel my kitchen and to add more cupboards, when a Cambodian child sobbed...
    I have no cup.

    I dreamed of building a getaway place, a cabin in the woods, a country place. Across the water came the cry...
    I have no country.

    I bought a new big-screen color TV for a loved one's pleasure, when a war orphan murmured...
    I have no loved ones.


    May God forgive us when our ears won't hear and our eyes won't see the sounds and sights of suffering around us.


    crossposted to http://www.livejournal.com/community/christianity/1988645.html with more comments
    Sunday, March 27th, 2005
    11:10 am
    "Come Look, Go Tell"
    (Taken from UCC Easter bulletin, 2005)

    The door ajar, I slowly poked my head inside the room. At first, my brain stood still as I tried to connect the dots and see what was no longer there. A hushed and shadowy absence was all that met me.

    Gone were the little bottles of talc and mouthwash on the bedside table. No murmuring came from the TV suspended from the ceiling. The monitor's glowing green lines that once beat like a heart had vanished with the flick of a switch. Even the familiar smell of the room had departed - the coppery smell of blood replaced by freshly washed pine.

    I was too late, I thought, as the sight of the empty bed, its stiff sheets tucked into tight triangle corners, confirmed my fear. The Bible I take on visits flopped lifeless like a fish in my hands, and the little cross I wear on a silver chain suddenly felt so heavy. One of my parishioners had died before I had a chance to pray with him, bless him, comfort him. I was too late to say goodbye as a pastor should.

    Outside the room, life went on as usual - a wheeled cart carrying breakfast trays rattled down the floor and snatches of conversation drifted along the hallway. Inside my head, though, more powerful voices had their say. The impossible burden of my failings rolled over me, jagged and sharp as a stone.

    Then, behind me, a silvery voice interrupted my grief. "Oh," it said. "I know who you're looking for. He's not here. He's gone home. He was discharged two days ago."

    On this Easter Day, the risen Christ is steps ahead of us, waiting with love's second chance of forgiveness. Come look. Go tell.

    Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed.



    Rev. Linda Petrucelli
    North Kohala
    Big Island, Hawaii
    Saturday, December 25th, 2004
    11:34 am
    The Filling Station
    The Filling Station
    ====================
    The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been
    anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. He had no decorations, no
    tree, no lights. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas,
    just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. There were no children in his
    life. His wife had gone.

    He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last
    hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless
    man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George, Old George as
    he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the space
    heater and warm-up.

    "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're
    busy. I'll just go"

    "Not without something hot in your belly," George turned and opened a wide
    mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot
    and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done there's coffee and it's
    fresh."

    Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be
    right back," George said.

    There in the driveway was an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the
    front. The driver was panicked.

    "Mister can you help me!" said the driver with a deep Spanish accent. "My
    wife is with child and my car is broken."

    George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold;
    the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned
    away.

    "But mister. Please help...."The door of the office closed behind George as
    he went in. George went to the office wall and got the keys to his old
    truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and opened the
    garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was
    waiting.

    "Here, you can borrow my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever
    looked at, but she runs real good."

    George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the
    night. George turned and walked back inside the office.

    "Glad I loaned em the truck. Their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has
    brand new tires........" George thought he was talking to the stranger, but
    the man had gone. The thermos was on the desk, empty with a used coffee cup
    beside it.

    "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought. George went
    back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it
    started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought
    he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no
    customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom
    hose on the radiator.

    "Well, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those
    tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow
    treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going
    to drive the car.

    As he was working he heard a shot being fired. He ran outside and beside a
    police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left
    shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help me." George helped the officer inside as
    he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew
    the wound needed attention.

    "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The laundry company had been
    there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct
    tape to bind the wound.

    "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the
    policeman feel at ease. "Something for pain," George thought. All he had was
    the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in
    a cup and gave the policeman the pills.

    "You hang in there. I'm going to get you an ambulance." George said, but the
    phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box
    out in your police car."

    He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard
    destroying the two way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting
    up.

    "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot
    me is still in the area."

    George sat down beside him. "I would never leave an injured man in the Army
    and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for
    bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya.
    Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your
    gonna be right as rain."

    George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.

    "None for me," said the officer.

    "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city." Then George added: "Too bad I
    ain't got no donuts."

    The officer laughed and winced at the same time. The front door of the
    office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun.

    "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was
    shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this
    before.

    "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

    "Son, why are you doing this?" asked George. "You need to put the cannon
    away. Somebody else might get hurt."

    The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now
    give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun.

    "Put that thing away," George said to the cop. "We got one too many in here
    now."

    He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you
    need the money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put
    that pee shooter away."

    George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man,
    reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released
    his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry.

    "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my
    wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job. My rent is due. My car got
    repossessed last week..."

    George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now
    and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we
    can."

    He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from
    the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup
    of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in
    here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort
    this thing out."

    The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot
    you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."

    "Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.

    George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an
    ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.

    "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

    "Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

    "GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the
    other cop asked as he approached the young man.

    Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just
    dropped his gun and ran."

    George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy works
    here," the wounded cop continued.

    "Yep," George said. "Just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

    The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man
    leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

    Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas, boy. And you too, George, and thanks for
    everything."

    "Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve
    some of your problems." George went into the back room and came out with a
    box. He pulled out a ring box.

    "Here you go. Something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would
    mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

    The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I
    can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you." "And now
    it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I
    need."

    George reached into the box again. A toy airplane, a racing car and a little
    metal truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for
    him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

    The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man
    had handed him earlier. "And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner
    with? You keep that, too. Count it as part of your first week's pay." George
    said. "Now git home to your family."

    The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in
    the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

    "Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

    George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you
    come from? I thought you left?"

    "I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you
    don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

    "Well, after my wife passed away I just couldn't see what all the bother
    was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin'
    cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and
    besides I was getting a little chubby."

    The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the
    holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold
    and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great
    doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being
    killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will become a rich
    man and share his wealth with many people.

    That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

    George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know
    all this?" asked the old man.

    "Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when
    your days are done you will be with Martha again." The stranger moved toward
    the door.

    "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where
    there is a big celebration planned."

    George watched as the man's old leather jacket and his torn pants turned
    into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

    "You see, George, it's My birthday.

    Merry Christmas."

    Author Unknown
    Friday, October 1st, 2004
    12:12 pm
    Saturday, February 14th, 2004
    10:53 pm
    Origins of Valentine's Day
    St. Valentine loved Christ
    -----------------------------------------
    To be young, wealthy, and in love - all in the third century.
    And to be a Christian. Such was young Valentine. He would
    consummate his great love by taking her as his bride. Soon, he would
    be wed.

    But his pleasurable, orderly world came crashing down around him
    when the Roman emperor declared all Christians illegal citizens and
    guilty of treason. All they had to do was say "Caesar is Lord!" But
    all they'd say was "No, Jesus is Lord!" Rather than deny Christ,
    young Valentine was arrested in the crackdown.

    In jail, awaiting execution in the arena, he wrote love letters
    to his girlfriend. Beautiful, passionate letters assuring her of his
    great love for her. But theirs would be a love not lived out. Arms
    never entwined in the embrace of husband and wife. On February 14,
    269, young Valentine was put to death, martyred for Jesus Christ.

    Since then, Christians have celebrated his fidelity to Christ and
    romantic love on the 14th of February by sending our own love letters
    to special people. And as we do so this year, let us, too, resolve
    to live for Christ unashamedly.

    Let us recall that still in our lives, as with young Valentine,
    there will be unfairness, unfulfilled longings, loneliness, and yet,
    love. Love more powerful than a tyrant's sword, more lasting than
    the centuries.

    For in Christ and in heaven we shall love God and one another for
    all eternity. And nothing can stop us.

    --Stephen Crotts
    Tuesday, January 27th, 2004
    10:35 pm
    First Post
    Caveat Emptor.

    --------------------

    I'm not really a journal/diary person, but I wanted more of an online presence. This means I will not be posting details of my life, boring as it is, in this journal. Instead, this page will be my "email forwarding program."

    --------------------

    You know those emails that friends send you? The ones that ask you to pass them on to everyone in your address book?

    I don't.

    Instead, I save them for special occasions. I may send one on to a friend, after discussing it in person first. I may post it to a forum or website (gee, like this one, maybe?) as a response to a topic that has come up.

    --------------------

    Well, i'm gonna start posting them here. Don't expect constant updates, either. Heck, this is my first post, dated 1-27-04, and I got the journal on 8-16-03.

    --------------------

    Caveat Emptor.

    Current Mood: accomplished
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