Our daughter got a couriered package in the mail last week. What could someone be sending a 5 five-month old?
In the hopes of coming into some extra travel cash, our entrepreneurial little one is looking for an endorsement deal, but we are looking at Reviews by The Motley Fool for stocks online first. What do you say, Mr. Christie?
And while I’m at it posting pictures, how about a bath shot?
Good night, one and all.
It’s been nearly a year since we spent time in the Holy Land–a truly fantastic trip–with our infamous traveling partners, the Pattersons, affectionately known as the Griswalds.
Recently plowing through the digital pile of photos that we took, I pulled out a few favourites to post.
Some ruins of an old church building built atop Mount Tabor, from the story of Jesus’ transfiguration…
The shore of Capernaum, with the Sea of Galilee behind…
Somewhere near here was where Matthew 5-7 were spoken…
The Griswalds… er, Pattesrons in Hezekiah’s tunnel, in the City of David…
A couple glamour shots of the youngest Patterson. That Jesse, he’s a looker!
Here, he’s posing in Caesarea, in front of a plot of land where Herod used to watch chariot races.
Close-up of an olive tree near Gethsemane. Some trees in that garden are dated at over 2000 years old. I couldn’t help but think, “If trees could talk…”
My love and me ready for sunset on Mount Sinai…
Us seated in ruins of Capernaum’s synagogue. It was in an earlier version of this building on the same location that Jesus spoke of eating and drinking him in John 6…
The amphitheater at Beit She’an, one of the best stops on the trip. This city has history way back into the OT times. Among many stories, the city wall here is where Saul’s and Jonathan’s bodies were put on display by their enemies after they were killed.
The main street of ancient Jerusalem. Jesus almost certainly dragged his cross on this street. If you explore the underworld a bit, you can actually get to some of those very stones.
The Wailing Wall…
More of the Wailing Wall, one of the most interesting places to me to just sit and observe…
Above the Wailing Wall is the Muslim holy site, the Dome of the Rock. I caught a father praying, despite his son’s invitations into something “more fun”.
The Dome of the Rock, a cute girl, and some guy…
Our favourite beast of the Middle East…
How much do you like him, Shan?
Who can resist an animal that has long eyelashes and a smile?
This guy was up on Mount Sinai with us, and I HAD to shoot him. I mean, he could have been Moses in his pre-burning bush days! Too cool for me.
Prayer and distractions… anyone else know an undeniable tie between those two words?
I’ve listened to friends and read the words of strangers, together trying to find some resolution for my ADHD prayer life. Some practical little tidbits have been found to be helpful; much of it though makes no difference.
Today, I read the most significant thing about distractions that plague prayer. Tell me if this doesn’t speak to you.
From a Brit named Herbert McCabe…
“People often complain of ‘distractions’ during prayer. Their mind goes wandering off on to other things. This is nearly always due to praying for something that you do not really much want; you just think it would be proper and respectable and ‘religious’ to want it. So you pray high-mindedly for big but distant things like peace in Northern Ireland or you pray that your aunt will get better from the flu–when in fact you do not much care about these things; perhaps you ought to, but you don’t. And so your prayer is rapidly invaded by distractions arising from what you really do want–promotion at work, let us say. Distractions are nearly always your real wants breaking in on your prayer for edifying but bogus wants. If you are distracted, trace your distraction back to the real desires it comes from and pray about these. When you are praying for what you really want, you will not be distracted. People on sinking ships do not complain of distractions during their prayer.”
Boom! Herbert, you are on to something, my friend.
Now go and pray with your heart. That kind of praying may prove dangerous enough to see your life transformed and your prayers shaking things!
This is one of my favourite movies!
Months before the awards shows were buzzing about it, even before a single friend (or a married friend) had mentioned its title to me, I read a review online. And I intrigued.
So as the swell around this film increased, I wondered.
Is it worth the hype? Can it possibly be as good as advertised? Did my early exposure to that review help its success, and if so, where can I get my cheque?
So my quick review?
I went into the theater with high expectations, the kind of expectations that make me nervous because I’ve been disappointed by a lot of films. But not this day. Not in the slums. Perhaps it’s the Asian thing–it’s special to me. Maybe it’s just a fantastic story told in an interesting way that puts this story into a special category for me. My favourite scene of all time comes from this movie–that doesn’t hurt its chances to etch a permanent place in my heart. It could be that my wife cried gentle tears on my shoulder and that I joined her. I don’t know what it is, but something in me was made to feel alive while I watched this story.
And that is a significant thing to say about “a flick”.
PS: If you’re wondering about my favourite scene, think of two phrases: “Outhouse Escape” and “Autograph Request”. Simply classic!
My job, along with some of the relationships I enjoy, gives me regular chances to pray with people. My efforts to pay attention to those encounters have led me to a conclusion. You can mark this down as fact–the first thing every parent I know prays for is their children. Barring a crisis of some sort that receives first mention, parents’ prayers are consumed by their kids. I’m even talking about parents who don’t “pray”. Hand-folding and head-bowing aside, every parent I know has their deepest desires (spoken or not) tied into the lives of their sons and daughters.
When you become a parent, you become a pray-er, whether you believe in God or not.
If you’re a parent, you’ll know what I mean.
If you know me, you’ll know that I only recently began knowing what I mean.
I’ve heard the most heartfelt prayers and sensed the deepest emotion in prayer when parents pray for their children. Rooms get quieter, as it seems as if heaven itself stops to listen in. And joy? You’ve never heard relief or thankfulness in a voice until you’re heard a father or mother’s prayer of gratitude for a lost child finding their way or for a faithful child thriving in every way. There’s no doubt why the prodigal’s return home spawned a bash that rocked the whole neighbourhood–because that is what kids to their parents’ hearts.
The sweetest thing of all this is that we are not limited to our families in experiencing feelings of this intensity. Love flows from person to person, and there is no exclusion for those whose parents don’t fit the above descriptions.
THE Father feels these things for us. THE Son is our non-stop intercessor, bringing our name before God with a flow that never stops. I have taken comfort before in the promises of friends or relatives to pray regularly for me. It is a sobering thought that my name arises in prayers spoken by divine lips into divine ears. In a sense, we are encircled by the highest prayers available.
My experience says that this is what parents do to their kids.