The Quaker (and Quaking) Brides

I read an interesting story last night. What made it so remarkable is that it apparently was true.

Where Do You Live?

So Where Are You Dwelling?

Narrow dusty corridors run throughout the castle, they are so much like a maze I can’t keep them all straight, rules, rules, and more rules. Every so often along the stone walls a cage appears with a sad, gaunt face peering out.  Someone had broken one of the hundreds of unwritten decrees and is imprisoned by condemnation, either self-inflicted or otherwise.  It is a grim place to be but I must be there, I must work diligently every blessed, er, I mean not so blessed day of my life to keep these halls clean lest the disapproving attention of the master is drawn to me, his trembling servant.

Or must I?

Must I be constantly feeling unloved, haunted by guilt, scurrying around like a rat, forever pursued, forever guilty, forever afraid of being caught by the frowning Judge who seems to be always glowering over my shoulder?

Perish the thought! Don’t you dare think of not walking the extremely straight and narrow path, such ideas are wicked, wicked, wicked! You must toe the line, be shackled by chains of….oh I can’t count them all, now get to work! Keep your nose to the grindstone rough and banish those flighty dreams of fantasy.

But I can’t, and in a weak moment,  flee….Ah, the desert is so beautiful! I run with frenzied haste to a beautiful oasis, a paradise filled with refreshing fountains and verdant greenery. I run and run but it forever eludes me, it is a bauble, a mirage, but ah, there is another one, closer this time, brighter and more inviting, and there is something there. I rest, satisfied at last, but what, what? All around me, the ‘oasis’ is drying up, fading and growing a dingy brown, I am disappointed and continue searching for that elusive place called happiness.

Other so-called havens tantalize me; success, popularity and so much more, but ah me, there is always something wrong with them. Sometimes the water is bitter, the fruit unpalatable and I cry, where oh where can I find satisfaction?

Then an angel appears, a hand to hold, guiding me, pointing the way. The path is steep and rugged but somehow I trust this leader. He seems safe and steady.

He points to the foot of a cross. I lay my burden down, uh, me such a lot of garbage I had been hauling around: stinking, vile stuff. Then he breaks the chains and such a weight falls away from me.
I turn, with tear streaked eyes to thank the angel and find He is much more than that. He is my Savior, Friend, and Guide.

Together we walk. No more do I find places where the water is tainted, the food unpalatable because He shows me the right paths to choose. In His Presence is the fullness of joy. He leads me to Living Fountains. We stay clear of bauble like havens because He knows the way and I feel safe with Him as my Attendant

Hint: there's an illusion to the desert in the fallowing link:

https://www.createspace.com/6451450

Euphoria Vanished??

I suppose you are wondering if the euphoria of being healed wore off after a few weeks,

Me? A Little Bird in a Cage?

 Hey you guys, remember me writing about tumbling into a valley? That’s not soo long ago, surely you remember it!  Well anyway, I mentioned being imprisoned in my own body, quite a phrase, eh? That trip really did a number on me physically. Not only was I crippled up but it was kind of hard, okay I’ll admit, sometimes mighty hard to find food that my body wanted to tolerate, which left me feeling…UHHH when I got home. (Ya, before to.)

Then I got inspired to read in this real old book called Springs in the Valley. It’s so ancient I don’t even have the original cover on it, but the author was Mrs. Somebody-Or-Other-Cowman.

Ever hear of a lady called Madam Guyon? She must have been a real sweetheart cuz when she was imprisoned in a castle at Vincennes she said: “It seems as though I were a little bird whom the Lord has placed in a cage, and that I have nothing to do but sing.” I like that thought. I think many of you can verify that suffering often does bring us closer to God and we can hardly stop praising Him for all the love He is bestowing on us.

Oh, I know, I know you have things to do and places to go, but please, let me throw in another thought or two. The famous John Bunyan also found prison a blessing in disguise. It was there that Scriptures, that meant nothing to him before, shone with new light and ‘Jesus was never more real and apparent’ than there.  I envy him.

So when you are praying for the persecuted around the world, don’t only ask God to protect them, but that He will be with them in a special way.

Invasion in Primo

Have you ever heard of the wonderful land, the glorious land, the warm and happy land of Primo? It is not so very far away, but is in a dim and mysterious country where strange and incredible things happen every day.