Believers don’t need to worry …Remember Moses, Abraham…

Easy for you to say, the words that slip from the tongue, are you able to prove it, the first words on most minds, easy for you to say. He is poorly dressed, his shoes leak, his hair is a mess, and there is only the price of a coffee in his pocket, don’t worry he says. Solomon sighed, he saw the Spirit at work, saw the anxious turn to happiness, it was the flip of a switch, come to think about it, so did Moses, but Moses always gave credit to God, he never tried to claim credit himself. Many years later, Jesus repeats the words, all glory to the Father. Those who are jealous of power and envious wondered, how can he do this; their response; he has demons in him they said. Jesus hears their thoughts, understands them better than they could possibly imagine and warns them; Dudes, you can say what you like about me, but if you dare insult the Holy Spirit, you won’t just regret it. Moses returns from the Holy Mountain, got the assurance from the Most High God, is content, this is working out he says to himself, he weeps, his joy immense, to have the approval of the eternal God, mega. Then he he see’s them back to their old ways, worshiping what’s earthly and common, same as those who judge people so quickly; not ambitious enough, you must be unwell; a child decides to serve God, had a career in front of him, what a waste his friends say. Forty years later, they ask their unambitious pal to intercede for them before God; life has a habit of turning around rather quickly. So if you believe, why worry then.

To see the wonders of God, amazing.

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Write or Listen

The anxious writer is frustrated, like a junkie seeking the hit, the dealer is late, and he is getting upset as hell. He moans in front on the machine, darn, where is my inspiration, the stuff sends him into another dimension; allows a fertile imagination to go places, some light, mostly dark, where is the dealer, his nerves are at him, in frustration he thumps the table, I need my fix, shit, I will get a new supplier, frustration, he teeth chatter, he is feeling the withdrawal, he has to produce some words, he is a writer after all. Where do you go, he refuses to put words on the page, he is waiting, words, me, me, me.

To listen these days sighed Solomon, is so rare. So many want the attention, can they ever listen, the big man with the power, a junkie for attention, demands, takes what he wants, and worse than that, expects to get away with it. Where is this humility these believers are supposed to have, it is written in the books of old, a little respect. The husband who bosses the wife, sits, where is my meal, darn good cook though.

Write or listen, Solomon smiled, he heard a voice call out the Holy Name, he was heading home, to his temp abode, he laughed inside, the words of old were on many lips, and people were listening. To imagine, a gathering of folks, all sorts, listening to the prophets, wondering what Jesus was going to do next, while all Jesus did through his life, was encourage the kingdom of God, on earth. Listening is good too.

The junkie writer gets the hit, he launches into words, that will impress them he thinks. Jesus, just told the truth, amen.

Head Thrash

To spend an hour getting the crease right, get angry, getting upset, getting wound up, feelings you will have forgotten an hour later, only to get annoyed in the office, when a junior makes a mess, an opportunity to show your credentials, imposing your will over another human being, same as the tramp who becomes a millionaire after winning the lotto, who starts imposing his will over those who looked down on him, because he can, and everyone bowing and smiling at what they were repulsed by, cause they now want a share of what he has now, not that they had any notion of sharing his anxiety or distress. Is that a description, or just a throw away comment; but then again there are those who dress to impress, sort of fool us, as if their beauty will distract us and we will not be interested in anything else. Head thrash sighed Solomon. The lowest common denominator, had changed, sex and money had been replaced by the environment, times were changing.

The Good Samaritans

Faith, political party , ethnic group, skin color, age, what does it matter what you pray if your deeds contradict what you plead, do you think it’s words alone, Solomon was talking with a pal, going on a journey, he exchanged a few ideas, the anxieties of parents was discussed, as when a child becomes an adult, when a son or daughter leaves the home for college. Does a bird worry when he leaves the nest, is there a big anxiety on the part of the parent birds, do they fret about what they heard, the anxieties of others, well, why should it matter you say, a girl on a journey, the fear of those waiting for her to return, the initial anxieties, then the relaxation, when it turns out all right, as it mostly does. what did we worry for. The parents want to hear the story of the kind stranger who gave her the right directions, the landlord who provided a clean living arrangement, the thoughtful shop keeper who welcomes her, good reference points. Every day, regardless of what you claim, it’s how you deal with the simple stuff usually that identifies you. Every day we get a chance to be a good Samaritan, and it costs nothing. As we add to the good list, we inspire that Spirit in others, it’s really that easy, to be a good Samaritan. AS Jesus says, his words being living words, we help everyone when we raise the Spirit in others. amen

Needles

She runs in the door, has a mind filled with anger, she is going to upset the first person she meets, she is as primed as an atom bomb, wants to destroy and do nothing else, a habit she formed, a bit of self a bit of life, needle them they said, what is that.

The image, the pin prick, the drop of blood, the mixture heated over the spoon, the wired vein, the plunge, and that sinking feeling. A long way from the lawyers office, where Mr Big and his educated lawyer conduct their affairs. Expensive brands cut leather shoes, bleached teeth too, a far cry from the uneducated addict, sitting in slum land, taking what he or she can get, used as a toe rag, out of sight of family, they have already forgot.

Needles, the stone in the shoe, the little annoying journalist who wont give up the story, the ache in your heart, the feeling that wont go away. She needles everyone.

Solomon smiled, there was a lot of joy about, the eyes told their own story, many held smiles, a few wore frowns. the needle he surmised, help from above. To imagine that your life really counts, and you are not a statistic after all, despite what you have been forced to believe, in order to stay alive.

How the miracles of olden times, needled the Spiritual leaders of those times. He is stealing our flock, they listen to him, we have to do something about it. 2,000 years later, they are still listening, amen. You have to needle them sighed Solomon, same way you prod at times, amen.

Preacher Girl

A mountain top, the voice, alone, all seeing, the overview, from the preacher girl. Another leader, another controversy, history, what did we learn, the fears that come with change. The Smoking habit is cut, he looks at her, what do you mean by that, well, I am a preacher woman she says. He gets an idea in his head, healing in one hand, the book of wisdom., the cigarette and the ash that falls from the other.

He wonders if it’s for real, he lives a busy life, survival does for most, tomorrow will look after itself. He listens, she is open, her words are sharp, is this the voice of a partner or a tyrant, he tries to catch her attention, she has to go back to the original. No idols to begin with, those we tear down, compassion, if we don’t practice it, we can’t pass it on, as for judging others, we need to look into the mirror. Eventually we will see something we like, a trait, a good decision.

I’m hardcore she says, he listens, she does not allow space for interruption. He is not fault finding, he is listening. There are a few things she doesn’t know about him, he wonders if that helps. You have to do more listening, we all do, preacher girl.

Preaching Man

Has them in the palm of his hands, his face scans the audience, senses the wonder, must choose his words carefully, wants to frighten them not embalm them. Power, what a thrill, they listen to the words, you mention the name Jesus, it’s almost a magnet, his words still stick 2,000 odd years later, Meanwhile the Preacher, he views his meal ticket before him, they come to him for advice, it’s beyond comprehension, they listen to me, he finishes the sermon with some fear filling words, fear only God he says. The adrenaline levels are up, he feels it the way a drug addict does. In the audience a real Prophet is listening, why do they have to use fear all the time, preaching man, it is so much simpler.  The Spirit rises on the basis of good deeds, and the Holy Spirit lives inside you, you just need space and an honest heart. The Preaching man has none of that, too addicted to control.

Solomon sighed, too much syrup in the diet turns you into a diabetic, you need to hear the truth, same as the words have to be from the Heart. Solomon wondered, why some made complex what is so simple to understand, amen.