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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The Big Match… Music by dire straits, read all about it, the sultans swing…

 

Everyone is up for the game, it is all over the papers, in the heads of everyone, there is a bounce in the step, it is on the edge of domination, the thoughts in many heads, all about the big match. It will last eighty minutes, and there will be rejoicing for some, misery for others, and by the evening time, the big game will be forgotten, replaced with another Big Match, talked up, when the frenzy will repeat itself, the addicts dream.

In the middle of the joy to come, you can let the hair down, your excess’s won’t be noticed, same as your lust in those poor parts, where women are cheap, but as you open your eyes, its’ on everyone’s mind. Why are they not at the beach like the rest of us, then you remember, the big game.

Twenty per cent, probably an awful lot more, with deep seated addictive minds, and no shortage of replacements; the children can’t do without the gadgets, the parents don’t have the patience. The urge for the next hit, once you have that feeling, the big match is the cover, well, we all want to get out of our lives, when it becomes a drug, well, you are in lots of company.

Solomon sighed, how the mood is so easily changed, could be a name dropped at an inappropriate time. As for the big match, can you put yourself back to the times of the early preachers; no doctors, no hospitals, but faith in many hearts, they are all believers in the Heavenly God, problem is, it has never been fully explained, it’s inside you. Then they hear about the Healer, the testimonies, he has the power of God in him, now, that is what you call, a big match, and it lasts for ever.

Solomon, is in bed, he is contemplating, asking for help, always. There is no reason to feel proud, no one makes it alone. The air whirls, the Spirit appears, darn, this is help from the Heavens, and it’s been happening ever since.

First Impressions

The second you pause, stop, the eyes open wide, the memory is born, you didn’t race past on the way to your next appointment, you stalled, you might not plan it, you had to stop, a second look, how the first impression is real every time. Solomon recalled the army of good souls, out there today, trying to impose their truth rather watching who the audience was, you don’t need to lecture, you just need to live it if you believe it, deeds.

A boy pulls a box on wheels, a wooden box with round bits stolen from a supermarket trolley, the boy wasn’t going anywhere, he was going around in circles, and his two pals were chasing after him. Solomon watched from the comfort of the upmarket saloon, a car another drove. The drop was a quick stop, a five minute call, the neighborhood wasn’t friendly, no jewelers or anything like that, maybe a rehab center, as close as it gets to humanity. How important was that first impression, how important is every act of kindness, they add up.

In the modern world we tend to leave caring to charity workers, by passing the inner soul, as if we are management level, and leave the hands on stuff to others. The inner soul is God’s refuge inside, and it needs to be exercised, it does not live on good intentions, you have to get involved. As time passes, the need for a more emotional world is becoming so obvious; without souls that care, what is left, not a whole lot.

Solomon recalled that little boy and his pals, who appeared around the corner, pulling their imaginary car, with a piece of string that someone discarded. First impression, how they fared after that, the three young friends, who knows, but they made an impression on Solomon and his heart process, amen.

Love 1907 Style — The Müscleheaded Blog

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Hey gang! I found a very appealing and fascinating set of postcards from 1907 , featuring newlyweds off on their first adventure together : – their honeymoon. These cards were published by the Julius Bien & Co. Lithographic firm, which was in business between 1850-1915 in New York City. Bien himself was originally an immigrant […]

via Love 1907 Style — The Müscleheaded Blog

A Strand of Hair

It’s odd, on their own, a strand is easily broken, together they are strong, a good example a rope, friends are strands, in some ways, if you understand. She was talking to her aunt, they were having the face to face, it’s easier take advice from those outside the inner ring of family, they don’t know all your faults and practices, less biased. Maybe it’s why it’s easy to unload on strangers what you won’t reveal to friends, it won’t be a barricade afterwards.

Solomon imagined every prayer, a strand of hair, tie them together, you have a strong voice, something you can hang onto, even if the world sounds crazy. In this world, there was so much going on, not according to the thinking of some, sudden changes, unstable leaders, stupid decisions, babbling leaders, so much that has been hidden, is made visible again, in such times, many reach for ropes, help lines, attach themselves to cults, same way they rush to the supermarket when a storm is forecast. And even if the storm is meant to last a day maybe two, they get in enough stuff as if it’s Christmas, then the storm ends, the stuff is there, and they say to themselves, what were we doing.

Solomon listened to the words of old, a prophet wrote, the angel answered, don’t panic, you are not alone, endure and you will be all right. Imagine all those hearts, strands in that rope that never fails. On account of encountering the Divine Spirit, Solomon was obliged to pass the news on, you are never alone, and it’s only when you fear, when you are alone, amen.

Everything she ever wanted…

The attention, free love, the extras, lots of friends, everything she wished for, but there is still a hole inside her, that nothing material can fill, why can’t it be normal. She envies her friends, they’re normal, the boring partners, the routines they have, he leaves the bowl down, never washes the dishes, is always giving Margot their child treats, he shouldn’t spoil them that much, everyone nods and smiles, inside her heart is longing, but she knows, you can’t bring children into the world without foundations. Her friends recommend the child in a box scenario, the artificial thing, you get a list of prospects, and do it yourself. It’s not what she wanted. She retreats inside, it has to be there, the original feelings, where did they go, how do you decide. Everything she wants, it’s already inside her.

The eyes are giveaways, there is an emptiness, she is replaying the lives of old glamour queens and actors, every time she see’s them on the screen, not me hopefully she says. when i get older, i will be surrounded by those who grow with me, those who really love, is it the price of fame, well it comes with risk. I’ll get through it. The next day she decides to slow down, three months later she is on a beach, away from the attention, and herself, the way she used to be, all she ever wanted.

Train Sets and timetables…

She waits on the platform, checks her watch again, he’s late, but she’s not worried, he is aboard, the last time they met, was at a station just like this. her eyes are anxious, the wait has been long, the hour of arrival has passed, damn those railroad engineers, will they ever get their times right, same as asking all women to give birth at eight in the morning, so the rest of the workers can get on with it, she sighs, here it comes, the light is coming near, she can relax. Solomon sighed, wasn’t life like a train, you wait on the platform, waiting for ever it seems, then the light comes, and suddenly all you thought of, becomes more than real, cause you can feel it. How many had been patient for so long, the efforts of so many, the givers, their patience extended to the lengths of the earth. Smile, the time he encountered the Spirit, real time, it’s on the way, and so the changes are coming, and what is the driving energy, real time love. He heard the sigh in the heart, the words hit the insides that no other gift can give, the miracle of the Spiritual over the material, worth waiting for too….as for those who control, what grief, to think there is Heaven, welcome aboard dudes, I hope you have all been loving…