Two Minutes With The Bible ~ Mercy Upon All

Mercy Upon All 

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society

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Have you ever wondered how the pagan world got that way: idol-worshipping, wicked, gripped by superstition and fear?

The Bible supplies the answer in Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. Three times in Chapter 1 we read of the Gentile world: “He gave them up… He gave them up… He gave them over….” Why? Because they had given Him up: “And even as they did not wish to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient [becoming]” (Rom. 1:28).

It would have been difficult to believe 30 or 40 years ago, that our young people would be dancing to the wild, exotic music of pagan lands (if this can be called music), or that our studios would be selling the twisted, hideous paintings of pagan art (if this can be called art).

When you wonder why the lovely melodies and harmonies of yesteryear have given place to the noise and din of today’s “music”; when you wonder why the beautiful paintings of those days have been largely replaced by the masterpieces of chaos that surround us now — why in so many ways we seem to be reverting to paganism — read Romans 1.

All this is the natural result of a departure from God and His Word. Yet there is hope and assurance and joy in store for any individual who will yet heed the message of God — particularly in the Book of Romans. Here we read how Jew joined Gentile in rejecting Christ, and God had to give them all up. But listen to this passage from Rom. 11:32: “For God hath concluded them all in unbelief THAT HE MIGHT HAVE MERCY UPON ALL.”

That is, He gave up the Jewish and Gentile nations so that He might show His grace to any individuals who might turn to Him by faith in Christ, thus reconciling both (Jewish and Gentile believers) unto Himself in one body, by the cross (Eph. 2:16).

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To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.

It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

It is so nice to be over that head cold. I finally stopped coughing like an old smoker, and can finally breathe well enough to walk without weezing. Needless to say, it's been a lost week for me.

As I strolled around the property, I noticed that during the heavy rains we had, the Wild Plum have started blooming. This makes the Yellow Jackets (a nasty brute of a wasp) and other more tame bees very happy.

Also, I noticed the Eastern Red Bud tree is at the tail end of blooming. A mature Red Bud can put on a spectacular show. I missed most of it this year.

Did you notice? I've learned how to add picture frames to my photos, just like Haven For Vee. Her blog always looks so pretty. And I feel like a pro now! *lol* For anyone that has Corel Paint Shop Pro, it's right there in the menu. All these years of using the program and I never noticed it. Silly me.

Husband is in Florida for a few days. He is helping his father cope with the impending demise of his wife "C". "C"s kidneys have shut down. She has ceased seeking treatment and is now in Hospice awaiting the inevitable. Please forgive this ugly comment but she's not well liked. By anyone. The woman has zero friends. Sad, isn't it, to be in your 80s and not a soul will grieve your passing. At least she does acknowledge Jesus Christ as her Lord and Saviour so she has the hope and promise of resurrection. I just think it's really tragic that someone's life has been such a waste. It's not a happy home there, but Husband being the good Christian man and dutiful son that he is, is with his father. Father-in-law is also not in the best of health. At least having his son there will help him during his passage from long-time marriage to widower. I admire my Husband so much. He always thinks of others first. 

Therefore, I have been busying myself with yard work today to pass the time. I find it comforting to finish something and working on the property is a healthy way to work out the "head cold hangover" kinks. 

That pile of debris at the bottom left hand corner is what I accomplished this morning (click photo to enlarge). I couldn't believe how many Catclaw, Potato Vine, and wild Confederate Jasmine where snaking through the trees. Now I'm sore and tired. But it's a happy tired, knowing that I'm doing my bit to make our place look a little nicer. I plan to put a wooden swing by the walk through gate. Maybe also some bird houses, wind chimes, feeders and any little yard decoration I can afford.

Well, I hope everyone is also having a pleasant weekend. 

Thanks for stopping by and putting the kickstand down.

"This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."

[Psalm:118:24]

Status Update

Jack and Sam

The Jack Russell Terrorist Brothers

I have been under-the-weather this week with a rip snortin' head cold. I haven't had one lay me this low since about 1993. I hope to be back and in snarky ... eh ... sparky form soon.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful week.

~ Ride Safe ~

Sparky

Part Seven: Tales Of Sherwood Forest

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. He has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are from our files. They are all from the internet.)

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Tales Of Sherwood Forest

by Steven R. Hudson

So much of our play centered on a stand of tall Cypress, Tupelo and Water

Oaks. Spanish Moss festooned the trees and the sunny edges of this wood were girt with prickly, head high briars. It was situated in the very middle of Center Park and had probably been planned as a park by the developer before some calamity of business brought such plans to a halt. The trees formed such a canopy that little sunlight reached the lone footpath that cut through the heart of this magic place. Our previously mentioned fishing canal defined the north side and a crude bridge of fallen logs gave access to the trail on that side. We played out countless boyhood fantasies in that wood, of Robin Hood, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians and other imaginings.

Every dime store in those times sold bow and arrow sets. The small maple bow and three rubber tipped arrows were stapled to a cardboard backing with the profile of a noble Indian chief on the front and bulls eye target printed on back. This was an essential piece of kit for a round of Cowboys and Indians and I think every kid back then had one. We actually shot these rubber tipped arrows at one another. A wonder none of us lost an eye.

 Many rabbits inhabited the briar patches around Sherwood Forest and these bows now gave us an idea of how we might hunt them. Of course the "sissy" rubber tips had to go first but we found the arrows would not fly true with their tips simply sharpened to a point. Something heavier and more lethal was needed if we were going to be successful rabbit hunters. It was Peanut who came up with a solution. A soda bottle cap could be bent over the end of the arrow shaft and then hammered flat. This locked the cap to the shaft and formed a sharp, thin steel point that could be made even sharper with a little honing on a stone. Armed with this new deadly weapon we were ready to rabbit hunt. We soon learned that rabbit hunting was not as easy as we had thought it would be. Rabbits are quick and we had to get very close with our under powered maple bows to have any hope of making a hit. We next experimented with making stouter bows that would cast our newly upgraded arrows with more authority. The raw materials for bow making were all around us. Medium sized maple saplings were found to make a decent bow and Peanut actually managed to kill one unfortunate rabbit. We soon tired of bows however. Far more interesting weapons were coming.

We loved making forts in Sherwood Forest. Cast off pieces of plywood and cardboard could be fashioned into walls and roofs. A hammer and a Mason jar full of rusty nails were all that was needed. Ray, Jackie and I found a pile of cardboard at a building site and dragged it off to add to a fort we had already but as we neared the briar patches, a new idea was hatched. Why not build a hideout in the midst of those impenetrable briars. With a machete, "borrowed" from Mr Mealer's back porch, we began a kid size crawl tunnel into the maze of thorny canes. As we went, strips of cardboard were laid down to protect us from the thorns. At last we tunneled to the center of the briars and hollowed out a room large enough that we three could sit cross legged. We lined the room with the remaining cardboard and made a "door" out of woven canes to hide the entrance. We felt so clever.

Two Minutes With The Bible ~ The Supreme Importance Of God's Word To The Believer

The Supreme Importance Of God's Word To The Believer 

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society

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The Bible will always have first place in the life of the spiritual Christian.

It is of utmost importance that we understand this, for some who feel themselves quite spiritual give much time to prayer, but little, if any, to the study of the Word. Such have actually fallen for the subtle trick of the adversary to play upon their natural human pride and cause them to exalt self and push God into the background.

In saying this we do not for one moment minimize the importance of prayer; we only stress the supreme importance of the holy Word of God. In this we are surely Scriptural, for David says, by inspiration:

“For Thou hast magnified Thy Word above all Thy name” (Psa. 138:2).

Of those who would still object and place first emphasis upon prayer rather than upon the Word, we would ask one simple question: Which is the more important, what we have to say to God or what He has to say to us? There can be but one answer to this question, for obviously what God has to say to us is infinitely more important than anything we might have to say to Him. Our prayers are as fraught with failure as we are, but the Word of God is infallible, immutable and eternal.

Yet some, having fallen for one of Satan’s “devices” and feeling quite spiritual about it, are like the talkative person to whom one listens and listens, occasionally nodding his head, but receiving little or no opportunity to “get a word in edgewise.” They do all the talking, but give little time listening to what God has to say to them.

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To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.

Funny Friday ~ How In The World Did This Happen?

Have you ever slapped yourself on the head and said, "How in the world did this happen??!!"

~ Ride Safe ~

Sparky

Part Six: Blackberries And Fishing

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. He has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Blackberries And Fishing
by Steven R. Hudson

You could nearly live off the land in Center Park, I think, and Blackberry* season was proof. There were two large berry patches, one on the east side of

"Sherwood Forest" where unsold lots had become fields of grasses, new growth trees and wild flowers. The other was in a clearing at the end of a two path dirt road on the south side of Beach Blvd. The Alhambra Dinner Theater sits on the exact spot today. In late May and early June the sweet, juicy berries would ripen, luring me and my friends. We carried brown paper bags to haul back the tasty treasure that our moms would bake into cobblers and pies. The bags would get soaked by the purple-red juice as they filled to overflowing. Our lips would be stained also as we ate about as many berries as we gathered. Blue jeans and sneakers were worn as protection from the thorny vines but our hands and arms got scratched from reaching into the tight spots that always held the best berries. Hot cobbler with vanilla ice cream would be the reward that evening.  

Sometimes berry picking could be a little scary. Ray, Jackie and I were picking berries in the patch near Sherwood Forest one morning. The vines grew in mats atop knee deep grasses that made it impossible to see where you were placing your feet. Our bags were nearly full when the air suddenly exploded with sound of escaping steam. We froze, too scared to even move. A big rattlesnake was nearby and we had no clue as to it's location. As if we had been given a signal, we dashed off in three directions like frightened quail. Miraculously, we did not step on the snake as we ran all the way back to Ray and Jackie's house. A few days later, the lure of the sweet berries was too much and we returned, each armed with a long stick. We poked the clumps of grass as we went and listened for the rattler. Nothing was heard and we soon got over our fear.

Fishing was a common summer activity and there were three good fishing holes. The creek which I've already mentioned, a canal on the northwest side of Sherwood Forest (built as subdivision drainage no doubt) and a large forest pond, not far from the berry patch south of Beach Blvd. The pond is now in the center of an apartment complex next to the Alhambra Theater. The canal was our favorite because it was nearby and there was plenty of room to swing our cane poles. There were Blue-gill and Warmouth bream in abundance. Large-mouth Bass were there also but we did not know how to catch them. It was so satisfying to walk home with a long string of fish over your shoulder. 

Summer meant afternoon thunderstorms which filled the ditches to overflowing on Cornelius St. The ditches drained down to Beach Blvd and from there to the creek. Soon they were full of minnows, crawfish, water snakes and fingerling bream and pickerel. We waded the ditches, catching small fish to put in Mason jars or old fish bowls. There were many small water snakes which I easily caught, firing up in me an endless fascination with snakes.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are of his actual childhood. The *Blackberries mentioned are actually Dewberry but most locals call them Blackberry.)