I want to thank all of you for praying for my dad. He is recovering and God totally has him in His arms! We are back, and trying to get back in the groove! We hope to see you Thursday @ 6PM, oh yea, we're having pancakes!

Something I read this week,
"I recalled a Sunday morning incident on the New York City subway. The few passengers aboard were browsing their newspapers or dozing. I myself was reading when a man with several small children boarded the train and bedlam erupted. The kids ran up and down the aisle screaming and wrestling. Their father made no attempt to intervene. The elderly passengers shifted nervously. I waited patiently for the father to restore order: a gentle word of correction, a stern command, some expression of paternal authority--anything. Nothing. Finally I turned to the father and said kindly, 'Sir, perhaps you could restore order here by telling your children to come back and sit down.' 'I know I should do something,' the man replied. 'We just came from the hospital. Their mother died an hour ago. I just don't know what to do."

Just when you think you know, you don't. What you don't know is always more significant than what you know.

We are a judging people, and we think we have the right to push God off the judgement seat, when we neither have the knowledge nor authority to do so. We have hardened hearts, hearts of stone, by what this world gives us. All those people who suck, that let you down, has made you callous. That is the Poser in us, who doesn't want us to be hindered by the hurting around us.

I pray that on Thursday nights, we attempt the impossible, in the way of making our hearts not of stone, but of flesh.

"Compassion leads to forgiveness when we understand where our enemy cries. . . . Stone hearts become warm flesh when we learn where the outcast weeps--and not a minute sooner."

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