|This page is dedicated to our
Father, the Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. After
God rescued the children of Israel
from Egypt, one
of the major issues is that they incessantly complained, threatened
insurrection, and were not thankful for the miracles He did in their
favor. Today, we go about our lives, self-absorbed and giving God
little or no thought. I wanted to follow David's example, writing songs
of praise and worship, but in a 21st-Century style.
You are great, Lord. No one can plumb the depths of your wisdom.
No one can reach the end of your conclusions.
When you made the Creation, You engineered the smallest specks of life
with as much attention to detail as you invested in man.
The athiests rail and laugh against your mighty power, believing utter nonsense.
Choose any part of the human anatomy and its engineering is too great to describe.
Could man have ever thought of the hand?
It is a marvel of engineering, able to play delicate and difficult concertos.
It can open a door, even while clutching a number of grocery bags.
It caresses the baby's bottom and the wife's cheek.
What other device could we have contrived to equal its marvel?
The finest and most expensive microphones cannot duplicate the human ear.
Would evolutionary chance have given us such an instrument?
Yet all of these marvels are plainly revealed in the Creation.
Self-willed and deliberately ignorant "scientists" ignore the evidence.
Those who do acknowledge your existence are drummed out of academia,
They lose their grants and laboratories for not following the status quo.
I will not forget what you've done, My Lord. Every day I will praise you.
Bow down, you great statesmen!
Bend the knee, talented musician!
Count all you know as garbage, oh, college professor!
Close your mouth, you who seek recognition for what God has given you.
Who is it who gave you the mind, wit, and ability?
Is it not God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ?
Ask the person chained to a wheel chair, if he can speak.
Ask the stroke victim how invunerable they used to see themselves.
Thank the Lord Jesus for the ability to rise in the morning.
Thank God for the little discernment you do have
as you shuffle towards the cemetery.
What we have been given is surely temporary,
to be left behind in the grave, food for what dwells there.
If you have surrendered to Christ in this life,
perhaps what God has given you will carry on into Eternity.
If not, perhaps it was not worth keeping. It did not honor
He who sits on the Throne.
Our Lord is just.
His decisions are pure and unaffected by influence, bribes, or gifts.
Better to fall into God's hands than suffer man's judgments.
Better to be sent to Hell by Christ than to be rewarded by Satan.
Indeed, one day in the presence of Jesus
is better than ten thousand in this life, hidden from His face.
When my time has come, I know that Jesus will do what is right,
be it cast away from His presence or ushered into Glory.
If I go to Hell, I'll go with the reasurrance that He did the right thing.
If I go to Heaven, it will be solely by His grace, and not of any works on my part.
But my salvation is sure, an address in heaven has my name on the mailbox.
Not so the unsaved, whose destination is also assured.
When I was young I chased dreams of fame and fortune.
I thought, surely I could stand in the light of praise on a stage.
But when I grew old, and followed the path God laid at my feet,
the dreams of youth were replaced by the reality of destiny.
It is a fool's journey to pursue fame.
To hunger for Fame's brothers and sisters:
money, materialism, and fleshly indulgence will not satisfy.
Nor will any of them be of help when I slip into Eternity.
Only in Jesus can the emptiness be filled.
Only in Jesus can the soul and spirit be satisfied.
The bright lights of song and fame are gone in an instant,
to be replaced by the next one in line.
When you leave the stage, no one cares and everyone soon forgets.
The sound of a broom sweeping up the trash is the final applause.
Wake up! Loosen the chains of the flesh!
Run to Jesus, whose arms are open wide, anxious to receive the lost.
Don't seek the vain and fickle praise of man.
Nothing of what we do will be remembered.
In the End, let God's praise wash over you.
Let Him be the One to hang your portrait on the wall.