on being vulgar

 

Redneck Olympics

"I knew I couldn't be wrong about the mob," …

he said, beaming over the enormous multitude, which stretched away to the distance on both sides. …

"Vulgar people are never mad. I'm vulgar myself, and I know. I am now going on shore to stand a drink to everybody here."

(G.K. Chesterton, The Man Who was Thursday)

 vulgar 

late 14c., "common, ordinary," from L. vulgaris "of or pertaining to the common people, common, vulgar," from vulgus "the common people, multitude, crowd, throng," from PIE base *wel- "to crowd, throng" (cf. Skt. vargah "division, group," Gk. eilein "to press, throng," M.Bret. gwal'ch "abundance," Welsh gwala "sufficiency, enough"). Meaning "coarse, low, ill-bred" is first recorded 1640s, probably from earlier use (with reference to people) with meaning "belonging to the ordinary class" (1530). Vulgarian "rich person of vulgar manners" is recorded from 1804.   (www.etymonline.com)

on the death of a very bad man who choose , like Lucifer, Eternal Damnation

The Father and the Son

viewing from the Empyrean, 

Lucifer's upward flight 

from Pandemonium, through Chaos, 

to corrupt man 

and the new formed world. ….

"They trespass, Authors to themselves in all

Both what they judge and what they choose; for so

I formd them free, and free they must remain,

Till they enthrall themselves: I else must change [ 125 ]

Thir nature, and revoke the high Decree"

… It is revealed,
that Lucifer
and his angels,
fallen, self deceived,
are never to be redeemed.  

(John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 3)

[The preceding was prompted by the death of Osama Ben Laden on May 1, 2011]

Thirsty on the Cross

Thirsty on the Cross
by Max Lucado

Jesus’ final act on earth was intended to win your trust.
This is the final act of Jesus’ life. In the concluding measure of his earthly composition, we hear the sounds of a thirsty man.
And through his thirst—through a sponge and a jar of cheap wine—he leaves a final appeal.

“You can trust me.”

Jesus. Lips cracked and mouth of cotton. Throat so dry he couldn’t swallow, and voice so hoarse he could scarcely speak. He is thirsty. To find the last time moisture touched these lips you need to rewind a dozen hours to the meal in the upper room. Since tasting that cup of wine, Jesus has been beaten, spat upon, bruised, and cut. He has been a cross-carrier and sin-bearer, and no liquid has salved his throat. He is thirsty.

Why doesn’t he do something about it? Couldn’t he? Did he not cause jugs of water to be jugs of wine? Did he not make a wall out of the Jordan River and two walls out of the Red Sea? Didn’t he, with one word, banish the rain and calm the waves? Doesn’t Scripture say that he “turned the desert into pools” (PSALM 107:35 NIV) and “the hard rock into springs” (PSALM 114:8 NIV)?

Did God not say, “I will pour water on him who is thirsty” (ISAIAH. 44:3NKJV)?

If so, why does Jesus endure thirst?

While we are asking this question, add a few more. Why did he grow weary in Samaria (John 4:6), disturbed in Nazareth (Mark 6:6), and angry in the Temple (John 2:15)? Why was he sleepy in the boat on the Sea of Galilee (Mark 4:38), sad at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35), and hungry in the wilderness (Matt. 4:2)?
Why? And why did he grow thirsty on the cross?

He didn’t have to suffer thirst. At least, not to the level he did. Six hours earlier he’d been offered drink, but he refused it.

They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means The Place of the Skull). Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. And they crucified him. Dividing up his clothes, they cast lots to see what each would get. (Mark 15:22–24 NIV,italics mine)

Before the nail was pounded, a drink was offered. Mark says the wine was mixed with myrrh. Matthew described it as wine mixed with gall. Both myrrh and gall contain sedative properties that numb the senses. But Jesus refused them. He refused to be stupefied by the drugs, opting instead to feel the full force of his suffering.
Why? Why did he endure all these feelings? Because he knew you would feel them too.
He knew you would be weary, disturbed, and angry. He knew you’d be sleepy, grief-stricken, and hungry. He knew you’d face pain. If not the pain of the body, the pain of the soul … pain too sharp for any drug. He knew you’d face thirst. If not a thirst for water, at least a thirst for truth, and the truth we glean from the image of a thirsty Christ is—he understands.

And because he understands, we can come to him.

This is Love - The Extraordinary Story of Jesus
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2011) Max Lucado

On men and women

Memories of Mamma

Memories of Mama?

 When I was a kid I didn't have a cell, laptop, internet, XBox, or Wii, but I wanted a TRS-80.  I didn't have a bike.  or a curfew. My toys were the outside world, rain or shine. I didn't eat what my momma didn't make. I would have liked to tell my Momma "no" but she was not home.   It was a not a good life... And I survived.

No one would say my Mom was a saint, but she was not a devil.

She was a girl that married too young and grew up with her children.  I grew to love me Mom.

Enjoy these songs for my Mamma.

 In the Good Old Days,  Dolly Parton
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCHAC2ctXgg&feature=related

George Jones - She Loved A Lot In Her Time
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Pcq86dPgBw

on nurturing women

Aunt EloDean

I attended my Aunt EloDean Herzogs' funeral today.  (03-23-2011)  In the last 12 months, I have lost three important women in my upbringing.  Aunt Colleen Wildman, my mother and now Aunt Elo.  Count yourself lucky if you have been raised by good women.  

At work today I remembered a quote from Robert F. Kennedy.  He was in Indianapolis Indiana the day Martin Luther King was murdered.  He was running for president at the time.  He was urged by his friends not to go to the rally.  It was in a very rough neighborhood.  In part of his speech he quoted the following.

'My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He once wrote: 

"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget 

falls drop by drop upon the heart, 

until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom 

through the awful grace of God." '

You may ask, what does this have to do with nurturing women?

 I am not sure. 

No one would say my Mom was a saint, but she was not a devil.

She was a girl that married too young and grew up with her children.

I remained deeply angry with my mother until a year ago this last month, when after my Aunt Collen's  funeral.   I went and had a long talk with her.  I told her as child I was deeply hurt but as a parent I understood her actions.

As I continue to mourn my mothers death, I think of the many lessons her actions helped me to learn,

Grace, Mercy, Love, Compassion,  Patience, Percipience.

For years I have hated Mother's Day.  It was not a good day to be around me or in my Home.  Listening to the hymn "Love at Home" would me screaming from the room.  a little like fingernails on the chalk board.  

Offering to carry my Mother's burden lightened my own.  Offering her Mercy granted me the Grace to grow.

My mother spent the last years of her life in a self imposed prison of diabetes and obesity.  After we spoke last year my mother's spirits lifted and she endured better the time that remained.    

Voyle Bassett

What does this have to do with Aeschylus, I am not sure other then now I am free.  Mother's day will be much happier around my house this year and I requested "Love at Home" as the closing song at my mother's funeral.

Goodbye Mom, I love you and look forward to seeing you gain

per·cip·i·ent  (pr-sp-nt)
1. adj. Having the power of perceiving, especially perceiving keenly and readily.
2. noun. One that perceives.

Robert F. Kennedy on the death Martin Luther King

Ladies and Gentlemen - I'm only going to talk to you just for a minute or so this evening. Because...

I have some very sad news for all of you, and I think sad news for all of our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world, and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis, Tennessee.

Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause of that effort. In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it's perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in.

For those of you who are black - considering the evidence evidently is that there were white people who were responsible - you can be filled with bitterness, and with hatred, and a desire for revenge.

We can move in that direction as a country, in greater polarization - black people amongst blacks, and white amongst whites, filled with hatred toward one another. Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand, compassion and love.

For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and mistrust of the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I would only say that I can also feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man.

But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to get beyond these rather difficult times.

My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He once wrote: "Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."

What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black.
(Interrupted by applause)

So I ask you tonight to return home, to say a prayer for the family of Martin Luther King, yeah that's true, but more importantly to say a prayer for our own country, which all of us love - a prayer for understanding and that compassion of which I spoke. We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times. We've had difficult times in the past. And we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; and it's not the end of disorder.

But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings that abide in our land.
(Interrupted by applause)
Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.
Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and say a prayer for our country and for our people. Thank you very much. (Applause)
Robert F. Kennedy - April 4, 1968

http://www.historyplace.com/speeches/rfk-mlk.htm

When You Are Low on Hope

When You Are Low on Hope

by Max Lucado

Water. All Noah can see is water. The evening sun sinks into it. The clouds are reflected in it. His boat is surrounded by it. Water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the west. Water.

He sent a raven on a scouting mission; it never returned. He sent a dove. It came back shivering and spent, having found no place to roost. Then, just this morning, he tried again. With a prayer he let it go and watched until the bird was no bigger than a speck on a window.

All day he looked for the dove’s return.

Now the sun is setting, and the sky is darkening, and he has come to look one final time, but all he sees is water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the …

You know the feeling. You have stood where Noah stood. You’ve known your share of floods. Flooded by sorrow at the cemetery, stress at the office, anger at the disability in your body or the inability of your spouse. You’ve seen the floodwater rise, and you’ve likely seen the sun set on your hopes as well. You’ve been on Noah’s boat.

And you’ve needed what Noah needed; you’ve needed some hope. You’re not asking for a helicopter rescue, but the sound of one would be nice. Hope doesn’t promise an instant solution but rather the possibility of an eventual one. Sometimes all we need is a little hope.

That’s all Noah needed. And that’s all Noah received.

Here is how the Bible describes the moment: “When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf!” (Gen. 8:11 NIV).

An olive leaf. Noah would have been happy to have the bird but to have the leaf! This leaf was more than foliage; this was promise. The bird brought more than a piece of a tree; it brought hope. For isn’t that what hope is? Hope is an olive leaf—evidence of dry land after a flood. Proof to the dreamer that dreaming is worth the risk.

To all the Noahs of the world, to all who search the horizon for a fleck of hope, Jesus proclaims, “Yes!” And he comes. He comes as a dove. He comes bearing fruit from a distant land, from our future home. He comes with a leaf of hope.

Have you received yours? Don’t think your ark is too isolated. Don’t think your flood is too wide. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it.

What do you suppose Noah did with his? What do you think he did with the leaf? Did he throw it overboard and forget about it? Do you suppose he stuck it in his pocket and saved it for a scrapbook? Or do you think he let out a whoop and assembled the troops and passed it around like the Hope Diamond it was?

Certainly he whooped. That’s what you do with hope. What do you do with olive leaves? You pass them around. You don’t stick them in your pocket. You give them to the ones you love. Love always hopes. “Love … bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:4–7 NKJV, emphasis mine).

Love has hope in you.

The aspiring young author was in need of hope. More than one person had told him to give up. “Getting published is impossible,” one mentor said. “Unless you are a national celebrity, publishers won’t talk to you.” Another warned, “Writing takes too much time. Besides, you don’t want all your thoughts on paper.”

Initially he listened. He agreed that writing was a waste of effort and turned his attention to other projects. But somehow the pen and pad were bourbon and Coke to the wordaholic. He’d rather write than read. So he wrote. How many nights did he pass on that couch in the corner of the apartment reshuffling his deck of verbs and nouns? And how many hours did his wife sit with him? He wordsmithing. She cross-stitching. Finally a manuscript was finished. Crude and laden with mistakes but finished.

She gave him the shove. “Send it out. What’s the harm?”

So out it went. Mailed to fifteen different publishers. While the couple waited, he wrote. While he wrote, she stitched. Neither expecting much, both hoping everything. Responses began to fill the mailbox. “I’m sorry, but we don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts.” “We must return your work. Best of luck.” “Our catalog doesn’t have room for unpublished authors.”

I still have those letters. Somewhere in a file. Finding them would take some time. Finding Denalyn’s cross-stitch, however, would take none. To see it, all I do is lift my eyes from this monitor and look on the wall. “Of all those arts in which the wise excel, nature’s chief masterpiece is writing well.”

She gave it to me about the time the fifteenth letter arrived. A publisher had said yes. That letter is also framed. Which of the two is more meaningful? The gift from my wife or the letter from the publisher? The gift, hands down. For in giving the gift, Denalyn gave hope.

Love does that. Love extends an olive leaf to the loved one and says, “I have hope in you.”

Love is just as quick to say, “I have hope for you.”

You can say those words. You are a flood survivor. By God’s grace you have found your way to dry land. You know what it’s like to see the waters subside. And since you do, since you passed through a flood and lived to tell about it, you are qualified to give hope to someone else.

From

A Love Worth Giving:

Living in the Overflow of God’s Love

Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2002) Max Lucado

Mom's Eulogy

My Mother 
     Voyle Gladys Herzog Bassett   
          Died on Feb 18, 2011.  

This is the Eulogy 
     I read at her funeral.

I know that God loves me because he made me her son.

I love my Mom and she loves me.

 (Just think about that for a moment) 

I will share a song with you,  by Mindy Gledhill. It means a great deal to me. 

So many Faces

Travel the length

Of a mind that is racing

To trace back the memories

Of time gone by

Oh and the distance

Between all the bridges

Of instances when

I have wanted to change

This heart of mine

Have I blown all my chances to be?

Less like the captive and more like the free?

And more like the innocent child in me?

And maybe just a little more like thee?

Here in the spaces

Between all the lines

Of a life that has wasted

The essence of time

I close my eyes

And picture a place

Where the Sum of all Grace

Is extending a hand

To erase all the shame

From this worn out face

Have I blown all the my chances

Less like the captive and more like the free?

And more like the innocent child in me?

And maybe just a little more …a whole lot more.

Like the hands that redeem me

That lifts and relieves me

Though roads I have taken in vain. 

Have I blown all my chances to be

Less like the captive and more like the free?

And more like the innocent child in me?

And maybe just a little more like thee?

 (Mindy Gledhill,  A little more like thee)

About a year ago my Mothers sister’s Colleen Wildman died.  A few days after Collens' funeral i begain a journey with my mom .  I knew that my mother would not be on Earth here with me much longer.  I wanted to relieve myself of the burden of the anger and resentment I have carried for too long.  The single greatest desire I have felt in my heart since I discovered the Fruit of the Gospel is to have my family share it with me.  I have often wondered if my mother would feel the gentle stirrings in her soul.   I began to weigh the cost of choosing another woman to be my mother and determined that the cost was not one I was willing to bear.  I truly believe that we are part a great family that spreads back to Adam and Eve.  Generations of woman have nurtured fought and died to build this family. I decided to sit down and have a talk with my mother.  My wife has been urging me to do this for more then a decade.  I told my Mom that, as a parent I understood some of her actions, as a child I still felt hurt and angry.

My mother has tried, for years, to reach out to her children, to make amends.  By the time she understand her actions and the effects it had on her children, it seamed too late.  She was trapped physically, by a combination of obesity and diabetes.

By The Law of Atonement, I am required me to repent of my sins.

  For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: (Romans 3:23-24,

American King James Version)

Transgression: Violation or breaking of a commandment or law.

Sin: To commit sin is to willfully disobey God's commandments or to fail to act righteously despite a knowledge of the truth (see James 4:17).

We all carry the burden of sin.

You Offer Me Grace,

I will offer you Mercy.

Mercy is the ability I will have to help carry your load when I have grown stronger.

Grace is the space I need to grow from where I am now, to where he, Jesus Christ, wants me to be.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.  And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.  And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profits me nothing.  Charity suffers long, and is kind; charity envies not; charity braggs not itself, is not puffed up,  Does not behave itself unseemly, seeks not her own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil;  Rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;  Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  Charity never fails: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.  For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.  But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.  When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.  For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.  And now stays faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. 

(1 Corinthians 13, American King James Version)

Charity is the pure love of Christ.

My nephew Fridy Leishman asks my wife, Bonnie, why we live in imperfect families.  My mother’s family is the basic definition of dysfunctional.  We are an unlikely family to hold together in a crisis.  Why are such imperfect people clinging together?  He then answered his question.  It is because need each other. 

I believe, we left a perfect family in Heaven to come to an imperfect family on earth because we needed more.

 

What is our responsibility now that we are on Earth?  We must help to carry each others burdens

I see a vision of two large rooms, full of people.  In the first room there is a group of people who were hungry and in need of nourishment.  In the middle of the room their sit’s a great pot full of food.  They have only one problem; the eating utensils are longer then their arms.  Not one of them is able to dip his or her eating utensil in the pot and feed themselves.  In the second room there is a group of well feed, happy and joyful people.  Both rooms were decorated the same.  Both rooms contained the same furniture.  Both rooms had the same pot of food and both rooms contained the same eating utensils.   The only difference is in the second room the people are taking a moment to feed each other.  We need to take the time to feed each other.

look to the future
there is no tommorow

Love is a choice,
not a feeling

carry anothers burden,
it will ease yours

when you are hungry
feed another  

forgive
that ye may be forgiven

offer Mercy

as you seek Grace

(This is the first poem that I wrote)

The Theory of Moral Sentiments

"The great source of both the misery and disorders of human life, seems to arise from over-rating the difference between one permanent situation and another.  …

… Avarice over-rates the difference between poverty and riches:  

… ambition, that between a private and a public station:

… vain-glory, that between obscurity and extensive reputation.

… The person under the influence of any of those extravagant passions, is not only miserable in his actual situation, …

…but is often disposed to disturb the peace of society, in order to arrive at that which he so foolishly admires.  ….

……  Some of those situations may, no doubt, deserve to be preferred to others: …

… but none of them can deserve to be pursued with that passionate ardour which drives us to violate the rules …

… either…

… of prudence or …

… of justice; …

…or to corrupt the future tranquillity of our minds, …

…either by shame from the remembrance of our own folly, …

…or by remorse from the horror of our own injustice."

— Adam Smith ("The Theory of Moral Sentiments")

[ The prequel to "The Wealth of Nations"] 

Forest for the trees ?

Think about it. Just because one has witnessed a thousand rainbows doesn’t mean he’s seen the grandeur of one. One can live near a garden and fail to focus on the splendor of the flower. A man can spend a lifetime with a woman and never pause to look into her soul.

And a person can be all that goodness calls him to be and still never see the Author of life.

Being honest or moral or even religious doesn’t necessarily mean we will see him. No. We may see what others see in him. Or we may hear what some say he said. But until we see him for ourselves, until our own sight is given, we may think we see him, having in reality seen only a hazy form in the gray semidarkness.

Have you seen him?

(Max Lucado, God Came Near)

on a flooded reed bed

Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed. The entire universe need not arm itself to crush him. A vapour, a drop of water suffices to kill him. But, if the universe were to crush him, man would still be more noble than that which killed him, because he knows that he dies and the advantage which the universe has over him; the universe knows nothing of this.

All our dignity consists, then, in thought. By it we must elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we cannot fill. Let us endeavour, then, to think well; this is the principle of morality.

(Blaise Pascal, "PASCAL'S PENSÉES  Published 1958 by E. P. Dutton & Co.,)

Song of the Reed, Rumi

Listen to the story told by the reed,

of being separated.

"Since I was cut from the reedbed,

I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves

understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source

longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there,

mingling in the laughing and grieving,

a friend to each, but few

will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.

Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from body: no concealing

that mixing. But it's not given us

to see the soul. The reed flute

is fire, not wind. Be that empty."

Hear the love fire tangled

in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend

to all who want the fabric torn

and drawn away. The reed is hurt

and salve combining. Intimacy

and longing for intimacy, one

song. A disastrous surrender

and a fine love, together. The one

who secretly hears this is senseless.

A tongue has one customer, the ear.

A sugarcane flute has such effect

because it was able to make sugar

in the reedbed. The sound it makes

is for everyone. Days full of wanting,

let them go by without worrying

that they do. Stay where you are

inside such a pure, hollow note.

Every thirst gets satisfied except

that of these fish, the mystics,

who swim a vast ocean of grace

still somehow longing for it!

No one lives in that without

being nourished every day.

But if someone doesn't want to hear

the song of the reed flute,

it's best to cut conversation

short, say good-bye, and leave.

translated by Coleman Barks

Sir Isaac Newton quotes

Sir Isaac Newton
“Tact is the art of making a point without making an enemy.”
“I can calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people.”
“A man may imagine things that are false, but he can only understand things that are true, for if the things be false, the apprehension of them is not understanding.”

in response to a letter to the editor

After reading the letters to the editor in the November 20, 2010 edition of the Herald Journal I feel strongly compelled to share with you some of my feelings and the truths I have learned.

As a a follower of Jesus I have the responsibly to follow the his teachings. I receive additional inspiration when I follow the these teachings. " That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day."" And again, verily I say unto you, and I say it that you may know the truth, that you may chase darkness from among you;""He that is ordained of God and sent forth, the same is appointed to be the greatest, notwithstanding he is the least and the servant of all. " (Doctrine and Covenants 50:24-26)

When I learn a new teaching I hold myself accountable to follow the new teaching. I have no obligation to compel another of my brothers and sisters to follow these additional teachings. We have another brother Lucifer who sought to compel us to follow that what is right, just and true and to remove from us the power of free will.. For this sin Lucifer was banished from Heaven in the pre-earth life. (see Book of Moses; Book of Abraham; Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained; John Milton)

I have friends and family who have chosen other lifestyles then my own. I have desired to be a shepherd and lead them to the teaching of Christ. I have tried in the past to drive them as a sheep herder. These attempts were only partial successful. “ "He that complies against his will
Is of his own opinion still. Which he may adhere to, yet disown, For reasons to himself best known (Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797) ,A Vindication of the Rights of Woman )

Shepherding is a long and slow and difficult process. Jesus suffered in Gethsemane and died on a cross at Calvary because he would not compel the Jews and Gentiles of his time to accept him as their King and Redeemer. “All the dangers of Jesus came from the priests, and the learned in the traditional law, whom his parents had not yet begun to fear on his behalf. ….. Because they would not be such, he let them do to him as they would, that he might get at their hearts by some unknown unguarded door in their diviner part. ' I will be God among you ; I will be myself to you.—You will not have me ? Then do to me as you will.' (George Macdonald, Hope of the Gospel p. 58-62)

“A mother does not give her child a blue bow because he is so ugly without it. A lover does not give a girl a necklace to hide her neck. If men loved Pimlico as mothers love children, arbitrarily, because it is theirs, Pimlico in a year or two might be fairer than Florence. Some readers will say that this is a mere fantasy. I answer that this is the actual history of mankind. This, as a fact, is how cities did grow great. Go back to the darkest roots of civilization and you will find them knotted round some sacred stone or encircling some sacred well. People first paid honour to a spot and afterwards gained glory for it. Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her.” (G.K. Chesteron,Orthodoxy)

Do we love our fellow men are just seek to compel them to be just right and good. Telling someone they are loved even when we do not agree with them is not changing a standard. Setting a policy that I will treat my sisters female companion with the same love and respect that my sister has shown to my female companion is not changing a standard it is being truly Christlike. “But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 19:34)

With my deepest love and respect

Steven Bassett
P.O. Box 82
Franklin Idaho 83237
435-764-7493

On tearing down lamp posts

" Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, ' Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If light be in itself good ' At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily.

• Some people have pulled the lamppost down because they wanted the electric light:
• some because they wanted old iron
• some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil.
• Some thought it was not enough of a lamp-post,
• Some too much
• Some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery :
• Some because they wanted to smash something. 

And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark."

 (G.K. Chesteron, Heretics)

Open Your Door, Open Your Heart

Open Your Door, Open Your Heart
by Max Lucado

Long before the church had pulpits and baptisteries, she had kitchens and dinner tables. "The believers met together in the Temple every day. They ate together in their homes, happy to share their food with joyful hearts" (Acts 2:46 NCV). "Every day in the Temple and in people's homes they continued teaching the people and telling the Good News—that Jesus is the Christ" (Acts 5:42 NCV).

Even a casual reading of the New Testament unveils the house as the primary tool of the church. "To Philemon our beloved friend and fellow laborer . . . and to the church in your house" (Philem. vv. 1-2). "Greet Priscilla and Aquila . . . the church that is in their house" (Rom. 16:3, 5). "Greet the brethren who are in Laodicea, and Nymphas and the church that is in his house" (Col. 4:15).

It's no wonder that the elders were to be "given to hospitality" (1 Tim. 3:2 KJV). The primary gathering place of the church was the home. Consider the genius of God's plan. The first generation of Christians was a tinderbox of contrasting cultures and backgrounds. At least fifteen different nationalities heard Peter's sermon on the Day of Pentecost. Jews stood next to Gentiles. Men worshipped with women. Slaves and masters alike sought after Christ. Can people of such varied backgrounds and cultures get along with each other?

We wonder the same thing today. Can Hispanics live in peace with Anglos? Can Democrats find common ground with Republicans? Can a Christian family carry on a civil friendship with the Muslim couple down the street? Can divergent people get along?

The early church did—without the aid of sanctuaries, church buildings, clergy, or seminaries. They did so through the clearest of messages (the Cross) and the simplest of tools (the home).
Not everyone can serve in a foreign land, lead a relief effort, or volunteer at the downtown soup kitchen. But who can't be hospitable? Do you have a front door? A table? Chairs? Bread and meat for sandwiches? Congratulations! You just qualified to serve in the most ancient of ministries: hospitality. You can join the ranks of people such as . . .

Abraham. He fed, not just angels, but the Lord of angels (Gen. 18).
Rahab, the harlot. She received and protected the spies. Thanks to her kindness, her kindred survived, and her name is remembered (Josh. 6:22-23; Matt. 1:5).
Martha and Mary. They opened their home for Jesus. He, in turn, opened the grave of Lazarus for them (John 11:1-45; Luke 10:38-42).
Zacchaeus. He welcomed Jesus to his table. And Jesus left salvation as a thank-you gift (Luke 19:1-10).

And what about the greatest example of all—the "certain man" of Matthew 26:18? On the day before his death, Jesus told his followers, "Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, 'The Teacher says: The chosen time is near. I will have the Passover with my followers at your house'"
(NCV).

How would you have liked to be the one who opened his home for Jesus? You can be. "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me" (Matt. 25:40 NIV). As you welcome strangers to your table, you are welcoming God himself.

Something holy happens around a dinner table that will never happen in a sanctuary. In a church auditorium you see the backs of heads. Around the table you see the expressions on faces. In the auditorium one person speaks; around the table everyone has a voice. Church services are on the clock. Around the table there is time to talk.

Hospitality opens the door to uncommon community. It's no accident that hospitality and hospital come from the same Latin word, for they both lead to the same result: healing. When you open your door to someone, you are sending this message: "You matter to me and to God." You may think you are saying, "Come over for a visit." But what your guest hears is, "I'm worth the effort."
Cheerfully share your home with those who need a meal or a place to stay. God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.
(1 Peter 4:9-10 NLT)

Heavenly Father, you have given me so much—every breath I take is a gift from your hand. Even so, I confess that sometimes my own hand remains tightly closed when I encounter the needs of others. Please open both my hand and my heart that I might learn to delight in taking advantage of the daily opportunities for hospitality that you present to me. Help me remember, Lord, that when I show your love in tangible ways to "the least of these," I am ministering directly to you. As you help me open my heart and hand, O Lord, I ask that you also prompt me to open my door to those who need a taste of your love and bounty. In Jesus' name I pray, amen.
From Outlive Your Life: You Were Made to Make a Difference

Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2010) Max Lucado

Jon Stewart on Journalists

"I think it made me less political and more emotional. The [more] you spend time with the political [world] and media, the less political you become and the more viscerally upset you become at corruption. I don't consider it political, because 'political' I always sort of note as a partisan endeavor. But I have become increasingly unnerved by the depth of corruption that exists at many different levels. I'm less upset with politicians than [with] the media. I feel like politicians — the way I explain it, is when you go to a zoo and a monkey throws feces, it's a monkey. But when the zookeeper is standing right there and he doesn't say, 'Bad monkey' — somebody's gotta be the zookeeper. I feel much more strongly about the abdication of responsibility by the media than by political advocates. They're representing a constituency. Our culture is just a series of checks and balances. The whole idea that we're in a battle between tyranny and freedom — it's a series of pendulum swings. And the swings have become less drastic over time. That's why I feel, not sanguine but at least a little bit less frightful, in that our pendulum swings have become less and less. But what has changed is the media's sense of their ability to be responsible arbiters. I think they feel fearful. I think there's this whole idea now that there's a liberal media conspiracy, and I think they feel if they express any authority or judgment, which is what I imagine is editorial control, they will be vilified."

Terry Gross interviewing Jon Stewart on Fresh Air,  aired 10-04-2010
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130321994

on Derivatives, Mercy and Justice

Gospel  

is to Mercy and Justice   

 as 

Force

is to  Mass and Acceleration .

Personal Heresy and Truth

Well knows he who uses to consider, that our faith and knowledge thrives by exercise, as well as our limbs and complexion. Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain; if her waters flow not in a perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition. A man may be a heretic in the truth; and if he believe things only because his pastor says so, or the assembly so determines, without knowing other reason, though his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds becomes his heresy. There is not any burden, that some would gladlier post off to another, than the charge and care of their religion. There be, who knows not that there be of Protestants and professors, who live and die in as errant and implicit faith, as any lay papist of Loretto.

A wealthy man addicted to his pleasure and to his profits, 

• finds religion to be a traffic so entangled,
• and of so many piddling accounts, that of all mysteries
• he cannot skill to keep a stock going upon that trade.

What should he do? 

• Fain he would have the name to be religious,
• fain he would bear up with his neighbors in that. 

What does he, therefore, but resolves to give over toiling, and to find himself out some factor to whose care and credit he may commit the whole managing of his religious affairs;

some Divine of note and estimation that must be.

To him he adheres, 

• resigns the whole warehouse of his religion 
• with all the locks and keys into his custody; 
• and indeed makes the very person of that man his religion; 
• esteems his associating with him a sufficient evidence and commendatory of his own piety.

So that a man may say his religion is now no more within himself, but is become a dividual  movable, and goes and comes near him, according as that good man frequents the house.

• He entertains him,
• gives him gifts, 
• feasts him, 
• lodges him. 
• His religion comes home at night, prays, 
• is liberally supped, 
• and sumptuously laid to sleep, rises, is saluted, 
• and after the malmsey, or some well spiced brewage, 
• and better breakfasted than he whose morning appetite would have gladly fed on green figs between Bethany and Jerusalem, 

his religion walks abroad at eight, 
and leaves his kind entertainer 
in the shop trading all day 

without his religion. 

(John Milton, Areopagitica)

 dividual;

• divisible or divided; 
• separate; distinct.;  
• distributed, shared.

(http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/dividual,09-08-2011)

On British Petroleum, Presidential Leadership and personal responsibilities

This is in response to a personal request from a friend who's acquaintance I have renewed after far too many years.

First it needs be remembered that I am a charter member of the Franklin County Republicans for Barrack Obama. Currently it has one member, I am uncertain if we will be holding any membership drives in the near future. I also am a member of catholic Christians for a Better World (note the small “c”, as in the original Latin sense, see google “define:catholic”) I am also a member of the Anti-Utah Mormons, in the best Book of Mormon sense, think Anti-Nephi-Lehi's. None of these groups are currently holding membership drives but if beaten into submission I may permit additional memberships. I warn you it may not be an advisable avenue to pursue as it may encourage a relapse in my Asperger syndrome.

If I were half literate enough I would attempt to plagiarize Gilbert Keith Chesterton but since I am not, I will digress in in similar manner to Jonathan Swift in “Tale of a Tub”. Why wast a good preface when an endless digression will do. There is also the possibility of a good rant like “Age of Reason” but I am not as learned as Thomas Paine. This being said on to the topic.

As American we always object to big brother taking over our lives, think U.S. Federal government, that is until we want a new home mortgage or banking insurance. The F.B.I is am illegal and unconstitutional violation of the tenth ammendment, until one of our children is kidnapped.

We expect Presidents to take charge until they micromanage the play times at the White House tennis courts, think Jimmie Carter. We want a big military buildup, big tax cuts and a balanced budget, think Ronald Reagan.

I may object to British Petroleum dumping oil in the Gulf Coast but I still demand that they drill for more and sale it to me cheap to keep my car running.

I demand that the Army Corp of Engineer keep the Mississippi River channel deep and straight to encourage shipping and then wonder why the Old River Control structure is necessary. Who needs Morgan City LA any way it only a city of roughly 27,000 people and easily replaced. Since I am unwilling to pay for a real river and flood control in New Orleans lets encourage people to live there anyway and give them a false sense of security with a half working flood control project.

Here at the Bassett Family Compound, yes I included this reference for an old friend who will appreciate the digression, we are learning to take responsibilities for our actions and hope to use our gas guzzling 12 passenger van for a well earned family celebration of Memorial Day.

On the departure of a good friend.

On the departure of a good friend.

The first time we departed was on our first meeting.  We were young the world was new.  He was a friend when I needed one. He was a friend when I did not know how to be one.  Jr High can be a scaring place when you have no friends.  We were in orchestra together.  We laughed an joked and had a good time.  

We soon drifted apart.  He gained new interest beyond orchestra.  I took the lessons he offered me and learned to make new friends.  We coasted along the same river of life in high school.  Our currents would converge and we would renew our friendship.  

After high school our rivers departed further , as I attended Weber State.  We drifted even further apart as I served a church mission in Mississippi.  I would occasional meet him in Smith's Food King where he worked as a checker and we renewed our friendship.  I would depart at these meetings  with a renewed sense of kinship and bonding.  I felt that our friendship was important to him.  I knew that my life really mattered to him.

We recently began to spend more time together.  He became my boss at a company, Discovery Research, where I learned to take surveys to earn extra money.  Even when I made mistakes I never disappointed him.  He made me feel good about myself as he taught me additional lessons.

The last time we departed was when I went to pick up my paycheck.  I had not worked much the last two weeks.  I was concerned that I may have done something wrong and that is why I was not being called into work.  He reassured me that this was not the case. He invited me to step into Jill's office and to speak to her.  He was thinking of my welfare and wanted to reassure me that our friendship was still solid. 

When I learned of his death and final departure, I was saddened.  I knew it would be a number years before I would be able to renew our friendship.  I still have many lesson to learn before we meet again.  I have a wife who loves me and I have children to finish raising.  I am confident that when we meet once more we will renew our friendship as in times past. 

I will always carry with me the lessons he has offered me and I will be the man he sees in me.   To Quote Spock in his death speech from "The Wrath of Khan".  

"I have been and always will be your friend."

This blog was prompted by the death of Timothy Bradfield.