Sunday Dispatch Megathread

[Dfit00]

iron horse, who is going to update this thread if you die?

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.625

Sing to God a brand-new song.
He’s made a world of wonders!

He rolled up his sleeves,
He set things right.


God made history with salvation,
He showed the world what he could do.


He remembered to love us, a bonus
To his dear family, Israel—indefatigable love.


The whole earth comes to attention.
Look—God’s work of salvation!


Shout your praises to God, everybody!
Let loose and sing! Strike up the band!


Round up an orchestra to play for God,
Add on a hundred-voice choir.


Feature trumpets and big trombones,
Fill the air with praises to King God.


Let the sea and its fish give a round of applause,
With everything living on earth joining in.


Let ocean breakers call out, “Encore!”
And mountains harmonize the finale—


A tribute to God when he comes,
When he comes to set the earth right.


He’ll straighten out the whole world,
He’ll put the world right, and everyone in it.

~The Message

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.626


Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. It is, in fact, the one thing that still stands when all else has fallen.

~J.B. Phillips, The New Testament in Modern English

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.627


What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings...
Because Grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

~U2


You see, at the center of all religions is the idea of Karma. You

know, what you put out comes back to you: an eye for an eye, a

tooth for a tooth, or in physics—in physical laws—every action is

met by an equal or an opposite one…. And yet, along comes this

idea called Grace to upend all that…. Grace defies reason and logic.

Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions,

which in my case is very good news indeed, because I’ve

done a lot of stupid stuff…. It doesn’t excuse my mistakes, but

I’m holding out for Grace. I’m holding out that Jesus took my sins

onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to

depend on my own religiosity…. The point of the death of Christ is

that Christ took on the sins of the world, so that what we put out

did not come back to us, and that our sinful nature does not reap

the obvious death. That’s the point. It should keep us humbled….

It’s not our own good works that get us through the gates of Heaven.

~Bono

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.628

Grace, she takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace...
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that, changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness in everything

Grace, she's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside of karma, karma
She travels outside... of karma

~U2


For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.

~Ephesians 2:8-9 (The New International Version)

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.629

If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

~Matthew 6:30-33 (The Message)

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.630

There is no one in the world more easy
to get to than God. Only one thing prevents
us from getting there, and that is the refusal
to tell ourselves the truth.

~from my notebook

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.631


All happenings, great and small, are parables
whereby God speaks. The art of life is to get the message.

~Malcolm Muggeridge

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.632

Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll is easy. True christianity…that's rebellion.
~Alice Cooper

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.633


The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.


~Psalm 23 (King James Version)

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.634


Christ alone, of all the philosophers, magicians, etc., has affirmed eternal life as the most important certainty, the infinity of time, the futility of death, the necessity and purpose of serenity and devotion. He lived serenely, as an artist greater than all other artists, scorning marble and clay and paint, working in the living flesh. In other words, this peerless artist, scarcely conceivable with the blunt instrument of our modern, nervous and obtuse brains, made neither statues nor paintings nor books. He maintained in no uncertain terms that he made ... living men, immortals.

~Vincent van Gogh

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.635

Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah

The river is deep and the river is wide, hallelujah
Green pastures on the other side, hallelujah

Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah

Jordan's river is chilly and cold, hallelujah
Chills the body but not the soul, hallelujah

Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah

The river is deep and the river is wide, hallelujah
Milk and honey on the other side, hallelujah

Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah
Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah

~traditional African American spiritual

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.636

When I first began to draw near to belief in God and even for some time after it had been given to me, I found a stumbling block in the demand so clamorously made by all religious people that we should ‘praise’ God; still more in the suggestion that God Himself demanded it. We all despise the man who demands continued assurance of his own virtue, intelligence or delightfulness; we despise still more the crowd of people round every dictator, every millionaire, every celebrity, who gratify that demand. Thus a picture, at once ludicrous and horrible, both of God and His worshippers, threatened to appear in my mind. The Psalms were especially troublesome in this way —’Praise the Lord,’ ‘O praise the Lord with me,’ ‘Praise Him.’ . . . Worse still was the statement put into God’s own mouth, ‘whoso offereth me thanks and praise, he honoureth me’ (50:23). It was hideously like saying, ‘What I most want is to be told that I am good and great.’ . . . [Furthermore], more than once the Psalmists seemed to be saying, ‘You like praise. Do this for me, and you shall have some.’ Thus in [Ps.] 54 the poet begins ‘save me’ (1), and in verse 6 adds an inducement, ‘An offering of a free heart will I give thee, and praise thy Name.’ Again and again the speaker asks to be saved from death on the ground that if God lets His suppliants die He will get no more praise from them, for the ghosts in Sheol cannot praise ([Pss.] 30:10; 88:10; 119:175). And mere quantity of praise seemed to count; ‘seven times a day do I praise thee’ (119:164). It was extremely distressing. It made one think what one least wanted to think. Gratitude to God, reverence to Him, obedience to Him, I thought I could understand; not this perpetual eulogy. . . .

[Part of my initial problem is that] I did not see that it is in the process of being worshipped that God communicates His presence to men.

But the most obvious fact about praise — whether of God or anything — strangely escaped me. I had never noticed that all enjoyment spontaneously overflows into praise unless . . . shyness or the fear of boring others is deliberately brought in to check it. The world rings with praise — lovers praising their mistresses, readers their favourite poet, walkers praising the countryside, players praising their favourite game — praise of weather, wines, dishes, actors, motors, horses, colleges, countries, historical personages, children, flowers, mountains, rare stamps, rare beetles, even sometimes politicians or scholars. . . . Except where intolerably adverse circumstances interfere, praise almost seems to be inner health made audible. . . . I had not noticed either that just as men spontaneously praise whatever they value, so they spontaneously urge us to join them in praising it: ‘Isn’t she lovely? Wasn’t it glorious? Don’t you think that magnificent?’ The Psalmists in telling everyone to praise God are doing what all men do when they speak of what they care about. My whole, more general, difficulty about the praise of God depended on my absurdly denying to us, as regards the supremely Valuable, what we delight to do, what indeed we can’t help doing, about everything else we value.

~from Reflections on the Psalms, C.S.Lewis

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.637


I waited patiently for the Lord;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the Lord
and put their trust in him.

~Psalm 40 (New International Version)

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.638


See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power,
and he rules with a mighty arm.
See, his reward is with him,
and his recompense accompanies him.
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.

~Isaiah 40:10-11 (New International Version)

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.639


Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important.

~C. S. Lewis

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.640

The Word that gives life
was from the beginning,
and this is the one
our message is about.


Our ears have heard,
our own eyes have seen,
and our hands touched
this Word.

The one who gives life appeared! We saw it happen, and we are witnesses to what we have seen. Now we are telling you about this eternal life that was with the Father and appeared to us. We are telling you what we have seen and heard, so that you may share in this life with us. And we share in it with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing to tell you these things, because this makes us truly happy.

~1 John 1:1-4 (Contemporary English Version)

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.641

When we try to comprehend him, to package him up and explain him to the world, we diminish ourselves. After all, no one has ever been moved to tears by reading someone's resume. To really get to know a person, you get together for a cup of coffee or a bratwurst on the back deck. You become friends by sharing your hopes and dreams, your passions and fears, your heartaches and wounds and secret little embarrassing moments... God isn't a subject to be studied; he's a Person to be encountered. That's why the Bible is the story of God and not the lesson about God.

~from Sailing Between the Stars, Stephen James

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.642

The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. ... But this story has entered History and the primary world; ... It has pre-eminently the "inner consistency of reality." There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many sceptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. ...this story is supreme; and it is true. Art has been verified. God is the Lord, of angels, and of men--and of elves. Legend and History have met and fused.

~J.R.R. Tolkien

[the iron horse]

Sunday Dispatch.643


And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

~Luke 2:18