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Ever been required to memorize a Bible verse? Hope you didn’t attempt Esther 8:9. It’s the longest verse in the Bible. Instead, I recommend John 11:35, “Jesus wept,” for obvious reasons. It’s the shortest verse in the Bible. Yet packed in those two words, are some of the most meaningful thoughts in scripture. Because it shows how God responds to our grief.
Just when we think all is right with the world, the devil messes things up! For whatever reason, something’s not working properly with Amazon, in terms of ordering “The Perfect Savior.” I don’t know the problem, but here’s a solution. You can order directly from the publisher, Our Daily Bread, and it actually costs less!
While duck hunting on the north end of the Great Salt Lake, a forty-six-year-old man and his dog were drifting in a small boat. Stepping into the marsh, he left his shotgun resting across the boat’s bow. Apparently, the excited dog stepped on the gun, causing it to discharge. His master was shot in the buttocks with twenty-seven pellets of bird shot. Local police are calling the incident an accident, but the dog isn’t talking.
NOTE: This is a very personal blog post. It’s taken from the Preface to my newest book, The Perfect Savior. It gives you an insight into my heart.
Have you ever read a book and become so absorbed in the story that it absorbs you? This was my experience
One afternoon I volunteered to pick up two of my grandchildren from school. I dragged along their three-year-old brother, Olin, who all day long had been toting a worthless plastic toy, which he affectionately dubbed “Eggy-Eggy.” I strapped Olin into his car seat and drove to the school. That’s when a tragedy of immense proportion occurred—he dropped Eggy Weggy.
For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.
Everybody worships something. For Bill Bramanti, of the Chicago area, it was Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer. Adoration for his beloved brew ran so deep, he purchased a custom-made casket, resembling a can of Pabst beer.
My granddaughter, Tesia, was performing in a piano recital along with other first-graders. One by one, young entertainers approached the stage and tickled the ivories, attempting to make musical magic at the keyboard. Sitting through this melodic extravaganza wasn’t easy. If the students had scraped their nails on chalkboards, they might have produced more pleasant sounds.