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  • Show me the road

    Oh that my ways were directed to follow You!
    Then I would not be ashamed,
    My soul clings to the dust;
    Revive me according to your word.

    My soul melts with heaviness;
    Strengthen me according to your word.
    Remember the word to Your servant,
    Upon which You have caused me to hope.

    This is my comfort in my affliction,
    For your word has given me life.
    It is good for me that I have been afflicted,
    That I may learn Your Way.

    I am afflicted very much;
    Revive me, O Lord, according to Your word.
    Your word is a lamp to my feet
    And a light to my path. (Psalm 119: various)


    I recently stumbled on an old song that seems to go well with the above Psalm. It actually seemed to be my very prayer as I struggle to follow my Savior. It pierced my heart in such a way as a begging prayer of a destitute man, while simultaneously causing me to worship my Friend. Below are the lyrics and the youtube connection. Hopefully it will impact someone here as well.

    SHOW ME THE ROAD Harvey Reid, Of Water and Wind album

    Too many miles have I traveled alone
    Show me the road that leads to my Home.
    Strangers, strangers, everywhere I roam,
    Show me the road that leads to my home.

    Trouble, trouble, trouble on my mind,
    Show me the road that leads to my home.
    Finding precious little peace, losing precious time;
    Show me the road that leads to my home.

    Show me a sign, tell me a reason;
    Cold winds have scattered the seeds I have sown.
    Lord let me live to see another morning;
    Show me the road that leads to my home.

    Such a long long journey it seems we travel on;
    Show me the road that leads to my home.
    Such a short time we're here friends, and then we're gone;
    Show me the road that leads to my home.

    Remembering just the good times, feeling just the pain;
    Show me the road that leads to my home.
    Hearing just the sad songs, seeing just the rain;
    Show me the road that leads to my Home.
    https://youtu.be/HSTshCmcVtk
    Last edited by RoyDavid; February 23rd, 2018, 10:32 PM.

  • #2
    I remember this old preacher that used to open with the same poem everyday, but I could not remember all the words. But I remembered enough of them to find the poem:

    “I walked a mile with Pleasure;
    She chatted all the way;
    But left me none the wiser
    For all she had to say.

    I walked a mile with Sorrow;
    And ne’er a word said she;
    But, oh! The things I learned from her,
    When Sorrow walked with me.”



    Robert Browning Hamilton

    The Lord has taught me in my life that these words are very true.

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    • #3
      I had hoped others would reply to Roy and reach out to him. The road to life can be lonely.

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      • #4
        I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
        I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
        I asked for health, that I might do great things,
        I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
        I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
        I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
        I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men,
        I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
        I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
        I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
        I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I had hoped for.
        Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
        I am, among all men, most richly blessed.




        When I was a Chaplin at the Youngstown Rescue Mission I found the above poem scrawled in pencil on a torn scrape of paper that was taped to the wall of the lobby. Probably someone had read this poem and was blessed by it and pointed it out to some leader that did not think it was worthy of being read in the service, so that person taped it on the wall. This is an example of the least not being given the opportunity to offer what they have to give.

        When I read the poem my spirit was quickened and I kept the poem and wrote it on the inside of my Bible cover. I wondered if this poem was from the Lord, because I was very mature back then. Now that I have walked with The Lord for 42 years I know this poem is very true. It was defiantly true for the civil war soldier who wrote it and it was found in his pocket after he died on the battlefield. This poem was the testimony of his life of walking with Jesus.

        A Civil War Soldier’s Prayer: Praying for the Wrong Things



        Some skeptics believe that, if there is a God, he probably sits around on a cloud removed from the lives and problems of the humans he created. Not so.


        God has your best interests in mind and is involved in your life even from before birth. You might feel alone and unable to reach him, but he hears your prayers and answers them with firmness and compassion.

        A soldier serving in the Confederate Army during the American Civil War caught a glimpse of God’s intentions before dying on the field of battle.


        July, 1863
        Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
        Photo by Alexander Gardner (1821-1882), public domain
        General Robert E. Lee shifted in his saddle and surveyed his soldiers and the opposition amassed near the small college town. The Union Army of the Potomac had a new commander, General George Meade. Meade brought a cadre of 94,000 men along with their new Spencer repeating carbine rifles to bear against Lee’s 72,000. The Union’s lines ran south-to-north along Cemetery Ridge and turned east to form a fishhook. On July 1, Lee’s soldiers attacked the left flank, pushing the lines back into the town or the hills.

        On the second day of the campaign, fierce fighting broke out on high ground. Union troops held firm to Little Round Top, Peach Orchard, and Wheat Field. At Devil’s Den, a Confederate sharpshooter tucked himself into the rocks and harassed the charging Union troops, which gave the Confederates an opening to rally. To counter this pesky sharpshooter, Captain Augustus Martin of the Union V Corps artillery ordered a percussion shell strike. The blast killed the sharpshooter.

        On July 3, Lee spearheaded 15,000 men into the Union lines at Cemetery Ridge. General George Pickett led 4,300 men in the now-famous Pickett’s Charge as part of this offensive. But Union artillery tangled their lines, which allowed them to flank the Confederates on three sides. The retreat left thousands of men dead, wounded, or stranded as prisoners. More than 7,800 men died in three days.

        The Union had broken Lee’s drive into the North. The war had turned.

        How many men—in Blue and Gray—had prayed for victory, for safety, for peace, or for an end to the war? How can God respond amid the wounded flesh and scorched earth of war?

        A sliver of an answer was found on the battlefield. During the following days, the pungent odor of sulfur and gunpowder dissipated as the armies tended to their wounded and dead. Ammunition was collected. Foodstuffs and valuables were claimed as spoils. And a folded sheet of paper was found on a Confederate soldier who died near the fabled Devil’s Den. History books will never list his name, but his insight into prayer—and the God who hears and answers—endures like one of the monuments erected to commemorate the battles.



        I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
        I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
        I asked for health, that I might do great things,
        I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
        I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
        I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
        I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men,
        I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
        I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
        I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
        I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I had hoped for.
        Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
        I am, among all men, most richly blessed.






        The soldier’s observations were not forged in an afternoon; they were forged over months of seeking God in prayer.

        God is more concerned about the intent of your prayers than the content of your prayers. The soldier called out to God when he could have complained or cursed. God saw the soldier’s heart and lavished his gifts on him.

        God is open-handed out of love. God did not wait for the soldier to realize the wrong intent of his prayers. God responded out of his character. He is the One who does “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20 NIV).

        Civil War coins, belt buckles, uniforms, and weapons have all but disappeared, but the words of this soldier have endured. They stand like a battlefield monument to remind all who read them of the character and heart of God. God is listening to your prayers and answering according to his plan for your life. He is working to bless you.


        What the Bible Says

        Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to all generously and without criticizing, and it will be given to him.
        James 1:5–6 HCSB

        “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”
        Matthew 7:7–8 NIV

        Lord, You have heard the desire of the humble; You will prepare their heart; You will cause Your ear to hear.
        Psalm 10:17 NKJV


        Something to Ponder

        Even Jesus prayed for the “wrong” things.

        The end of Jesus’ earthly ministry was coming. After the Passover Feast, Jesus led his disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane and asked them to keep watch while he prayed, “O my Father, if it’s possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will” (Matthew 26:39 NKJV, emphasis added).

        The cup did not pass. Jesus was arrested, tried, wrongfully convicted, and executed according to Roman law. God was working out his ultimate plan to accomplish your salvation.

        In the same way, pray for what you desire, but do so with an attitude of, “nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.” God will take care of the rest.


        Take it to Heart

        Look at the lessons the Confederate soldier learned. For which of his requests have you prayed—strength, health, riches, power? Have you felt that God wasn’t listening or responding? Take a few minutes to pray for the qualities the soldier received—humility, wisdom, joy. Allow his learned lessons to remodel your prayers.


        One More Thing...

        Devil’s Den got its name before the American Civil War. This collection of granite-like rocks has peaks that resemble a bat’s ears. Emanuel Bushman, a local resident, recorded stories of a monstrous snake that lived in the cracks and crevices. They named the snake the Devil because it eluded those brave enough to hunt for it. The outcropping soon became known as Devil’s Den and is now immortalized in Civil War history.
        Last edited by Lou Newton; March 6th, 2018, 09:38 PM.

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        • #5
          For he grew up before him like a young plant,
          And like a root laying out on the dry ground;
          He had no form or comeliness that we should look at him,
          And no beauty that we should desire him.
          He was despised and rejected by men;
          A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
          And as one whom men hide their faces,
          He was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isaiah 53:2-3)

          You know my reproach, my shame, and my dishonor;
          My adversaries are all known to you.
          Insults have broken my heart, so that I am in despair.
          I looked for someone to take pity, but there was none;
          I looked for comforters, but I found none.
          They gave me poison for my food,
          And for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink. (Psalm 69:19-21)


          What if this Man of Sorrows was named Nick Cruz? What if his own parents had been his enemies and had branded him with reproach and shame and left him feeling alone even way before they had died? What would it be like to be living as a tender root in the darkness and shadows but then be plopped on top of the ground when he went to school? What would it be like for all of his differences to be exposed? What if all those differences were exploited and made fun of? What if he was shunned? What if people were more worried about staying away and ignoring than drawing close and understanding? What if church people were the worst.. expounding love but living detachment? Relegating you into the system for "help" rather than showing love? Does mowing them all down with an AR seem so crazy? Does it not make a little sense? What if God had done what would have been just rather than loving mercy?

          But to all who would receive him, who would believe in his name,
          (whatsoever you do to the least of these you do unto Me)
          He gave power to become children of God. (John 1:12)





          Last edited by RoyDavid; March 7th, 2018, 12:10 AM.

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          • #6
            Sorry folks, I did not mean to be responding to Lou's post. Ha..it wasn't there before I started, but was before I finished! Actually meant to address the difficulty of walking alone down here while no one seems to care or understand.

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            • #7
              Originally posted by RoyDavid View Post
              For he grew up before him like a young plant,
              And like a root laying out on the dry ground;
              He had no form or comeliness that we should look at him,
              And no beauty that we should desire him.
              He was despised and rejected by men;
              A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
              And as one whom men hide their faces,
              He was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isaiah 53:2-3)

              You know my reproach, my shame, and my dishonor;
              My adversaries are all known to you.
              Insults have broken my heart, so that I am in despair.
              I looked for someone to take pity, but there was none;
              I looked for comforters, but I found none.
              They gave me poison for my food,
              And for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink. (Psalm 69:19-21)


              What if this Man of Sorrows was named Nick Cruz? What if his own parents had been his enemies and had branded him with reproach and shame and left him feeling alone even way before they had died? What would it be like to be living as a tender root in the darkness and shadows but then be plopped on top of the ground when he went to school? What would it be like for all of his differences to be exposed? What if all those differences were exploited and made fun of? What if he was shunned? What if people were more worried about staying away and ignoring than drawing close and understanding? What if church people were the worst.. expounding love but living detachment? Relegating you into the system for "help" rather than showing love? Does mowing them all down with an AR seem so crazy? Does it not make a little sense? What if God had done what would have been just rather than loving mercy?

              But to all who would receive him, who would believe in his name,
              (whatsoever you do to the least of these you do unto Me)
              He gave power to become children of God. (John 1:12)




              Nick Cruz -
              Once upon a time Nick Cruz was an infant.

              Deut. 23:1-3
              “No one who is emasculated or has his male organ cut off shall enter the assembly of the Lord. 2 No one of illegitimate birth shall enter the assembly of the Lord; none of his descendants, even to the tenth generation, shall enter the assembly of the Lord.

              Parenting is something we take credit for when it works out right.
              I have a handful of family stories where one brother is of the devil and the other a saint.
              In high school I have judged some to be tares only to discovery after forty years when the grain has ripened that they were not tares but wheat.
              My favorite is of the classmate who lived down in a creek gully in a one room, tin topped, tar paper and cardboard shack with linoleum laid on dirt. Both parents were alcoholics. How he was able to come to school in clean creased jeans and long sleeved shirts continues to mystify me. Richard became a CPA.

              When looking at my life, if not for good Christian parents, being born in Texas, having people who helped me along the way (The only secular jobs I got on my on were delivering circulars when in Jr. High and grocery clerk while in college), and a special wife, I would not be so blessed. If born in a third world country I would not have survived childhood, and if I did I probably would have failed at providing adequately. My life can be nothing else but gratitude for what I did not deserve or earn on my own. In spite of an abundance of stupidity, divine superintendence wiggled me through life.

              I will take credit for finishing college in four terms: Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, and Ford's.

              Nick Cruz is a painful reminder of how close to crazy life can be.
              One of my horrible discoveries is that given particular circumstances, motive, and opportunity we are all capable of anything - that is anything evil.
              Some of the old daily admonishments ought to be on our tongues everyday.
              But for the grace of God, go I.
              God sees all that you do.
              If the Lord is willing and the creek don't rise.

              The real mystery about life is not why there is suffering and evil, but why is there any good?


              Music
              Nicole C. Mullins album Redeemer
              Modern day psalms which are all about the lines posted under this forum topic.
              Last edited by glen smith; March 7th, 2018, 01:10 AM.

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              • #8
                Thanks Glen..I like it when you boil the pot down to its essential ingrediants. Thank you also for sharing Nicole C. Mullins (share cropper's seed). I think it is so great when music is brought to church with us. Just think..what if Nick Cruz could sing with us "MY Redeemer lives!!" ?? What if someone were to care so much that they would disregard the fear of his outward countenance and risk loving him? (Real love, not just words because he really doesn't have tolerance for any more fakery) What if there are Nick Cruz's all around us? Would we even take the time to recognize him?

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                • #9
                  Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:
                  "Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?"

                  Then I said, "Here am I! Send me."

                  And He said, "Go and tell this people:"
                  "Keep on hearing, but do not take the time to understand;
                  Keep on seeing but do not try to perceive."

                  "Make the heart of this people dull,
                  And their ears heavy,
                  And their eyes closed;
                  Lest they see with their eyes,
                  And hear with their ears,
                  And understand with their heart,
                  And return and be healed."


                  Then I said, "Lord how long must this be?"
                  And He answered me and said:

                  "Until the cities are laid waste and without inhabitant,
                  The houses are without a man, and the land is utterly desolate,
                  The Lord has removed men far away,
                  And the forsaken places are many in the midst of the land."
                  (Isaiah 6:8-12)



                  "A new mouth. If I could have a new mouth, I think maybe it'd make me really happy."

                  She sat across the room looking so sad. The words came out slowly, haltingly, painfully, in a long continuous slur. I kept leaning forward, trying to catch the word, but it was really hard to understand her..

                  "I guess this sounds a little dumb, right? I know it must sound dumb to you. But my whole life..ever since I was little..my whole life I've felt like a freak. It really seems unfair..it really seems..."

                  She looked up at me and let her eyes end the sentence. Her name was Alicia, a small girl with golden blond hair and blue eyes. She really had beautiful features. She really could have been a beautiful girl..
                  Except one day, when Alicia was barely six months old, her "depressed" mother tried to kill her by feeding her a bottle of drain cleaner. Alicia somehow lived through the ordeal.
                  But her body was forever marked by the scars of emergency surgery performed to save her life. Alicia was left with a deformed mouth..and a lifetime of pain.

                  "I know what you're thinking..I'm lucky to be alive. I guess maybe you're right. But..life's been really hard for me. Really hard.."
                  "I never really had a home. I never knew my Dad. And my Mom..well, after my accident she was so ashamed of me, she didn't want me anymore. I tried, but she didn't want me. So, one day when I was 15, I just left."

                  "I thought maybe life was getting better. I met a man, and I had a baby. She was so beautiful. I really loved her."
                  "But then my husband started beating me. I was so scared..so messed up. So I gave her to an adoption agency and ran away. That was three years ago..."

                  Alicia ended up living on the streets, and selling her body, like a thousand other kids who've been hurt.

                  "I had to do it. I didn't know how else to get money. I was really taking a lot of drugs and drinking."
                  "Then I got scared. I was afraid I was going to die out there."

                  That's why she came to Covenant House late one night, hungry..strung out..and crying.

                  "Can you help me?" ( Excerpt from "GOD ISN'T DONE WITH ME YET..." Written and experienced by Sister Mary Rose McGeady)



                  "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last"
                  "What you see, write in a book and send it to the churches" (Rev 1:11)

                  "He who has an ear let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches." (Rev 2:11)




                  Last edited by RoyDavid; March 28th, 2018, 07:46 AM.

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                  • #10

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                    • #11
                      Thanks Lou.. Ain't that a good tune? He can play the guitar a little can't he? I just love his wife's accompaniment. Her voice covers a wider range of emotional feeling, while his provides a sturdy and stable foundation for them to travel the Road together, relying on one another's strengths.
                      Last edited by RoyDavid; March 28th, 2018, 07:42 AM.

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                      • #12
                        I've had a really tough time writing you this month. Every time I start typing, my eyes fill up and I have to stop.
                        It all started about 8:00 this morning, when I was sitting in my office, trying to catch up on the hundred or so things that needed to be caught up on, when my secretary, Pat, walked in. She looked really shaken.

                        "I don't know if you've seen this yet, Sister," she said, handing me a stack of bright pink pages. "It's the latest issue of 'Message'. ('Message' is the newsletter our kids put out about themselves--a place they share stories, poems, reflections. It can get pretty`deep sometimes.) "I must of read this part about 10 times last night," Pat said. There on page 5, was a short story written by one of our kids named Frankie. Even now, after reading it countless times myself, I still have trouble believing it..

                        NIGHTMARES OF LIFE
                        by Frankie

                        This is a story about nightmares that I have had. I remember one nightmare I had, when I was just a kid.
                        It was a dark night, my stepfather was babysitting my baby brother and my mother was working in a pizza shop. My brother was sleeping and I was watching television. My father called me to the kitchen where he was watching a pornographic movie. He told me that he wanted me to be like the woman in the movie, but I said no.
                        He said that if I didn't do what he told me to do he would use my brother. So I told him not to do that to my baby brother, that I would do it. So my stepfather used me as though I was a woman and he forced me to do things I didn't want to do. I had to or else he would have done it to my brother.
                        The next day I woke up scared and thought it was a nightmare but it wasn't because I found blood on my underwear and I was naked. I still remember that night but I'm a survivor. I will never let anything get in my way 'cause of what happened in my past. For three years I had nightmares of torture, but I am still a survivor.

                        On page 18, Frankie wrote another story.

                        THE LONELY CHILD
                        by Frankie

                        'The Lonely Child' is a story about a boy who was abused by all his family members. The boy once wished that he was in another world, but it was all just a dream.
                        He imagined that he played with aliens that would come and pick up little abused kids and take them to another planet where nobody would bother the kids. But it was only a dream.
                        He tried to feel happy, but he couldn't because he just thought about what his stepfather did to him or what his mother, real father or what his friends did to him.
                        The boy was even scared to look at himself because he thought that his own reflection would make fun of him. He remembers the day he entered the bathroom and saw his stepfather. He realized that he was the boy who was raped and beaten by his stepfather. The boy couldn't do anything except what his stepfather told him to do. The boy couldn't sleep for days, trying to forget what had happened to him, only tears came down his face. As time passed, the boy was thinking he could end this but he couldn't.
                        The boy still thinks about what happened in his childhood. He still cries on the inside, and outside he knows that he's still a lonely child. The boy still needs someone to tell him that they love him and that they will not hurt his feelings.
                        The boy's name is Frankie. Now I love myself and I can look at myself in the mirror and say to myself that I will always look beautiful and that someone in this world will love me.

                        I think these two short stories written by a teenage, homeless kid in a 30 page pink newsletter sum up the pain all our kids feel.
                        Some of them, like Frankie, have blessedly reached a point where they can at least talk about their nightmares, and write about them, and hopefully one day put them aside (although you and I know the pain will never really leave, it will just hide somewhere.)
                        For most of our other kids, the ones who are even more lost, more hurt, more unwilling or unable to deal with their own nightmares, they're the ones who hurt even more. I worry about them most of all.... (Excerpt from "GOD ISN'T DONE WITH ME YET.." written by Sister Mary Rose McGeady)


                        Then He took a little child and brought him into the midst of them.
                        And when He held the child in His arms,
                        He said to them:

                        "Whoever receives one of these little children in My name receives Me,
                        And whoever receives Me,
                        Receives not Me but Him who sent Me."
                        (Mark 9:36-37)
                        Last edited by RoyDavid; April 6th, 2018, 01:50 PM.

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