I will be writing on a new ground from now on at eliecruz.wordpress.com
Here goes. . .
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Corrie Ten Boom
"The source of our strength is Jesus Christ Himself; and His cross shows us that we can accept suffering as a part of God's plan for this world . . ."
"Thinking Place" by the house
"My love is over. It's underneath.
It's inside. It's in between.
The times you doubt Me, when you can't feel.
The times that you question, 'Is this for real? '
The times you're broken.
The times that you mend.
The times that you hate Me, and the times that you bend.
Well, My love is over, it's underneath.
It's inside, it's in between.
These times you're healing, and when your heart breaks.
The times that you feel like you're falling from grace.
The times you're hurting.
The times that you heal.
The times you go hungry, and are tempted to steal.
The times of confusion, in chaos and pain.
I'm there in your sorrow, under the weight of your shame.
I'm there through your heartache.
I'm there in the storm.
My love I will keep you, by My pow'r alone.
I don't care where you fall, where you have been.
I'll never forsake you, My love never ends.
It never ends."
It's inside. It's in between.
The times you doubt Me, when you can't feel.
The times that you question, 'Is this for real? '
The times you're broken.
The times that you mend.
The times that you hate Me, and the times that you bend.
Well, My love is over, it's underneath.
It's inside, it's in between.
These times you're healing, and when your heart breaks.
The times that you feel like you're falling from grace.
The times you're hurting.
The times that you heal.
The times you go hungry, and are tempted to steal.
The times of confusion, in chaos and pain.
I'm there in your sorrow, under the weight of your shame.
I'm there through your heartache.
I'm there in the storm.
My love I will keep you, by My pow'r alone.
I don't care where you fall, where you have been.
I'll never forsake you, My love never ends.
It never ends."
--God, from
Times by 10th Ave. N
tree roots in Beoue, Cote D'Ivoire
By Lydia Persson
Paint me a picture with your tears,
Paint it on a looking glass--
Shadow it with all your fears;
Etch with pieces of the past
And if hatred then descends
After every part I know,
With every feeling that it lends,
The hatred for myself will grow;
For no different you or I,
In this chaotic, fiendish art--
Not in scope nor will nor why--
None of us can stand apart
(In this mortal deadly dance,
Hatred comes with each romance).
harvest time
John Patrick, MD from Medical Missions Conference
"You can preach on the epistles comfortably from behind your desk, but you can't preach on the Gospel except from on your knees."
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