Thursday, December 16, 2010

ST 16 : I Will Dwell In The House Of The Lord Forever




Where will you live forever? 

In the house of the Lord. 

If His house is your "forever house," 

what does that make this earthly house? 

You got it! 

Short-term housing. This is not our home. 

"Our homeland is in heaven." (Phil 3:20)


















The day your wife died.

The day your child was buried.

The day you learned about the lump in 

your breast or the spot in your lung.

Some of you have felt far from home 

ever since your home fell apart.


















The twists and turns of life have a way of reminding us - 

we aren't home yet. 

This is not our homeland. 

We aren't fluent in the languages of disease and death. 

The culture confuses the heart, 

the noise disrupts our sleep 

and we feel far from home.

















And you know what? 

That's okay.

You have an eternal address fixed in your mind. 

God has "set eternity in the hearts of men" (Eccles 3:11) 

Deep down you know you are not home yet. 

So be careful not to act like you are.


















Though our eyes are fixed on heaven, for some of us, 
the journey has been long. Very long and stormy. 

In no way do I wish to minimize the difficulties that you have had to face along the way. 

Some of you have shouldered burdens that few of us could ever carry. You have bid farewell to your child. You have been robbed of life-long dreams. You have been given bodies that can't sustain your spirit. 

You have spouses who can't tolerate your faith. You have bills that outnumber the paychecks and challenges that outweight the strength.

And you are tired.

















It's hard for you to see the city in the midst of the storms. 

The desire to pull over to the side of the road 

and get out entices you. 

You want to go on, but some days the road 

seems so long. 

















Remember this : 

God never said that the journey would be easy, 

but He did say that the arrival 

would be worthwhile. 

He may not do what you want, 

but He will do what is right ... and best. 


















He's the Father of forward motion. 

Trust Him. 

He will get you home. 

And the trials of the trip will be lost 

in the joys of the feast.




By Max Lucado

Book Title : Safe In The Shepherd's Arms

Hope and Encouragement from Psalm 23














Death is simply a shedding of the physical body, 

like the butterfly coming out of a cocoon. 
 
It is a transition into a 

higher state of consciousness

where you continue to perceive, to understand, 

to laugh, to be able to grow, and the only thing 

you lose is something that you don't need anymore ... 

your physical body. 

It's like putting away your winter coat 

when spring comes. 





By Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Condensed Chicken Soup For The Soul























This photo was taken in IKEA Kuala Lumpur, when Daniel was 13 years old. Remembering how he managed to squeeze himself into this cocoon storage case sure brings a smile to his family. :D

We miss You, Daniel. We are comforted knowing that You are safe with Jesus and having a jolly fun time with Mama Mary and all the angels in heaven. :D

Until we see You again, we know You will stay in connection. 

Thank You Lord for making a way for us. :D






a silent thot ...
by lynn phua




Thursday, December 9, 2010

ST 15 : THE BERRY BUSH



A young gardener was pruning his trees and shrubs. 

His favorite berry bush had overgrown. 

He feared that it would produce little, if any, fruit.


























 So, he pruned the bush to cut it back. 

When he had finished, 

there was little left but stumps and roots.

The bush looked very sad and hurt. 

On every stump there seemed to be a tear where 

the pruning knife had cut away the growth 

of early spring. 



























The poor bush seemed to speak to him,

"Oh, how could you be so cruel to me; you who claim to be my friend, who planted me and cared for me when I was young, nurtured me and encouraged me to grow? 

Could you not see that I was rapidly responding to your care? 

I was nearly half as large as the trees across the fence, and might soon have become like one of them. 

Now you've cut my branches back; the green, attractive leaves are gone, and I am a disgrace among my fellows."



























The young gardener looked at the weeping bush. 

His voice was full of kindness as he said, 

"Do not cry ... 

What I have done to you was necessary that you might be a prize berry bush in my garden. You were not intended to give shade or shelter by your branches. 

My purpose when I planted you was that you should bear fruit. When I want berries, a tree, regardless of it's size, cannot supply the need."



























"No, my little berry bush ... 

If I had allowed you to continue to grow as you had started, all your strength would have gone to wood.

Your roots would not have gained a firm hold, and the purpose for which I brought you into my garden would have been defeated. Your place would have been taken by another, for you would have been barren."


























"You must not weep ... 

All this will be for your good. Some day, when you are richly laden with luscious fruit, you will thank me and say, 

Surely, he was a wise gardener. He knew the purpose of my being, and I thank him now for what I then thought was cruel."


























Some years later ... 

This young gardener was in a foreign land. 

He had worked his way up, and was proud 

of his position and ambitions for the future.

One day, an unexpected vacancy entitled him 

to a promotion.

The goal to which he had aspired was now 

within his grasp. 


























However, for some reason unknown to him, someone else was appointed instead, and he was asked to take another post relatively unimportant and which, under the circumstances, caused his friends to ridicule him.


The young man was humiliated. 

He staggered to his tent, dropped to his knees and wept. He now knew that he could never hope to have what he had thought so desirable. 


























He cried to God, 

"Oh, how could You be so cruel to me? You who claim to be my friend - You who brought me here, nurtured and encouraged me to grow. 

Could You not see that I was almost equal to the other men whom I have so long admired? Now I have been cut down. I am a disgrace among my fellows. 

Oh, how could You do this to me?"


























Bitterness ravaged his heart, 

when he heard a faint echo from the past. 

Where had he heard those words before? 

They sounded familiar. 

Memory whispered:

"I'm the gardener here."

He caught his breath. 

Ah, the berry bush! 


























Memory answered, with words he himself had spoken,

"Do not cry ... 

What I have done to you was necessary. You were not intended for what you sought to be. If I had allowed you to continue, you would have failed in the purpose for which I planted you and My plans for you would have been defeated. 

You must not weep ...

Some day when you are richly laden with experience, you will say, 

He was a wise gardener. He knew the purpose of my being. I thank him now for what I first thought was cruel."



























Lord, You know the purpose of my being. 

Let Your Will be done.


Matthew 6:10


























Thank You Lord, for blessing our family

with the gift of Daniel. <3












a silent thot ...
by lynn phua








Thursday, December 2, 2010

ST 14 : John Three - Sixteen (John 3:16)




 
In the heart of a city on a cold and dark winter's night, 

a blizzard was setting in. 

A little orphan boy was selling newspapers 

at the corner of the local grocer.

People were hurrying back to their warm homes. 

The little boy was so cold that he has stopped trying 

to sell his papers. 

















He walked up to a policeman. 

Shivering in his shoes, he asked politely, 

"Sir, You wouldn't happen to know where a poor boy could find a warm place to sleep tonight, would You? 

You see, I sleep in a box around the corner over there, and down the alley it could get awfully cold on a night like this. 

It sure would be nice to have a warm place to stay tonight."


















The policeman looked down at the little boy and said, 



"You poor thing ... 

Go down the street to that big white house 

and knock on the door. 

Just say John 3:16 and they will let you in." 



The little boy thank the policemen and went on his way. 



















Reaching the big white house, 

the little boy walked up the steps, 

and knocked on the door.



A lady answered. 



He looked up and said, "John 3:16." 

The lady said, "Come on in, Son." 


















She took him in and sat him down before a great 

big old fireplace. 



Then, she went into the kitchen. 



He sat there for a while, and thought to himself, 

"John 3:16 ... I don't understand it, 

but it sure makes a cold boy warm." 

















Later, she came back and asked, "Are you hungry, Son?" 



He said, "Yes, I haven't eaten in a couple of days." 



The lady took him to the kitchen and sat him 

down to a table filled with the most wonderful 

spread of food.  



He ate and ate and ate until he couldn't eat anymore. 

Rubbing his belly, he thought to himself, 

"John 3:16 ... Boy, I don't understand it, 

but it sure makes a hungry boy full." 



















After dinner, the lady took him upstairs to the bathroom.



He looked at the huge bath tub filled with warm soapy 

water. 



He said, "I've not had a bath like this in my whole life."

She made him soak in the tub for a while. 



As he washed himself clean, he thought silently, 

"John 3:16 ... I don't understand it, 

but it sure makes a dirty boy clean.


















Next, the lady took him to the bedroom. 



She tucked him into a big old feather bed, 

pulling the covers up to his neck. 

She kissed him goodnight and turned out the lights. 



As the little boy laid in the darkness, 

he thought to himself, 

"John 3:16 ... I don't understand it, 

but it sure makes a tired boy rested." 



















The next morning, 

the lady called him down to the kitchen. 

The little boy had a hearty breakfast of sausages, 

eggs and a cup of warm milk.

After he ate, they sat by the fireplace. 















There, the lady brought out a big old Bible and asked, 

"Do you understand John 3:16?" 



The little boy slowly shook his head. 



She began to tell him stories about Jesus. 

Story after story after story.



The little boy listened in awe and said not a word.



















By night fall, before that big old fireplace, 

the little boy gave his heart and life to Jesus. 



He sat there and thought quietly, 

"John 3:16 ... I don't understand it, 

why Jesus would die for a boy like me,

but it sure comforts me and 

makes me feel safe." 



















Dear Lord ... 

I may not understand how You would agree and be willing to send your only and beloved Son to die in the cruelest way imaginable on a horrible cross ... 

Just for me. 

I may not understand the depth of a Father's agony, the torment of a Mother's heart, the anguish of all the angels in heaven, watching Jesus being ridiculed, spit upon, tortured mercilessly, and finally nailed on the cross and left to bleed to death. 

All that senseless suffering - Just for me. 

This intense love You have for me, dear Lord, is something I may and might not ever understand, but it sure comforts me and makes me feel safe. 

Thank You Lord, for coming into my life.

















For God so loved the world, 

that He gave His only begotten Son, 

that whosoever believeth in Him 

shall not perish, 

but have everlasting life.
 

John 3 : 16




















Today, You will be with Me in paradise.
 

Luke 23:43


















Thank You Jesus, 

for dying on the cross for me, 

because of Your promise, 

I shall not perish 

but have everlasting life.

Amen.



















this much!!!















 a silent thot ...
by lynn phua