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 We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
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“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. . . . Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord. . . .” ― Charles Spurgeon “Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ― C. H. Spurgeon “Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.” ― Charles Haddon Spurgeon “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” ― Charles Spurgeon “A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.” ― Charles Spurgeon “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” ― Charles Spurgeon “When your will is God's will, you will have your will.” ― Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV)    |
| Heavy metal through those youthful days. A tuba made of brass around my neck attended me when marching cold or hot. What joy in music made, though the body was a wreck! Marching practices were awfully long. Halftime shows and parades kept on point the mind and soul of low brass notes, while polyester burned each limb and joint. The captain of the band, a senior on his way, the greatest of acclaim to end his high school Day was the John Philip Sousa Senior Bandsman Award. Still, it bears honor in his home on display. A freshman, he in '78 in a college marching band, the Sound of the South of Troy State U. What a year of making music great! Too soon sadly, it was through. But still the tuba, that dear friend, he played in a community band. He shared a concert on a flatbed truck parading throughout the land. He moved so many miles away to finish his college days new. A teacher he was soon to be, though more concerts with his tuba to do. His last great claim to fame he saw as a tuba player rare was on a concert stage beside a piccolo player there. The break-strain played of "The Stars and Stripes Forever" of low and high together. But then 'twas gone, that large, dear friend. The tuba player was lost. No more great concerts with a band for music has its cost. For now, life must be lived for others. A job to work, that all may eat. The youthful days of music were gone. His tuba skills did not a profession meet. What thoughts do waft! What concerts not played! What honors unknown for no days on parade! How faded those days! What loss for the heart! His tuba remains a great Joy, once obeyed. He tried, once again, just a few years ago now to find and to play a great tuba, a friend. A practice or two, maybe three, then 'twas o'er. The mouthpiece he shelves for this mem'ry to mend. Maybe that was quite all he was needed to do, hold this large rotund friend his youthful days through. He still cries and salutes when this Sousa march peals as he stands on his feet with a mem'ry that's real. by Jay O'Toole on April 20th, 2020 |
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