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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)    |
chilly, wet, and cold blowing strong as winter’s kept flora, fauna rest by Jay O’Toole on January 23th, 2023 |
A quiet day to quiet minds, before we walk anew the streets of town, new places find to live, and play, and do. A quiet day is what we seek to help the days so loud. Unsettled hearts throughout the week need a break from the days of crowds. A quiet day is where we start to seek the Face of God, Who comes with us to office, mart, where we seem weak and flawed. "A quiet day" may be too few upon this soil and loam, with piles of things we need to do before we're fin'lly Home. A quiet day needs be within, all Fearings now to quell, until we live beyond all sin, and fear is bound to Hell. A quiet day is sheltered here "within Christ's boundless wings." (Psalm 91:1-4, KJV) The way, we see, is free and clear. His Spirit makes us sing. A quiet Day is evermore in Jesus' strong, blest arms for He Alone knows what's in store for those He frees from harms. ("Fearings" is a reference to the family of Fearings,who are characters in Hannah Hurnard's great book, Hinds Feet on High Places. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/821056.Hinds_Feet_on_High_Places) by Jay O’Toole on January 20th, 2023 |
Do you think of what you've done, and wonder why you did it? Do you think you could have won, if you could just have hid it? Do you wonder why your thoughts so easily remember the sinful things you were not taught, but caught on fire as tinder? Do you wish to start, again, to do these things, never? Do you wish the pain would end for you have not been clever? He saved your life when you first came. He saves it ev'ry day, and will. Your life can never be the same. Your heart is blest, forgiven, thrilled. "I can't forget what I have done!" "I can't remember it at all." "I feel I've lost and never won!" "I saved you when my name you called." (John 6:37,44) "As far as the East is from the West, so far He moves our sins away." (Psalm 103:12, KJV) My future's evermore been blest. With Him in Christ, I'll ever stay. Forgiven, my new title fair, Forgiven, saved by Christ Alone, Forgiven life down here and there, Forgiven, hopes are blest and grown. "But I have messed up in my life." "My life redeemed your mess for aye." "How do I know it's gone, my strife?" "My Word's on it. Take what I say." The things we cannot e'er forget the Lord can never bring to mind. Emotion's default is our debt. Our debt, His Payment can ne'er find. The Accuser of our brethren taunts, "You're never good enough for Him." The Lord, He died for us and wants each heart with peace be filled to the brim. Forgiven: "Jesus works, and I do not." Forgiven: "Hope in Christ, and debt forgot." Forgiven: "Life forever from His tomb." Forgiven: "Saved by Grace, the Spirit's Womb." Forgiven: "Standing 'fore His Father Great." Forgiven: "Life in Christ, the perfect state." Forgiven: "All of Jesus, and none of me." Forgiven: "Evermore in Him we're free." by Jay O’Toole on January 19th, 2023 |
Each job has times of fast and slow when tough and rest compete, but work is done, and we can go. The home, again, we greet. When working hard the pace is fast, and breaks are often short. Yet, tough times will not always last for those in Jesus' Court. The goal for all our earthly days is hearing these great words, "Well done, my child, your life's displays are founded on your Lord." We do not work for Heaven's Bliss. We work for clothes and meat. Our hearts are filled with thanks for this, "Salvation is replete." by Jay O’Toole on January 18th, 2023 |
This year we have a month of days, that challenges the mind. Some parts have cold of great displays, some parts are gentle, kind. The deep freeze harmed my tender plants, and I must wait 'til spring to see their life by God, Who grants great hope, and tongues, that sing. Yet, many days have seen the sun. We thank Him for His Smile, the saving Grace His Son has won, His rest beyond each trial. Seven years ago it was quite warm the first months of 2016. They were quite mild without alarm. The yard was early green, But now it's up and down, again. It causes wonderment, but one day soon the spring will win, and life-filled days be lent. by Jay O’Toole on January 17th, 2023 |
The little corner is my room, where I have stored some things. These Christmas treasures, weaver's loom, that help my heart to sing. I'll store away this poem, too, since it's no doubt too late to bless the reader as most may do for Christmas words now grate. The little corner music plays of Christmas hopes and bliss. Our chilly morn reminds of days we stopped to moments kiss. Green, and red, and blue, and gold, the lights create a place, while whitest lights of Christmas told do comfort hearts with grace. The crafts, and plaques, and ornaments remind of years gone by with those half-done experiments, that on the shelves do lie. Christmas wrapping, boxes, bags, with garlands draped around help Christmas presents, and new tags to keep the gift from being found. Eleven months we now must wait, before the world's onboard with Christmas joy, and wonders great to hear each choir's blessed chord. Yet, nothing stops a heart so filled with Christ, Who came, and for us lived to pay our debt He once was killed, and rose Salvation's Gift to give. by Jay O’Toole on January 16th, 2023 |
frost may come tonight little plants need sheltered space fauna see their breath by Jay O’Toole on January 15th, 2023 |
The days of rush have come and gone. Our food's prepared at a slower pace. We meet with friends more one by one. Here's cloudy breath from colder face. Each song we choose to fully hear is savored in a graceful heart. Each peaceful moment, joyful clear has a calendar, that says, "Just start." Through holidays our hearts may wish to find a silent corner, rare, enjoying nightly flavors swish, relax the mind, release the care, But many nights the parties call. White elephants may fill the room as peaceful moments somewhere do fall. December dates so quickly ZOOM! Relaxed we breathe of Janu-air-y. The pace becomes more "day-by-day." Most folks seem a little wary of those, who speak of Christmas play. I bid thee stop and think it through, "Is it not nice in peaceful joy to share these moments, overdue, that beautiful music doth employ?" I listen, now, and type away to Christmas songs by LSO. London Symphony Orchestra plays the sounds, that make me stronger go. December's pace may give us angst as rest may flee from us anon, In new year's silence give we thanks, 'til twelve months "leaves" are fin'lly gone. by Jay O’Toole on January 14th, 2023 |
To live our lives in a sullen mood is really quite the norm. So, having peace, to some seems rude. "How can you rest in the storm?" The Prince of Peace was born on Earth to pay our debt of sin, that we could have His Blest New Birth, and share this peace with men. This peace with God, the foundation for all other kinds of peace. The Peace of God in Christ, the Door is a sullen mood's release. The Gift of Peace can ne'er be earned, nor grasped by reaching hands. With peace received, and usage learned we rest in God's best Plans. by Jay O’Toole on January 13th, 2023 |
Patchwork words form the poetry of my heart. Slivers of peppermint coat letters galore. Cotton candy falls to the ground, rains start as steaks of hope are carved to make us more. Orange juice seeps from the breakfast orb illuminating blooms as glory lights. Poetry, it anchors near the shore to paddle in and kiss the diamonds bright. Aroma wafts from coffee's flaming mug. Verse by verse I nibble cookie rhymes. Gentle thoughts on chocolate syrup tug to build my poem with great spices prime. "Dance, ye rhythms, 'pon some quatrain's milk, then dive within the pool of wordy foam. Make the bliss of thought from smoothest silk to carry me in tasty dreams of home." My poetry can be the grandest cake, or be so bland at times we chew it not, but when the senses rise to fully bake the new things learned are tastebuds wondrous taught. by Jay O’Toole on January 12th, 2023 |
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