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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)    |
| Christmas time will come and go, but Christ is always near the heart of ev'ry child He brings to know Salvation, and His new life's start. Is Christmas something we express in trees with presents piled quite high? Is Christmas something we confess with warmish, color lights so nigh? Is Christmas something we must shun, since pagans worship darkest night? The battle of the gods was won when Light was used to show their plight. "The unknown God you worship, friends, is Jesus Christ, the One, Who saves." For when He doth our hearts attend, transforms as new from all our graves. If winter solstice is quite all, that Christmas means with its gifts that fade, then we must on the Savior call, and to believe, His Work obeyed. But if blest Christmas means much more, the virgin birth we hold all year, The One, Whose Birthday we adore, to sing hymn/carols, loud and clear, then Christmas can be loved and cheered, not just one day, but all year round. The Child returns as One, most feared. The Lord has freed His saved ones, bound. by Jay O’Toole on December 22nd, 2025    |
| The darkest day in one's own life is often when the Son shines through the grief and deepest strife to be the victory won. The Light has entered as a flood as God's Own Will will do. Salvation in Christ's saving Blood in lost ones, me and you. When once we see our light is dark, but His Light is most clear, we know His Gift to then embark, to follow One, most Dear. One difference here is when our night is changed to lasting day, we'll have forever newest sight. He is the power to stay. by Jay O’Toole on December 21st, 2025 |
| Sometimes you think you have life planned. It's really quite assured, but it's quite hard to understand when Wisdom's lines are blurred. "Don't give in to the pressure, Son, your peers may put on you!" But later on the game is won, by those, who love the new. Doth Wisdom dote on "can be done" as "may be done" in Truth? Is Life lived best when all is fun or by roots cast in youth? The lonely life I choose to walk, 'til He, Who bore my sin, returns to have with me a talk, 'bout how to truly win. The shifting sands of human thought make flimsy-founded homes, but on The Rock we build as taught for Ever-Life, it comes. by Jay O’Toole on December 19th, 2025 |
| When Christmas comes one week from now, will Joy be the best gift? Will all souls kneel, before Christ bow as hopes begin to lift? When Christmas comes as every year, will we have time to rest, before the days, so swift and clear are filled with each new test? Christmas comes at season's end, before the music stops. In this blest day we must attend to trees with stars at their tops. by Jay O’Toole on December 18th, 2025 |
| Take a moment, just to hear. See the art, that some hand made. Find a thought, so pure and clear. Stay the course, which once was laid. The human mind, created blest. Computers cannot dare compare to what God wrought, His final Best. All errant tools cause a hopeless stare. The agony of thoughts to find the just right word, which fills the space. The final work, which sees, once blind grants human reason its best place. Some lives are stopped when wounded sore, but some move on at trudging pace. The human mind, the God-made store for living life with wisdom's grace. by Jay O’Toole on December 17th, 2025 |
| How can it be the One, Whose Face I've never seen is in my heart? How can I ever hope to trace His Loveliness from which I can't part? I long for Christmas all year through. So when it comes I'm longing more. I want to spend my life with He Who meets all needs. He's Home, the Door. The broken parts of my heart have flown away to Heaven, where He lives. The Christmas longing ever grown to be with those through life He gives. There's nothing really wrong I guess, except that everything's wrong it seems. We're standing in the human mess, awaiting one, Whose life - death - life redeems. True Christmas morn will finally be when Jesus' Face in wonder shown. We're nevermore away from He. In Resurrection, death has flown. by Jay O’Toole on December 16th, 2025 |
| Freezing temps with heat to come. What will life soon be? Battered clouds to earth in sum, sounds like catastrophe. My feet are cold, so very much, but what of these ten days? Will sweating be the latest touch of weather's great displays? When cold and hot are dancing fast the spinning wind is rough. The lighter things are lifted, cast, until it's had enough. Some may have snow when it's all said. White Christmas in the Maine. Thermometers may blast the red, where temps have gone insane. The yard work, that I need to do may soon be feasible. To prune lantana, await the new, the task may quickly call. Tonight, just feels like Christmas Eve. Some furry slippers toes. Tomorrow night another reprieve, before we abandon those. But God be praised. His Mercy's great, the Day makes known His Son. The heat and cold will not be late. Great good is ever done. by Jay O’Toole on December 15th, 2025 |
| Quiet means, that things are still. Words unsaid can still be meant. Gentle souls present good will. Seated friends, thoughts viewed as sent. Sometimes quiet means a breach between two souls, since something's wrong. To break the ice can help us reach beyond the chasm, new the song. Quiet helps the soul to heal from noisy days of Life's large din. Peace is one great need so real. The heart restored. It's health to win. Quiet lives in night so cold, that none can stay, and bear it well. Quiet sips of coffee bold bespeak a day well lived to tell. by Jay O’Toole on December 14th, 2025 |
| When trouble with breaths, and painful heartbeats, some doggies, that scare us, these spiders, that leap, the fact I am older, and may not mean much, are often big problems, that may only be naught. The fact, that I'm dying and always have been, since before I was born, weaved by Adam's first sin. If the Lord does not snatch us, then he'll finally win, his pitchfork in hand with that awful bright grin. Like Charlie Brown's monologue these fears of all kinds. They often upset up us with counsel, that blinds. "Pantophobia, the fear of everything," we find. "That's it!" cries his heart and ours for a time. The daredevil jumps, that are billed as a treat, from airplanes so high, and not really cheap. One ruwth  has yet done this, quite youthful this touch,while some still prefer real estate, that's been bought. As long as we live in these bodies, that end the fears of each life we will have to attend. As long as we wish to have living go on, then health for our days we will seek quite anon. The fear of Eternity, dreary and real, is one I can't hide, nor ever conceal. Yet, when I may hide in The One, Who made all, the smallest of voice, He attends to that call. (Psalm 91:1-2,4; Romans 10:13) These fears of each life are so common to man. We stand yet in courage with fears still so real. The end of all fears is the worst one we face. The end may be dark, 'til we wake in His Grace. So Hellish these fears, but still must respect the Words of great Truth lest fore'er we neglect. Though paranoid be, this one truth understand, "Empty tomb be refused, e'er with fears we will deal." by Jay O’Toole on December 13th, 2025 |
| The thankful time with turkey stands as past. The festive day of JOY will come quite soon. The freezing nights, that chill the bones won't last. Each working day begins and ends the same. Great money gained this time of year, a boon. A profit at the end of year, such fame. Good Santa fills the stocking for each child. A blessed peace wafts through the countryside. Sweet sleep bespeaks a night that's greatly mild. A new year comes, and what will it then be? A time of grace with goodness bonafide? Or lost restraints when foolish passions free? The thankful time with turkey stands as past. Good Santa fills the stocking for each child. by Jay O’Toole on December 12th, 2025 Image #2273458 over display limit. -?- Image #2291665 over display limit. -?- Image #2333342 over display limit. -?- |
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